International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation

International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation

International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner

Edited by

Isabelle Buffard James Crawford Alain Pellet Stephan Wittich

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2008

Typeset by Scarlett Ortner. This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data International law between universalism and fragmentation : festschrift in honour of Gerhard Hafner / edited by Isabelle Buffard ... [et al.]. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-90-04-16727-8 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. International law. I. Hafner, Gerhard. II. Buffard, Isabelle. KZ3410.I579 2009 341-—dc22 2008044942

ISBN 978 90 04 16727 8 Copyright 2008 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

Contents

PREFACE .............................................................................................................................. xi GERHARD HAFNER Biographic Summary .................................................................................................... xiii Bibliography .................................................................................................................. xix ABBREVIATIONS ............................................................................................................ xxxiii INTRODUCTION

1

Einige persönliche Bemerkungen zu Gerhard Hafner Hans Winkler ......................................................................................................... 3

2

Gerhard Hafner: Porträt eines österreichischen Völkerrechtlers Franz Cede .............................................................................................................. 5

I

FRAGMENTATION AND THEORY OF INTERNATIONAL LAW

3

Une relecture de la théorie des sous-systèmes en droit international Isabelle Buffard .................................................................................................... 13

4

Hierarchy in International Law within the Context of Its Fragmentation Zdzislaw Galicki ................................................................................................... 41

5

Hard Law Strikes Back – How the Recent Focus on the Rule of Law Promotes Compliance with Norms in International Relations Axel Marschik ....................................................................................................... 61

6

The Concept of International Community in International Law: Theory and Reality Pemmaraju Sreenivasa Rao ................................................................................85

vi

CONTENTS

7

The Proliferation of International Dispute Settlement Mechanisms: The Threat of Fragmentation vs. the Promise of a More Effective System? Some Reflections From the Perspective of Investment Arbitration August Reinisch .................................................................................................. 107

8

Boundaries of Justice? An International Law Approach Daniel Thürer ..................................................................................................... 127

II

BASIC PRINCIPLES OF INTERNATIONAL LAW

9

Rechtliche Hegung von Gewalt zwischen Theorie und Praxis Michael Bothe ..................................................................................................... 141

10

The Three Cores of Aggression Antonio Remiro Brotóns .....................................................................................171

11

Intergenerational Equity Revisited Malgosia Fitzmaurice ........................................................................................ 195

12

Democratization: Supply-Stimulated or Demand-Induced? Rein Müllerson ................................................................................................... 231

13

The Principle of Non-Discrimination in International Economic Law: A Conceptual and Historical Sketch Friedl Weiss ....................................................................................................... 269

14

The Prohibition to Use Force after Sixty Years of Abuse Karl Zemanek .....................................................................................................287

III

SOURCES INCLUDING CODIFICATION OF INTERNATIONAL LAW

15

The Pacta Sunt Servanda Rule in the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties: A Pillar and its Safeguards Christina Binder ................................................................................................. 317

16

Variations on the Theme of ‘Soft International Law’ Hanspeter Neuhold ............................................................................................343

17

The Rule of Law, Codification and the Role of Gerhard Hafner Ferdinand Trauttmansdorff .............................................................................. 361

CONTENTS

18

vii

The General Assembly and the International Law Commission: What Happens to the Commission’s Work and Why? Michael Wood.....................................................................................................373

IV

SUBJECTS OF INTERNATIONAL LAW AND IMMUNITIES

19

Implications of the Independence of Kosovo for International Law Wolfgang Benedek ............................................................................................. 391

20

The Merits and Defects of the 2004 UN Convention on State Immunity: Gerhard Hafner’s Contribution to its Adoption by the United Nations Hazel Fox ............................................................................................................ 413

21

The International Customary Law Nature of Immunity from Measures of Constraint for State Cultural Property on Loan Andrea Gattini ................................................................................................... 421

22

La création de l’Etat d’Israël à la lumière du droit international Marcelo G. Kohen ............................................................................................... 441

23

Legal Personality or not – The Recent Attempts to Improve the Status of the OSCE Helmut Tichy & Ulrike Köhler ...........................................................................455

24

In the Twilight Zones of the State Christian Tomuschat..........................................................................................479

25

Some Peculiarities of the UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property: a Footnote on the Codification Technique Tullio Treves ...................................................................................................... 503

V

INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL LAW

26

Responsibility of States and Individuals for Genocide and other International Crimes Vladimir-Djuro Degan........................................................................................511

27

Individuelle versus Staatenverantwortlichkeit im Zusammenhang mit Völkermord Frank Höpfel ......................................................................................................535

viii

CONTENTS

28

The International Criminal Court – International Humanitarian Law at Work Hans-Peter Kaul.................................................................................................553

29

‘Irrelevance of Official Capacity’ – Article 27 Rome Statute Undermined by Obligations under International Law or by Agreements, Article 98? Otto Triffterer..................................................................................................... 571

30

The Crime of Aggression: Custom, Treaty and Prospects for International Prosecution Elizabeth Wilmshurst........................................................................................ 603

VI

HUMAN RIGHTS AND HUMANITARIAN LAW

31

L’application du droit international général par la Cour européenne des droits de l’homme Lucius Caflisch....................................................................................................627

32

Nationality and the Protection of Property under the European Convention on Human Rights Ursula Kriebaum .............................................................................................. 649

33

Vom Weltstrafrecht zum Weltzivilrecht oder vom Internationalen Strafgerichtshof zum Internationalen Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte? Überlegungen am Beispiel der Folterbekämpfung Manfred Nowak .................................................................................................667

34

De-Regulating Humanitarian Aid: The Need for New Norms and Interpretations Jordan J. Paust .................................................................................................. 701

35

The Concept of ‘Responsibility to Protect’ as an Emerging Norm Versus ‘Humanitarian Intervention’ Árpád Prandler ...................................................................................................711

36

Der Einfluss der Menschenrechte auf das Völkerrecht: ein Entwurf Bruno Simma .....................................................................................................729

37

Extraterritorial Application of Human Rights Treaties – The Case of Israel and the Palestinian Territories Revisited Andreas Zimmermann....................................................................................... 747

CONTENTS

VII

38

ix

LAW OF THE SEA AND THE ENVIRONMENT Landlocked Developing Countries and the Law of the Sea James L. Kateka .................................................................................................769

39

International Environmental Regulations – Is a Comprehensive Body of Law Emerging or is Fragmentation Going to Stay? Gerhard Loibl .....................................................................................................783

40

Using Judicial Bodies for the Implementation and Enforcement of International Environmental Law Thomas A. Mensah ............................................................................................. 797

41

Liability for Environmental Damage in Antarctica: Supplement to the Rules on State Responsibility or a Lost Opportunity? Rüdiger Wolfrum ............................................................................................... 817

VIII INTERNATIONAL DISPUTE SETTLEMENT 42

Anglo Saxon and Continental Approaches to Pleading Before the ICJ Aspects des modes continentaux et Anglo-Saxons de plaidoiries devant la C.I.J. James Crawford & Alain Pellet ......................................................................... 831

43

Argentinien vs Uruguay – Ein Mehrfrontenkampf Waldemar Hummer .......................................................................................... 869

44

The 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia Territoral and Maritime Dispute (Preliminary Objections) Judgment: A Landmark in the Sound Administration of International Justice Barbara Kwiatkowska...................................................................................... 909

45

Some Thoughts on Compliance with International Obligations Markus A. Reiterer............................................................................................ 943

46

What is a Legal Dispute? Christoph Schreuer ............................................................................................959

47

The Judicial Functions of the International Court of Justice Stephan Wittich .................................................................................................. 981

x

CONTENTS

IX

EUROPEAN LAW

48

The ‘Second Pillar’ in a Union without Pillars – A New Quality of the Common Foreign and Security Policy with the Treaty of Lisbon? Hubert Isak...................................................................................................... 1003

49

Naiades and Beyond: Stand und Perspektiven der geplanten „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa Richard Regner ...........................................................................................1027

50

Struggle for Exclusiveness: The ECJ and Competing International Tribunals Kirsten Schmalenbach ................................................................................ 1045

51

Quelle est l’identité de l’Europe ? Wolfgang Graf Vitzthum ............................................................................ 1069

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS .........................................................................................1077

Preface

The editors and the contributors dedicate this Festschrift to Gerhard Hafner on the occasion of his 65th birthday and his retirement as a professor of international law at the University of Vienna on 30 September 2008. 53 authors have contributed to this volume in honour of Gerhard Hafner and his impressive career as an international lawyer. In his professional life, Gerhard Hafner has always displayed two remarkable qualities. First, he has combined theory and practice and moved between the two with impressive ease. His entire work gives the lie to claims that international law is a discipline whose relevance is confined to the ivory tower. Gerhard Hafner is a prime example of a university teacher being deeply rooted in the daily operation of international law. Apart from his activity as former member of the Legal Office of the Austrian Federal Ministry of Foreign Affairs and present legal consultant to the same Ministry, he has participated in numerous codification conferences. Already in his younger days, Gerhard Hafner was a member of the Austrian delegation to UNCLOS III (1973-1982). Among his extensive contributions to the codification and development of international law, two merit special mention. Thus he was very influential in the elaboration of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, both as a member of the International Law Commission (1997-2001) and as head of the Austrian delegation at the Rome Conference in 1998. Special mention must also be made of his outstanding contribution to the drafting of the United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property. In 1999, he was appointed Chairman of the respective Working Group of the ILC, which established the basis for the breakthrough in the Sixth Committee of the General Assembly. After the end of his term in the ILC he was appointed Chairman of the Ad Hoc Committee on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property that elaborated the final text of the Convention which was adopted by the General Assembly on 2 December 2004. Gerhard Hafner’s practical side is also illustrated by his involvement in international litigation, for instance as counsel for Liechtenstein in the Certain Property case before the International Court of Justice, or as arbitrator in the Mox Plant case. These are only some examples of Gerhard Hafner’s practice-oriented multi-faceted talent. Gerhard Hafner’s other remarkable quality is his comprehensive and detailed knowledge of international law that is not confined to areas of special interest but extends to virtually any field of international law. In fact, it seems impossible to find a topic on which Gerhard Hafner has not had a say. He is indeed an international lawyer who is still a universalist. In a time of increasing diversification and specialisation, Gerhard Hafner probably belongs to an endangered species: he has the special merit

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of remaining a legitimate ‘old-school’ generalist of international law. As such, he shifts with ease between the various fields of international law, mindful of the connections and interrelations between them, wary of neither ignoring nor simplifying the different aspects of a problem. Gerhard Hafner’s comprehensive approach to the discipline of international law is illustrated by the breadth of the contributions in the present Festschrift. The topics chosen cover international law and its various branches, all of them dealt with by Gerhard Hafner in his numerous positions as diplomat, negotiator, legal consultant, scholar, and teacher. The Festschrift thus mirrors his ability to embrace the whole spectrum of international law. The title of the book is intended to reflect Gerhard Hafner’s efforts of raising awareness of the topic of fragmentation in international law. With his study on the ‘risks ensuing from the fragmentation of international law’, prepared during his work as a member of the International Law Commission, he stimulated the discussion on a major current topic. The fact that many authors in this Festschrift address issues of fragmentation – although the contributions belong to different and often unrelated topics – testifies to the significance of this subject, something which Gerhard Hafner realized from the very beginning. We, the editors, have worked with Gerhard Hafner in different roles – as students, assistants, colleagues or co-counsel. But all of us have always sincerely enjoyed working with him. We are convinced that Gerhard Hafner will keep his insatiable perspicacity, his friendliness and his down-to-earth character as well as his open-mindedness, his sense of humour and his untiring interest in international law. Especially the younger generation of international lawyers will not wish to miss his inexhaustible willingness of explaining, discussing and arguing questions of international law. Lucky are those who will have the opportunity to continue working with him! This Festschrift would not have seen the light of day without a number of helping hands for which we would like to express our sincere gratitude. In the first place, we are indebted to Scarlett Ortner not only for her invaluable work in editing the manuscripts and in putting it all together for the camera-ready copy of the book, but also for her constant help in keeping the whole project on track. We are also very grateful to Johanna Willmann for general assistance and for carrying out the arduous task of editing the footnotes and making the citations uniform. Many thanks go to Heather Chicca for helping us in checking and correcting contributions written in English. Our gratitude extends to Clara Reiner, Alexander Breitegger, Lisa Stadlmayr and especially to Luca Schicho for their prompt and careful proof-reading. Finally, we are indebted to the Austrian Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs which kindly financed the editing of this Festschrift and to Martinus Nijhoff and particularly Peter Buschman for their willingness to publish the book. We sincerely hope that this Festschrift will be a worthy tribute to Gerhard Hafner’s contribution to the discipline of international law. Ad multos annos! Vienna/Cambridge/Paris, September 2008 Isabelle Buffard

James Crawford

Alain Pellet

Stephan Wittich

Biographical Summary Gerhard Hafner

Professor of international and European law, University of Vienna, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations (former director of the Department); also teaches international and European law at the Vienna Diplomatic Academy; the Strobl Summer School of the University of Vienna; the Danube University Krems (Austria); the Comenius University Bratislava (Slovak Republic) and the Bratislavská Vysoká Škola Práva; the post-graduate programme ‘Master of Advanced International Studies’ organised by the Vienna Diplomatic Academy and the Vienna University, and the LL.M. Program in International Legal Studies at the University of Vienna Law Faculty. Legal Consultant to the Austrian Federal Ministry for Foreign Affairs. Membre de l’Institut de droit international. Born on 3 August 1943, in Vienna (Austria); studied in Vienna, Luxemburg, Paris, The Hague and Moscow 1961–1965

Law study, Faculty of Law, University of Vienna; further studies in Russian language, Institute for Interpretation, University of Vienna, summer courses in Luxemburg, Paris and at the Academy of International Law at the Hague (Netherlands)

1966

Doctor of Law, University of Vienna

1967/68

Exchange student, Institute of International Law, Moscow State University, research on the Soviet concept of international law (assigned to Prof. Tunkin)

1969

First publication (on the Soviet concept of permanent neutrality)

1970/71

Military service in the Austrian Federal Army

1970-1990

Assistant Professor, Institute for International Law and International Relations, Faculty of Law, University of Vienna, assigned to Prof. Zemanek

1971-1995

Seconded several times to the Legal Office of the Austrian Federal Ministry for Foreign Affairs (1983: Head of the International Economic Law Subdivision)

Since 1972

Frequently member or head of Austrian delegations to international conferences and in international organisations

Since 1980

Lecturer and Professor at the Vienna Diplomatic Academy

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BIOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY

1983-1990

Dozent (Associate Professor) of International Law; ‘venia legendi’ awarded by the Law Faculty of the Vienna University for the subject ‘International Law and International Economic Law’ (study on ‘The Status of the Landlocked State within the Distributive System of the Law of the Sea with Particular Regard to the Exclusive Economic Zone’: ‘Binnenstaat in der Verteilungsordnung des Internationalen Seerechts – am Beispiel der Wirtschaftszone’)

Since 1990

Professor of International Law at the Law Faculty of the Vienna University

1992-1997

Visiting Professor at the Law Faculty of the Comenius University Bratislava (Slovak Republic)

1993-1995

Director of the Division of General International Law of the Legal Office of the Austrian Federal Ministry for Foreign Affairs

1996

Visiting Professor at the Department of Political Science and at the Law School of the Stanford University (California) Election by the General Assembly of the United Nations to the International Law Commission for the period 1997–2001 (First Vice-president of the ILC during the 2001 session)

1997

Visiting Professor at the Institut des Hautes Etudes Internationales of the University Paris 2

Since 1998

Permanent Visiting Professor at the Law Faculty of the Comenius University Bratislava (Slovak Republic)

2001-2007

Associate of the Institut de droit international

Since 2002

Member of the Permanent Court of Arbitration

Since 2003

Conciliator at the Court of Conciliation and Arbitration within the OSCE

2004-2007

Member of the Bureau of the OSCE Court of Conciliation and Arbitration

Since 2004

Legal Consultant of the Austrian Federal Ministry for Foreign Affairs

2005-2007

Director of the Institute of European, International and Comparative Law, University of Vienna Law Faculty

Since 2006

Professor at the Vysoká Škola Práva (Bratislava, Slovak Republic) Member of the Governing Board of the European Studies Institute at the Moscow State Institute of International Relations (MGIMOUniversity)

Since 2007

Member of the Institut de droit international

BIOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY

2008

xv

Visiting Professor at the University Pierre Mendès France (Grenoble, France) Course at the Hague Academy of International Law on ‘The Emancipation of the Individual from the State under International Law’

Personal status: Austrian national since birth; since 1971 married with Mag. pharm. Ulrike Hafner, two sons: Clemens (born 1972) and Viktor (born 1978)

Relevant activities (selection) 1. Teaching – Courses on the whole topic of international law and European law (institutions and CFSP) at the Law Faculty of the University of Vienna – Professor at the Vienna Diplomatic Academy, – Professor at the Strobl Summer School of the University of Vienna (Austria), – Professor at the Vysoká Škola Práva (Bratislava, Slovak Republic) – Permanent Visiting Professor at the Law Faculty of the Comenius University Bratislava – Visiting Professor at the Stanford University – Visiting Professor at the Institut des Hautes Etudes Internationales of the University Paris 2 – Visiting Professor at the University Pierre Mendès France (Grenoble) – Courses on European law at the Danube University Krems (Austria) – Courses in the post-graduate programme ‘Master of Advanced International Studies’ organised by the Vienna Diplomatic Academy and the Vienna University – Courses in the LL.M. Programme in International Legal Studies at the University of Vienna/Law School – Guest lectures and presentations in various universities and other institutions, for example: Académie européenne d’été, Université Pierre Mendès France (Grenoble), Centres d’excellence Jean Monnet de Rennes and Grenoble; Université René Descartes (Paris V); United Nations Institute for Training and Research (UNITAR)

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BIOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY

2. Governmental conferences and similar activities – Member of Austrian Delegations in several international conferences (e.g. UNCLOS III 1973-1982, Conference on the Human Environment 1972, Codification Conferences, CSCE-Meetings on Peaceful Settlement of Disputes 1978, 1984, 1992, Conference on the Conditions for the Registration of Vessels, Consultations within the United Nations on State Immunity) – Head of Austrian Delegations (e.g. Meeting on the Elaboration of an Agreement on the Safety of UN and Associated Personnel, Consultations within the United Nations on the Establishment of an International Criminal Court, Conference on the Establishment of an International Criminal Court: Presidency of the European Union) – Austrian Representative in the 6th Committee of the General Assembly – Review Conference on the United Nations Agreement concerning Global Fish Stocks (EU Presidency 2006) – Chairman of the Ad Hoc Committee of the General Assembly of the United Nations on Jurisdictional Immunities (2002-2004)

3. Other professional activities – Legal Consultant of the Austrian Federal Ministry for Foreign Affairs – Member of the Institut de droit international (Rapporteur, 10th Commission on ‘Present Problems of the Use of Armed Force in International Law’, Sub-group on ‘Intervention by Invitation’) – Chairman of the Study Commission, Diplomatic Academy Vienna – Member of the Permanent Court of Arbitration – Conciliator of the Court of Conciliation and Arbitration within the OSCE (20042007: Member of the Bureau of the Court) – Consultant for the UN Economic Commission for Europe, Chairman of the Task Force of the ECE on Responsibility and Liability – Arbitrator in the MOX Plant Case (Ireland v United Kingdom) – Counsel for Liechtenstein in the Certain Property Case (Liechtenstein v Germany) before the International Court of Justice

BIOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY

xvii

4. Member of the ILC 1997-2001

Member of the Drafting Committee; Member of various Working Groups on different issues of the ILC; Chairman of the Working Group on Jurisdictional Immunities (1998); First Vice-Chairman of the ILC (2001)

5. Participation in countless international scientific congresses 6. Membership in international associations – Austrian Society of International Law (Österreichischer Völkerrechtstag) – German Society of International Law (Deutsche Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht, 2001-2005: First Vice-President; since then: Member of the Council) – International Law Association (Chairman of the ILA Committee on State Succession; 1992-2008: President of the Austrian Branch) – American Society of International Law – Société française pour le droit international – Austrian Society of European Law (Österreichische Gesellschaft für Europarecht) – Austrian Society of Foreign Policy (Österreichische Gesellschaft für Außenpolitik)

7. Activities in scientific journals – Managing Editor of the Austrian Journal of Public Law (ÖZÖR) – Co-editor of the Austrian Journal of Public and International Law (ÖZÖRV) – Co-editor of the Austrian Review of International and European Law – Scientific Adviser for the Österreichische außenpolitische Dokumentation (Austrian Foreign Policy Documentation), edited by the Federal Ministry for Foreign Affairs – Co-editor of Economy. Österreichs Fachmagazin für europäische und internationale Wirtschaft (1989-1993)

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BIOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY

8. Participation in EU mobility, education and training programmes – Erasmus Departmental Coordinator – Tempus Tacis Volgadoc Programme (Universities of Grenoble, Amsterdam, Vienna and Universities of the Volga district – Russian Federation) – Tempus Programme, External Expert (2007-2008): Bologna Juris (Universities of Grenoble, Rennes, Strasbourg, Saarbrücken and Athens with the Universities of Nijni Novgorod and Saransk, Russian Federation)

9. Decorations Goldenes Ehrenzeichen für die Verdienste um die Republik Österreich; Bundesehrenzeichen (Austria); Chevalier dans l’Ordre des palmes académiques (France)

10. Languages German, English, French, Russian

Bibliography

Books Die seerechtliche Verteilung von Nutzungsrechten. Rechte der Binnenstaaten in der ausschließlichen Wirtschaftszone (1987) together with J. Aicher/P. Fischer, Europarecht. Texte und Fälle (1989) together with A. Reinisch, Staatensukzession und Schuldenübernahme beim ‘Zerfall’ der Sowjetunion (1995) together with P. Fischer, Europarecht. Texte und Fälle (1998) together with C. Thun-Hohenstein/F. Cede, Europarecht: ein systematischer Überblick mit den Auswirkungen des Vertrages von Nizza (2003) together with C. Thun-Hohenstein/F. Cede, Europarecht: ein systematischer Überblick mit den Auswirkungen der EU-Erweiterung (2005)

Edited Books together with K. Ginther/W. Lang/H. Neuhold/L. Sucharipa-Behrmann (eds.), Völkerrecht zwischen normativem Anspruch und politischer Realität. Festschrift für Karl Zemanek zum 65. Geburtstag (1994) together with G. Loibl/A. Rest/L. Sucharipa-Behrmann/K. Zemanek (eds.), Liber Amicorum Professor Ignaz Seidl-Hohenveldern in Honour of his 80th Birthday (1998) together with M. G. Kohen/S. Breau (eds.), State Practice Regarding State Immunities/ La Pratique des Etats concernant les Immunités des Etats (2006)

Contributions in Textbooks, Encyclopedia and Commentaries Freiheit der Meere, in I. Seidl-Hohenveldern (ed.), Lexikon des Rechts. Völkerrecht 86 (1985) Meeresboden, in I. Seidl-Hohenveldern (ed.), Lexikon des Rechts. Völkerrecht 181 (1985) Verkehrsrecht, in I. Seidl-Hohenveldern (ed.), Lexikon des Rechts. Völkerrecht 296 (1985)

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

Die Integration der osteuropäischen Staaten, in P. Fischer/H. Köck (eds.), Europarecht einschließlich des Rechts supranationaler Organisationen 47 (1986) Die Donaukommission, in P. Fischer/H. Köck (eds.), Europarecht einschließlich des Rechts supranationaler Organisationen 51 (1986) Osteuropäische Integrationsformen, in P. Fischer/H. Köck (eds.), Europarecht einschließlich des Rechts supranationaler Organisationen 282 (1986) Fishing Boats, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law 124 (1989) Die Gemeinsame Außen- und Sicherheitspolitik, in P. Fischer/H. F. Köck/M. M. Karollus (eds.), Europarecht: Recht der EU/EG, des Europarates und der wichtigsten anderen europäischen Organisationen 926-956 (2002) Österreich und die GASP, in P. Fischer/H. F. Köck/M. M. Karollus (eds.), Europarecht: Recht der EU/EG, des Europarates und der wichtigsten anderen europäischen Organisationen 1033-1037 (2002) Räumliche Regime und Nutzungen über die und jenseits der Staatsgrenzen, in H. Neuhold/W. Hummer/C. Schreuer (eds.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts 394 (2004) Die internationale Strafgerichtsbarkeit, in H. Neuhold/W. Hummer/C. Schreuer (eds.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts 533 (2004) together with H. Miehsler/S. Wittich, Die einseitigen Rechtsgeschäfte, in H. Neuhold/W. Hummer/C. Schreuer (eds.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts 93 (2004) together with K. Zemanek/S. Wittich, Die völkerrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit und die Sanktionen des Völkerrechts, in H. Neuhold/W. Hummer/C. Schreuer (eds.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts 505 (2004) together with W. Brandstetter, § 321 Strafgesetzbuch, in F. Höpfel/E. Ratz (eds.), Wiener Kommentar zum Strafgesetzbuch. Ergänzungslieferung no. 54, at 28-43 (2004) Article 120 Reservations, in O. Triffterer (ed.), Commentary on the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court Observers’ Notes, Article by Article 1251-1263 (1999); 1737-1750 (2008) Meeresumwelt, Meeresforschung und Technologietransfer, in W. Graf Vitzthum (ed.), Handbuch des Seerechts 347-460 (2006)

Articles, Book Contributions and Reports Die permanente Neutralität in der sowjetischen Völkerrechtslehre – eine Analyse, 19 Österreichische Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht 215 (1969)

BIBLIOGRAPHY

xxi

Das sozialistische Völkerrecht und die Beziehungen zur Volksrepublik China in der sowjetischen Völkerrechtsdoktrin, China-Report 5 (1972-3) Das Tauziehen um die Umweltdeklaration und das Verhalten der Entwicklungsstaaten, Internationale Entwicklung 18 (1972) Der sozialistische Begriff der kollektiven Sicherheit und die Probleme seiner Realisierung, 13 Österreichische Zeitschrift für Außenpolitik 131 (1973) Intervention und kollektive Sicherheit, Österreichische Militärzeitschrift 376 (1973-5) Internationales Seerecht. Die Entwicklungsländer auf der 2. Session der 3. Seerechtskonferenz der UN, Internationale Entwicklung 36 (1974-3) Die dritte Seerechtskonferenz der Vereinten Nationen, 15 Österreichische Zeitschrift für Außenpolitik 4 (1975) Die dritte Session der Dritten Seerechtskonferenz der UNO, Internationale Entwicklung 56 (1975-2) Bemerkungen zu den Rechtsprinzipien der kollektiven Sicherheit in Europa, in O. W. von Amerongen (ed.), Rechtsfragen der Integration und Kooperation in Ost und West 308 (1976) Die Souveränität in Beziehung zur Einzelperson gemäß der sowjetischen Völkerrechtsdoktrin, Europäische Grundrechte-Zeitung 220 (1977-11/12) Die Gefährdung der Freiheit der Hochseefischerei. Das Urteil im isländischen Fischereistreit im Lichte der 3. Seerechtskonferenz der Vereinten Nationen, in R. Bernhardt/W. Rudolf (eds.), Die Schiffahrtsfreiheit im gegenwärtigen Völkerrecht, 15 Berichte der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht 195 (1975) Die internationale Regelung der Lagerung von radioaktivem Abfall im Meer, Unsere Umwelt, issue 5, at 10; issue 6, at 12; issue 7, at 5 Die Gruppe der Binnen- und geographisch benachteiligten Staaten auf der Dritten Seerechtskonferenz der Vereinten Nationen, 38 Zeitschrift für ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht 568 (1978) Die neue internationale Wirtschaftsordnung und die neue internationale Seerechtsordnung, in H. Neuhold (ed.), Die Neue Internationale Wirtschaftsordnung und Österreich 49 (1978) Österreich und die Gestaltung des internationalen Seerechts, 29 Die Vereinten Nationen und Österreich 49 (1980) The ‘Landlocked’ Viewpoint, Marine Policy 281 (1981) Monitoring and Surveillance: Waste Disposal, 10 Proceedings Pacem in Maribus 63 (1981)

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xxxiii

ABBREVIATIONS

Abbreviations

AALCO

Asian-African Legal Consultative Organization

AAP

Autorización Ambiental Prévia

ABl

Amtsblatt der Europäischen Union

ACDI

Annuaire de la Commission du Droit International

AFDI

Annuaire français de droit international

AG

Assemblée générale des Nations Unies

AJIL

American Journal of International Law

AJPIL

Austrian Journal of Public and International Law

All ER

All England Law Reports

ALR

Australian Law Reports

AMI

Agence Maritime Internationale

AP

anti-personnel

AP-1

Additional Protocol No. 1 to the ECHR

App

Application

ARIEL

Austrian Review of International and European Law

ASEAN

Association of Southeast Asian Nations

ASIL

American Society of International Law

ATCA

Alien Tort Claims Act

AU

African Union

AVR

Archiv des Völkerrechts

BC

Beijing Consensus

BGBl

Bundesgesetzblatt

BGH

Bundesgerichtshof

BHRC

Bar Human Rights Committee

BID

Banco Interamericano de Desarrollo

BIICL

British Institute of International and Comparative Law

BIP

Bruttoinlandsprodukt

xxxiv

ABBREVIATIONS

BIT

Bilateral Investment Treaty

BLC

Bangladesh Legal Chronicles

BLEU

Belgo-Luxembourg Economic Union

BMeiA

Bundesministerium für europäische und internationale Angelegenheiten

BMfaA

Bundesministerium für auswärtige Angelegenheiten

BRD

Bundesrepublik Deutschland

BVerfG

Bundesverfassungsgericht

BVerwG

Bundesverwaltungsgericht

BYBIL

British Year Book of International Law

CADH

Convention interaméricaine des droits de l’homme

CAHDI

Committee of Legal Advisers on Public International Law

CAR

Central African Republic

CARU

Comisión Administradora del Río Uruguay

CAT

United Nations Convention Against Torture

CCAMLR

Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources

CCAS

Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals

CCPR

Covenant on Civil and Political Rights

CDI

Commission du droit international des Nations Unies

CE

Communauté européenne

CEDAW

Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women

CEDH

Convention européenne des droits de l’homme

Cour EDH

Cour européenne des droits de l’homme

CEDIN

Centre de droit international de Nanterre

CEJ

Cour de justice des communautés européennes

CEMT

Conférence européenne des ministres des transports

CEP

Chile, Ecuador and Peru

CEPS

Centre for European Policy Studies

xxxv

ABBREVIATIONS

CERD

Convention against the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination

CFI

Court of First Instance

CFI

Corporación Financiera Internacional

CFSP

Common Foreign and and Security Policy

ChFR

Charter on Fundamental Rights

CIA

Central Intelligence Agency

CIADH

Comisión Inter-Americana de Derechos Humanos

CIJ

Cour internationale de justice

CIS

Commonwealth of Independent States

CITES

Washington Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Fauna and Flora

CJCE

Cour de Justice des Communautés européennes

CJEC

Court of Justice of the European Communities

CLCS

Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf

CMLR

Common Market Law Report

COJUR

EU Council Working Group on Public International Law

COMESA

Common Market of Eastern and Southern Africa

COREPER

Comité des représentants permanents

CR

Compte rendu

CRAMRA

Draft Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities

CRC

Rights of the Child Convention

CS

Continental shelf

CSCE

Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe

CSDP

Common Security and Defence Policy

CT

Constitutional Treaty

CTC

Counter-Terrorism Committee

CTED

Counter-Terrorism Executive Directorate

CTS

Consolidated Treaty Series

CV

Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités (1969)

xxxvi

ABBREVIATIONS

CVDT

Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités (1969)

DCT

Draft Constitutional Treaty

DEA

Drug Enforcement Administration

Doc

Document

Dok

Dokument

DPRK

Democratic People’s Republic of Korea

DRC

Democratic Republic of Congo

DSB

Dispute Settlement Body

DSU

Dispute Settlement Understanding

EAC

East African Community

EBU

Europäische Binnenschifffahrtsunion

EC

European Community

ECE

Economic Commission for Europe

ECHR

European Court of Human Rights

ECHR

European Convention on Human Rights

ECJ

Court of Justice of the European Communities

ECMT

European Conference of Ministers of Transport

ECommHR

European Commission on Human Rights

ECOSOC

Economic and Social Council

ECR

European Court Reports

ECtHR

European Court of Human Rights

EDA

European Defence Agency

EDZ

Europäischen Dokumentationszentrums

EEA

European Economic Area

EEAS

European External Action Service

EEC

European Economic Community

EEZ

Exclusive Economic Zone

EFTA

European Free Trade Association

EG

Europäische Gemeinschaft

EGMR

Europäischer Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte

xxxvii

ABBREVIATIONS

EGV

Europäischer Gemeinschaftsvertrag

EHRR

European Human Rights Reports

EJIL

European Journal of International Law

EKVM

Europäischen Konferenz der Verkehrsminister

EMRK

Europäische Menschenrechtskonvention

EP

European Parliament

ESA

Establishment of a Surveillance Authority

ESCOR

Economic and Social Council Official Records

ESI

European Stability Initiative

ESO

Europäische Schifferorganisation

ETS

European Treaty Series

EU

European Union

EuGH

Gerichtshof der Europäischen Gemeinschaften

EuGRZ

Europäische Grundrechte-Zeitschrift

EULEX

The European Union Rule of Law Mission

EWGV

Europäischer Wirtschaftsgemeinschaftsvertrag

EWHC

High Court of England and Wales

FCN

Treaty of Friendship, Commerce and Navigation

FEPI

Europäischer Verband der Binnenhäfen

FILJ

Foreign Investment Law Journal

FNI

Front des Nationalistes et Intégrationnistes

FPLC

Forces Patriotiques pour la libération du Congo

FRD

Friendly Relations Declaration

FRG

Federal Republic of Germany

FRPI

Force de Résistance Patriotique en Ituri

FRY

Federal Republic of Yugoslavia

FSIA

Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act

FTA

Free Trade Area

FTCA

Federal Tort Claims Act

FTO

Foreign Terrorist Organization

xxxviii

ABBREVIATIONS

GA

General Assembly

GAJICL

Georgia Journal of International and Comparative Law

GAOR

General Assembly Official Records

GASP

Gemeinsame Aussen- und Sicherheitspolitik

GATS

General Agreement on Trade in Services

GATT

General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade

GDR

Grossdeutsche Reichsbahn

GNI

Gross National Income

GTAN

Grupo Técnico Bilateral de Alto Nivel

GV

Generalversammlung

GY(B)IL

German Yearbook of International Law

HLP

High-Level Panel

HR

High Representative

HRCD

Human Rights Case Digest

HRLJ

Human Rights Law Journal

HRQ

Human Rights Quarterly

HVO

Hrvatsko vijeće obrane

IACHR

Inter-American Commission on Human Rights

IAEA

International Atomic Energy Agency

IAMRK

Interamerikanische Kommission für Menschenrechte

IBA

International Bar Association

ICAO

International Civil Aviation Organization

ICBL

International Campaign to Ban Landmines

ICC

International Criminal Court

ICCPR

International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights

ICESR

International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights

ICG

International Crisis Group

ICISS

International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty

ICJ

International Court of Justice

ICJ Rep.

Reports of the International Court of Justice

xxxix

ABBREVIATIONS

ICJYB

International Court of Justice Yearbook

ICLQ

International and Comparative Law Quarterly

ICR

International Civil Representative

ICRC

International Committee of the Red Cross

ICSID

International Centre for the Settlement of Investment Disputes

ICTR

International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda

ICTY

International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia

IDI

Institut de droit international

IDP

Internally displaced persons

IGH

Internationaler Gerichtshof

IGO

Intergovernmental Organization

IJMCL

International Journal of Marine and Coastal Law

IKRK

Internationales Komitee vom Roten Kreuz

ILA

International Law Association

ILC

International Law Commission

ILJ

International Law Journal

ILM

International Legal Materials

ILO

International Labour Organization

ILR

International Law Reports

IMF

International Monetary Fund

IMO

International Maritime Organisation

IMT

International Military Tribunal

INE

Inland Navigation Europe

INTAL

Instituto para la Integración de América Latina y el Caribe

IOC

Organisation of the Islamic Conference

IOPC

International Oil Pollution Compensation

IPrax

Praxis des Internationalen Privat- und Verfahrensrechts

IPRG

Bundesgesetz über das internationale Privatrecht

IRCT

International Rehabilitation Council for Torture Victims

IRRC

International Review of the Red Cross

xl

ABBREVIATIONS

ISA

International Seabed Authority

ISG

International Steering Group

IsLR

Israel Law Review

ISVSK

Internationaler Ständiger Verband für Schifffahrtskongresse

ITF

International Transport Forum

ITLOS

International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea

ITO

International Trade Organization

IUCN

International Union for Conservation of Nature

IUSCTR

Iran-United States Claims Tribunal Reports

IVR

Internationale Vereinigung des Rheinschiffsregisters

JEL

Journal of Environmental Law

JIL

Journal of International Law

JN

Jurisdiktionsnorm

KGB

Komitet Gossudarstwennoy Besopasnosti

KLA

Kosovo Liberation Army

KOMM

Kommission

KSZE

Konferenz über Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa

LCIA

London Court of International Arbitration

LCIL

Lauterpacht Centre for International Law

LDC

Least developed countries

LGERA

Journal Local Government and Environmental Reports of Australia

LJIL

Leiden Journal of International Law

LLDC

Landlocked developing countries

LLGDS

Landlocked and geographically disadvantaged States

LMO

Living modified organisms

LNTS

League of Nations Treaty Series

LRA

Lord’s Resistance Army

LRTWC

Law Reports of Trials of War Criminals

LSE

London School of Economics and Political Science

MAI

Multilateral Agreement on Investment

xli

ABBREVIATIONS

MEA

Multilateral Environmental Agreement(s)

MERCOSUR

Mercado Común del Sur

MFN

Most favoured nations

MONUC

United Nations Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo

MoU(s)

Memorandum (Memoranda) of understanding

NAFTA

North American Free Trade Agreement

NAIDES

Integriertes Europäisches Aktionsprogramm für die Binnenschifffahrt

NAM

Non-Aligned Movement

NATO

North Atlantic Treaty Organization

NCTA

Northern Corridor Transit Agreement

NDR

Norddeutscher Rundfunk

NEC

New Epoch of Confrontation

NGO

Non-governmental organization

NILR

Netherlands International Law Review

NPT

Non-Proliferation Treaty

NQHR

Netherlands Quarterly of Human Rights

NRC

Norwegian Refugee Council

NYIL

Netherlands Yearbook of International Law

NYU

New York University

NZZ

Neue Zürcher Zeitung

OAS

Organization of the American States

OAU

Organization of African Unity

öBGBl

Österreichisches Bundesgesetzblatt

ODIHR

Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights

OECD

Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development

OGH

Oberster Gerichtshof

OJ

Official Journal of the European Union

OLGR

Oberlandesgericht

OMC

Organisation Mondiale du Commerce

xlii

ABBREVIATIONS

ONU

Organisation des Nations Unies

OPCAT

Optional Protocol to the Convention against Torture and other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment

OSCE

Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe

OSPAR

Convention for the Protection of the Maritime Environment of the North-East Atlantic

öStGB

Österreichisches Strafgesetzbuch

OSZE

Organisation für Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa

ÖZöRVR

Österreichische Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht

PCIJ

Permanent Court of International Justice

PLO

Palestine Liberation Organization

PMCs

Private military companies

POP

Persistent organic pollutants

PPP

Public-private partnership

PPP

Polluter-pays principle

PRC

People’s Republic of China

PROCON

Programa de evaluación de calidad de aguas y control de la contaminación del Río Uruguay

PSC

Permanent Structured Cooperation

PT

Planning team

PTA

Preferential Trading Area

RCADI

Recueil des Cours de l’Académie de la Haye

RdC

Recueil des Cours

RECIEL

Review of European Community and International Environmental Law

Rep

Report

Res

Resolution

Rev

Review

RGDIP

Revue générale de droit international public

RIAA

Reports of International Arbitral Awards

RSA

Recueil des sentences arbitrales

xliii

ABBREVIATIONS

RSA

Foreign Cultural Property Immunity Act

RSBC

Law and Equity Act

RSM

Foreign Cultural Property Immunity from Seizure Act

RSO

Foreign Cultural Objects Immunity from Seizure Act,

RSQ

Exemptions from Seizure Act

RTP

Responsibility to protect

SADC

Southern African Development Community

SALJ

South African Law Journal

SC

Security Council

SCC

Stockholm Chamber of Commerce

SCT

Supreme Court

SDNY

Southern District of New York

SECEX

Portaria da Secretaría de Comércio Exterior da Ministério de Desenvolvimento, Industria e Comércio Exterior

SFRY

Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia

SIPRI

Stockholm International Peace Research Institute

STE

Série des traités européens

StGB

Strafgesetzbuch

SVN

Satzung der Vereinten Nationen

SZIER

Schweizerische Zeitschrift für internationales und europäisches Recht

TEC

Treaty establishing the European Community

TEU

Treaty of the European Union

TFEU

Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union

TICTS

Tanzania International Container Terminal Services

TIR

Transit international routier

TPA

Tanzania Ports Authority

TPR

Tribunal Permanente de Revision

TRC

Tanzania Railways Authority

TRIPS

Agreement on Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights

xliv

ABBREVIATIONS

TS

Territorial sea

TWC

Trials of War Criminals

UAM

Universidad Autónoma de Madrid

UCLA

University of California, Los Angeles

UDSSR

Union der Sozialistischen Sowjetrepubliken

UE

Union européenne

UK

United Kingdom

UKHL

United Kingdom House of Lords

UKTS

United Kingdom Treaty Series

UN

United Nations

UNCED

United Nations Conference on Environment and Development

UNCITRAL

United Nations Commission on International Trade Law

UNCLOS

United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea

UNCTAD

United Nations Conference on Trade and Development

UNDOALOS

United Nations Division for Ocean Affairs and the Law of the Sea

UNDP

United Nations Development Programme

UNECE

United Nations Economic Commission for Europe

UNEEBC

UN Eritrea/Ethiopia Boundary Commission

UNEP

United Nations Environment Programme

UNESCO

United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization

UNFCCC

United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change

UNIDROIT

International Institute for the Unification of Private Law

UNITAR

United Nations Institute for Training and Research

UNMIK

United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo

UNMIS

United Nations Mission in Sudan

UNO

United Nations Organization

UNTS

United Nations Treaty Series

UNYB

United Nations Yearbook

UPC

Union des Patriotes Congolais

UPR

Universal Periodic Review

xlv

ABBREVIATIONS

US

United States

USA

United States of America

USC

United States Code

USSR

Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics

SdN

Société des Nations

TCE

Traité instituant la Communauté européenne

TUE

Traité sur l’Union européenne

VbVG

österreichisches Verbandsverantwortlichkeitsgesetz

VBW

Verein für europäische Binnenschifffahrt und Wasserstraßen

VCLT

Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties

VerwGH

Verwaltungsgerichtshof

VJIL

Virginia Journal of International Law

VMK

Völkermordkonvention

VN

Vereinte Nationen

Vol

Volume

VRB

Völkerrechtsbüro

WC

Washington consensus

WEU

Western European Union

WHO

World Health Organization

WLR

The Weekly Law Reports

WMD

Weapons of Mass Destruction

WSO

World Summit Outcome

WTO

World Trade Organization

WÜV

Wiener Übereinkommen über das Recht der Verträge

Y(B)IL

Yearbook of International Law

Y(B)IEL

Yearbook of International Environmental Law

YILC

Yearbook of the International Law Commission

YILJ

The Global Community Yearbook of International Law and Jurisprudence

ZaöRV

Zeitschrift für ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht

xlvi

ABBREVIATIONS

ZÖR

Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht

ZP

Zusatzprotokoll

INTRODUCTION

1

1 – EINIGE PERSÖNLICHE BEMERKUNGEN ZU GERHARD HAFNER

3

Einige persönliche Bemerkungen zu Gerhard Hafner Hans Winkler

Wenn in den letzten Jahren – oder soll ich sagen Jahrzehnten? – „Not am völkerrechtlichen Mann“ war, sei es weil eine Teilnahme an einer internationalen Konferenz anstand, weil es galt, eine wissenschaftliche Meinung von einem wirklichen Profi überprüfen zu lassen oder einfach nur, weil man an einem völkerrechtlichen Problem verzweifelte, dann war es Gerhard Hafner, an den man als Allerersten dachte – und auch heute noch denkt. Und dieser weltweit renommierte „Kapazunder“, den ich Freund zu nennen die Ehre habe, hat mich, uns von der verschworenen Gemeinschaft der „VRBler“, niemals enttäuscht. Seit – ich glaube es kaum, wo wir doch beide noch so jugendlich sind! – 37 Jahren kreuzen einander unsere Wege. Manchmal laufen sie auch parallel, und das hat mir immer besonders viel Freude bereitet. Die gemeinsame Zeit im Völkerrechtsbüro des Außenministeriums gehört für mich zu den schönsten Erinnerungen meiner gesamten beruflichen Laufbahn, und zwar aus mehreren Gründen. Zum ersten, weil Gerhard einfach ein besonders netter, umgänglicher und ausgeglichener Mensch ist. Mit ihm kann man herrlich fachsimpeln, auch streiten – natürlich in einem sehr freundschaftlichen Sinn – aber auch Spaß haben und manchmal – aber eben nur manchmal – auch unernst sein. Zum zweiten, weil ich von ihm sehr viel lernen konnte. Gerhard ist für mich einer der umfassendsten Völkerrechtler, stets seriös und fundiert, aber nie übertrieben dogmatisch, immer lösungsorientiert, aber auch prinzipientreu. Ich glaube, ich kann sagen, dass wir einander stets ergänzt haben: Gerhard zusätzlich zu seinem praktischen Pragmatismus und seiner Konsequenz mit seinem breiten Fundus an wissenschaftlichem Wissen und ich … na ja, lassen wir das. Und schließlich ist auf Gerhard Hafner immer Verlass! Würde ich meine Memoiren schreiben – wobei ich allen meinen Freunden und auch jenen, die es nicht sind, verspreche, es nicht zu tun –, Gerhard würde in vielen Kapiteln vorkommen. Abgesehen von der gemeinsamen Zeit im Völkerrechtsbüro verbinden uns viele gemeinsame Aufgaben und Tätigkeiten in den verschiedensten internationalen Foren. Im CAHDI des Europarates, wo Gerhard Hafner unumstritten einer der anerkanntesten Mitglieder war, natürlich im Rahmen der Vereinten Nationen, vor allem im sechsten Komitee der Generalversammlung, in Kommissionen, bei Konferenzen, in der OSZE, bei den Österreichischen Völkerrechtstagen und, und … Abgesehen von meiner allgemeinen persönliche Wertschätzung für die besonderen wissenschaftlichen und menschlichen Fähigkeiten Gerhard Hafners, habe ich ihn für

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 3-4, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

4

HANS WINKLER

einige Dinge immer ganz besonders bewundert: für seine Expertise im Seerecht (das mir in meiner fast 40-jährigen Tätigkeit – davon immerhin 17 Jahre im Völkerrechtsbüro – bis heute ein Buch mit sieben Siegeln geblieben ist), seine Mitgliedschaft in der ILC, die uns als Österreicher wahrlich stolz gemacht hat, für seine Tätigkeit in einem Fall vor dem Internationalen Gerichtshof (da war – ich gebe es zu – auch Neid im Spiel, ich hätte so gerne einmal einen Fall vor dem IGH plädiert!), für seine russischen Sprachkenntnisse und seine Vertrautheit mit dem sowjetischen Völkerrechtsdenken, seinen Beitrag zur Geburt des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofes. Die Liste ließe sich natürlich noch fast nach Belieben fortsetzen. Ob nun die Zeit nahe ist, wo Gerhard Hafner etwas mehr Zeit haben wird, um sich vermehrt auch um andere Dinge im Leben, natürlich vor allem um seine liebe Familie, zu kümmern, die ihn immer so unterstützt hat (vielleicht mit Glückspillen aus der Hausapotheke?), wage ich angesichts der Vielfältigkeit seiner Interessen und angesichts seines andauernden und unveränderten geistigen und körperlichen Aktivitätsdranges ernsthaft zu bezweifeln. Zumindest das Außenministerium wird Gerhard Hafner auch weiterhin in ungebrochener und unverminderter Intensität beanspruchen. Schließlich muss es ja jemanden geben, der uns Politikern sagt: So geht das aber, auch bei noch so großer Flexibilität, wirklich nicht! Also, lieber Gerhard, ich danke Dir für Deine jahrelange Unterstützung und Hilfe, für Deine Freundschaft, die mir immer sehr viel bedeutet hat, und ich wünsche Dir auch weiterhin so viel Freude mit Deinem Beruf, der immer auch Deine wahre Berufung war. Alles Gute, „ad multos annos“!

2

2 – GERHARD HAFNER – PORTRÄT EINES ÖSTERREICHISCHEN VÖLKERRECHTLERS

5

Gerhard Hafner – Porträt eines österreichischen Völkerrechtlers Franz Cede

Die eindrucksvolle Laufbahn unseres Freundes Gerhard Hafner führte ihn schon früh in die Zentren der europäischen Völkerrechtslehre. Studien in Wien, Luxemburg, Paris, Den Haag und Moskau waren die ersten Stationen einer Karriere, die Gerhard Hafner im Laufe der Jahre buchstäblich rund um den Erdball brachte. Diesem weltweiten Horizont entspricht auch die thematische Weite, die den Jubilar in seinem wissenschaftlichen Oeuvre in so hohem Masse kennzeichnet. Es dürfte nur wenige völkerrechtliche Fragen geben, an denen Gerhard Hafner vorbeigegangen ist. Als Völkerrechtsexperte bald gefragt, reizte es ihn sehr, die Völkerrechtslehre auch in der Praxis anzuwenden. Als Delegierter, Mitarbeiter oder Konsulent des österreichischen Außenministeriums, jetzt Bundesministerium für europäische und internationale Angelegenheiten (BMeiA), hatte und hat Prof. Hafner an unzähligen Konferenzen und Tagungen teilzunehmen. Der Autor dieser Zeilen, der Anfang 1993 zum Leiter des Völkerrechtsbüros (VRB) im österreichischen Außenministerium bestellt wurde, bat Gerhard Hafner, in das Team des VRB einzutreten. Nach entsprechenden Annäherungsversuchen gelang es tatsächlich, Gerhard Hafner an Land zu ziehen und ihn für zwei Jahre (1993-1995) als Leiter der „Abteilung für Allgemeines Völkerrecht“ im Bundesministerium für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten (BMfaA) zu installieren. Diesen Schachzug hat der damalige Leiter des VRB nie bereut. Prof. Hafner brachte sofort sein profundes akademisches Wissen und seine jahrelange praktische Erfahrung ein, auf die man sich verlassen konnte. Die Zusammenarbeit mit Prof. Hafner erwies sich als Glücksfall in jeder Beziehung. Im folgenden dürfen dem geneigten Leser einige Eindrücke vermittelt werden, die den Menschen und Juristen Gerhard Hafner schildern.

I.

Hafners russische Seele

Gerhard Hafners Vater zählte zu den führenden Slawisten Österreichs. Als allseits geschätzter Universitätsprofessor hatte er Generationen von Studenten die russische Sprache und Kultur näher gebracht. Mit diesem „slawischen Erbteil“ ausgestattet, pilgerte Gerhard Hafner als Austauschstudent nach Moskau, wo er 1967/68 beim Nestor der sowjetischen Völkerrechtsdoktrin Professor Tunkin Vorlesungen besuchte und seine Russischkenntnisse perfektionieren konnte. In dieser Zeit beschäftigte er sich eingehend mit dem sowjetischen Konzept der österreichischen Neutralität und lernte

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 5-10, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

6

FRANZ CEDE

die Hintergründe des österreichischen Staatsvertrages kennen. Der Leiter des VRB legte Jahre später verständlicherweise großen Wert darauf, dass Gerhard Hafner ihn 1993 bei seiner ersten Dienstreise nach Moskau begleitete. Damals, kurz nach dem Ende der Sowjetunion, stellte sich Moskau als graue und abweisende Metropole dar, die erst Farbe gewann als Gerhard Hafner durch die Stätten seines studentischen Wirkens führte. Mit leuchtenden Augen wies er auf das Fenster des Studentenzimmers im stalinistischen Gebäude der Lomonossow-Universität, wo er einst als Student gehaust hatte. Auch zur russischen Literatur und Musik verschaffte Gerhard Hafner als moskowitischer Blindenhund des VRB-Chefs völlig neue und unmittelbare Zugänge. Die intime Kenntnis der russischen Sprache und Völkerrechtslehre veranlasste Gerhard Hafner zum Aufbau einer stattlichen Sammlung sowjetischer Lehrbücher und völkerrechtlicher Fachzeitschriften. Als dann mit dem Zusammenbruch der Sowjetunion auch das sowjetische Konzept des Völkerrechts ins Grab sank, blickte Gerhard Hafner mit traurigen Augen auf seine „sowjetische Handbibliothek“ und fand nur die Worte: „Alles Makulatur ….“ Geblieben ist Gerhard Hafner die Liebe zu Russland, die sich auch heute in seinem Engagement für akademische Projekte in der Russischen Föderation bekundet.

II.

Gerhard und die juristische Wurzelbehandlung

Für einen unvorbereiteten Gesprächspartner gleicht jede Begegnung mit Prof. Hafner einer zahnärztlichen Wurzelbehandlung ohne Narkose. Mit grausamer Kälte setzt er sein juristisches Werkzeug an und legt die Schwachstellen des Patienten bloß. Das Skalpell seiner scharfen juristischen Argumentation setzt er stets mit großem Vergnügen ein, um fehlerhafte Rechtsansichten seines Vis-à-Vis zu zerpflücken oder auch gelegentlich, um dessen Ignoranz augenscheinlich zu machen. Gerhards juristischer Röntgenblick erkennt in Blitzesschnelle die rechtlich neuralgischen Punkte einer Fragestellung. Wenn er will, kann er auch geschulte Experten durch gezielte Fragen so verwirren, bis sie sich schwitzend in immer neuen Verästelungen des Völkerrechts verlieren. Doch ein Sadist ist unser Gerhard beileibe nicht. Wenn der juristische Gegner oder Prüfungskandidat von seinen Fragen und Argumenten völlig getroffen am Boden liegt, kann es schon sein, dass er von Mitleid gerührt sein berühmt mildes Lächeln aufsetzt. Dann ist die Welt rasch wieder in Ordnung. Vergessen freilich kann man solche Gespräche nie. Die beschriebenen zahnmedizinischen Eigenschaften unseres Jubilars hat der frühere Leiter des VRB durchaus schätzen gelernt. War einmal die juristische Schmerzbehandlung durch den „Professor“ überstanden, blieb man auch gegenüber seinen Vorgesetzten rechtlich unverwundbar. Gerhard Hafner liebt es, komplexe juristische Sachverhalte auch entsprechend kompliziert auszudrücken. Der Leiter des VRB hat es sich dann angelegen sein lassen, die hochwissenschaftlichen Gutachten unseres großen Juristen in die simple Sprache der politischen Entscheidungsträger zu übersetzen.

2 – GERHARD HAFNER – PORTRÄT EINES ÖSTERREICHISCHEN VÖLKERRECHTLERS

III.

7

Bergwandern mit Gerhard Hafner

Wer einmal Gelegenheit hatte, sich mit Gerhard Hafner auf die Höhen der Kitzbühler Alpen zu wagen, weiß, wie anstrengend eine Bergwanderung sein kann. Gemeint ist dabei nicht die physische Erschöpfung, die den Bergsteiger am Abend ermattet in die Kissen sinken lässt. Nein, davon ist hier nicht die Rede. Wandern mit Gerhard Hafner heißt, mit größter Konzentration den gelehrten Ausführungen des Großmeisters des Völkerrechts über Stock und Stein stolpernd folgen zu müssen. Der Blick auf die Bergwelt wird dabei zumeist durch völkerrechtliche Probleme verstellt, die Gerhard Hafner seinem Begleiter zu dessen Verzweiflung ausbreitet. Die Berge und Täler verwandeln sich plötzlich in völkerrechtliche Statusfragen, die Seen werden in Kondominiumstheorien zerteilt und in den Ebenen sieht man mit Gerhard Hafner nur mehr die rechtlichen Verwerfungen von nationalen Minderheiten. Die Landschaft mutiert auf diese Weise zur Sammlung von völkerrechtlichen „Cases and Materials“. Kein Wunder, dass der physisch und psychisch strapazierte Wanderer den Abend in der Hütte herbeisehnt wie der Ertrinkende das Ufer. Gerhard Hafner ist dann voll in seinem Element. Er spricht von einem schönen Tag, von den Bergen und immer wieder vom Völkerrecht.

IV.

Wahlkampf mit Gerhard Hafner

Soll einer sagen, dass nur Politiker Wahlkämpfe zu führen haben. Auch eminente Völkerrechtler müssen sich in Wahlschlachten werfen, vor allem dann, wenn sie der Ehrgeiz packt und sie die Mitgliedschaft in einem international bedeutsamen Gremium wie z.B. der Völkerrechtskommission (ILC) der Vereinten Nationen anstreben. So geschehen auch mit Gerhard Hafner, der sich – und mit ihm die gesamte Republik – gute Chancen ausrechnete, dass er in den erlauchten Kreis der ILC aufgenommen werde. Dem Leiter des VRB und dem österreichischen Vertreter bei den Vereinten Nationen wurde also dann aufgetragen, das Produkt Gerhard Hafner so zu vermarkten, dass sich bei den ILC-Wahlen in der UN-Generalversammlung 1996 auch der entsprechende Erfolg einstellen würde. Für Freund wie Feind war klar, dass mit Gerhard Hafner ein höchst potenter Kandidat ins Rennen geschickt wurde. Sein immenses juristisches Wissen, seine Erfahrung und sein internationaler Bekanntheitsgrad ließen keinen Zweifel an der Richtigkeit der Entscheidung, gerade ihn als ILC-Kandidaten aufzustellen. Doch manche stellten sich die bange Frage, ob dieser österreichische Professor nicht zu bescheiden und zu höflich sei, um in der diplomatischen Welt am Hauptsitz der Vereinten Nationen zu glänzen. Eine völkerrechtliche Kanone, so munkelten einige, müsse nicht unbedingt auch in der diplomatischen Szene Anklang finden. Unbeirrt von solchen Unkenrufen verkauften wir Gerhard Hafner bei allen Missionen in New York wie ein Waschmittel. In persönlichen Vorsprachen pilgerte der Leiter des VRB mit dem Kandidaten an der Hand zu den Missionen von so ziemlich allen Mitgliedstaaten der Vereinten Nationen. One country one vote! Auf diese Weise lernten wir viele freundliche

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Repräsentanten der kleinsten UN-Mitgliedstaaten kennen. Diesen erklärten wir mit Engelszungen, weshalb es im vitalen Interesse gerade ihres Landes läge, wenn Gerhard Hafner in die ILC käme. Erstaunlicherweise zeigte sich bald, dass das Markenzeichen unseres Kandidaten als höflicher und bescheidener Professor aus Österreich in New York bestens zu vermarkten war. Als dann Gerhard Hafner im November 1996 von der Generalversammlung mit überwältigender Mehrheit als Mitglied in die ILC gewählt wurde, waren alle stolz und unsere Freude kannte keine Grenzen.

V.

Gerhard Hafner und das Seerecht

Sie kennen den Spruch: Beschäftige Dich mit dem Seerecht und Du siehst die Welt. Gerhard Hafner hat die Richtigkeit dieser Aussage am eigenen Leibe zur Genüge kennen gelernt. Er war am Zustandekommen der UN-Seerechtskonvention maßgeblich beteiligt, hatte er doch als österreichischer Delegierter bei zahllosen Tagungen zur Vorbereitung dieses Regelwerkes beigetragen. Österreich schwamm bei der Seerechtskonferenz erfolgreich auf der Welle der Binnenstaaten. Gerhard Hafner hatte diese völkerrechtliche Marktnische rasch erkannt und spielte im Verhandlungsgeschehen als Seerechtsexperte eine allseits anerkannte Rolle, die weit über den Stellenwert unseres Landes in Meeresangelegenheiten hinausging. Mit Wissen und Charme gelang es der österreichischen Delegation unter namhafter Beteiligung von Gerhard Hafner immer wieder, wichtige Beiträge zur Gestaltung des Seerechts zu leisten. Vielleicht war es auch eine der blendenden Ideen Gerhard Hafners, als Beraterin für die österreichische Delegation bei der Seerechtskonferenz der UNO Elisabeth Mann-Borgese zu gewinnen, die Tochter des weltberühmten Schriftstellers Thomas Mann. Jede ihrer Wortmeldungen im Namen Österreichs rief Respekt und große Aufmerksamkeit hervor.

VI.

Gerhard Hafner der Technikfreak

Gerhard Hafner vermittelt den Anschein eines durch und durch bürgerlichen Menschen in der guten Tradition des gewissenhaften österreichischen Staatsbeamten. Ungeachtet dieser heutzutage schon als altmodisch erachteten Wesenszüge entpuppt sich unser Freund bei näherer Beobachtung als ausgespochener Technikfreak. Den Nutzen von EDV-Datenbanken für die Arbeit des ambulanten Völkerrechtlers hat Gerhard Hafner früher als viele andere erkannt. Bei manchen Sitzungsteilnehmern ist Gerhard Hafners blitzschneller Zugriff auf die Archive des Völkerrechts ziemlich gefürchtet. Während sich die Diskussion im Kreise dreht, hat der biedere Professor schon den elektronischen Fundus des völkerrechtlichen Wissens geöffnet und zitiert zur allgemeinen Verblüffung die gesuchten Vorschriften nach Punkt und Beistrich.

2 – GERHARD HAFNER – PORTRÄT EINES ÖSTERREICHISCHEN VÖLKERRECHTLERS

9

Wie oft auch musste der Autor dieser Zeilen Gerhard Hafner durch die Häuserschluchten Manhattans begleiten, wenn der Professor wieder einmal nach den neuesten Gadgets Ausschau hielt. Als Pionier der Anwendung modernster technischer Mittel beweist Gerhard Hafner, wie modern er denkt und wie wichtig für den Völkerrechtler heute „instant information and communication“ geworden sind.

VII. Gerhard Hafner der Familienmensch Es ist nicht zu glauben. Bei der Lektüre des Lebenslaufes unseres Jubilars drängt sich die Frage geradezu auf: Wann hat dieser Mann Zeit für seine Familie? Die Antwort muss natürlich lauten: Fast nie. Trotzdem gilt es festzustellen, dass die enorme Arbeitskapazität von Gerhard Hafner nicht ohne die Unterstützung seiner geschätzten Frau Ulrike und dem Verständnis seiner beiden Söhne denkbar wäre. Ein harmonisches Familienleben ist nicht allein eine Zeitfrage. Die innere Kraft und Balance für den enormen Arbeits- und Reiserhythmus, die Gerhard Hafner an den Tag legt, sind in erster Linie der Festigkeit des familiären Zusammenhalts zu verdanken, der im Hause Hafner herrscht. Wer je das Glück hatte, die Gastlichkeit der Familie Hafner zu genießen, kann ein Lied davon singen. Ganz offensichtlich stehen Humor, Geselligkeit und echte Lebensfreude den fachlichen Qualitäten eines großen Völkerrechtlers Österreichs nicht im Wege. So heben wir das Glas zu seinen Ehren und wünschen Gerhard Hafner „ad multos annos“.

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CHAPTER I

Fragmentation and Theory of International Law

12

XX

3

3 – UNE RELECTURE DE LA THÉORIE DES SOUS-SYSTÈMES EN DROIT INTERNATIONAL

13

Une relecture de la théorie des sous-systèmes en droit international Isabelle Buffard

« Ainsi qu’il a été plusieurs fois relevé au cours même des débats récents de la Commission du droit international, notamment sur le sujet de la responsabilité des États, le droit international positif ne consiste pas en un unique ordre juridique homogène, mais essentiellement en différents systèmes partiels dont le résultat est ‘un système inorganisé’. »1

C’est sur ces mots que Gerhard Hafner introduisait sa proposition d’étude de la fragmentation du droit international par la Commission du Droit International (CDI). Il s’agit d’un des multiples sujets qui lui tiennent à cœur et il illustre bien son intérêt pour les domaines les plus variés du droit international, dans une vision de celui-ci que l’on peut qualifier d’universaliste. Il considère ainsi la création continue de nouvelles normes internationales toujours plus concrètes et spéciales comme marquant le perfectionnement et l’approfondissement du système juridique international. C’est dans ce cadre que toute norme internationale, aussi spécialisée soit-elle, s’inscrit et devra être analysée, sous peine de perdre de vue un aspect essentiel de la norme en question, son appartenance à un système juridique2. Ayant eu l’opportunité de travailler sous sa direction et ensuite en collaboration avec lui sur ce thème de la fragmentation3, le choix de l’auteur de ces lignes pour le Festschrift en son honneur va donc de soit. Il s’agira de traiter de la question de l’organisation en droit international de ces différents „systèmes, sous-systèmes et sous-sous-systèmes universels, régionaux voire bilatéraux dont le degré d’intégration varie »4. La problématique des sous-systèmes en droit international se pose en particulier sous l’angle de la relation entre normes secondaires conventionnelles spéciales et normes

1

G. Hafner, « Les risques que pose la fragmentation du droit international », Commission du droit international 2000, Rapport sur les travaux de sa cinquante-deuxième session, Documents officiels de l’Assemblée générale, Cinquante-cinquième session, Supplément n°10 (A/55/10), Annexe, pp. 281-297, pp. 305-322, p. 305.

2

Ibid.

3

Voir I. Buffard/G. Hafner, « Risques et fragmentation en droit international », 22 L’Observateur des Nations Unies (2007), pp. 29-56.

4

G. Hafner, « Les risques que pose la fragmentation du droit international », supra note 1.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 13-40, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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ISABELLE BUFFARD

secondaires du droit international général5. S’il ne s’agit que d’une question parmi d’autres dans le cadre du débat plus large de la fragmentation, elle n’est pas la moins intéressante et elle fera l’objet de cette contribution6. Les normes secondaires spéciales en question sont par exemple celles mises en place dans le cadre de la Convention européenne des droits de l’Homme (CEDH)7 ou des accords de l’Organisation Mondiale du Commerce (OMC)8. Ces traités internationaux mettent en place à la fois des normes primaires et secondaires, raison pour laquelle on peut les qualifier de sous-systèmes du droit international9. De nombreuses interrogations concernant ces sous-systèmes restent ouvertes. Ainsi, quel rôle pourront y jouer les normes secondaires générales ou systémiques – telles que celles relatives à la responsabilité internationale des Etats pour fait illicite répertoriées par la CDI10 ou encore celles relatives à l’interprétation en droit 5

Les normes secondaires sont considérées comme les normes relatives à la création, l’application, l’interprétation et la sanction de la violation des normes primaires, qui sont des normes prescrivant un comportement (obligation de faire ou de ne pas faire). Ces définitions correspondent en grande partie à la distinction faite par H.L.A. Hart et sont en accord avec la conception de H. Kelsen à la fin de son œuvre. Voir H.L.A. Hart, The Concept of Law, 1994, spéc. p. 79-98 et H. Kelsen, « Théorie du droit international », 84 RCADI (1953), pp. 1-203, spéc. pp. 30-32 et, du même auteur, Allgemeine Theorie der Normen, 1979, chapitre 35, p. 115 et s. ; Théorie générale des normes, traduction française : O. Beaud/F. Malkani, 1996, p. 189.

6

Il ne sera pas ici question de la concurrence très discutée entre normes primaires des différents domaines du droit international (droit des relations économiques versus droit de l’environnement ou des droits de l’Homme).

7

Voir l’article 41 CEDH sur la satisfaction équitable, les dispositions relatives au règlement des différends par la Cour européenne des droits de l’Homme et en particulier l’article 55 CEDH sur la renonciation à d’autres modes de règlement des différends.

8

Voir en particulier les articles 22 et 23 du Mémorandum d’accord sur les règles et procédures régissant le règlement des différends de l’OMC.

9

Au sens de sous-ordre juridique dans l’ordre juridique international. Il est bien accepté en doctrine que c’est la présence de normes secondaires qui fait qu’un système ou ordre juridique est donné, voir supra note 5. Le Black’s Law Dictionary, donne ainsi la définition suivante d’ordre juridique/legal order : « Traditionally, a set of regulations governing a society and those responsible for enforcing them. Modernly, such regulations and officials plus the processes involved in creating, interpreting, and applying the regulations », B.A. Garner (dir.), Black’s Law Dictionary, 1999, p. 906. Sur le droit international en tant que système juridique, voir M. Koskenniemi, Fragmentation du droit international: difficultés découlant de la diversification et de l’expansion du droit international, Rapport du Groupe d’étude de la Commission du droit international, Additif, Appendice, Projet de conclusions des travaux du Groupe d’étude, Texte définitif établi par Martti Koskenniemi, A/CN.4/L.682/ Add.1, 2 mai 2006, § 1, pp. 3-4. Pour les débats antérieurs voir en particulier, J. Combacau, « Le droit international : bric à brac ou système ? », 31 Archives de Philosophie du Droit (1986), pp. 85-105 ; A. D’Amato, « Is International Law Really ‘Law’ », in M. Koskenniemi (dir.), International Law, 1992, pp. 25-46.

10

La distinction entre obligations primaires et secondaires a été introduite dans les travaux de la CDI sur la responsabilité internationale des Etats pour fait internationalement illicite par son deuxième rapporteur sur la question. Voir F. Garcia Amador, Troisième rapport, ACDI 1971 volume II, première partie, § 15, pp. 209-289. Vision ensuite acceptée par la CDI, voir Rapport de la CDI à l’AG, ACDI 1973, volume II, p. 170.

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international11 – par rapport aux normes secondaires spéciales ou sous-systémiques ? De même, existe-il en droit international des sous-systèmes complètement hermétiques aux normes secondaires systémiques, qu’on pourrait alors qualifier de régimes autosuffisants ? Afin d’apporter des pistes à ce sujet, il sera tout d’abord présenté les concepts de base de la théorie des sous-systèmes, pour en proposer ensuite une relecture.

I.

Concepts de base

La théorie des sous-systèmes s’étant développée autour de la notion de régime autosuffisant, il en sera retracé la genèse, avant de présenter les autres concepts pertinents.

A.

Régime autosuffisant et genèse de la théorie des sous-systèmes

Un des aspects principaux du débat relatif aux sous-systèmes pendant les années 80-90 concerne la question de savoir quels corps de normes pourraient être identifiés comme des régimes autosuffisants en droit international. Deux courants contradictoires s’opposent alors. D’une part, existe la volonté, dans le cadre de la doctrine des anciens pays socialistes, d’isoler les instruments de protection internationale des droits de l’Homme instituant des mécanismes spécifiques de contrôle, du droit de la responsabilité internationale étatique et de sa mise en œuvre. Ainsi, par exemple, lors de l’entrée en vigueur du Pacte des Nations Unies sur les droits civils et politiques, les anciens pays socialistes ont avancé la thèse de l’exclusivité des moyens de mise en œuvre institués dans le Pacte et son Protocole additionnel, afin de justifier une interdiction du recours au régime général des contre-mesures pour réagir à la violation des droits de l’Homme12. D’autre part, et avec des intentions diamétralement opposées, l’autonomie de certains corps de normes relatifs à la protection des droits de l’Homme a été prônée pour justifier l’interdiction de contre-mesures portant atteinte à ces normes13.

11

Il faut remarquer que les normes relatives à la responsabilité étatique pour fait internationalement illicite ont un caractère encore exclusivement coutumier, tandis que celles relatives à l’interprétation ont elles un caractère à la fois coutumier et conventionnel (article 31 de la Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités de 1969).

12

Cf. par exemple le commentaire de C. Tomuschat à ce propos qui souligne que cet argument était d’autant plus grotesque qu’aucun de ces États n’avait accepté la compétence du Comité ni pour les communications interétatique prévues à l’article 41 du Pacte, ni pour les communications individuelles prévues au Protocole Additionnel, C. Tomuschat, « Human Rights. Beetween Idealism and Realism », XIII/1 The Collected Courses of the Academy of European Law (2003), p. 222.

13

Ainsi certains auteurs ont été amenés, dans le souci de protéger les normes des sous-systèmes de l’intérieur, à argumenter que ceux-ci étaient des sous-systèmes fermés ou régimes autosuffisants, voir J.A. Frowein, « Die Verpflichtung Erga Omnes in Völkerrecht und ihre Durchsetzung », in Völkerrecht als Rechtsordnung Internationale Gerichtsbarkeit Menschenrechte. Festschrift für Hermann Mosler, 1983, pp. 241-262 ; K. Weschke, Internationale Instrumente zur Durchsetzung der Menschenrechte, 2000, spéc. pp. 42-63.

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Cette problématique de la relation entre les sous-systèmes et les normes secondaires systémiques constitue aujourd’hui seulement un aspect parmi d’autres du débat plus général sur la prolifération des normes de droit international et la fragmentation. Les développements doctrinaux à ce sujet ont cependant participé, avec d’autres facteurs, à l’émergence des débats sur la fragmentation du droit international. Face à une prolifération accélérée des normes au sein d’un droit international au caractère profondément fragmentaire, une prise de conscience a en effet lieu alors qu’on passe à un nouveau siècle, elle est marquée en particulier par les travaux de la CDI sur la fragmentation14. La nécessité d’ordonner les normes et de clarifier leur coordination se fait sentir de manière accrue, car, comme il a été décrit d’une manière très imagée, comme les arbres cachent la forêt, la multitude de normes empêche de discerner le droit international15. Pour en revenir brièvement à la genèse, c’est d’abord dans le cadre du travail de la CDI sur la responsabilité des Etats pour fait internationalement illicite que la théorie des sous-systèmes prend forme. W. Riphagen, rapporteur spécial de l’époque aborde pour la première fois la question des sous-systèmes dans le cadre de la responsabilité internationale en 198116. Il se base pour cela sur le dictum de la Cour de Justice dans l’affaire du Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran, au sujet du caractère autosuffisant des règles du droit des relations diplomatiques17. Il introduit l’idée selon laquelle il faut prendre en compte l’existence de régimes autosuffisants ou sous-systèmes18 dans le cadre de la codification de la responsabilité internationale de l’État, puisque ces corps de normes prévoient des conséquences juridiques propres à leur violation.

14

Les travaux de la CDI sur la fragmentation vont ainsi contribuer de manière significatice à cette prise de conscience, dont ils sont aussi le reflet. Les résultats des travaux menés avec succès sous la direction de M. Koskenniemi ont été publiés par ce dernier, in Fragmentation of international law : difficulties arising from the diversification and expansion of international. Report of the Study Group of the International Law Commission; finalized by Martti Koskenniemi, 2007. Au sujet de cette prise de conscience, cf. I. Buffard/G. Hafner, « Risques et fragmentation en droit international », 22 L’Observateur des Nations Unies (2007), pp. 29-56, spéc. pp. 29-33 et 56.

15

A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, p. 24.

16

W. Riphagen, Deuxième rapport sur le contenu, les formes et les degrés de la responsabilité internationale (deuxième partie du projet d’articles), ACDI 1981, volume II, première partie, § 59, p. 89.

17

« Les règles du droit diplomatique constituent un régime se suffisant à lui-même qui, d’une part, énonce les obligations de l’État accréditaire en matière de facilités, de privilèges et d’immunités à accorder aux missions diplomatiques et, d’autres part, envisage le mauvais usage que pourraient en faire des membres de la mission et précise les moyens dont dispose l’État accréditaire pour parer à un tel abus. Ces moyens sont par nature d’une efficacité totale […]. », Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran (États-Unis d’Amérique c. Iran), CIJ Recueil 1980, § 86, p. 40, italiques ajoutés.

18

W. Riphagen, Troisième rapport, A/CN.4/354 et Add. 1-2, ACDI 1982, volume II, première partie, § 54, p. 35.

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Étonnamment, W. Riphagen ne donne pas de définition exacte de la notion de régime autosuffisant dans ses travaux. Il rappelle que la CIJ a qualifié le corps de règles du droit des relations diplomatiques comme tel et affirme que, par conséquent, en cas de violation par l’État accréditant d’une obligation dans ce domaine, l’État accréditaire ne peut répondre qu’en mettant fin aux relations diplomatiques partiellement, ou bien totalement, ou bien en les suspendant : « Il est important de rappeler ici que le corps de règles du droit diplomatique est considéré par la CIJ comme un régime autonome et que, par conséquent, en cas de violation par l’État accréditant d’une obligation existant dans ce domaine, l’État accréditaire ne peut répondre qu’en mettant fin aux relations partiellement (par une déclaration de persona non grata) ou totalement (en rompant les relations diplomatiques) ou en les suspendant – ce qui correspond à l’exceptio non adimpletti contractus dans le droit des traités. »19

Lors des débats dans le cadre de la CDI, il établit une distinction entre système – qu’il définit comme un ensemble ordonné de règles de conduite, de règles de procédure et de dispositions statutaires formant un circuit juridique fermé – et sous-système, qui correspondrait à un système qui n’est pas fermé20. Selon lui, l’arrêt de la CIJ dans l’affaire du Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des États-Unis à Téhéran fournit un exemple concret de sous-système. Il semble donc considérer le droit des relations diplomatiques comme un sous-système « ouvert », par opposition à un circuit juridique fermé qu’il qualifie de système21. Bien qu’il ne soit pas toujours aisé de comprendre exactement ce que W. Riphagen entend par régime autosuffisant, il semble donc qu’il ne considère pas qu’un tel régime soit complètement hermétique aux normes secondaires systémiques et qu’il considère cette notion comme synonyme de sous-système. Ses réflexions sur ce concept aboutiront à l’introduction de la règle de la lex specialis dans les articles de la CDI sur la responsabilité des Etats pour fait internationalement illicite22. L’article final la CDI (article 55) sur la lex specialis et le caractère supplétif des articles de la CDI sur la responsabilité de l’Etat pour fait internationalement illicite stipule ainsi : « [l]es présents articles ne s’appliquent pas dans les cas et dans la mesure où les conditions d’existence d’un fait internationalement illicite ou le contenu ou la

19

Ibid., § 47, p. 34. W. Riphagen ajoute dans une note de bas de page n°30 qu’ « en fait, compte tenu des règles applicables en cas de rupture des relations diplomatiques, l’expression ‘suspension des relations’ paraît mieux convenir. »

20

Comptes rendus analytiques des séances de la 34ème session de la CDI, 1731e séance, 21.06.1982, ACDI 1982, volume 1, § 16, pp. 200-201.

21

Ibid., § 16, p. 201.

22

Voir propositions d’articles par W. Riphagen, Deuxième rapport, ACDI 1981, volume II, première partie, pp. 81-105, p. 104 et Troisième rapport, ACDI 1982, volume II, première partie, pp. 25-59, p. 55 ; Projet d’article 2 adopté provisoirement par la CDI à sa 1806e séance le 18.07.1983, Rapport de la CDI sur les travaux de sa trente-cinquième session, A/38/10, A.CDI 1983, volume II, première partie, pp. 1-98, p. 45 ; Projet d’article 37 : Rapport de la Commission du droit international sur les travaux de sa quarante-huitième session, 6 mai-26 juillet 1996, A/51/10, ACDI 1996, volume II, première partie, p. 66.

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mise en œuvre de la responsabilité internationale d’un État sont régis par des règles spéciales de droit international. ». Au commentaire de cet article, le régime se suffisant à lui-même est qualifié de forme « forte » de la lex specialis par opposition à ses formes « faibles », sans que la notion soit définie plus avant23. Dans la doctrine, c’est B. Simma qui, avec son désormais célèbre article sur les self-contained regimes24, va attirer l’attention de la communauté scientifique sur les travaux de W. Riphagen. Il examine ainsi l’existence d’éventuels régimes autosuffisants en droit international et pose la question de savoir si de tels corps de normes peuvent être complètement hermétiques aux conséquences prévues dans le cadre du droit de la responsabilité de l’État pour fait internationalement illicite et, sinon, dans quelles conditions le recours à ces conséquences peut avoir lieu. À la suite de B. Simma c’est surtout l’école autrichienne et allemande de droit international qui a étudié la notion de régime autosuffisant. Ainsi en particulier P.C. Mavroidis25, C. Annacker26 et surtout K. Zemanek27 et A. Marschik28 entendent cette notion dans un sens strict et distinguent entre sous-systèmes ouverts et fermés. Contrairement à un sous-système ouvert, un sous-système fermé serait hermétique aux normes secondaires systémiques et synonyme de régime autosuffisant29. Si d’autres auteurs en analysant la notion de régime autosuffisant y font référence dans ce sens strict30, cette notion est aussi employée dans la doctrine de manière indifférenciée31, voire encore comme synonyme de sous-système ouvert32. 23

« [l]’article 55 a pour objet de traiter à la fois des formes ‘fortes’ de la lex specialis, notamment de ce que l’on nomme souvent ‘régime se suffisant à lui-même’, et de ses formes ‘faibles’, telles que les dispositions spécifiques d’un instrument sur un point particulier, par exemple une disposition conventionnelle excluant expressément la restitution », Commentaire des articles de la CDI sur la responsabilité de l’Etat pour fait internationalement illicite, Rapport de la CDI, 33ème session (2001), § 5, p. 386.

24

B. Simma, « Self-Contained Regimes », 16 NYIL (1985), pp. 112-136.

25

P.C. Mavroidis, « Das GATT als ‘self-contained’ Regime », 37 Recht der Internationalen Wirtschaft (1991-6), pp. 497-501, p. 499.

26

C. Annacker, Die Durchsetzung von erga omnes Verpflichtungen vor dem Internationalen Gerichtshof, 1994, p. 69.

27

K. Zemanek, « The Unilateral Enforcement of International Obligations », 47 ZaöRV (1987), pp. 32- 55.

28

A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, pp. 145-191.

29

Dans ce sens aussi par exemple E. Zoller, Peacetime Unilateral Remedies: An Analysis of Countermeasures, 1984, pp. 84-89 et s.

30

P.-M. Dupuy distingue par exemple entre systèmes autogérés « pratiquement affranchis de toute observation des règles générales », comme équivalents de self-contained regimes, et phénomène de « multiplication des ordres juridiques partiels » ou « spéciaux », « constitués par les organisations internationales sur la base de leurs actes constitutifs respectifs », P. M. Dupuy, Droit international public, 2000, § 26, p. 21. Italique ajoutés

31

Par exemple G. Marceau, « WTO Dispute Settlement and Human Rights », 13 EJIL (2000-4), pp. 753-814, pp. 21-22.

32

Par exemple A. Cassese, International Law, 2005, p. 276.

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B.

19

Distinction entre régimes spéciaux et sous-systèmes

De même que peut être faite une distinction entre régime autosuffisant et sous-système, il est pertinent de distinguer entre régime spécial et sous-système. Comme il a été vu ci-dessus W. Riphagen utilise la notion de sous-système dans le contexte de la responsabilité des États pour fait international illicite33. Il explique ainsi qu’« […] un traité peut créer un sous-système de droit international doté de ses propres règles secondaires, explicites ou implicites, adaptées à ses règles primaires »34. Cette définition des sous-systèmes va être reprise par plusieurs auteurs par la suite. Ainsi ils considèrent que le sous-système met en place à la fois des normes primaires et des normes secondaires correspondantes, ce qui lui donne la qualité de (sous)-système juridique dans le cadre du système juridique général constitué par le droit international. En cas de violation des normes primaires du sous-système, ces normes secondaires « (sous)-systémiques » s’appliquent en priorité par rapport aux normes secondaires générales ou systémiques35. Dans le cadre des travaux sur la fragmentation internationale de la CDI dont il a dirigé le groupe d’étude sur ce thème, M. Koskenniemi préfère quant à lui l’utilisation du terme régime spécial à celui de sous-système, ayant tout de même recours à maintes reprises dans son travail à la notion de système de règles (spécialisées)36. Il choisit ainsi d’utiliser le terme régime spécial entendu dans un sens assez large pour désigner des corps de normes spéciales tant primaires que secondaires37. Il distingue entre trois types de régimes spéciaux : des ensembles spéciaux de règles secondaires de la responsabilité des États, des ensembles spéciaux de règles et de principes concernant la gestion d’un problème donné et des branches spéciales du droit international dotées de leurs propres principes, institutions et téléologie38. 33

Voir supra notes 20 et 21.

34

W. Riphagen, Troisième Rapport, ACDI 1982, volume II, première partie, § 54, p. 35.

35

Voir E. Zoller, Peacetime Unilateral Remedies: An Analysis of Countermeasures, 1984, pp. 84-89 et s. ; B. Simma, « Self-Contained Regimes », 16 NYIL (1985), pp. 112-136 ; K. Zemanek, « The Unilateral Enforcement of International Obligations », 47 ZaöRV (1987), pp. 32-55 ; C. Annacker, Die Durchsetzung von erga omnes Verpflichtungen vor dem Internationalen Gerichtshof, 1994, p. 68 et A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, p. 21.

36

M. Koskenniemi, « Fragmentation du droit international : difficultés découlant de la diversification et de l’expansion du droit international », Rapport du Groupe d’étude de la CDI établi sous sa forme définitive par Marti Koskenniemi, 13 avril 2006, A/CN.4/L.682, spéc. §§ 482 à 485, pp. 267-268. Voir aussi les Conclusions des travaux du Groupe d’étude, 2 mai 2006, A.CN4/L.682/Add. 1, adoptées par la CDI à sa cinquante-huitième session et soumises à l’AG dans le cadre de son rapport sur les travaux de ladite session (A/61/10, § 251), ACDI 2006, volume II, deuxième partie.

37

Voir M. Koskenniemi, Étude sur « La fonction et la portée de la règle de la lex specialis et la question des régimes autonomes », Rapport préliminaire, ILC(LVI)/SG/FIL/CRD.1 (7 mai 2004) et ILC(LVI)/SG/FIL/CRD.1/Add. 1 (5 mai 2004), voir toute la partie C de l’étude et le Rapport final 2006 supra note ci-dessus.

38

M. Koskenniemi, supra note 36, p. 275.

20

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Dans un premier sens étroit, il définit un régime comme « un ensemble spécial de règles secondaires du droit de la responsabilité des États qui prétend l’emporter sur les règles générales concernant les conséquences d’une violation »39 ou encore un « système spécial de règles secondaires – le principal cas de figure envisagé à l’article 55 du projet d’articles sur la responsabilité des États pour faits internationalement illicites – [qui] est généralement créé par un seul traité ou une série de traités très étroitement liés entre eux. »40. Dans un deuxième sens plus large, un régime est un « ensemble imbriqué de règles primaires et secondaires, parfois également appelé ‘système’ ou ‘sous-système(s)’ de règles qui gouvernent un problème particulier autrement que ne le ferait le droit général »41 ou « régime spécial applicable à un problème/domaine (territorial, fonctionnel) donné – comme dans l’affaire du Vapeur ‘Wimbledon’ »42. Un régime conventionnel peut être spécial dans les deux premiers sens à la fois, « c’est-à-dire constituer un régime autonome de voies de recours et de réparation (responsabilité des États) et un ensemble de règles spéciales concernant l’adoption, la modification, l’administration ou la cessation des obligations pertinentes »43. Dans un troisième sens encore plus large, sont qualifiés de régimes « des champs entiers de spécialisation fonctionnelle, de compétence diplomatique ou académique […] décrits comme étant autonomes (que ce terme lui-même soit ou non utilisé) en ce que les règles et techniques spéciales d’interprétation et d’administration sont censées s’appliquer »44. Cette notion « couvre tout un domaine de spécialisation fonctionnelle ou d’orientation téléologique à l’échelle universelle […] »45. Le principal effet d’un tel régime est de « fournir pour l’interprétation des orientations qui, d’une façon ou d’une autre, s’écartent des règles du droit général »46. Les régimes dans ce troisième sens sont qualifiés de branche spéciale du droit international et également de sous-système47. Après avoir constaté que le terme régime autosuffisant est inapproprié, M. Koskenniemi propose qu’il soit remplacé par la notion régime spécial. La conception du régime spécial de M. Koskenniemi ne se recoupe pas avec celle d’A. Marschik. Pour ce dernier, le régime spécial48 est un corps de normes primaires du droit international public interdépendantes ou connexes, de nature conventionnelle ou coutumière. Cette interdépendance ou connexité vient des normes primaires ellesmêmes et justifie la qualité de régime de l’ensemble. Le régime spécial ne met pas en place de normes secondaires, c’est ce qui le distingue du sous-système. En cas de 39

M. Koskenniemi, supra note 37, § 110, traduction de travail non officielle.

40

Ibid., § 117.

41

Ibid., § 110.

42

Ibid., § 117.

43

Ibid.

44

Ibid., § 111.

45

Ibid., § 118.

46

Ibid., § 114.

47

Ibid., §§ 114 et 115.

48

Il utilise le terme « special regime ».

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21

violation des normes primaires du régime spécial les normes secondaires systémiques sont applicables49. Face à ces divergences dans le choix des termes, il convient de préciser que si les deux notions régime50 et système51 semblent assez proches, quelques différences peuvent être cependant relevées. Ainsi le terme régime est souvent utilisé de manière très large pour désigner de plus ou moins grands ensembles de normes et de mécanismes, d’où l’usage de la notion régime international, tel le régime international des droits de l’Homme ou encore le régime des droits de l’Homme des Nations Unies52. La notion de régime semble donc avoir un caractère plus général que celle de système. De plus, il apparaît que les notions de régime juridique et de système juridique se distinguent, dans la mesure où seul système juridique peut être utilisé comme synonyme d’ordre juridique53. Il semble ainsi pertinent d’établir une distinction entre un régime spécial et un soussystème54 et de faire l’utilisation combinée des termes système (le droit international) et sous-systèmes (du droit international). Un sous-ensemble coordonné de normes faisant partie du système juridique général de droit international peut donc être qualifié de 49

A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, pp. 45 et 148-149 et s.

50

Le régime est selon la définition du Vocabulaire juridique un « système de règles » et ce qui caractérise les règles en question, c’est qu’elles sont relatives à une matière commune ou bien ont une finalité commune, G. Cornu (dir.), Vocabulaire juridique, 1996, pp. 707-708. Dans le Dictionnaire de droit international public, il est question de régime en tant qu’ensemble de règles régissant une institution déterminée : « Ensemble de règles qui régissent une institution juridique déterminée. On utilise souvent l’expression de régime juridique. Ex : un régime conventionnel, le régime des mandats, le régime de tutelle, le régime des capitulations. », J. Salmon (dir.), Dictionnaire de droit international public, 2001, p. 958. Dans le Black’s Law Dictionary, regime est défini comme un système de « rules, regulations, or government ». International regime y est défini comme « [a] set of norms of behaviour and rules and policies that cover international issues and that facilitate substantive or procedural arrangements among countries » et legal regime comme « [a] set of rules, policies, and norms of behaviour that cover any legal issues and that facilitate substantive or procedural arrangements for deciding that issue ». B.A. Garner (dir.), Black’s Law Dictionary, 1999, p. 1286.

51

Le système est défini dans le Vocabulaire juridique, tout comme le régime, comme un ensemble de règles. Ce qui le caractérise est sa cohérence « Ensemble de règles, considéré sous le rapport de ce qui en fait la cohérence, celle-ci pouvant tenir, s’il s’agit du droit d’un pays, aux caractéristiques nationales de ce dernier (ex. système juridique français), ou s’il s’agit au sein d’un ordre juridique d’un faisceau de règles, au parti législatif qui l’inspire (ex. système légal des preuves de la filiation) », G. Cornu (dir.), Vocabulaire juridique, 1996, p. 816. Le système juridique y est défini comme un droit considéré dans sa totalité : « Droit d’un État ou d’une société territoriale ou personnelle, considéré, pour l’application d’une règle de conflit de lois, ou en législation comparée, dans sa totalité. Ex. le système juridique allemand, californien, musulman. », Ibid., p. 816.

52

P. Alston, « Appraising the United Nations Human Rights Regime », in P. Alston (dir.), The United Nations and human rights: a critical appraisal, 1992, pp. 1-21, p. 1.

53

Comparer les définitions données supra notes 9, 50 et 51.

54

Distinction proposée par A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, pp. 148 et s.

22

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sous-système quand il présente des caractéristiques très proches du système juridique général lui-même, c’est-à-dire qu’il met en place également, à son échelle, un ordre juridique composé de normes primaires et secondaires, qui sont applicables en priorité dans le sous-système par rapport aux normes secondaires systémiques55. C’est ce qui le distingue d’autres ensembles de normes ou régimes (spéciaux) ne présentant pas ces caractéristiques particulières (absence de normes secondaires en leur sein). Il est donc proposé de réduire l’utilisation de l’expression régime spécial aux ensembles coordonnés de normes primaires et de qualifier de sous-systèmes les ensembles coordonnés de normes primaires et secondaires. La violation des normes primaires du régime spécial entraînera les conséquences classiques prévues par le système général, établies par les normes secondaires systémiques sur la responsabilité de l’État pour fait internationalement illicite. Ainsi la structure du système juridique général de droit international public peut être éclairée par les notions de régimes spéciaux et sous-systèmes. Un sous-système ou un régime spécial peut être constitué par un seul traité mais aussi par un ensemble de traités, pour les sous-systèmes par exemple y compris un accord conventionnel sur le règlement des différents56. Ils peuvent être mis en place tant au niveau régional qu’universel. Le but d’un tel ordonnancement est de représenter le plus concrètement possible les rapports entre les normes secondaires conventionnelles des sous-systèmes qu’on peut appeler aussi normes secondaires sous-systémiques et les normes secondaires systémiques. Par ailleurs, le terme espace normatif utilisé par H. Ruiz-Fabri57 semble approprié pour désigner les différentes branches, corps de normes ou domaines juridiques au sein de l’ordre juridique international. En effet cette notion imagée permet de décrire très justement les ensembles de normes diverses touchant à une matière commune. Les normes en question peuvent ainsi être regroupées par exemple dans les espaces normatifs du droit international des droits de l’homme et de l’environnement, du droit international humanitaire et du droit international des relations économiques. Certains espaces normatifs se recoupent, comme, entre autres, le droit international des droits de l’Homme et le droit international humanitaire. D’autres sont plutôt en concurrence, c’est le cas par exemple de l’espace normatif du droit international des relations économiques et des espaces normatifs de protection des droits de l’Homme et du droit international de l’environnement. Il est proposé d’ordonner, dans la mesure du possible, les diverses normes composant un espace normatif donné comme suit : il sera distingué entre régimes spéciaux, soussystèmes et normes coutumières primaires dans un espace normatif donné. Ainsi par exemple dans l’espace normatif du droit international des droits de l’Homme, de nombreux traités de protection de droits de l’Homme qui sont exclusivement constitués

55

A. Marschik, ibid., p. 21, voir supra note 35.

56

Comme par exemple pour l’OMC.

57

H. Ruiz-Fabri, « Is the Nature of the International Legal System Changing? A Reply » in « Agora: Is the Nature of the International Legal System Changing? » 8 ARIEL (2003), pp. 179-186, p. 183.

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23

de normes primaires58 peuvent être qualifiés de régimes spéciaux, tandis que la CEDH par exemple sera qualifiée de sous-système puisqu’elle met en place des normes secondaires spécifiques59. Cependant si les régimes spéciaux et les sous-systèmes peuvent en général être rattachés à un espace normatif, ils peuvent également exister hors d’une telle structure. L’Union européenne, qui est sans conteste un des sous-systèmes les plus perfectionnés, est ainsi difficilement ordonnable dans un espace normatif particulier. En effet, les normes primaires de ce sous-système touchent aux matières de plusieurs espaces normatifs différents60.

C.

Concept du primary norm remedy system et critère de l’échec du sous-système

Il convient maintenant de se pencher encore plus avant sur la théorie des sous-systèmes telle que développée dans la doctrine. Ainsi pour justifier un encadrement assez strict du recours aux normes secondaires sur la responsabilité de l’État pour fait internationalement illicite dans les sous-systèmes A. Marschik et K. Zemanek ont mis en place le concept du primary norm remedy system. Selon K. Zemanek et A. Marschik, un sous-système est constitué de normes primaires et secondaires qui constituent dans leur ensemble une et seule norme primaire systémique. Cette norme primaire constitue une lex specialis par rapport aux autres normes primaires systémiques. Cette fiction est baptisée primary norm remedy system, en référence au mécanisme d’autoprotection prévu dans le sous-système sous la forme des normes secondaires sous-systémiques61. Dans la logique de ce modèle, c’est seulement quand la norme primaire systémique (le sous-système dans son ensemble) est violée, que les normes secondaires générales entrent en jeu. C’est donc seulement quand le sous-système montre ses limites, qu’il n’est plus en mesure de garantir son effectivité par lui-même – dans le sens où les normes secondaires prévues par le sous-système ne permettent plus de rétablir la légalité – que les normes secondaires du système général peuvent intervenir. Ainsi, si les normes mises en place par le sous-système ne sont pas respectées, y compris les normes sous-systémiques relatives aux conséquences de la violation, la norme primaire constituée par le sous-système est considérée comme violée, ce qui rend les

58

Par exemple la Convention pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide de 1948, Nations Unies, Recueil des Traités, volume 78, p. 277.

59

Voir supra note 7.

60

Par exemple relations économiques, environnement, droits de l’Homme, etc.

61

A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, pp. 154 et s. Dans ce sens aussi K. Zemanek, « The Unilateral Enforcement of International Obligations », 47 ZaöRV (1987), pp. 32- 55, p. 33 et, du même auteur, « Responsabilité des États pour faits internationalement illicites, ainsi que pour faits internationalement licites », in K. Zemanek/J. Salmon, Responsabilité internationale, 1987, pp. 61-62.

24

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normes secondaires systémiques applicables62. D’après cette conception, la violation du droit international a lieu au moment où le sous-système a échoué, ce qui a pour conséquence qu’il ne peut être recouru aux normes secondaires systémiques qu’après l’échec du sous-système (Rückfall – Fall-back)63. Selon les auteurs du concept du primary norm remedy system, il ne peut donc être fait recours de manière anticipée aux normes secondaires systémiques pour compléter les normes secondaires du sous-système, car cela contredirait l’objet et le but du sous-système64, considéré comme constituant une norme primaire systémique. Un sous-système pouvant cependant échouer partiellement de manière anticipée, le recours aux normes secondaires systémiques pour cette partie du sous-système est autorisé. Dans un tel cas les normes secondaires systémiques et les normes secondaires sous-systémiques peuvent être appliquées parallèlement65. C’est le recours anticipé (vorzeitiger Rückfall) aux normes secondaires systémiques, c’est-à-dire avant un échec complet du sous-système. Les conditions du recours anticipé sont très strictes. La mise en échec du sous-système, c’est-à-dire la violation de la norme primaire constituée par le sous-système doit être certaine66. Ainsi le sous-système peut avoir échoué dans les faits avant que l’ensemble de la procédure prévue par le sous-système ait été épuisée. S’il est clair que le sous-système ne va pas être en mesure de rétablir (en partie) l’équilibre ou la légalité, alors il est considéré comme ayant (en partie) échoué67. Un exemple de recours anticipé est donné dans le cas de figure où seule une mesure immédiate non prévue par le sous-système peut apporter une solution. De même quand l’État auteur de la violation a signifié qu’il ne participera pas à la procédure de règlement des différends du sous-système ou bien qu’il ne respectera pas son résultat, il est « déraisonnable »68 d’exiger de l’autre partie d’y avoir recours69. Il peut alors être directement recouru aux normes secondaires systémiques.

62

« Pour ce qui est de sous-systèmes établis par un traité, ils sont des normes primaires, n’appartenant pas au système de la responsabilité des États qui est un système de normes secondaires. Ce n’est qu’en cas de manquement aux obligations établies par le sous-système, y compris les règles concernant les conséquences d’une violation, que les règles de la responsabilité entreront en jeu. », K. Zemanek, « Responsabilité des États pour faits internationalement illicites, ainsi que pour faits internationalement licites », in K. Zemanek/J. Salmon, Responsabilité internationale, 1987, p. 64.

63

A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, pp. 63-66. Sur le scénario de l’échec voir aussi M. Koskenniemi, supra note 37.

64

« Sinn und Zweck » littéralement sens et objet du sous-système.

65

Ibid., p. 166.

66

Ibid., pp. 165-166, et pour l’application à l’Union européenne, pp. 278-279.

67

Ibid., p. 165.

68

Ceci peut rappeler, dans une certaine mesure, le principe de l’épuisement des voies de recours internes, selon lequel seuls les recours effectifs doivent être épuisés.

69

Ibid., p. 166.

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II.

25

Analyse du dictum de la CIJ dans l’affaire du Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran et absence de régime autosuffisant au sens strict du terme

Après avoir présenté les concepts de base et la genèse de la théorie des sous-systèmes, il est nécessaire de revenir sur deux aspects importants de cette théorie, dans le but de lever certaines ambiguïtés. Il s’agit de l’interprétation du dictum de la Cour dans l’affaire du Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran et de l’existence de régime autosuffisant au sens strict du terme en droit international.

A.

Le droit des relations diplomatiques n’est pas un régime autosuffisant au sens strict du terme

Dans son arrêt rendu en 1980 dans l’affaire du Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran, la CIJ déclare que les règles du droit diplomatique constituent un régime se suffisant à lui-même70. Elle utilise cette expression, c’est à dire les termes « se suffisant à lui-même » ou « self-contained » en combinaison avec le mot régime pour la première fois. Elle constate que ce régime énonce les obligations de l’État accréditaire en matière de facilités, privilèges et surtout d’immunités des diplomates et de la mission et envisage les abus qui pourraient en découler ainsi que les moyens à la disposition de l’État accréditaire pour y réagir. Pour ces derniers, il s’agit de la suspension ou la rupture des relations diplomatiques ou la déclaration d’un diplomate persona non grata conformément aux articles 9 et 45 de la Convention de Vienne sur les relations diplomatiques de 196171. La Cour considère les moyens en question d’une « efficacité totale»72. Il convient cependant de lever un malentendu quant au dictum de la CIJ dans cette affaire. Ainsi la Cour, en employant le terme régime se suffisant à lui-même dans son arrêt pour désigner le droit des relations diplomatiques, n’a cependant pas voulu qualifier celui de sous-système complètement hermétique aux normes secondaires systémiques73. Il ressort en effet d’une analyse approfondie de l’arrêt, qu’en utilisant le terme régime autosuffisant pour qualifier le droit des relations diplomatiques, la CIJ

70

Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran (États-Unis d’Amérique c. Iran), CIJ, Recueil 1980, § 86, p. 40, cf. citation supra note 17.

71

Nations Unies, Recueil des Traités, volume 500, p. 95.

72

Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran (États-Unis d’Amérique c. Iran), CIJ, Recueil 1980, § 86, p. 40.

73

Déjà K. Zemanek émettait des doutes à ce propos, voir « The Unilateral Enforcement of International Obligations », 47 ZaöRV (1987), pp. 32-55, pp. 40-41. P.-M. Dupuy est encore plus précis à ce propos, voir « L’unité de l’ordre juridique international : cours général de droit international public », 297 RCADI (2002), pp. 9-490, pp. 433-434. Dans ce sens aussi voir M. Noortmann, Enforcing International Law. From Self-help to Self-contained Regimes, 2005, pp. 140-141.

26

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voulait souligner l’importance primordiale de l’inviolabilité diplomatique impliquant une limitation du recours à des contre-mesures systémiques dans ce domaine74. Dans son arrêt, la Cour se prononce ainsi sur le fait que les contre-mesures systémiques ne peuvent porter atteinte à l’inviolabilité des agents, locaux, archives et documents diplomatiques et consulaires. Ceci correspond à une limite fonctionnelle à l’adoption des contre-mesures, telle qu’énoncée aujourd’hui à l’article 50 § 2 b) de la CDI sur la responsabilité de l’État pour fait internationalement illicite75. Non seulement la CIJ n’exclut pas l’application des normes secondaires systémiques dans le droit des relations diplomatiques, mais au contraire, elle a elle-même recours aux normes systémiques secondaires pour ce corps de normes. En effet, dans le même arrêt elle établit l’obligation de réparation du préjudice par l’Iran – norme secondaire systémique par excellence – en se réservant le droit d’en régler les formes et le montant au cas où les parties ne pourraient se mettre d’accord à ce sujet76. De même, la Cour n’exclut à aucun moment la possibilité de recourir à des contre-mesures non-symétriques77 dans le cadre du droit des relations diplomatiques, c’est-à-dire à des contre-mesures portant atteinte, soit à une norme systémique, norme qui se situe donc en dehors du sous-système, soit à une norme sous-systémique, à l’exclusion des obligations ne pouvant pas être affectées par des contre-mesures, conformément à l’article 50 § 2 b) de la CDI précité78. Un recours aux normes secondaires systémiques dans le cadre du droit des relations diplomatiques en parallèle aux mécanismes des articles 9 et 45 de la Convention de Vienne sur les relations diplomatiques n’est donc exclu, ni par la Convention sur le droit des relations diplomatiques, ni par le droit des relations diplomatiques coutumier. C’est la raison pour laquelle il est justifié d’affirmer que le droit des relations diplomatiques ne présente pas les caractéristiques d’un régime autosuffisant au sens strict du terme. 74

Dans ce sens voir P.-M. Dupuy, ibid., pp. 433-434. Et aussi du même auteur : « Sur le maintien ou la disparition de l’unité de l’ordre juridique international », in R. Ben Achour/S. Laghmani (dir.), Harmonie et contradictions en droit international, Rencontres internationales de la faculté de sciences juridiques, politiques et sociales de Tunis, 1996, pp. 17-54, p. 42.

75

Voir I. Buffard/S. Wittich, « United States Diplomatic and Consular Staff in Teheran Case », in R. Wolfrum (dir.) Max Planck Encyclopedia of Public International Law, www.mpepil. com, 2008, §§ 23-24.

76

Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran (États-Unis d’Amérique c. Iran), CIJ, Recueil 1980, pp. 141-142, § 90.

77

Sur les contre-mesures symétriques, voir L.-A. Sicilianos, Les réactions décentralisées à l’illicite : des contre-mesures à la légitime défense, 1990, pp. 259-260.

78

Un exemple de contre-mesure non-symétrique dans la première variante – c’est à dire une atteinte à un droit de l’Etat responsable hors sous-système en réponse à une violation d’une norme du sous-système – est la violation par A d’un traité commercial entre A et B en réponse à la violation par B de l’inviolabilité diplomatique. Dans la seconde variante – une atteinte à une norme dans le sous-système mais dans le respect de la limite fonctionnelle énoncée à l’article 50 des articles de la CDI – si une contre-mesure en réponse à une violation du droit des relations diplomatique ne peut affecter l’inviolabilité diplomatique, elle peut par contre porter sur d’autres obligations du sous-système, comme par exemple la permission et la protection de la libre circulation de la mission pour toute fin officielle ou les exemptions d’impôt.

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B.

27

Les sous-systèmes ne sont jamais complètement hermétiques aux normes secondaires systémiques (du droit international général)

Jusqu’à ce jour, il n’a d’ailleurs jamais été démontré de façon concluante la fermeture d’un sous-système, qui pourrait de ce fait être qualifié de régime autonome au sens strict du terme. A l’inverse, l’existence de tels sous-systèmes complètement hermétiques aux normes secondaires systémiques a été très vite mise en doute. Au fur et à mesure s’est ainsi cristallisée dans la doctrine la quasi-certitude de l’inexistence en droit international de régime autosuffisant au sens strict du terme. Il a été ainsi établi de manière convaincante l’ouverture de plusieurs sous-systèmes, tels le GATT79 et l’OMC80. Comme l’a démontré A. Marschik, même l’Union européenne – sous-système perfectionné et complet par excellence – est un sous-système « ouvert »81. Une vision complètement hermétique du régime autosuffisant est aussi remise en cause par un des « pères » du concept, B. Simma, qui, après un long silence, a repris et approfondi ses réflexions sur la question82. L’idée même d’un régime autosuffisant au sens strict peut d’ailleurs être considérée comme étant en contradiction avec l’article 31 § 3 c) de la Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités de 1969 (CVDT), imposant de tenir compte dans l’interprétation d’une disposition conventionnelle, de tout accord, pratique et règles pertinentes dans les rapports entre les parties83. Ainsi, il est pertinent de parler de « chimère » des régimes auto-suffisants en droit international84. L’utilisation en doctrine de la notion pour qualifier des sous-systèmes existants contribue cependant à entretenir la confusion dans le débat sur la fragmentation du droit international, ce qui conduit certains à la qualifier d’inopportune et

79

P.C. Mavroidis, « Das GATT als ‘self-contained’ Regime », 37 Recht der Internationalen Wirtschaft (1991-6), pp. 497-501.

80

J. Pauwelyn, Conflict of Norms in Public International Law. How WTO Law Relates to Other Rules of International Law, 2003, pp. 35-40.

81

A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, pp. 259-272.

82

B. Simma/D. Pulkowski, « Of Planets and the Universe: Self-contained Regimes in International Law », 17 EJIL (2006-3), pp. 483-529.

83

Dans ce sens, P. Weckel, « Jurisprudence internationale, Commentaire de la sentence du Tribunal arbitral OSPAR du 2 juillet 2003, Accès à l’information en application de l’article 9 de la Convention OSPAR (Irlande c. Royaume-Uni) », 107 RGDIP (2003), p. 988. Cf. l’étude par W. Mansfield sur le sujet dans le cadre du groupe de travail de la CDI sur la fragmentation : « The interpretation of treaties in the light of ‘any relevant rules of international law applicable in the relations between the parties’ (article 31 (3) (c) of the Vienna Convention of the Law of Treaties), in the context of general developments in international law and concerns of the international community: An outline », Study Group of Fragmentation of International Law, ILC (LV)/SG/FIL/CRD.3/Rev.1, pp. 1-20.

84

A. Lindroos/M. Mehling, « Dispelling the Chimera of ‘Self-Contained Regimes’ International Law and the WTO », 16 EJIL (2005-5), pp. 857-877, p. 877.

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inutile85. En effet, même si la majorité de la doctrine ne considère pas qu’il existe des régimes autonomes complètement hermétiques aux normes primaires ou secondaires systémiques, il est fait pourtant un usage abondant et sans distinction de la notion86. Il serait donc préférable d’employer l’expression self-contained regime de manière stricte et, comme le proposait B. Simma en 1985, de ne pas utiliser le terme régime autosuffisant comme synonyme de sous-système mais de réserver le terme à la catégorie particulière des sous-systèmes fermés, s’il en est87. Il est même possible d’aller plus loin en proposant pour plus de clarté d’abandonner la notion inappropriée de régime autosuffisant. C’est aussi la proposition de M. Koskenniemi, qui préfère la remplacer par celle de régime spécial88. La preuve de l’existence de sous-systèmes fermés ou régimes autosuffisants n’ayant jamais été apportée et, à l’inverse, les preuves du contraire s’accumulant, il est difficile dans tous les cas de justifier l’emploi du terme régime se suffisant à lui-même, autosuffisant ou encore autonome pour qualifier les sous-systèmes existants.

C.

Synthèse des éléments en faveur d’une relecture de la théorie

Les conclusions ci-dessus apportent un éclairage un peu différencié sur la théorie des sous-systèmes et ses principes, éclairage qui pousse à tenter de porter un nouveau regard sur la relation entre normes secondaires systémiques et sous-systémiques. En particulier, il a été vu que dans la théorie des sous-systèmes un recours aux normes secondaires systémiques n’est prévu par certains auteurs qu’en cas d’échec ou échec anticipé du sous-système89. Cependant, au cours de l’analyse de l’arrêt de la CIJ dans l’affaire du Personnel diplomatique et consulaire des Etats-Unis à Téhéran, au-delà du fait qu’il est apparu que la CIJ n’a pas voulu qualifier le droit des relations diplomatiques de régime autosuffisant au sens strict, il a été démontré que dans l’exemple du droit des relations diplomatiques, il y a application simultanée des normes secondaires sous-systémiques et des normes secondaires systémiques qui les complètent, sans qu’aucun critère d’échec du sous-système au sens du concept du primary norm remedy system n’ait à jouer. Ainsi les organes de contrôle de divers sous-systèmes, comme ceux de l’Union européenne, de l’OMC et de la Convention européenne des droits de l’Homme ont de plus en plus recours aux normes secondaires systémiques pour interpréter, mais 85

C. Tams, « Unity and Diversity in the Law of State Responsibility », in A. Zimmermann/R. Hofmann (dir.), Unity and Diversity in International Law : Proceedings of an International Symposium of the Kiel Walther Schücking Institute of International Law, 2006, p. 454.

86

Cf. par exemple supra notes 31 et 32.

87

« those embracing, in principle, a full (exhaustive and definite) set of secondary rules », B. Simma, « Self-contained Regimes », 16 NYIL (1985), pp. 111-136, p. 117 c). Dans le même sens G. White qui fait directement référence à la distinction opérée par B. Simma dans la contribution précitée, in « Legal Consequences of Wrongful Acts in International Economic Law », 16 NYIL (1985), pp. 137-173, p. 145.

88

M. Koskenniemi, supra note 37, pp. 18 et 39.

89

Voir supra notes 63 et s.

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aussi pour compléter les normes sous-systémiques. S’il n’est pas possible de faire de longs développements à propos d’autres exemples de sous-systèmes internationaux sans dépasser le cadre de cette contribution, il sera cité la jurisprudence de la Cour européenne des droits de l’Homme, qui est exemplaire à cet égard90. Parmi les normes du droit international qu’elle applique, on retrouve en particulier les normes secondaires systémiques relatives à la responsabilité des Etats pour fait internationalement illicite. En effet, et bien qu’il existe dans le sous-système une norme secondaire spécifique sur la réparation, l’article 41 CEDH sur la satisfaction équitable, la Cour a pour la première fois dans l’affaire Papamichalopoulos, en 1995, « complété » cet article 41 en se référant directement à la jurisprudence de la CPIJ dans l’affaire Chorzów91 et en ordonnant la restitutio in integrum, conformément à la norme secondaire systémique pertinente92. Dans cette perspective différenciée il convient donc de revenir sur le degré d’ouverture des sous-systèmes aux normes secondaires systémiques et sur les critères pertinents pour déterminer l’ampleur du rôle que peuvent y jouer celles-ci.

III.

Degré d’ouverture d’un sous-système et jeu de l’interprétation, de la lex specialis et de la subsidiarité

Pour compléter cette relecture de la théorie des sous-systèmes, il va être donc revenu sur le jeu de l’interprétation, de la lex specialis et de la subsidiarité dans la relation entre normes secondaires sous-systémiques et systémiques.

A.

L’application prioritaire des normes secondaires sous-systémiques dans le sous-système n’implique pas que les normes secondaires systémiques soient complètement écartées

La règle de la lex specialis en droit international est déjà citée par H. Grotius dans Le droit de la guerre et de la paix, qui, reprenant lui-même Cicéron, cite la règle suivante : « […] entre les conventions qui ont en un degré égal les qualités mentionnées on doit préférer à ce qui est plus général ce qui est plus particulier ou spécial, & approche davantage de la chose, parce que les choses particulières sont d’ordinaire plus efficaces que les générales. De là vient que dans les défenses on doit préférer celle qui désigne 90

On peut se référer à ce propos à la contribution très intéressante de L. Caflisch dans ce Festschrift, « L’application du droit international général par la Cour européenne des droits de l’homme », pp. 627-648.

91

Usine de Chorzów (Allemagne c. Pologne), CPIJ 1928 (demande en indemnité : fond), série A n° 17, p. 47.

92

Papamichalopoulos et autres c. Grèce (article 50), 31 octobre 1995, CEDH, Série A n°330-B, §§ 34 et s.

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une peine, à celle qui n’en désigne point ; celle qui en contient une plus grande à celle qui en contient une moindre. »93

Ainsi, l’adage latin lex specialis derogat lege generali signifie « la règle spéciale déroge à la règle générale »94. « Déroger » à une norme par une autre ne sous-entend pas obligatoirement l’existence d’une contradiction ou une incompatibilité entre les deux normes en question95. La lex specialis n’est donc pas une règle de conflit au sens strict du terme ou solution d’antinomies96. Il s’agit seulement de choisir entre les normes susceptibles de s’appliquer. Les diverses définitions de la lex specialis vont dans ce sens97. Dans la jurisprudence on peut citer pour exemple l’affaire Ambatelios, dans laquelle la CIJ rappelle qu’« […] une disposition particulière l’emport[e] sur une disposition générale »98. Dans l’affaire du Droit de passage sur territoire indien la CIJ affirme qu’« [u]ne pratique particulière doit l’emporter sur des règles générales éventuelles »99. 93

H. Grotius, Le droit de la guerre et de la paix, Grotius traduit du latin en français par M. de Courtin, Tome second, Chapitre XVI, XXVIII (I), 1703, p. 392-393.

94

J. Salmon (dir.), Dictionnaire de droit international public, 2001, p. 652. Italiques ajoutés.

95

Définition de déroger: « faire exception au principe, à la règle (au moins à une règle plus générale) en soustrayant à son application un domaine particulier. En ce sens, une loi spéciale (qui est pourtant elle-même une règle mais moins générale) déroge au droit commun ». Dans un sens étroit « [é]carter l’application d’une règle dans un cas particulier (singulièrement, pour ce seul cas concrètement déterminé, situation individuelle) ». Dérogation : « action d’écarter l’application d’une règle dans un cas particulier […] », G. Cornu, Vocabulaire juridique, 1996, pp. 269 et 270.

96

J. Salmon « Les antinomies en droit international public », in C. Perelman (dir.) Les antinomies en droit, 1965, pp. 285-319.

97

Ainsi dans le Dictionnaire de droit international public il est question d’un « principe de solution à un conflit entre une norme générale et une norme particulière, selon lequel la loi spéciale l’emporte. », J. Salmon (dir.), Dictionnaire de droit international public, 2001, p. 652. Dans le Black’s Law Dictionary, n’est pas donné de définition du principe lui-même, mais de l’expression lex generalis : « A law of general application, as opposed to one that affects only a particular person or a small group of people », B.A. Garner (dir.), Black’s Law Dictionary, 1999, p. 922. Il y est également fait la différence entre general rule « A rule applicable to a class of cases or circumstances » et special rule « A rule applicable to a particular case or circumstance only », ibid., p. 1330. General law y est défini ainsi: « […] A statute that relates to a subject of a broad nature », ibid., p. 890.

98

Ambatielos (Grèce c. Royaume-Uni), Exception préliminaire, CIJ, Recueil 1952, p. 44.

99

Droit de passage sur territoire indien (Portugal c. Inde), CIJ, Recueil 1960, p. 44. Considérant la lex specialis dans le cadre de l’interprétation, le Tribunal des Réclamations irano-américaines dans sa décision du 13 janvier 1982 rappelle aussi : « If there were any inconsistency, it is a well recognised and universal principle of interpretation that a special provision overrides a general provision. Roman law knew that principle under the words ‘specialia derogant generalibus’ […] », Tribunal des Réclamations Irano-américaines, affaire A/2, Request for interpretation : Jurisdiction of the Tribunal with respect to claims by the Islamic Republic of Iran against nationals of the United States of America, 1 Iran-US Claims Tribunal Reports (1981-82), p. 101, p. 104.

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La construction du primary norm remedy system avec le critère de l’échec du soussystème présentés au début de cette contribution sont proposés par leurs auteurs pour résoudre le problème du caractère supposé définitif de l’application de la lex specialis100. Mais au regard des éléments d’analyse apportés ci-dessus, on peut se demander s’il est pertinent de partir du principe que la norme générale à laquelle déroge la norme spéciale est complètement et définitivement éliminée par cette dernière101. Le problème général qui se pose ici est celui de la transposabilité des principes généraux de droit interne en droit international102. Ainsi comme le relève S.A. SadatAkhavi « [e]ven if the existence of certain principles as general principles of law were admitted, their transposability into the international legal system would still be doubtful » 103. C. Rousseau se prononce ainsi sur l’application du principe de la lex posterior aux conflits entre traités : « [l]a technique d’élaboration du droit positif dans l’ordre international diffère trop profondément de celle du droit interne pour que l’on puisse songer à appliquer en notre matière le mécanisme abrogatoire du droit interne : la nature conventionnelle des règles en vigueur et la présomption d’équivalence qui s’attache à ces règles quant à leur valeur d’application doivent nécessairement conduire ici à une solution négative. »104

Son propos illustre bien la question envisagée ici et semble tout à fait transposable, tant au principe de la lex specialis qu’à la relation entre normes secondaires systémiques et sous-systémiques. Ainsi, la nature du droit international ne permet pas de considérer que l’application de la lex specialis entraîne l’abrogation ou la mise de côté définitive de la norme écartée au profit d’une autre. Cette supposition semble cependant avoir contribué de manière significative à la mise en place de la construction théorique du primary norm remedy system. En effet, si on part du principe qu’en appliquant le principe de la lex specialis, il va être dérogé à la norme générale et que cette norme générale est « abrogée » ou du moins qu’il ne peut plus y être fait recours par la suite, il est alors presque nécessaire de « détourner » cette règle, en pensant le sous-système comme une norme primaire du système général dont la violation, ou « échec du soussystème », justifiera le recours aux normes secondaires générales. Le problème posé par la dérogation des normes secondaires du sous-système aux normes secondaires générales considérée comme définitive est ainsi « évacué ». Le postulat du caractère définitif de l’application de la lex specialis en droit international peut être donc remis en cause et la jurisprudence de la CIJ va dans ce sens. En 100

A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, p. 153.

101

Ibid.

102

Sur les principes généraux et la fragmentation en général, voir E. Jouannet, « L’ambivalence des principes généraux face au caractère étrange et complexe de l’ordre juridique international », in R. Huesa Vinaixa/K. Wellens (dir.), L’influence des sources sur l’unité et la fragmentation du droit international, 2006, pp. 115-154.

103

Voir S.A. Sadat-Akhavi, Methods of Resolving Conflicts between Treaties, 2003, p. 190.

104

C. Rousseau, Droit international public, tome I, 1970, p. 156. Italiques ajoutés.

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effet, dans l’affaire des Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci, la CIJ affirme que le droit international général coutumier continue à jouer un rôle, même en cas de règle spéciale conventionnelle105. Elle souligne à plusieurs reprises ce principe : « lors même qu‘une norme coutumière intéressant le présent litige auraient exactement le même contenu, la Cour ne verrait pas là une raison de considérer que l’intervention du processus conventionnel doive nécessairement faire perdre à la norme coutumière son applicabilité distincte »106. Elle précise ainsi encore : « L’existence de règles identiques en droit international conventionnel et coutumier a été clairement admise par la Cour dans les affaires du Plateau continental de la mer du Nord. […] on ne voit aucune raison de penser que, lorsque le droit international coutumier est constitué de règles identiques à celles du droit conventionnel, il se trouve ‘supplanté’ par celui-ci au point de n’avoir plus d’existence propre » 107

Les développements de la CIJ dans son avis consultatif sur la Licéité de la menace ou de l’emploi d’armes nucléaires relatif à la relation entre le Pacte international sur les droits civils et politiques de l’ONU et le droit des conflits armés vont également dans ce sens. Si la Cour considère que pendant des hostilités, c’est le droit des conflits armés en tant que lex specialis qui est applicable afin de déterminer ce qui constitue une privation arbitraire de la vie108, elle affirme néanmoins que le droit relatif au droit de l’homme continue à s’appliquer dans les conflits armés. Ceci lui permet d’affirmer que « [l]e fait de considérer qu’on se trouve en présence d’une situation de lex specialis appelle l’attention sur un aspect important du principe […], [m]ême lorsque celui-ci est invoqué pour justifier le recours à une exception, ce qui est ainsi écarté ne disparaît pas pour autant »109. L’application des normes secondaires systémiques dans le sous-système est donc justifiée sans qu’il soit nécessaire d’avoir recours à la fiction du primary norm remedy system. Afin d’étayer encore l’argument d’une application des normes secondaires systémiques dans un sous-système au-delà de tout critère d’échec de ce dernier, il convient de citer à nouveau la CIJ. Ainsi dans l’affaire ELSI, la CIJ refuse de considérer qu’il été renoncé tacitement par les États parties à un traité à des principes de droit international aussi importants que la règle de l’épuisement des recours internes : « […] les parties à un traité peuvent convenir, dans son texte, soit que la règle de l’épuisement des recours internes ne s’appliquera pas aux demandes fondées sur de prétendues violations de ce traité, soit confirmer qu’elle s’appliquera. Mais la Chambre 105

Dans ce sens aussi M. Koskenniemi, supra note 37, §§ 67 et s.

106

Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci (Nicaragua c. États-Unis d’Amérique), CIJ, Recueil 1986, § 175, p. 94. Elle s’était déjà prononcée dans des termes similaires sur la question dans son arrêt sur la compétence de la Cour et la recevabilité de la requête, Recueil 1984, § 73, pp. 424-425.

107

Ibid., Recueil 1986, § 177, p. 95.

108

Licéité de la menace ou de l’emploi d’armes nucléaires, avis consultatif, CIJ, Recueil 1996, § 25, p. 240.

109

Ibid.

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ne saurait accepter qu’on considère qu’un principe important du droit international coutumier a été tacitement écarté sans que l’intention de l’écarter soit verbalement précisée. »110

De même dans son avis consultatif sur les Conséquences juridiques pour les Etats de la présence de l’Afrique du Sud en Namibie (Sud-Ouest africain), la Cour est formelle, dans le silence d’un traité, il ne peut être présumé l’exclusion d’un droit issu d’une autre source que le traité : « Le silence d’un traité […] ne saurait être interprété comme impliquant l’exclusion d’un droit dont la source se trouve en dehors du traité, dans le droit international général, et qui dépend de circonstances que l’on n’envisage pas au moment de conclure le traité. »111

Cette jurisprudence est dans la lignée du célèbre principe du Lotus, selon lequel « [l]e droit international régit les rapports entre des États indépendants. Les règles de droit liant les États procèdent donc de la volonté de ceux-ci, volonté manifestée dans des conventions ou dans des usages acceptés généralement comme consacrant des principes de droit et établis en vue de régler la coexistence de ces communautés indépendantes ou en vue de buts communs. Les limitations de l’indépendance des État ne se présument donc pas »112. Dans la mesure où l’indépendance et la souveraineté de l’État semblent être quasi-synonymes et que l’ensemble des droits de l’État y sont attachés113, il est envisageable d’appliquer le principe du Lotus aux droits de l’État souverain dans le domaine de la responsabilité internationale, c’est-à-dire pour les normes secondaires systémiques relatives aux droits de l’État lésé d’invoquer la responsabilité internationale, de demander réparation ou encore de recourir à des contre-mesures. Il ressort donc de la jurisprudence de la CIJ que le renoncement à la souveraineté ou à des principes importants du droit international par les Etats ne peut être présumé. Les normes secondaires systémiques sur la responsabilité de l’Etat pour fait internationalement illicite mettent en place des obligations, droits et facultés des Etats souverains. L’importance de ces normes secondaires systémiques en droit international est incontestée, dans la mesure où elles contribuent de manière essentielle à donner au droit international sa qualité d’ordre juridique. Ainsi on peut affirmer que l’établissement par les Etats d’un sous-système conventionnel n’implique pas en tant que tel un renoncement des Etats au recours aux normes secondaires systémiques dans le cadre de celui-ci. Il faudra analyser les normes de chaque sous-système au cas par cas pour rechercher l’expression d’une éventuelle volonté des Etats parties de renoncer à l’application des normes secondaires systémiques dans

110

Elettronica Sicula S.p.A. (ELSI) (Italie c. États-Unis), CIJ, Recueil 1989, § 50, p. 42.

111

Conséquences juridiques pour les Etats de la présence de l’Afrique du Sud en Namibie (SudOuest africain) nonobstant la résolution 276 (1970) du Conseil de sécurité, avis consultatif, CIJ, Recueil 1971, § 96, p. 47.

112

Lotus (France c. Turquie), CPJI 1927 (fond), série A n°10, p. 18.

113

Et pas seulement l’exercice de sa juridiction comme dans l’affaire du Lotus.

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le sous-système. Cela va revenir à identifier les normes secondaires sous-systémiques qui par souci particulier de prendre en compte les spécificités du sous-système excluent certaines normes secondaires systémiques. Ceci permettra de mettre en valeur les domaines non couverts par ces normes secondaires sous-systémiques, pour lesquels les normes secondaires systémiques pourront, au besoin, jouer un rôle subsidiaire. Pour procéder à cette identification des normes secondaires sous-systémiques dérogeant aux normes secondaires systémiques on aura recours à l’interprétation, dans l’esprit même de l’article 55 de la CDI sur la responsabilité de l’Etat pour fait internationalement illicite qui précise que les normes secondaires systémiques ne s’appliquent pas dans les cas et dans la mesure où l’objet de la réglementation de ces normes est régi par des règles spéciales de droit international. Pour les normes secondaires sur la responsabilité de l’Etat, les objets de réglementation (Regelungsgegenstand) à identifier seront donc relatifs aux conditions d’existence d’un fait internationalement illicite, au contenu et à la mise en œuvre de la responsabilité. Au commentaire de l’article 55 de la CDI, on trouve encore des remarques pouvant guider l’interprétation des normes secondaires des sous-systèmes et l’application du principe de la lex specialis : « C’est en fonction de la règle spéciale que l’on établira la mesure dans laquelle les règles générales sur la responsabilité des États énoncées dans les présents articles sont supplantées par cette règle. Dans certains cas, il découlera clairement du texte du traité ou d’un autre texte que seules les conséquences qui y sont spécifiées s’appliqueront. Dans ces cas, la conséquence sera «déterminée» par la règle spéciale et le principe consacré à l’article 55 s’appliquera. Dans d’autres cas, seul un aspect du droit international général se trouvera modifié, les autres aspects demeurant applicables. »114

Les dispositions d’une convention peuvent donc être destinées à codifier la coutume, la préciser ou aller plus loin que celle-ci dans un certain domaine. La volonté de lui déroger sera exprimée dans les dispositions conventionnelles que ce soient des normes primaires ou secondaires. Une telle volonté ressort clairement par exemple de l’article 27 de la Convention de Washington pour le règlement des différends relatifs aux investissements (CIRDI) excluant l’exercice de la protection diplomatique à moins que la sentence adoptée dans le cadre du règlement des différends ne soit pas respectée115.

114

Commentaire des articles de la CDI sur la responsabilité de l’Etat pour fait internationalement illicite, Rapport de la CDI, 33ème session (2001), article 55, § 3, p. 384.

115

Nations Unies, Recueil des Traités, volume 575, p. 159. Article 27 § 1 « Aucun État contractant n’accorde la protection diplomatique ou ne formule de revendication internationale au sujet d’un différend que l’un de ses ressortissants et un autre État contractant ont consenti à soumettre ou ont soumis à l’arbitrage dans le cadre de la présente Convention, sauf si l’autre État contractant ne se conforme pas à la sentence rendue à l’occasion du différend ». W. Riphagen donne cet exemple de l’article 27 CIRDI pour illustrer son propos quant au mécanisme de l’échec du sous-système, voir Troisième rapport, supra note 18, § 54, note de bas de page 38, p. 35.

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Un autre exemple est l’article 22 du Mémorandum d’accord pour le règlement des différends de l’OMC, qui établit un régime de contre-mesures différent de celui des normes secondaires systémiques pertinentes répertoriées par les articles de la CDI sur la responsabilité de l’Etat. Il faut donc analyser au cas par cas la norme secondaire sous-systémique pour évaluer l’étendue de la dérogation. L’existence du sous-système en soi, c’est-à-dire un ensemble coordonné de normes à la fois primaires et secondaires ne suffit donc pas à écarter automatiquement temporairement toutes les normes secondaires systémiques116. Comme pour l’application des dispositions de la Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités de 1969 à un traité particulier, il faut examiner les normes du traité en question et déterminer au cas par cas la présence de normes secondaires spécifiques conventionnelles, qui seront complétées, le cas échéant, par les normes secondaires générales en tant que jus dispositivum.

B.

Recours subsidiaire aux normes secondaires systémiques pour les domaines de réglementation non couverts par les normes secondaires sous-systémiques

L’application subsidiaire de la norme secondaire générale dans le sous-système s’explique du fait de son caractère supplétif117. Ainsi le droit international général est essentiellement supplétif et il peut y être dérogé par voie d’exception118. Dans ce sens « [i]l est de la nature du droit général de s’appliquer généralement, c’est-à-dire pour autant qu’il n’a pas été expressément exclu »119. L’exemple classique de disposition supplétives nous est donné dans la Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités aux articles 11, 16, 22, 24, 25 et 28 par exemple, qui contiennent chacun la formule typique « à moins que le traité en dispose autrement … ». Ce principe vaut aussi pour les normes secondaires systémiques de la responsabilité étatique. L’article 55 de la CDI sur la lex 116

Contra B. Simma/D. Pulkowski, « Of Planets and the Universe: Self-contained Regimes in International Law », 17 EJIL (2006-3), pp. 483-529, pp. 507 et s.

117

Il faut préciser que les deux adjectifs subsidiaire et supplétif ne sont pas complètement synonymes, le premier dérive du terme subsidium ou secours en latin, tandis que le deuxième dérive de supplere ou suppléer. Il ressort cependant des différentes définitions que l’idée qui sous-tend ces deux adjectifs est la même. Subsidiaire signifie ainsi: « […] Qui a vocation à venir en second lieu (à titre de remède, de garantie, de suppléance, de consolation), pour le cas où ce qui est principal, primordial, vient à faire défaut […] », G. Cornu (dir.), Vocabulaire juridique, 1996, p. 802. La subsidiarité est définie comme : « [Un] [p]rincipe d’inspiration démocratique en vertu duquel il est interdit de soustraire à un niveau de pouvoir proche des citoyens, ou au citoyen, ce qu’il peut réaliser lui-même. Cette définition traduit la dimension de proximité du principe de subsidiarité […] », J. Salmon (dir.), Dictionnaire de droit international public, 2001, p. 1056. Une disposition supplétive est une « norme énoncée par un instrument international qui n’est applicable qu’à défaut d’un engagement plus spécifique entre les sujets de droit en cause », J. Salmon (dir.), Dictionnaire de droit international public, 2001, p. 349. Supplétif signifie : « Qui remplace, s’applique à défaut de…, comble une lacune », G. Cornu (dir.), Vocabulaire juridique, 1996, p. 809.

118

M. Koskenniemi, supra note 37, § 75.

119

Ibid., § 164.

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specialis est ainsi qualifié par celle-ci de clause de subsidiarité. Un grand nombre de ces normes sont donc, comme la plupart des règles relatives au droit des traités, des règles supplétives120. Le droit général va donc dans tous les cas continuer de jouer un rôle pour compléter le régime conventionnel spécial, ne serait-ce que pour l’interprétation des normes par exemple. Le rôle qu’il aura à jouer dans un cas particulier sera précisé dans le cadre de l’interprétation des normes secondaires sous-systémiques qui, conformément à l’article 31 § 3 c) de la CVDT sera faite en tenant compte des « règle(s) pertinente(s) du droit international applicable dans les relations entre les parties ». On pourra ainsi procéder à une analyse des normes secondaires du sous-système, en les comparant aux normes secondaires systémiques, pour déterminer si l’« objet de réglementation » des normes secondaires systémiques ou « Regelungsgegenstand », est couvert par les normes du sous-système. Il s’agira de déterminer s’il existe une norme secondaire sous-systémique dans un domaine de réglementation donné et, le cas échéant, si elle « remplace » une norme secondaire systémique. Ainsi, à l’exemple de la CIJ qui le fait dans l’affaire des Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci, il faudra analyser le contenu des normes secondaires sous-systémiques pour déterminer si les domaines réglementés par celles-ci se recouvrent avec les normes secondaires systémiques coutumières ou pas121. Dans le cas où elles ne se recouvrent pas, une norme secondaire systémique qui n’a pas d’équivalent dans le sous-système pourra être appliquée subsidiairement, à moins que les Etats en aient décidé autrement. La théorie des sous-systèmes est donc construite à la fois sur le principe de la lex specialis derogat legi generali et l’idée de subsidiarité122, qui se complètent. Ainsi en vertu du principe de spécialité, la norme générale devrait en principe laisser la place à la norme spéciale, puisque cette dernière est normalement plus appropriée, plus efficace. S’il s’avère cependant que la norme spéciale n’est pas suffisante ou

120

Commentaire des articles de la CDI sur la responsabilité de l’Etat pour fait internationalement illicite, Rapport de la CDI, 33ème session (2001), Article 55, § 2, p. 384.

121

Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci (Etats-Unis d’Amérique c. Nicaragua), CIJ (fond), Recueil 1986, § 175, pp. 93-94 : « La Cour ne considère pas que, dans les domaines juridiques intéressant le présent différend, il soit possible de soutenir que toutes les règles coutumières susceptibles d’être invoquées ont un contenu exactement identique à celui des règles figurant dans les conventions dont le jeu de la réserve des États-Unis interdit l’applicabilité. Sur plusieurs points, les domaines réglementés par les deux sources de droit ne se recouvrent pas exactement et les règles substantielles qui les expriment n’ont pas un contenu identique. » Italiques ajoutés.

122

Si comme l’affirme M. Koskenniemi, « [l]a fragmentation est synonyme d’émergence d’un principe de subsidiarité dans le domaine international » (supra note 37, § 174), il est difficile d’apporter à ce jour la preuve de l’existence d’un principe de subsidiarité en tant que principe général du droit international. Pour l’Union européenne, par contre, sur le principe de subsidiarité s’appliquant dans les domaines ne relevant pas de la compétence exclusive de la Communauté, cf. article 5 alinéa 2 du Traité instituant la Communauté européenne (TCE); point 5 du Protocole n° 30 au Traité sur l’Union européeene (TUE) sur l’application des principes de subsidiarité et de proportionnalité (n°30-1997) et § 3 de l’article I-11 sur les Principes fondamentaux de la Constitution européenne.

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efficace, en vertu de la subsidiarité, qui repose comme la lex specialis123 sur un souci d’efficacité124, il s’agit alors de faire jouer les normes secondaires systémiques au caractère supplétif. Ces dernières s’appliquent donc soit en l’absence de norme secondaire sous-systémique dans un domaine de réglementation particulier, soit pour compléter la norme secondaire sous-systémique insuffisante (pour l’interpréter, la compléter), ou encore pour la remplacer (en cas d’échec du sous-système)125. Dans la doctrine, L. Boisson de Chazournes126 et K. Zemanek127 semblent se prononcer en faveur d’une telle solution. A. Marschik, alors qu’il défend la position inverse, reconnaît lui-même qu’une approche souple est vraisemblablement plus réaliste que le recours anticipé très restreint qu’il propose128. Le jeu de la lex specialis et de la subsidiarité est très bien illustré par la jurisprudence du Tribunal des réclamations irano-américaines dans l’affaire AMOCO International Finance Corporation c. Iran, selon lequel en tant que lex specialis, le traité prime sur le droit international coutumier, mais que cependant – et ce conformément au principe relevé par la CIJ dans l’affaire des Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci évoqué ci-dessus129 – les règles de droit international coutumier peuvent avoir à jouer un rôle, par exemple pour combler d’éventuelles lacunes du traité, éclaircir le sens des termes de celui-ci ou plus généralement interpréter ou mettre en œuvre ses dispositions : “As a lex specialis in the relations between the two countries, the Treaty supersedes the lex generalis, namely customary international law. This does not mean, however, that the latter is irrelevant in the instant Case. On the contrary, the rules of customary law may be useful in order to fill in possible lacunae of the Treaty, to ascertain the

123

Voir citation de H. Grotius, supra note 93.

124

« Cette définition [de la subsidiarité] traduit le souci d’efficacité sur lequel repose le principe de subsidiarité. », J. Salmon (dir.), Dictionnaire de droit international public, 2001, p. 1056.

125

On peut citer pour illustrer ce propos le point 3 du Protocole n°30 du TCE : « Les critères énoncés à l’article 3 B, deuxième alinéa, du traité concernent les domaines dans lesquels la Communauté ne possède pas de compétence exclusive. Le principe de subsidiarité donne une orientation pour la manière dont ces compétences doivent être exercées au niveau communautaire. La subsidiarité est un concept dynamique qui devrait être appliqué à la lumière des objectifs énoncés dans le traité. Il permet d’étendre l’action de la Communauté, dans les limites de ses compétences, lorsque les circonstances l’exigent et, inversement, de la limiter et d’y mettre fin lorsqu’elle ne se justifie plus. »

126

L. Boisson de Chazournes, Les contre-mesures dans les relations internationales économiques, 1993, p. 179.

127

K. Zemanek, « The Unilateral Enforcement of International Obligations », 47 ZaöRV (1987), pp. 32-55, p. 107.

128

A. Marschik, Subsysteme im Völkerrecht. Ist die Europäische Union ein „Self-Contained Regime“?, 1997, p. 166, note de bas de page n°67.

129

Voir supra note 121.

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meaning of undefined terms in its text or, more generally, to aid interpretation and implementation of its provisions.”130

Dans le cas du sous-système, il ne s’agit pas obligatoirement de « lacune » du traité à proprement dit. La plupart du temps dans les sous-systèmes, les Etats parties ne jugent pas utile de réglementer certains domaines couverts de manière appropriée par les normes secondaires systémiques. Celles-ci s’appliquent alors si nécessaire subsidiairement131. Ou bien encore la norme systémique peut tout à fait être appliquée « avec » la norme sous-systémique dans la mesure où elle ne présente pas de contradiction avec cette dernière et qu’elle peut la compléter. Par le biais de l’interprétation les deux normes secondaires pourront être appliquées « ensemble ». Ainsi par exemple la jurisprudence des organes de contrôle des sous-systèmes de la CEDH et de la Convention interaméricaine des droits de l’homme (CADH) témoignent d’un recours aux normes secondaires systémiques sur la réparation, aux fins d’interprétation des normes secondaires du sous-système qui y sont relatives132. De même dans le cadre du Pacte des Nations Unies sur les droits civils et politiques existe la possibilité de recourir à un autre mode de règlement des différends que celui prévu par la norme secondaire sous-systémique pertinente133. Dans tous les cas il faudra vérifier qu’il ne ressort pas de la volonté des Etats parties qu’ils ont renoncé ou exclu un type de norme secondaire systémique particulier pour le sous-système en question. Il pourra s’agir par exemple de l’exclusion d’une certaine forme de mise en œuvre de la responsabilité. Ainsi, dans le cadre de la CEDH l’invocation de la responsabilité dans le cadre d’un mode de règlement des différends autre que celui mis en place par le sous-système est exclu par l’article 55 CEDH. Dans ce cas là, c’est seulement en cas d’échec complet du sous-système que le recours à un autre mode de règlement des différends que celui prévu par la norme secondaire sous-systémique dérogatoire sera éventuellement possible. On a un scénario similaire dans le cadre du 130

AMOCO International Finance Corporation c. Iran, affaire n°56, 15 Iran-US Claims Tribunal Reports (1987-II), p. 189, § 112, p. 222.

131

L’arrêt de la CJCE dans l’affaire Poulsen illustre bien l’application de la lex specialis combiné à l’idée de subsidiarité dans le sous-système de l’Union européenne. En l’absence de règles communautaires sur la question des conséquences juridiques de la situation de détresse, qui seraient le cas échéant des normes secondaires sous-systémiques spéciales applicables en vertu de la lex specialis, le juge communautaire considère, en vertu de l’idée de subsidiarité, que les normes secondaires systémiques du droit international en la matière sont applicables. Affaire C-286/90 entre l’Anklagemyndigheden (ministère public) et Peter Michael Poulsen, Diva Navigation Corp, arrêt du 24 novembre 1992, Recueil de jurisprudence 1992, p. I-6019.

132

Pour la CEDH, voir supra note 92 ; pour la CADH, voir affaire Velasquez Rodriguez, CADH (fond) 1988, § 189, traduction de l’espagnol par M.C. Michelena, in G. Cohen-Jonathan (dir.) La protection internationale des droits de l’homme. Documents d’études. Droit international public, 1989, pp. 56-58.

133

Article 44 du Pacte : « Les dispositions de mise en œuvre du présent pacte s’appliquent sans préjudice des procédures instituées en matières de droit de l’homme aux termes ou en vertu des instruments constitutifs et des conventions spécialisées et n’empêche pas les Etats parties de recourir à d’autres procédures pour le règlement des différends conformément aux accords internationaux généraux ou spéciaux qui les lient. »

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CIRDI, sauf qu’un échec du sous-système y est prévu par la norme sous-systémique elle-même. Conformément à l’article 27 de la Convention de Washington pour le règlement des différends relatifs aux investissements entre États et ressortissants d’autres États, les États parties renoncent à l’exercice de la protection diplomatique, à moins que l’État hôte ne se conforme pas à la sentence rendue à l’occasion du différend avec l’investisseur étranger134. Quand il existe une norme secondaire sous-systémique dérogeant à une norme secondaire systémique, ou bien si une norme secondaire systémique d’un certain type est explicitement exclue par le sous-système, le retour aux normes secondaires systémiques est donc possible seulement si les normes secondaires spécifiques s’avèrent non efficaces (échec du sous-système)135. Dans un sous-système, en vertu du principe de la lex specialis, c’est donc à la norme sous-systémique spécifique de s’appliquer prioritairement, à moins qu’elle ne soit incomplète, insuffisante, lacunaire ou inefficace pour assurer l’efficacité du soussystème ce qui sera déterminé par l’interprétation. Dans ces différents cas de figure, les normes systémiques s’appliqueront subsidiairement. * * * Ainsi, pour conclure, il pourra être retenu de cette analyse et relecture de la théorie des sous-systèmes que, non seulement, il n’existe pas de sous-systèmes complètement hermétiques aux normes secondaires systémiques en droit international, mais que ces dernières peuvent d’ailleurs jouer un rôle dans le sous-système parallèlement aux normes secondaires sous-systémiques, dans le but d’interpréter et de compléter ces dernières, sans qu’un échec ou échec partiel du sous-système soit nécessaire pour cela. Il est donc proposé qu’en l’absence d’une norme secondaire d’un certain type dans un sous-système, la norme secondaire systémique couvrant le domaine de réglementation manquant s’applique parallèlement, si cela est nécessaire et n’a pas été exclu par les Etats parties. De même il s’agira d’interpréter les normes secondaires sous-systémiques par rapport aux normes secondaires systémiques pour déterminer s’il y a dérogation. Dans la négative, il faudra examiner, toujours par le biais de l’interprétation et conformément à l’article 31 § 3 c) de la CVDT, s’il est possible et nécessaire que les normes secondaires systémiques complètent les normes secondaires sous-systémiques. Cela correspond à une remise en cause de la vision du sous-système comme une norme primaire systémique (primary norm remedy system) dont la violation serait la 134

Voir supra note 115.

135

En ce qui concerne le rôle de la subsidiarité et du principe de la lex specialis dans le cadre du scénario de l’échec du sous-système et les exemples donnés ci-dessus, on peut faire le parallèle avec les dispositions de la Charte des Nations Unies. Selon son article 33 § 1, « [l]es parties à tout différend dont la prolongation est susceptible de menacer le maintien de la paix et de la sécurité internationales doivent en rechercher la solution, avant tout, par voie de négociation, d’enquête, de médiation, de conciliation, d’arbitrage, de règlement judiciaire, de recours aux organismes ou accords régionaux, ou par d’autres moyens pacifiques de leur choix ». C’est seulement si aucun règlement des différends ne peut intervenir au niveau régional que les parties doivent, subsidiairement, s’adresser au Conseil de Sécurité (article 37 § 1 de la Charte des Nations Unies). En général sur l’échec du sous-système, voir, M. Koskenniemi, supra note 36, §§ 186-190.

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condition pour qu’un recours aux normes secondaires systémiques soit possible (échec du sous-système avec comme seule exception le recours anticipé à condition que l’échec soit certain). Cette hypothèse de la contribution plurielle des normes secondaires soussystémiques et systémiques dans les sous-systèmes, qui prend en compte les résultats de l’analyse du droit des relations diplomatiques et d’autres exemples de sous-systèmes, paraît conforme aux conclusions du Groupe d’étude de la fragmentation de la CDI136. Elle permet par ailleurs de relativiser les difficultés liées à la détermination des conditions à remplir pour pouvoir constater l’échec ou même l’échec anticipé d’un sous-système, notion imprécise dont l’utilisation est incertaine.

136

Voir supra note 36. Il est d’ailleurs regrettable que les travaux de la CDI sur la fragmentation n’aient pas été poursuivis, ce qui aurait donné à celle-ci la possiblité d’approfondir son travail sur la question des sous-systèmes ou régimes, terme choisi par le Groupe d’étude, cf. les Conclusions générales du Rapport du Groupe d’étude, supra note 36, pp. 275-276 .

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41

Hierarchy in International Law within the Context of Its Fragmentation Zdzislaw Galicki

I.

Preface

At its fifty-second session in 2000, the International Law Commission decided to include the topic ‘Risks ensuing from the fragmentation of international law’ into its long-term programme of work.1 This was done upon the initiative of Professor Gerhard Hafner, who promoted the subject in the study under the same title, annexed to the report of that session. The Commission took note that this topic differed from other topics which the Commission had previously considered. Nevertheless, the Commission decided that the topic involved increasingly important issues relating to international law, and that it could contribute to the better understanding of the issues in this area. The Commission also took note that the method and the outcome of the work on this topic, while not falling strictly within the normal form of codification, was well within its competence and in accordance with its Statute.2 The inclusion of the topic was the beginning of a very interesting and stimulating exercise, continued later under a more developed and slightly changed title: ‘Fragmentation of International Law: Difficulties Arising from the Diversification and Expansion of International Law’. At its fifty-fourth session in 2002, the Commission decided to include the topic in its programme of work.3 Although Professor Hafner, unfortunately, was not able to participate personally in the further elaboration of this topic, his initial ideas no doubt had a significant impact on its development and final results. In his initial syllabus of the topic,4 Professor Hafner brought to the attention of the Commission questions of parallel and competitive regulations in international law, as well as the problem of possible conflict between obligations deriving from the Charter of the United Nations and other obligations under international law. One of the five aspects of the topic, on which the International Law Commission later decided to elaborate, deals with ‘Hierarchy in International Law: Jus Cogens, Obligations Erga Omnes, Article 103 of the Charter of the United Nations, as Conflict Rules’. The present 1

See Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-fifth Session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/55/10 (2000), chap. IX.A.1, para. 729.

2

See 2000 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), 131, para. 729.

3

See Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-seventh Session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/57/10 (2002), paras. 492-494

4

Report of the International Law Commission on the work of its fifty-second session, Annex, at 143-150.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 41-60, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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author was assigned to prepare a preliminary report5 on the subject, which he would like to present now and dedicate to Professor Hafner.

II.

Introduction

At its fifty-fifth session in 2003, the International Law Commission took note of the report of the Study Group on the topic ‘Fragmentation of International Law: Difficulties Arising from the Diversification and Expansion of International Law’. The Study Group agreed that a series of studies on specific aspects of the topic be undertaken and presented to the Commission. It did so on the basis of its 2002 recommendation during the fifty-fourth session of the Commission. The sub-topic entitled ‘Hierarchy in International Law: Jus Cogens, Obligations Erga Omnes, Article 103 of the Charter of the United Nations, as Conflict Rules’, was among the five studies recommended in 2002. It must be noted, however, that at the same session, the Study Group expressed some reservations about possible analogies between international law and internal law in the field of hierarchy of norms. In this respect, the 2002 ILC Report states: ‘There was also agreement that drawing analogies to the domestic legal system may not always be appropriate. It was thought that such analogies introduced a concept of hierarchy that was not present on the international legal plane, and should not be superimposed. It was suggested that there was no well-developed and authoritative hierarchy of values in international law. In addition there was no hierarchy of systems represented by a final body to resolve conflicts.’6

It was agreed that for 2004, shorter introductory outlines on the remaining four studies – the outline of the first study on ‘lex specialis’ and ‘self-contained regimes’ was presented in 2003 – would be prepared by appointed members of the Commission. The Study Group recommended that the outlines ‘should focus, inasmuch as appropriate, on the following four questions: (a) the nature of the topic in relation to fragmentation; (b) the acceptance and rationale of the relevant rule; (c) the operation of the relevant rule; (d) conclusions, including possible draft guidelines’.

5

This report was presented to the Commission and discussed there as a working document entitled ‘International Law Commission, 28 July, 2005, Fifty-seventh session, Geneva, 2 May-3 June and 11 July-5 August 2005, Study Group on Fragmentation of International Law, Hierarchy in international law: jus cogens, obligations erga omnes, Article 103 of the Charter of the United Nations, as conflict rules. Final report prepared by Zdzislaw Galicki (corrected)’. The report has never been published in printing before.

6

General Assembly Official Records, Fifty-seventh session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/57/10 (2002), at 240, para. 506.

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43

The following report dealing with the topic on hierarchy in international law will try to follow the above Study Group guideline as closely as possible.

III.

The Nature of the Topic in Relation to the Issue of Fragmentation

A.

The Concept of Hierarchy in International Law

There are different ways to understand the concept of hierarchy in international law: a) first, viewed from the point of view of the object of hierarchy, there is a hierarchy of sources, a hierarchy of norms, a hierarchy of obligations or a hierarchy among conflicting norms and procedures; b) secondly, from the point of view of the formal extent of hierarchy, there exists a hierarchy within a single treaty, a hierarchy among treaties governing the same topic or a hierarchy among treaty regimes. For the purpose of this study, a hierarchy of norms and obligations seems most suitable and will be considered in three variations below. Three parallel categories of norms and obligations will be analyzed as norms and obligations with specific priority in contemporary international law. These are: a) peremptory norms of general international law, i.e. jus cogens, b) obligations erga omnes, and c) obligations under the Charter of the United Nations (in accordance with Article 103 of the Charter). Within each of these three categories, the principal characteristics must be identified, taking into account their sources, substantial content and scope, as well as the possibility of practical application together with their evolution and changes.

B.

The Nature of the Topic

The diversification of international law by introducing a hierarchy of its norms has been recognized by the Study Group as one of many possible reasons leading to the fragmentation of international law. Of the most typical examples of a hierarchical approach to the norms of international law, three elements have been identified by the Study Group for further consideration and analysis. a) Jus cogens, in accordance with Article 53 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties of 1969, understood as ‘a peremptory norm of general international law’, is defined as ‘a norm accepted and recognized by the international community of States

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as a whole as a norm from which no derogation is permitted and which can be modified only by a subsequent norm of general international law having the same character’.7 b) Obligations erga omnes were defined by the International Court of Justice in the Barcelona Traction case as obligations of a State toward the international community as a whole, which concern all States and ‘all States can be held to have a legal interest in their protection’ 8 c) Article 103 of the Charter of the United Nations provides: ‘In the event of a conflict between the obligations of the Members of the United Nations under the present Charter and their obligations under any other international agreement, their obligations under the present Charter shall prevail.’

A combination of the above elements may be explored for the purpose of analyzing the question of fragmentation of international law in different ways and directions. This means that obligations and rights falling under jus cogens, erga omnes, or under Article 103 of the UN Charter may have a crucial impact on other norms within the system of international law. Consequently, a general guideline that the said instruments should be considered ‘as conflict rules’, as indicated in the title of this study, may have multiple meanings in practice. First, each method of establishing a mutual relationship between the norms of international law may be used as an example of diversification of existing norms of international law in view of their priority. On the other hand, each method may also be considered with regard to the mutual relationship between the norms insofar as it concerns their hierarchy and priority vis-à-vis the two other legal techniques or concepts. In conclusion, it may be said that the nature of the topic dealing with a hierarchy in international law calls for an identification of the ‘double impact’ of all three of the above methods on the process of fragmentation and diversification of contemporary international law. It must however be added that – as mentioned above and as will be analyzed in this report – the three possible relationships between the norms of international law and the obligations deriving from them do not exhaust all possibilities in this field. Some authors9 have for example stated that the identification of so-called ‘international crimes’, or ‘crimes of States’,10 could lead to the creation of another 7

Furthermore, a specific characteristic of jus cogens norms concerning invalidation of other norms is provided by the 1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, 8 ILM 679 (1969), which says that: ‘A treaty is void if, at the time of its conclusion, it conflicts with a peremptory norm of general international law’, ibid., art. 53; and: ‘If a new peremptory norm of general international law emerges, any existing treaty which is in conflict with that norms becomes void and terminates.’ Ibid., art. 64.

8

Case concerning the Barcelona Traction, Light and Power Company, Limited (Belgium v. Spain) (Second Phase), Judgment of 5 February 1970, 1970 ICJ Rep. 3, at 32.

9

See A. J. J. de Hoogh, ‘The Relationship between Jus Cogens, Obligations Erga Omnes and International Crimes: Peremptory Norms in Perspective’, in 42 AJPIL 183-214 (1991).

10

J. H. H. Weiler/A. L. Paulus, ‘The Structure of Change in International Law or is there a Hierarchy of Norms in International Law?’, in 8 EJIL 562 (1997).

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hierarchical order, based on a specific regime of responsibility for violations of certain norms and obligations. A reflection of the idea of an extended hierarchy of international legal norms and obligations may be found in the Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, adopted by the International Law Commission at its fifty-first session in 2001 and submitted to the UN General Assembly.11 Although the Commission in the end rejected the long-lasting concept of ‘international crimes’ of States as envisaged in former draft Article 19,12 it retained a specific set of international norms and obligations vis-à-vis general principles concerning international responsibility. Consequently, specific provisions have been introduced as ‘Serious breaches of obligations under peremptory norms of general international law’, entailing particular consequences of such breaches in Part Two, Chapter III, Articles 40-41 of the Articles. Similarly, the possibility of a State other than an injured State to invoke the responsibility of another State is provided for in Article 48(1)(b) in case of breach of obligations erga omnes. As was correctly noticed in doctrine, Articles 40, 41 and 48 are the result of an effort on the part of the International Law Commission to tone down the concept of international crimes of State, which has been found unacceptable to many States and scholars, and replace it with the concept of jus cogens and obligations erga omnes.13 Finally, the Commission excluded the possibility of resorting to countermeasures that would affect obligations under peremptory norms of general international law. It thus confirmed the ‘privileged’ position of jus cogens norms and gave, for the first time, a short non-exhaustive catalogue of such obligations (Article 50(1) ILC Articles).14

C.

The Conflict Nature of Norms and Obligations Under International Law

The question as to the conflict nature of the aforementioned categories of norms and obligations and their impact on the problem of ‘hierarchy in international law’ should be considered from at least three points of view: a) the priority of these three concepts over other norms of international law generally; 11

Text appears in the annex to UN General Assembly Res. 56/83, UN Doc. A/RES/56/83 (2001).

12

G. Abi-Saab, ‘The Uses of Article 19’, in 10 EJIL 339-351 (1999).

13

P. S. Rao, ‘International Crimes and State Responsibility’, in M. Ragazzi (ed.), International Responsibility Today 78 (2005).

14

The following obligations shall not be affected by countermeasures: ‘(a) The obligation to refrain from the threat or use of force as embodied in the Charter of the United Nations; (b) Obligations for the protection of fundamental human rights; (c) Obligations of a humanitarian character prohibiting reprisals; (d) Other obligations under peremptory norms of general international law.’

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b) the hierarchy and priority in the mutual relationship between the ‘privileged’ categories and c) the hierarchy and priority in their mutual relationship with analogical norms and obligations within each of these categories. Consequently, it is possible – at least in theory – to analyze in detail a mutual positioning within the ‘hierarchy in international law’ with regard to a) norms of jus cogens, when in conflict with obligations erga omnes; b) norms of jus cogens, when in conflict with obligations under the Charter of the United Nations pursuant to Article 103, and c) obligations erga omnes, when in conflict with obligations under the Charter of the United Nations pursuant to Article 103. Furthermore, an analogical analysis could be performed as it concerns, first, the possibility of the existence of conflicting norms and obligations and, secondly, the effects of conflicting norms and obligations viewed from the perspective of a hierarchy in international law and falling within each of the following categories: a) norms of jus cogens, when in conflict with other norms of jus cogens; b) obligations erga omnes, when in conflict with other obligations erga omnes; c) obligations under the UN Charter pursuant to Article 103 of the Charter, when in conflict with other obligations of the same type.

D.

Hierarchical Reflections That May Be Found in Other Topics Connected to the Issue of Fragmentation of International Law

Below are a few examples of such reflections with regard to four related problems15 as analyzed by the Study Group in connection with the fragmentation of international law. a) Article 30(1) of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT) establishes the priority of the obligations under the Charter of the United The formula used in para. (d) (‘Other obligations […]’) gives a ground to consider obligations under (a), (b) and (c) also as obligations under peremptory norms of general international law, i.e. jus cogens. 15

These are the following topics: 1) The function and scope of the lex specialis rule and the question of ‘self-contained’ regimes; 2) The interpretation of treaties in the light of ‘any relevant rules of international law applicable in the relations between the parties’ (1969 Vienna

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Nations over conflicting international obligations, which may derive from ‘successive treaties relating to the same subject matter’. b) Article 31(3) of the VCLT, referring to ‘relevant rules of international law applicable in the relations between the parties’, raises the question as to the potential conflict between international law on State immunity and the norms in the European Convention on Human Rights, some of which have the force of jus cogens (as reflected in some cases before the European Court of Human Rights); c) Article 41 of the VCLT lays down the conditions for inter se-agreements under treaties establishing obligations erga omnes; d) and, finally, in the instance of a ‘prohibited lex specialis’, there are various norms of general international law that do not permit derogation by way of lex specialis. Non-derogation may especially be inferred from such characterizations attaching to the general rule as jus cogens or erga omnes.

IV.

The Acceptance and Rationale of the Relevant Rule

A.

Jus Cogens Norms

Apart from the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, the concept of jus cogens appears ‘well established in doctrine now, but controversial as to content and method of creation’.16 The International Law Commission accepted and confirmed the concept of jus cogens in Article 41 of the Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, providing that no State shall recognize as lawful a situation created by ‘a serious breach by a State of an obligation arising under a peremptory norm of general international law’.17 Nevertheless, the concept of jus cogens raises a number of questions. Ian Brownlie, for instance, states that ‘certain portions of jus cogens are the subject of general agreement, including the rules relating to the use of force by states, self-determination and genocide. Yet even

Convention on the Law of Treaties, supra note 7, art. 31 (3) (c)), in the context of general developments in international law and concerns of the international community; 3) The application of successive treaties relating to the same subject matter (1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, art. 30); 4) The modification of multilateral treaties between certain of the parties only (1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, art. 41). 16

M. N. Shaw, International Law 850 (2003).

17

Text in UN General Assembly Res. 56/83, supra note 11, Annex.

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here many problems of application remain, particularly in regard to the effect of self-determination on the transfer of territory.’18

The same author continues, rather ironically: ‘If a state uses force to implement the principle of self-determination, is it possible to assume that one aspect of jus cogens is more significant than another?’ Rather than providing an answer, Brownlie concludes that ‘[t]he particular corollaries of the concept of jus cogens are still being explored’.19 On the occasion of a visit at the International Law Commission, the (former) President of the International Court of Justice, Judge Jiuyong Shi, frankly admitted that the Court has never used the term ‘jus cogens’ in its judgments, and that it avoided any detailed description or definition of this concept. He further stated that in only some cases, did judges write about ‘jus cogens’ in their opinions. However, as noticed in doctrine, ‘in at least two cases, Aminol v. Kuwait […] and Guinea/Guinea Bissau Maritime Delimitation […], international arbitral courts implicitly upheld the notion of jus cogens’.20 All this in mind, any attempt to formulate an exhaustive catalogue of generally recognized norms of jus cogens in international law seems rather unproductive and unhelpful.

B.

Obligations Erga Omnes

The acceptance of the concept of obligations erga omnes, apart from the Barcelona Traction case, may be found in numerous international decisions. Three examples from the case law of the International Court of Justice are listed below. a) In the East Timor case, the International Court of Justice confirmed that the right of peoples to self determination ‘has an erga omnes character’ and is ‘one of the essential principles of contemporary international law’.21 b) In the Genocide (Preliminary Objections) case, the Court reiterated that ‘the rights and obligations enshrined in the [Genocide] Convention are rights and obligations erga omnes’.22 c) In the Reservations to the Genocide Convention opinion, the Court emphasized that ‘in such a Convention the contracting States do not have any interests of their own; they merely have, one and all, a common interest,

18

I. Brownlie, Principles of Public International Law 490 (2003).

19

Ibid.

20

A. Cassese, International Law 205 (2005).

21

East Timor (Portugal v. Australia), Judgment of 30 June 1995, 1995 ICJ Rep. 90, 102.

22

Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro)), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 11 June 1996, 1996 ICJ Rep. 595, 616.

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namely, the accomplishment of those of high purposes which are the raison d’etre of the Convention’.23

C.

Obligations under the Charter of the United Nations

The obligation deriving from Article 103 of the Charter of the United Nations is of a different nature than the jus cogens and erga omnes rules. While the latter are binding in a general sense, and while jus cogens norms are norms of customary law,24 the binding force of obligations under Article 103 is limited to the parties to a given treaty, i.e., to the Charter of the United Nations. As a matter of fact, because of the quasi-universal membership to the UN, the difference is virtually non-existent. However, from a strictly legal point of view, the difference still remains as a factor of diversification between the three analyzed concepts. Since this difference concerns the mutual relationship between the rules of jus cogens and Article 103 of the UN Charter, Judge Lauterpacht discussed it in his separate opinion in the Genocide case. He noted: ‘The relief which article 103 of the Charter may give the Security Council in case of conflict between one of its decisions and an operative treaty obligation cannot – as a matter of simple hierarchy of norms – extend to a conflict between a Security Council resolution and jus cogens.’25

However, some doubts are expressed about the ‘privileged’ position of obligations deriving under Article 103 as compared to other norms of international law. One scholar correctly noted: ‘Even as Article 103 may seem like a constitutional provision, few would confidently use it to uphold the primacy of Security Council decisions over, for example, human rights treaties.’26

While taking into account this statement, it seems necessary to analyze the nature and extent of legal obligations that may derive under Article 103 and examine whether they are competitive to, or effectively conflict with, obligations originating from other sources.

23

Reservations to the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, Advisory Opinion of 28 May 1951, 1951 ICJ Rep. 15, 23.

24

See H. Thirlway, ‘The Sources of International Law’, in M. D. Evans (ed.), International Law 138 (2006).

25

Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, 1993 ICJ Rep. 325, 440 (separate opinion Sir Lauterpacht).

26

M. Koskenniemi, ‘Fragmentation of International Law? Postmodern Anxieties’, 15 Leiden Journal of International Law 559 (2002).

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V.

The Operation of the Relevant Rule

A.

Object of Hierarchization

The ‘concept’ of hierarchy in international law may be considered from different points of view. Since it is rather an invention of doctrine than a positive law concept, various approaches to this problem may be found in legal writings. Thus, some authors simply speak about ‘hierarchy in international law’,27 others raise the problem of ‘superior norms’,28 while still others concentrate on ‘hierarchy of sources’.29 Finally, based on the concept of ‘relative normativity’, some authors talk about ‘hierarchy among conflicting norms and procedures’.30 In the latter instance, it is proposed to introduce an additional sub-classification and diversification of three kinds of hierarchy: ‘hierarchy within a single treaty’, ‘hierarchy among treaties governing the same topic’ and ‘hierarchy among regimes’.31 It was also noticed that a certain evolution has occurred in approaching the question of hierarchy in international law in different periods. This evolution was described as follows: ‘In the classical theory of international law, any priority of conflicting rules or norms was resolved simply according to the de facto hierarchy of the sources from which they derived, coupled with the principles of the overriding effect of lex posterior and lex specialis […]. For this purpose, the content of the rules in issue was irrelevant, except insofar as it was taken into account to judge […] whether one rule was specialis in relation to the other, and if so, which was which. In more recent years, however, more and more attention has been paid to the concept of jus cogens – the category of “peremptory” legal norms, norms from which no derogation by agreement is permitted. Exactly which norms can be so designated in modern international law is still subject to some controversy, but it is accepted that the status of peremptory norm derives from the importance of the content of the norm to the international community: an example is the prohibition of genocide. A further development is the attempt to assimilate such norms to those creating “obligations erga omnes” – obligations which are regarded as being owed to the whole international community, with the practical consequence that the right to react to any violation of the norm is not confined to the State or States directly injured or affected by the violation, but appertains to every State.’32

27

M. Koskenniemi, ‘Hierarchy in International Law: A Sketch’, in 8 EJIL 566 (1997).

28

H. Thirlway, supra note 24, at 137-138.

29

M. N. Shaw, supra note 16, at 115. See also M. Akehurst, ‘The Hierarchy of Sources in International Law’, in 47 BYIL 273-285 (1975).

30

D. Shelton, ‘International Law and “Relative Normativity”’, in M. D. Evans (ed.), International Law 159 (2003).

31

Ibid., at 160, 163, 164.

32

Thirlway, supra note 24, at 137-138 (footnotes omitted).

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This is an intentionally long quotation because it contains the essence of the concept of ‘hierarchy in international law’, taken not as a stagnant concept, but rather a process of permanent evolution and development. Identifying in detail the phases of this evolution and development, as well as their main characteristics and effects, will be important for a future comprehensive report on the fragmentation of international law. Equally important, and this is also implied in the above quotation, is a mutual relationship between norms of jus cogens and obligations erga omnes. Any suggested assimilation of norms of jus cogens to those creating obligations erga omnes must be carefully analyzed in order to find appropriate conclusions. In accordance with the approach of the International Law Commission, this exercise is substantially limited to the three concepts under scrutiny (jus cogens, obligations erga omnes and Article 103 of the UN Charter). It seems that the most appropriate description of these concepts indeed is a ‘hierarchy’ of norms in international law, together with obligations deriving from them. However, before coming to this conclusion, it will also be necessary to analyze other possible concepts of hierarchy.

B.

Hierarchy or Special Status of Certain Norms Under International Law?

While the general topic of this report is ‘hierarchy in international law’, as indicated by its title, we are also dealing with norms of special status under international law and various relationships between categories of norms of international law as well as the obligations deriving from them. The relativity of the term ‘hierarchy’ in its application to the three main concepts is visible, especially as it concerns obligations erga omnes. In fact, any identification of norms of international law creating ‘obligations erga omnes’ does not disqualify, invalidate or deprive other norms of their importance. This legal technique of qualifying certain obligations as operating erga omnes cannot be treated as simultaneously creating a hierarchical order of norms of international law. In practice, this technique reveals the scope ratione personae of certain norms and the possibility of a universal reaction to their violations. This is because obligations erga omnes involve the application of the relevant norms and not their substance. When discussing the issue of hierarchy of norms and obligations in international law, we must remember that a comprehensive hierarchy or hierarchical system within the realm of international law does in fact not exist. Instead, we face many separate, parallel hierarchical orders with different backgrounds, operated largely independently of and incompatibly with each other. A comparison made by one member of the Study Group to build a hierarchy of ‘apples and oranges’ is appropriate to visualize such an exercise. Equally inappropriate for the Study Group would be to attempt to identify specific rules belonging to either jus cogens or obligations erga omnes. These two notions should be considered in connection with their potential use only as ‘conflict rules’ in order to address the problem of the fragmentation of international law. In sum, if we discuss ‘hierarchy in international law’, we use the term ‘hierarchy’ as a ‘general metaphor’ as correctly mentioned by one of the members of the Study Group. Instead of ‘hierarchy’ in its classical meaning, we understand this notion as a

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system of conflict rules based on the principle of legality and international public order. Similarly, as the title phrase ‘conflict rules’ is used to denote a mutual relationship of international law norms, it should not imply that the three concepts (jus cogens, erga omnes and Article 103) should be treated a priori as ‘conflicting rules’. However, the term ‘conflict rules’ should be understood mainly as comprising rules intended to solve problems of interpretation within the three categories where some ‘competing’ norms may appear.

C.

The Impact of Hierarchy in International Law Within Its Fragmentation

A more or less direct impact on fragmentation of the tendency toward a hierarchical order in international law may be noticed, among others, in the occurrence of the following phenomena. First, one can detect a diversification of norms of international law as a result of the application of rules concerning priority and prevalence. This phenomenon is based on the fact that norms and obligations of international law may belong to different categories – norms of jus cogens, obligations erga omnes, obligations under the Charter of the United Nations. A second phenomenon is the incomparability and incompatibility of criteria for qualifying international norms and obligations to any of these categories. Thirdly, one may identify a competitive nature of these categories that could bring about the creation of parallel systems of norms and obligations and establish hierarchies. This, however, should be recognized as a rather negative effect of the fragmentation of international law. Fourthly, one can notice a kind of precedence among the three categories, that is, a leading role of norms jus cogens. Finally, it is possible that norms and obligations appertaining to one of the three categories may be assimilated to another of these categories. In doctrine it is for example indicated that norms jus cogens are closely intertwined with to those creating obligations erga omnes.

VI.

Conclusions, Including Possible Draft Guidelines

A.

Looking for Conclusions

Before drawing some tentative conclusions, we may recall the ever increasing body of rules of international law and the effect of this tendency for the integrity of international law. In this respect, Dinah Shelton correctly said: ‘The expansion of international law in the past half century potentially raises numerous problems of balancing different rights and obligations contained within a single treaty, reconciling norms and procedures in multiple treaties governing the same topic, and resolving conflicts across regimes.’33 33

Shelton, supra note 30, at 159.

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These problems concerning the balancing of rights and obligations deriving from the norms of international law may affect norms of jus cogens, obligations erga omnes and obligations covered by article 103 of the UN Charter. This demonstrates the real complexity of questions of hierarchy of norms in international law and means that any theoretical possibility requires individual analysis to aim at reaching a convincing conclusion showing the ‘real’ position of every norm within the hierarchy. Possible guidelines on the basis of such analysis should be of a general character in view of the said ‘particularism’ of specific situations in practice. We may here again quote Dinah Shelton: ‘International texts sometimes include terms that imply a hierarchy, for example, distinguishing “fundamental” from other rights or “grave” from ordinary breaches of law. Treaties may also contain “saving clauses” that give express preference to other agreements or rules of customary international law. General rules of interpretation help resolve some problems of conflict but difficult issues remain of determining international priorities among areas of regulation that have developed independently of each other.’34

Such determination of priority among international norms should be performed in accordance with the principle of harmonization, which should be followed not only in approaching the issue of fragmentation, but especially in resolving the problem of hierarchy in international law. Without such harmonization, competitive tendencies between several norms bearing on a single issue may cause practical ineffectiveness of the system of international norms. In a debate, the Sixth Committee noted that ‘if conflicting rules applied to the same set of facts, stability and predictability in international relations might be jeopardized’.35 While formulating final conclusions and possible guidelines, it is necessary to recall that the each of the three concepts involved have quite different sources of law. Thus, norms of jus cogens derive mostly from customary international law, obligations erga omnes originate mostly from international treaties, and obligations under article 103 are exclusively based in treaty norms, that is, the provisions of the Charter of the United Nations.36 Without a doubt, the question of the leading place of jus cogens norms in the hierarchy of international law should be considered in the future final report on the fragmentation of international law. This should be given special attention, keeping in mind the rich history of this question, beginning with the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties and subsequent developments. What is necessary is to precisely determine the aforementioned mutual relationship and interdependence between 34

Ibid.

35

Topical summary of the discussion held in the Sixth Committee of the General Assembly, during its fifty-eighth session, prepared by the Secretariat, UN Doc. A/CN.4/537 (2004), at 49.

36

It has to be remembered, however, that some of these obligations may derive directly from decisions of the UN organs (Security Council), but with a direct authorization provided by the Charter of United Nations.

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obligations deriving from norms jus cogens and obligations erga omnes, preferably in accordance with the principle of harmonization. The importance of the concept of peremptory norms for the hierarchy of norms in international law, as well as for the topic of the fragmentation of international law in general, was also stressed within the Sixth Committee.37 Viewed from both an institutional and a substantive perspective, it must be remembered that hierarchy is closely connected to four other topics dealing with specific aspects of fragmentation of international law.38 It would seem that the order of the topics contained within the subject of fragmentation of international law is not a matter of pure coincidence. They are all closely connected, and the topic of hierarchy in international law is the most general one since it does not only include treaty matters, but also covers problems connected with international customary law, for example, jus cogens and – at least partially – obligations erga omnes. As a consequence, the formulation of possible guidelines in the field of hierarchy in international law requires a careful harmonization with previously formulated conclusions and guidelines among other remaining topics.

B.

Preliminary Points for Final Conclusions

To sum up, one may, as suggested by the Chairman of the Study Group, identify four groups of conclusions that are in accordance with the systematization of the topic applied at the beginning of this report. A first group of conclusions is connected with the general concept of hierarchy in international law. Although, as shown above, there are various approaches to the concept of hierarchy in international law which are based on different (legal) backgrounds, the most suitable approach for present purposes seems to be to establish a concept of hierarchy of specific types of norms and obligations without attempting in vain to look for a general hierarchy among the sources of international law. Such hierarchy would not have a balanced relationship with our main subject under scrutiny, that is, the fragmentation of international law. Suitable hierarchies, or rather appropriate techniques of establishing mutual relationships between norms of international law and obligations deriving from them, are those based on: a) the substantial content of the rule and the mode of its acceptance (‘accepted and recognized by the international community of States as a whole’), this acceptance being reinforced by the principle non-derogation, i.e. obligations jus cogens; b) the scope of application of the rule, that is obligations ‘owed to the international community as a whole’ with regard to which ‘all States can be held to have a legal interest in their protection’, i.e. obligations erga omnes;

37

Topical summary, supra note 35, at 51.

38

See supra note 15.

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c) the protective ambit of the rule, especially obligations under Article 103 of the Charter of the United Nations. A second group of conclusions is based on the rationale of the hierarchy of norms in international law and the obligations deriving from them. This group consists mainly of two kinds of conclusions. First, special attention should be paid to jus cogens and obligations erga omnes. Indeed, only the case of jus cogens is an example of a certain hierarchical order where the priority of peremptory norms of general international law is additionally reinforced by the principles of non-derogation and invalidity of conflicting treaties. This is not the case with regard to obligations erga omnes. In fact, the concept of obligations erga omnes does not provide for any specific hierarchical system, but is aimed rather at the widest possible application of such obligations without direct derogation or invalidation of other remaining obligations. The mutual relationship between jus cogens norms and obligations erga omnes is complex. There are tendencies toward their assimilation, but at present it can be said that while all obligations deriving from jus cogens norms possess the character of obligations erga omnes, the reverse is not true. In other words, not all obligations erga omnes are considered as fulfilling the conditions necessary to be recognized as obligations under peremptory norms of general international law. This difference was especially stressed by the Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, as adopted by the International Law Commission in 2001. Second, another specific relationship of quasi-hierarchical nature exists between the obligations of the Members of the United Nations under the UN Charter and their obligations under any other international agreement, particularly in the event of a conflict between such obligations. This specific relationship is based on article 103 of the Charter, which provides for the priority of the obligations under the Charter. But again, this does not mean that other conflicting treaties loose their legal validity. Concerning the use of article 103, two important remarks must be added. First, pursuant to this provision, the priority of obligations under the Charter is formally limited to obligations ‘under any other international agreement’. The question remains as to whether the prevalence of the Charter obligations may be extended also to obligations based on international customary norms. It seems, however, that since almost all basic principles of the Charter are based on rules of costumary international law,39 and often possess the character of jus cogens norms, in practice there may also be precedence of the Charter obligations over customary obligations of States. Second, ‘privileged’ obligations under the Charter may have a direct or indirect character. For instance, resolutions adopted by the Security Council, especially those relating to the maintenance of international peace and security, may be considered as creating such obligations falling under article 103 of the Charter and possessing priority over other obligations. Finally, the rationale of any hierarchy among international law norms and obligations deriving from these norms should be based on the need to recognize these relationships 39

See, for example, the principles listed in 1945 Charter of the United Nations, arts. 2 and 33, para. 1, or art. 51.

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according to their importance. Although existing and operating in parallel ways, these relationships cannot be treated on an equal footing. Without a doubt the hierarchy based on jus cogens norms plays a leading role. A third group of conclusions concerns the operation of the hierarchical order once the existence of a hierarchy has been determined. As has already been noted, the above relationships operate independently of each other in most cases. The main purpose of the operation of each hierarchical system should be to guarantee the setting aside of the inferior rule without affecting the principle of legality or disturbing the international public order. However, setting aside the inferior rule does not mean that in all cases there will be an absolute invalidity of this rule as a result of the operation of the hierarchical system. In general, such a result occurs in the case of jus cogens norms where the inferior rule is incompatible with a peremptory norm of general international law. But even there, the invalidity of the inferior rule is not always absolute. For instance, a conflict between a given treaty and a norm of jus cogens may cause only a termination of the treaty, without retroactive effect of invalidity, when a situation envisaged in article 64 of the Vienna Convention occurs. In other cases, when discussing the relationship of erga omnes obligations or obligations falling under article 103 of the UN Charter, it is impossible to consider the inferior rule invalid; the latter still remains in force, although the obligations of the two aforementioned categories enjoy priority in their particular application. This brings us to the necessity of recognizing the principle of harmonization, which should be followed especially in matters of hierarchy of norms of international law. An appropriate application of this principle seems inevitable in light of the aforementioned threat of practical ineffectiveness of the entire system of international norms. Such a situation of ineffectiveness may be caused by competing norms bearing on a single issue. A fourth group of conclusions is directed towards formulating the relationship between hierarchy and the fragmentation of international law. This directly concerns the assessment of the role of hierarchical systems in international law, their impact on the fragmentation of international law and the difficulties arising from the diversification and expansion of international law. In general, it must be stressed that the various systems establishing a mutual relationship between international law norms intend to solve possible conflicts. Sometimes such situations of ‘competing’ norms and obligations may lead to a conflict of norms. However, it is the role of relevant hierarchical systems to find a satisfactory solution. Since practical situations of such conflicts are highly diverse, it is apparent that the specific status of certain norms or their position within the hierarchy should be relevant in resolving such situations of conflict. Moreover, this should be done in allowing for a high degree of flexibility rather than rigidity. Similarly, the relationship between the three hierarchical concepts inter se cannot be established generally as applicable to all possible future situations. This can only be determined on a case by case basis. Furthermore, a topic on hierarchy, including all three presented segments, is closely related to other topics connected to the general subject of fragmentation where hierarchical reflections, as has been stated, can be found easily. This creates additional interdependence between hierarchical rules and their application in particular situations. These problems are analyzed in other reports

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concerning the various relationships between treaty obligations and their impact on the fragmentation of international law.

VII. Epilogue The International Law Commission finalized its work on the fragmentation of international law at its fifty-eighth session in 2006, adopted the conclusions of the Study Group, and submitted to the General Assembly part of the Commission’s report covering the work of that session.40 These forty-two conclusions included, among others, twelve conclusions concerning the issue of hierarchy in international law. They are presented below in abridged form in order to provide a comparison between suggestions and final conclusions.41

ILC Conclusions on Hierarchy in International Law: Jus Cogens, Obligations Erga Omnes, and Article 103 of the Charter of the United Nations Hierarchical relations between norms of international law: The main sources of international law – treaties, custom, general principles of law (article 38 of the Statute of the International Court of Justice) – do not imply a hierarchical relationship inter se. Drawing analogies from the hierarchical nature of a domestic legal system is generally inappropriate. Nevertheless, it is an undisputed fact that some rules of international law are more important than others, and therefore enjoy a superior position in the international legal order. This is sometimes expressed by the designation of some norms as being ‘fundamental’, implying ‘elementary considerations of humanity’ or as protecting ‘intransgressible principles of international law’. The effect of such designation may usually be determined by the relevant context or instrument in which that designation appears. Recognized hierarchical relations by the substance of the rules (jus cogens): A rule of international law may be superior to other rules based on the importance of its content as well as on the universal acceptance of its superiority. This is the case of peremptory norms of international law (jus cogens, article 53 VCLT), which are norms ‘accepted and recognized by the international community of States as a whole from which no derogation is permitted’. 40

General Assembly Official Records Sixty-first Session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/61/10 (2006), para. 251.

41

Apart from the Conclusions, the analytical study finalized by the Chairman of the Study Group was made available on the website of the Commission and it will also be published in its Yearbook. Valuable comments on the hierarchy in international law are also contained in ‘Fragmentation of International Law: difficulties arising from the Diversification and Expansion of International Law: Report of the Study Group of the International Law Commission - Finalized by Martti Koskenniemi’, UN Doc. A/CN.4/L.682 and Corr.1 (2006).

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The content of jus cogens: The most frequently cited examples of jus cogens norms are the obligations on the prohibition of the use of force, slavery and slave trade, genocide, racial discrimination, apartheid, torture, basic rules of international humanitarian law applicable in armed conflict and the right of peoples to self-determination. Also, other rules may have a jus cogens character inasmuch as they are recognized by the international community of States as norms from which no derogation is permitted. Recognized hierarchical relations by virtue of a treaty provision (Article 103 of the Charter of the United Nations): A rule of international law may also be superior to other rules by virtue of a treaty provision. An example is article 103 of the United Nations Charter which provides that ‘[i]n the event of a conflict between the obligations of the Members of the United Nations under the […] Charter and their obligations under any other international agreement, their obligations under the […] Charter shall prevail’. The scope of article 103 of the Charter: The scope of article 103 extends not only to the obligations included in the Charter itself but also to binding decisions by United Nations organs such as the Security Council. In view of the importance, structure and content of the Charter, its constitutional character and the established practice of member states and United Nations organs, Charter obligations may also prevail over conflicting obligations under customary international law. The status of the United Nations Charter: It is also recognized that the United Nations Charter itself enjoys special character due to the fundamental nature of some of its norms, particularly its principles, purposes and universal acceptance. Rules specifying obligations owed to the international community as a whole (obligations erga omnes): Some obligations enjoy a special status due to their universal scope of application. This is the case with regard to obligations erga omnes, which are obligations of a state towards the international community as a whole. These rules concern all states and all States may have a legal interest in the protection of the rights involved. Every state may invoke the responsibility of the state violating such obligations. The relationship between jus cogens norms and obligations erga omnes: It is recognized that while all obligations established by jus cogens normsalso have the character of erga omnes obligations, the reverse is not necessarily true. Not all erga omnes obligations are established by peremptory norms of general international law. Examples where both types of norms overlap include certain obligations under the principles and rules concerning the basic rights of the human person as well as some obligations relating to the global commons. Different approaches to the concept of obligations erga omnes: The concept of erga omnes obligations has also been used to describe the fact that state party to a treaty owes the obligations under that treaty to all other states parties (obligations erga omnes partes), or to non-party states as third party beneficiaries. In addition, issues of territorial status have frequently been addressed in erga omnes terms, referring to their opposability to all States. Thus, boundary and territorial treaties have been considered to represent a legal reality which necessarily impinges upon third States, because they have effect erga omnes (territorial regimes).

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The relationship between jus cogens and obligations under the United Nations Charter: The United Nations Charter has been universally accepted by States and thus a conflict between jus cogens norms and Charter obligations is difficult to contemplate. In any case, according to Article 24(2) of the Charter, the Security Council shall act in accordance with the Purposes and Principles of the United Nations which include norms that have been subsequently treated as jus cogens The operation and effect of jus cogens norms and article 103 of the Charter: A rule conflicting with a norm of jus cogens becomes thereby ipso facto void; and a rule conflicting with article 103 of the United Nations Charter becomes inapplicable as a result of such conflict and to the extent of such conflict. Hierarchy and the principle of harmonization: Conflicts between rules of international law should be resolved in accordance with the principle of harmonization. In the case of conflict between a superior norms and another norm of international law, the latter should be interpreted in a manner consistent with the former. If this is not possible, the superior norm will prevail.

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5 – HARD LAW STRIKES BACK

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Hard Law Strikes Back – How the Recent Focus on the Rule of Law Promotes Compliance with Norms in International Relations Axel Marschik*

I.

Introduction

What a comeback. After we had been become increasingly concerned that international law lacked ‘legal’ quality, was in demise, had become irrelevant or simply did not exist at all, hard, enforceable international law is back. For a while, it appeared as if a peculiar convergence of realist power-focused polemic and the general Zeitgeist’s disapproval of hard legal notions like ‘compliance’ and ‘enforcement’ would prevail in reducing international law to a compendium of ill- or well-intentioned ‘soft’ communal guidelines.1 As if we needed more of that! International relations are awash in political declarations, gentlemen’s agreements, non-binding resolutions and codes of conduct. Such soft law is an important tool in diplomacy, permitting states to demonstrate political commitment without entering into legally binding obligations. Not infrequently such soft law is very effective, more flexible, open to broad support and with a higher rate of compliance than hard law.2 But states must not be prevented from *

The views expressed in this article are the author’s personal views and may not be attributed to the Austrian Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs.

1

An unusual alliance indeed: On the realist side, generally opposed to binding international norms that would tie the hands of governments and constating a failure of international law and institutions, in particular the United Nations, see M. J. Glennon, ‘The New Interventionism: The Search for a Just International Law’, 78(3) Foreign Affairs 2 (1999); and M. J. Glennon, ‘Why the Security Council Failed’, 82(3) Foreign Affairs 16 (2003). Support came from alarmists, who perceived a ‘global breakdown of law and order, failed states and increasing anarchy’ in world affairs, S. P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations 321 (1996). As to the general scepticism of classical realism about the ‘legal’ character of international law see H. J. Morgenthau, Politics among Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace (1948); S. Hoffman, ‘International Law and the Control of Force’, in K. Deutsch/S. Hoffman (eds.), The Relevance of International Law 36 et seq. (1968). Positivism had its doubts about the legal quality of international law due to a lack of systemic enforcement, cf. J. Austin, Lectures on Jurisprudence or the Philosophy of Positive Law (1911).

2

A good example is the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights, UN General Assembly Res. 217A, UN Doc. A/810 (1948). With corresponding state practice such soft law can be seen as the necessary opinio iuris to enable the emergence of customary law. Soft law regimes such as the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE, now the Organization on Security and Cooperation in Europe, OSCE) also demonstrated their long-term effective-

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 61-84, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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also making use of hard, enforceable international law. The past few years have seen a resurgence of the need for such hard law: Sanctions and other means of coercive inducement for States to comply with international norms are promoted, assistance programs are adopted to help states fulfil their international obligations, verification by independent monitoring agencies is prescribed to ensure compliance, individuals are held accountable for international crimes.3 Practice shows the need for hard, binding international norms. This does not imply that ‘enforcement’ or ‘coercion’ are constitutive requirements of international law, as some authors have suggested.4 But in rejecting that theory, the possibility to enforce compliance should not be regarded as too politically incorrect as to deny its role in international relations as an inherent element of law. Exclusive reliance on voluntary compliance would do the international system a huge disfavour, especially in the field of international human rights and humanitarian norms. In today’s global world every person needs protection – protection from security threats, terrorist attacks and use of illegal weapons, as well as protection from inappropriate treatment from state authorities and protection from economic exploitation or insecurity. And every person deserves the best possible legal protection – hard protection by hard law and by effective international organizations that can reliably implement the norms. The renewed interest in normative international law has become particularly apparent in international organisations – often in the guise of promoting the ‘rule of law’, a term that has the benefit of being vague and unimpeded by ideological baggage. The main stage for this development are the United Nations, where re-establishing the rule of law at the national level in post-conflict societies has become an increasingly prominent task of peacekeeping operations.5 But it soon outgrew these narrow confines: ness. In this respect and more general on the advantages of soft law: H.-P. Neuhold, ‘The Inadequacy of Law-Making by International Treaties: ‘Soft Law” as an Alternative?’, in R. Wolfrum/V. Röber (eds.), Developments of International Treaty Making 39 et seq. (2005). See also G. Hafner, ‘The Effect of Soft Law on International Economic Relations’, in S. Griller (ed.), International Economic Governance and Non-Economic Concerns 149 et seq. (2003); C. M. Chinkin, ‘The Challenge of Soft Law: Development and Change in International Law’, 38 ICLQ 850, at 866 (1989); K. Zemanek, ‘Is the Term “Soft Law” Convenient?’, in G. Hafner et al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Professor Ignaz Seidl Hohenveldern 843 et seq. (1998). 3

The UN Security Council imposed sanctions on Iran for not complying with international obligations: SC Res. 1696, SC Res. 1737 and SC Res. 1747. Assistance programmes are offered by the UN Counter Terrorism Executive Directorate and the Terrorism Prevention Branch of the UN Office of Drugs and Crime. The IAEA has taken a significant role in the verification of the implementation of non-proliferation obligations imposed on North Korea and Iran. Individual responsibility is at the basis of the cases at the International Tribunals for Yugoslavia, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Cambodia, Lebanon and at the International Criminal Court.

4

Apart from – and most categorically – Austin, supra note 1, see also A. D’Amato, International Law: Process and Prospects 7 et seq. (1995); G. Scelle, Manuel de droit des gens 5 (1948).

5

The first use of the term by the Security Council was in a resolution on the situation in the Congo in 1961, which noted ‘with deep regret and concern […] the general absence of the rule of law in the Congo’, UN Security Council Res. 161B, UN Doc. S/RES/161B (1961), at 3. After 1996, UN peacekeeping missions often had mandates that included the establishment

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The UN Millennium Summit resolved to strengthen respect for the rule of law in both national and international affairs.6 In September 2004, Secretary General Annan devoted his annual address at the General Assembly to the rule of law and promised to make strengthening the rule of law a priority. The 2005 World Summit called for the creation of a ‘rule of law unit’ in the Secretariat to ‘strengthen United Nations activities to promote the rule of law, including through technical assistance and capacity building’.7 Institutional questions were also discussed at a meeting of the Security Council in June 2006.8 The General Assembly placed the item ‘The Rule of Law at the National and International Levels’ on its agenda in 2006 and adopted resolutions that called for active engagement by the UN.9 In response to these requests, the UN-Secretariat established a ‘Rule of Law Coordination and Resource Group’ chaired by the Deputy Secretary General and supported by a small unit in the Secretariat.10 The Group began coordinating the UN’s rule of law activities in 2007; an inventory of all activities is expected for 2008.11 The rise to prominence of the rule of law is not restricted to the United Nations. In 2007, the G8 Foreign Ministers adopted a Declaration on the Rule of Law, which initially focused on the need to attract trade and foreign investment. It also, however, stated ‘that the rule of law is among the core principles on which we build our partnership and our efforts to promote lasting peace, security, democracy and human rights as well as sustainable development worldwide’. The G8 Foreign Ministers reaffirmed ‘the need for universal adherence to and implementation of the rule of law and international law, which together with the principle of justice is essential for peaceful coexistence and cooperation among states’.12 In this respect, the G8 is in general accord with the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM). In a letter to the General Assembly President in 2007, the then Chair of the Non-Aligned

or restoration of the rule of law in the target states (e.g. UN Peacekeeping Operations in Guatemala, Liberia, Cote d’Ivoire and Haiti). 6

The Millennium Declaration, UN General Assembly Res. 55/2, UN Doc. A/RES/55/2 (2000), para. 9.

7

2005 World Summit, UN General Assembly Res. 60/1, UN Doc. A/RES/60/1 (2005), at 134.

8

The Security Council met to discuss ‘Strengthening international law: rule of law and maintenance of international peace and security’, UN Doc. S/PRST/2006/28. In October 2004, the Council had debated ‘Justice and the Rule of Law: the United Nations Role’ on the basis of a report by the UN Secretary General entitled ‘The rule of law and transitional justice in conflict and post-conflict societies’, UN Doc. S/2004/616.

9

UN General Assembly Res. 61/39, UN Doc. A/RES/61/39 (2006). In 2007, the General Assembly adopted UN General Assembly Res. 62/70, UN Doc. A/RES/62/70 (2007).

10

See the UN report entitled ‘Uniting our Strengths: Enhancing United Nations Support for the Rule of Law, UN Doc. A/61/636 – S/2006/980.

11

An interim report was published in 2007, UN Doc. A/62/261 (2007).

12

The ‘G8-Declaration on the Rule of Law’ agreed by the G8-Foreign Ministers on 20 May 2007 in Potsdam. The meeting was held in preparation of the G8-Summit 2007 in Heiligendamm 6-8 June 2007.

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Movement Cuba stressed: ‘NAM grants high importance to the respect of the rule of law, which it considers one of the important elements to achieve international peace and security and socioeconomic development.’13 At the NAM-Summit in Havana in 2007, Indian Prime Minister Singh emphasized: ‘We must join hands with other like minded countries to promote democratization of processes of global governance, ushering in a new global polity based on the rule of law, reason and equity.’14 In an interview with Time Magazine in 2006, Iran’s President Ahmedinejad stated: ‘If the rule of law doesn’t prevail, freedom has no meaning. The law is the guarantee of freedom.’15 Such language might appeal to US President Bush, who has underlined the importance of the rule of law at several occasions and who has emphasized that ‘[s]uccessful societies protect freedom with the consistent and impartial rule of law’.16 The US-Russia Strategic Framework Declaration 2008 makes clear that the rule of law is a joint priority of the two superpowers.17 But it is also popular in Europe: The rule of law is a condition of membership in the Council of Europe18 and the Consolidated Version of the Treaty on European Union lists it among the core values common to member states.19 Clearly, the rule of law has a remarkable gravitational pull, bringing together even the most diverse proponents. Everyone, it seems, supports it. That alone should raise 13

Letter from Rodrigo Malmierca Díaz, Ambassador, Permanent Representative of Cuba to the United Nations, Chair of the Coordinating Bureau of the Non-Aligned Movement to H. E. Ms. Sheikha Haya Rashed Al Khalifa, President of the 61st Session of the General Assembly United Nations, New York, 26 April 2007 (copy on file with the author).

14

Speech by the Prime Minister of India, Dr. Manmohan Singh, at the Summit of the NonAligned Movement in September 2007 in Havana.

15

Interview in Time Magazine, 16 December 2006; http://www.time.com/time/magazine/ article/0,9171,1570714,00. According to the Iranian president, the rule of law can lead to salvation: ‘Admitting the right of the dear Iranian nation and submitting to justice and the rule of law are the best way to salvation […].’; from a recorded New Year’s message aired on Iranian television, 21 March 2007.

16

Remarks by President Bush at the 20th Anniversary of the National Endowment for Democracy, United States Chamber of Commerce, 6 November 2003. In 2008, the leaders of the US, Canada and Mexico began a joint declaration with the words: ‘As continental neighbors and partners committed to democratic government, the rule of law and respect for individual rights and freedoms’; Joint Statement by President Bush, President Calderon and Prime Minister Harper, 22 April 2008.

17

‘[W]e affirm our commitment to respect the rule of law, international law, human rights, tolerance of diversity, political freedom, and a free market approach to economic policy and practices.’ US-Russia Strategic Framework Declaration of 6 April 2008.

18

Statute of the Council of Europe, art. 3 begins with: ‘Every member of the Council of Europe must accept the principles of the rule of law […].’

19

The EU’s Treaty of Lisbon signed on 13 December 2007 adopted the following provision to become art. 2 in the Consolidated Version of the Treaty on European Union: ‘The Union is founded on the values of respect for human dignity, freedom, democracy, equality, the rule of law and respect for human rights, including the rights of persons belonging to minorities. These values are common to the Member States in a society in which pluralism, non-discrimination, tolerance, justice, solidarity and equality between women and men prevail.’

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suspicions. Gerhard Hafner has always had a particular interest in legal theory and the way abstract theoretical concepts are incorporated into diplomatic practice.20 On several occasions he has actively participated in such endeavours himself.21 He has also examined the rule of law as a legal concept in international organizations.22 A short inquiry into the nature of this phenomenon and how it strenghtens normativity of the international legal system does therefore not seem out of place in this volume.

II.

The Rule of Law in Theory

The term ‘rule of law’ has traditionally been used in a national context, primarily in regard to the prevalence of lawfully enacted and applied rules within a state. It is important in constitutional and public administrative law and figures prominently in human rights litigation, such as for questions regarding fair trial and due process. In the economic field, it plays a significant role for international investors and, as a consequence, has become one of the key criteria for reports of financial institutions.23 The rule of law has a wide spectrum of application; it can be employed to guarantee ‘property rights and human rights, press freedoms and business contracts, antitrust laws and consumer demands’.24 Arguably, the rule of law has existed as a legal and a political concept ever since humans started living together in the sense of ubi societas, ubi ius. It initially developed on the national level as an instrument to bind the sovereign to applying the law, preferably a fair and just law enacted with participation of the people. Over time, the concept was adapted to accommodate different interests and to suit various purposes.

20

No need here to emphasize his many writings in this area, but as an example cf G. Hafner, ‘Accountability of International Organizations – A Critical view’, in R. S. J. Macdonald/D. M. Johnston (eds.), Towards World Constitutionalism 585 et seq. (2005); G. Hafner, ‘The Rule of Law and International Organizations’, in K. Dicke et al. (eds.), Weltinnenrecht – Liber Amicorum Jost Delbrück 307 et seq. (2005); I. Buffard/G. Hafner, ‘Risques et fragmentation en droit international’, 22 L’Observateur des Nations Unies 29 et seq. (2007).

21

Mainly as member of the International Law Commission, but also as the Chairman of the General Assembly’s Ad-Hoc Committee on Immunities from 2000 – 2004: Under his guidance the General Assembly adopted the ‘United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States And Their Property’ on 2 December 2004 – no mean feat considering the UN had been trying to settle the issue since 1977.

22

Hafner, ‘The Rule of Law and International Organizations’, supra note 20.

23

The World Bank and the International Monetary Fund both examine the local relevance of the rule of law in the reports on individual states; cf. the World Bank, A Decade of Measuring the Quality of Governance: Governance Matters (2006). They also have assistance programs to promote the rule of law and offer guidelines and fact-sheets to assist states; cf. the International Monetary Fund’s Fact-Sheet entitled ‘The IMF and Good Governance’ (2003), http://www. imf.org/external/np/exr/facts/gov.htm.

24

F. Zakaria, The Future of Freedom – Illiberal Democracy at Home and Abroad 77 (2003).

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Today, the rule of law serves as the foundation on which modern liberal states erect their institutions and conduct their business.25 On the international level, the rule of law has been at the heart of proponents for an international order based on rules and international institutions.26 Both the League of Nations and the United Nations resulted from the efforts to create a rules-based international system, as opposed to the Realpolitik and balance-of-power politics prevalent at the time.27 After 1945, the emergence of legally complex regional organizations, especially in Europe, and the successful elaboration of several universal conventions are the immediate result of the widespread support for an international system based on law.

A.

The Eye of the Beholder

Over the years, the term, ‘rule of law’ in international relations has been both applied to national and international affairs. Its meaning depends to a large extent on the context it is used in. In 2004, UN Secretary General Annan offered the following explanation of how the UN understands the rule of law: ‘It refers to a principle of governance in which all persons, institutions and entities, public and private, including the State itself, are accountable to laws that are publicly promulgated, equally enforced and independently adjudicated, and which are consistent with international human rights norms and standards. It requires, as well, measures to ensure adherence to the principles of supremacy of law, equality before the law, accountability to the law, fairness in the application of the law, separation of powers, participation in decision-making, legal certainty, avoidance of arbitrariness and procedural and legal transparency.’28

This description reflects how the United Nations bodies have traditionally applied the concept in their work, targeting primarily the legal system within a state that has just emerged from crisis.29 Several other functional definitions, descriptions or listings of

25

Cf. the Statute of the Council of Europe and the Consolidated Version of the Treaty on European Union, supra note 19. A Proclamation of US President Bush of 27 April 2007 on ‘Law Day USA 2007’ begins with the words: ‘Our Nation is built upon the rule of law’ and continues to state: ‘America’s faith in the rule of law has endured through the centuries.’

26

Early contributors to this ‘constitutionalist’ approach to international law were A. Verdross, Die Verfassung der Völkerrechtsgemeinschaft (1926); H. Mosler, ‘The International Society as a Legal Community’, 140 Receuil des Cours 1 et seq. (1974-IV).

27

To the ideological and political discourse in this respect before and leading to the establishment of the League of Nations see H. Kissinger, Diplomacy 225 et seq. (1994).

28

UN Doc. S/2004/616 (2004), para. 6. See also UN Doc. A/61/636-S/2006/980 (2006).

29

The UN’s wider understanding of the rule of law to apply also to inter-state relations only gradually developed in the wake of the UN Reform Summit and the General Assembly’s

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principles exist, most of which are specifically tailored to the objectives of the author.30 In general, two distinct applications of the rule of law in international relations can be identified, one with a wider political focus, the other a narrower legal one: a) Most often, the term ‘rule of law’ is used in international relations in a broad political sense to ascertain the existence or lack of order in a state or a region. Emphasis is placed on the existence of a functioning legislature and an independent judiciary, adequate protection of individuals by means of appropriate laws, equality before the law, etc.31 Here the state of the rule of law can be good or bad and international assistance can be sent to improve the rule of law. The term is applied in close connection with similar concepts like ‘good governance’ and ‘accountability’. Respect for human rights is quintessential. The rule of law is often a factor for the determination whether a regime deals with its people in a morally appropriate way. There is thus a close connection to the traditional tension between the state and the individual. Though much attention is also given to the correct application of the law, this understanding of the rule of law often has much to do with the political determination of the ‘legitimacy’ of a regime. b) Sometimes the rule of law is also used in a more narrow sense. Rulings of courts are criticized for wrong application of laws and regulations. Decisions in public procurement are appealed for procedural irregularities. A state may be found to have violated an international norm. This narrow understanding of the rule of law is mainly used to determine non-compliance with international obligations and related questions of accountability and responsibility of states or international organizations. Here, the rule of law is an abstract concept relevant for deciding whether an act corresponds to the existing laws and regulations. Though evaluating compliance introduces subjective qualifications, the legalist perspective primarily focuses on determining the correct application of the law.32 It is closely related to the concept of legality. discussion of an agenda item entitled ‘The Rule of Law at the National and International Levels’. 30

In its ‘Rule of Law Resolution’, the International Bar Association lists the following fundamental principles of the rule of law – closely tailored to the legal profession: ‘An independent, impartial judiciary; the presumption of innocence; the right to a fair and public trial without undue delay; a rational and proportionate approach to punishment; a strong an independent legal profession; strict protection of confidential communications between lawyer and client; equality of all before the law.’ Rule of Law Resolution adopted by the IBA Council on 29 September 2005 (Prague). The World Justice Forum lists the following components of the rule of law: The government and its officials and agents are accountable under the law; the laws are clear, publicized, stable and fair, and protect fundamental rights, including the security of persons and property; the process by which the laws are enacted, administered and enforced is accessible, fair and efficient; the laws are upheld, and access to justice is provided, by competent, independent, and ethical law enforcement officials, attorneys or representatives, and judges who are of sufficient number, have adequate resources, and reflect the makeup of the communities they serve.

31

Compare the UN definition, supra note 28. See also J. Habermas, Faktizität und Geltung 166 et seq. (1993); H. Corell, A Global Rule of Law Strategy – Reflections after the 2005 Summit, Letter to UN Secretary General Kofi Annan of 5 December 2005 (on file with the author).

32

F. Hayek, The Road to Serfdom 72 (1944). Hafner, ‘The Rule of Law and International Organizations’, supra note 20.

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In practice, the two approaches rarely come to different conclusions, especially as regards the evaluation of the state of the rule of law within a particular country. Most states today have incorporated safeguards into their legal system to ensure ‘legitimacy’; they possess elaborate laws to ensure proper legislation and administration and to protect their citizens from human rights violations, as well as an independent judiciary to remedy wrongs. Any action contradicting these norms is a rule of law concern from both perspectives. In practice, therefore, an assessment of a particular instance from either approach will more often than not arrive at similar, if not the same conclusion.33

B.

The Rule of Law on the National and the International Level

In assessing the rule of law within a state, the central focus is on how the state deals with its citizens. The rule of law thereby mainly serves as an instrument to protect the less powerful in an organized hierarchy. It should help prevent arbitrary misuse of power by the state; it requires equal and fair treatment of citizens, accountability to the law, access to justice, legal certainty and transparency.34 From both perspectives, political and legal, the rule of law on the national level serves the fundamental purpose of creating some basic fairness in a hierarchical relationship between two different species – the state and the individual – which have vastly different authoritative competences, levels of organization and access to resources and instruments of power. Though no instrument can ever achieve a level playing field between the state and the individual, the rule of law can provide means to help protect the individual from the arbitrary exercise of power. On the international level, the focus of the rule of law is on the relationship between states and other subjects of international law. This relationship lacks the tension inherent in the hierarchical, inter-species relationship between the state and the individual. There is no need to legally protect one from the other. Here the rule of law serves the purpose of contributing to stability and security in international relations by increasing predictability and reducing arbitrariness. Closely related to the principle of pacta sunt servanda, the concept of the rule of law can essentially be reduced to the

33

Differences can arise. An act by a state organ in application of a morally appalling local law could be criticized under the traditional understanding also for being contrary to the rule of law. Legalists will deplore the immorality of the local law and criticize the act but not because it is against the rule of law.

34

See the UN definition, supra note 28. The G8 Foreign Ministers list the following components of the rule of law: ‘the principle of supremacy of the law, equality before the law, accountability to the law, legal certainty, procedural and legal transparency, equal and open access to justice for all, irrespective of gender, race, religion, age, class, creed or other status, avoidance of arbitrary application of the law and eradication of corruption’; G8-Declaration on the Rule of Law agreed by the G8 Foreign Ministers on 20 May 2007 in Potsdam.

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requirement that existing rules – primary and secondary norms – must be respected and properly applied.35 The reduction of the international rule of law in an abstract legalist sense should not cause alarm. In classical inter-state relations the subjects of international law make their own rules. States are only bound by the rules that they have either entered into contractually (treaties) or that they have not prevented from becoming custom. There is less concern about a norm of international law being unfair or unjust vis-à-vis one state because that state could decline to be bound by it. Legally, all states are equal and have the same rights to protect their interests. Since there is no difference in hierarchy or species, no systemic authority imbalance in inter-state relations, there is less need for the rule of law to protect one state from arbitrary misuse of authority by another. The function of protection of the weak from the strong is carried out directly by primary norms, such as the prohibition of the use of force. Hierarchical inter-species relationships do exist, however, in subsystems of international law – especially in international organizations. In international law, sub systems consist of primary norms, which contain specific rights and obligations, and special secondary norms, which regulate the primary norms (creation, modification, implementation) and which have precedence over the general secondary norms.36 In sub-systems you can have a variety of hierarchical relations, the most obvious being the relationship between the organization and its staff.37 But the special secondary norms can also foresee a relationship between an organ equipped with special powers and the member states, between different organs of the organization or between an organ and outside individuals. Most international organisations do just that and, as a consequence, the rule of law can become relevant in several diverse constellations.38

35

All primary norms must be created, amended and enforced in compliance with the system’s meta-norms or secondary norms. Secondary norms regulate themselves. On the distinction between primary and secondary norms see H. L. A. Hart, The Concept of Law 92 (1961). Gerhard Hafner sees the rule of law as corollary to the principle of pacta sunt servanda, Hafner, ‘Accountability of International Organizations’, supra note 20, at 598.

36

As regards subsystems in international law see K. Zemanek, ‘The Legal Foundations of the International System’, Offprint from the 266 Recueil des Cours 9, at 63, 233-236 (1997); A. Marschik, ‘Too much Order – The Impact of Special Secondary Norms on the Unity and Efficacy of the International Legal System’, 9 EJIL 212 (1998).

37

See, e.g., Hafner, ‘The Rule of Law and International Organizations’, supra note 20.

38

The United Nations are a particular case in point. A Security Council resolution adopted under Chapter VII is immediately binding on all member states and thus supersedes the state’s freedom of entering into obligations (though it chose freely to join the subsystem UN and thereby accepted the Chapter VII-system). Should the Council adopt a Chapter VII resolution in violation of its procedural rules or containing provisions that contradict jus cogens, the rule of law has been violated. The Security Council can create structures of legal dependence by instituting sub-organs. An example is the Iraqi Compensation Commission. Should the Council try to intervene illegally into the work of the Commission, this may be a rule of law concern. Finally, by establishing criminal tribunals, the Security Council created a direct relationship

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III.

The Rule of Law in Practice

These are not theoretical speculations. In the past few years, in particular the activity of the UN Security Council was accorded close scrutiny. Like most executive organs, the Council is mainly criticised for reasons in the political sphere – for perceived bias and double standards, for inactivity or hyperactivity or for doing the wrong thing at an inappropriate time. Increasingly, however, there have also been complaints about rule of law infractions. In some instances, the legal competences of the Security Council were doubted, such as for the establishment of the Iraqi Compensation Commission39 and for the creation of the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR).40 With SC Resolution 748 (1992) the Council was seen by some to have intervened into proceedings at the International Court of Justice and deprived Libya of a fair hearing of its case.41 In establishing the Lebanon Tribunal, the Security Council replaced the consent by Lebanon with a resolution under Chapter VII, effectively bypassing the Lebanese constitutional decision-making process.42 In some instances, the effects of Council action on the rule of law only became apparent in due course. Thus, the UN Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo (UNMIK), established in 1999 essentially to protect the local population, came under criticism because in implementing its mandate it contravened basic principles of the rule of law.43 between a UN organ and private individuals. The rule of law would come into play if principles, rules and regulations containing rights of the accused are violated, such as the principle of fair trial. 39

UN Security Council Res. 687, UN Doc. S/RES/687 (1991); and UN Security Council Res. 692, UN Doc. S/RES/692 (1991); see K. Zemanek, ‘Is the Security Council the Judge of its own Legality?’, in E. Yapko/T. Boumedra (ed.), Liber Amicorum Mohammed Bedjaoui 629, at 630 (1999).

40

UN Security Council Res. 827, UN Doc. S/RES/827 (1991); and UN Security Council Res. 955, UN Doc. S/RES/955 (1994). See the doubts expressed by Brazil, China and Venezuela on the legality of the establishment of the ICTY, UN Doc. S/PV.3175 (1993) and S/PV.3217 (1993). At the adoption of UN Security Council Res. 955, UN Doc. S/RES/955, China abstained and Rwanda voted against. See also G. Arangio-Ruiz, ‘On the Security Council’s Law-Making’, 83 Rivista di Diritto Internazionale 609, at 724 (2000).

41

Only ten States voted in favour of the resolution; Cape Verde, China, India, Morocco and Zimbabwe abstained. See to the Lockerbie case B. Martenczuk, ‘The Security Council, the International Court and Judicial Review: What Lessons from Lockerbie?’, 10 EJIL 517, at 525-528 (1999); J. E. Alvarez, ‘Judging the Security Council’, 90 AJIL 1 (1996), with many further references.

42

UN Security Council Res. 1757, UN Doc. S/RES/1757 (2007). The resolution was adopted with ten votes, with Russia, China, Qatar, Indonesia and South Africa abstaining, primarily because the resolution was seen to be ultra vires.

43

In 2002, the international Ombudsperson in Kosovo noted: ‘UNMIK is not structured according to democratic principles, does not function in accordance with the rule of law, and does not respect important international human rights norms.’ The Ombudsperson Institution in Kosovo, 2nd Annual Report 2001-2002 (2002), quoted in S. Chesterman, An International Rule of Law? (forthcoming). See also B. Knoll, ‘United Nations Imperium’, 7 ARIEL 3 (2002).

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A.

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Legislative Acts of the Security Council

The rule of law was also the motivation for both the Security Council’s foray into general legislation and the opposition thereto. With SC Resolution 1373 and SC Resolution 1540, the Security Council adopted two resolutions that go far beyond the traditional executive functions of the Council according to the UN Charter. Both resolutions create general and abstract legal norms, irrespective of any individual threat and for an indefinite period. They are not intended to restore peace in any specific crisis but to create, via Chapter VII of the UN Charter, binding legal obligations for all member states in the context of counter-terrorism and non-proliferation of nuclear weapons.44 The Security Council resorted to the measures out of an urgent need for hard, enforceable law. When the deliberative process in the General Assembly failed to produce a general convention against terrorism, the Council adopted SC Resolution 1373 and transformed much of the proposed text of the convention directly into a universally binding resolution. SC Resolution 1540 resulted from the growing threat of terrorists gaining possession of nuclear or radiological weapons and the urgent need to kick-start reliable global co-operation in non-proliferation. Here also, the Security Council wished to create instantly binding norms for all members of the United Nations which would serve as a firm legal basis for improved cooperation. The rule of law not only triggered the recourse to legislation by the Security Council. It was also the reason for the opposition to this practice. While SC Resolution 1373 was generally accepted by the UN member not least out of respect for the incidents of 11 September 2001, many states voiced doubts as to the Council’s legal authority to enact SC Resolution 1540.45 India criticized that the Council was assuming ‘legislative and treaty-making powers on behalf of the international community, a function not envisaged in the Charter of the United Nations’ and stated that it would ‘not accept externally prescribed norms or standards, whatever their source, on matters within the jurisdiction of its Parliament’.46 Other UN member states regarded SC Resolution 1540 as a violation of the rule of law, as an act ultra vires, in flagrant contravention 44

See in general on the issue of legislative powers of the Security Council: Arangio-Ruiz, supra note 40; G. Nolte, ‘The Limits of the Security Council’s Powers and its Functions in the International Legal System: Some Reflections’, in M. Byers (ed.), The Role of Law in International Politics 315 (2000); K. Zemanek, ‘Is the Security Council the Judge of its own Legality?’, in E. Yapko/T. Boumedra (ed.), Liber Amicorum Mohammed Bedjaoui 629 (1999).

45

See as an example for many the statement of Mr. Jenie (Indonesia) at the 4950th meeting of the Security Council on 22 April 2004; UN Doc. S/PV.4950, at 31.

46

Letter dated 27 April 2004 from the Permanent Representative of India to the United Nations addressed to the President of the Security Council; UN Doc. S/2004/329 (2004). The representative from Pakistan, a non-permanent member of the Council in 2004 who had voted in favour of UN Security Council Res. 1540, UN Doc. S/RES/1540, stated: ‘Pakistan shares the general view expressed in the Council’s open debate that the Security Council cannot legislate for the world. The sponsors have assured the Council that this resolution is designed to address a gap in international law to address the risk of terrorists and non-State actors acquiring or developing weapons of mass destruction, and that it does not seek to prescribe specific legislation, which is left to national action by States. […] The Council, composed of

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of the UN Charter. But with the exception of India no state challenged the Council’s authority after the adoption of the resolution and very many states have since complied with the prescribed reporting obligations – and thereby tacitly accepted the resolution as binding. As a consequence, the Council may have acquired legislative competences that go far beyond the intentions of the drafters of the UN Charter. The advantages of such fast track international law-making are evident, as are its dangers.47 The rule of law can serve as a helpful guide to ensure that recourse to legislative action by the Security Council strengthens the international legal order in an appropriate, legally sound manner without transgressing the system’s basic norms and principles.

B.

Counter-Terrorism and the Rights of Individuals

In the context of the UN’s counter-terrorism work, much attention has been devoted to rule of law issues arising from targeted sanctions against individuals.48 The practice that started in 1999 with SC-Res. 1267 directed against the Taliban and Al Qaeda has developed into a complex sanctions system.49 States are required to implement specific measures such as travel restrictions, freezing of funds and arms embargos against specific individuals or private companies. Under the UN Charter, the obligation to implement the resolutions could appear absolute, irrespective of due process and

15 States, is not a representative body. It cannot enforce the obligations assumed by five of its members which retain nuclear weapons since they also possess the right of veto in the Council.’ Statement of Mr Akram (Pakistan) at the 4956th meeting of the Security Council on 28 April 2004; UN Doc. S/PV.4956, at 3. 47

In an assessment of the legislative impact of UN Security Council Res. 1373, UN Doc. S/ RES/1373, Paul Szasz wrote: ‘If used prudently, this new tool will enhance the United Nations and benefit the world community, whose ability to create international law through traditional processes has lagged behind the urgent requirements of the new millennium.’ P. Szasz, ‘The Security Council Starts Legislating’, 96 AJIL 901, at 905 (2002). As to potential dangers and how to avoid them see A. Marschik, ‘Legislative Powers of the Security Council’, in R. S. J. Macdonald/D. M. Johnston (eds.), Towards World Constitutionalism 457 (2005), especially Chapters 4.2 and 4.3.

48

K. Koufa, ‘The United Nations, Human Rights and Counter-Terrorism’, in G. Nesi (ed.), International Cooperation in Counter Terrorism 45 (2006), with many further references.

49

The most important resolutions are: UN Security Council Res. 1267, UN Doc. S/RES/1267 (1999); UN Security Council Res. 1333, UN Doc. S/RES/1333 (2000); UN Security Council Res. 1363, UN Doc. S/RES/1363 (2001); UN Security Council Res. 1390, UN Doc. S/RES/1390 (2002); UN Security Council Res. 1452, UN Doc. S/RES/1452 (2002); UN Security Council Res. 1455, UN Doc. S/RES/1455 (2003); UN Security Council Res. 1456; UN Doc. S/RES/1456 (3003); UN Security Council Res. 1526, UN Doc. S/RES/1526 (2004); UN Security Council Res. 1566, UN Doc. S/RES/1566 (2004); UN Security Council Res. 1617, UN Doc. S/RES/1617 (2005); UN Security Council Res. 1730, UN Doc. S/RES/1730 (2006); UN Security Council Res. 1735, UN Doc. S/RES/1735 (2006). As regards the UN’s counter-terrorism activities see E. Rosand, ‘The Security Council’s Efforts to Monitor the Implementation of Al Qaeda/Taliban Sanctions’, 98 AJIL 745 (2004); A. Marschik, ‘The Security Council’s Role: Problems and Prospects in the Fight against Terrorism’, in G. Nesi (ed.), supra note 48, at 69 (2006).

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procedural rights to the individuals owed under international or regional conventions or under customary international law.50 After several cases against individuals showed clear rule of law concerns, a wide coalition of states, NGOs and academic institutions induced the Security Council to adopt a ‘de-listing procedure’ in 2002 and to refine it with the creation of a focal point in the UN Secretariat in 2006.51 Though an improvement, the current system still does not provide for a proper review of the listing-decision by an independent, impartial body. Considering the broad attention, the issue has received over the past years, it is more than likely that new cases will continue to be challenged in national courts and concerns will be raised in the open debates in the Security Council. The ensuing pressure should eventually translate into a legal review system that enables the appropriate protection of the rights of individuals. One positive side-effect of the debate on this issue is that the need to devote special attention to human rights and the rule of law in counter-terrorism has been recognized beyond the strict confines of the UN sanctions committees.52 In September 2006, the UN General Assembly adopted the United Nations Global Counter Terrorism Strategy which stresses that counter-terrorism and the respect for human rights and for the rule of law are not only compatible but mutually reinforcing.53 In implementing the Strategy, member states of the UN undertake to ensure that human rights and the rule of law are the basis for the fight against terrorism and resolve to take measures to address the lack of rule of law and human rights violations.

C.

Implementation of Sanctions

Another example of how the interest in the rule of law has fortified the legal quality of international norms is reflected in the recent evolution of UN sanctions. For years, agreement on a resolution was the ultimate goal of Security Council work. Implementation of and compliance with resolutions were secondary issues left to the 50

The ability of UN resolutions to derogate the individual’s human rights could be based on 1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 103. But if the rights in question are jus cogens, and this could well be argued, derogation should – in theory – be excluded.

51

Initially states could request review of the listing of a citizen or resident. A central problem was that only those individuals benefited from this system whose states were prepared to take up their case. Individuals had no standing before the review. With UN Security Council Res. 1730, UN Doc. S/RES/1730, a focal point was created in the UN Secretariat to receive delisting requests from individuals and entities directly and forward them to the committee. UN Security Council Res. 1735, UN Doc. S/RES/1735 further defined the delisting procedure for the 1267-regime.

52

In January 2003, the UN Security Council, meeting at the level of Foreign Ministers, adopted a declaration on combating terrorism which includes the following reference: ‘States must ensure that any measure taken to combat terrorism comply with all their obligations under international law, and should adopt such measures in accordance with international law, in particular in accordance with international human rights, refugee, and humanitarian law.’ UN Security Council Res. 1456, UN Doc. S/RES/1456 (2003), para. 6.

53

UN General Assembly Res. 288, UN Doc. A/RES/60/288 (2006).

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administrative tedium of fairly ineffective sanctions committees.54 The spectacular failure of the sanctions system against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq in the 1990s highlighted the lack of effective implementation of UN resolutions, even if they are adopted under Chapter VII. Without central monitoring and control there was, if at all, no consistency in compliance. The terror attacks in the US in 2001 served as a trigger to improve the system. It was clear that a threat such as terrorism could only be dealt with effectively with full international cooperation. SC Resolution 1373 established the Counter Terrorism Committee (CTC) which invited a group of experts to develop a continuous reporting procedure by questionnaires and hearings that would establish a dialogue between the Committee and every UN member state on the status of implementation. The rigorous work of the committee, complex and sustained reporting requirements, the persistence of independent experts in monitoring, visiting and ‘assisting’ states with unsatisfactory compliance and the prospect of being publicly named and shamed produced remarkable results: the CTC was the first committee in recent UN history with hundred per cent initial reporting by the UN members.55 Since 2001, the 1373 committee has considerably expanded its organizational structure with the goal of maintaining the high level of compliance by member states.56 In this regard it became an example for other committees. Today, elaborate reporting requirements are the rule and entrusting the monitoring, verification and evaluation of compliance to independent experts has become accepted practice.57 In order to benefit from synergies, the various expert groups and monitoring teams of the sanctions committees cooperate and coordinate their verification visits.58 The benevolent arm-twisting, a form of ‘soft enforcement’, has proven to be quite effective and has contributed to strengthening the legal quality of binding resolutions of the Security Council. 54

See on the work of the committees in practice D. Cortright/G. A. Lopez, ‘Reforming Sanctions’, in D. Malone (ed.), The UN Security Council: From the Cold War to the 21st Century 167 (2004); M. Bennouna, ‘Les sanctions économiques des nations unies’, 300 Receuil des cours 13, at 53 et seq. (2002).

55

The success of the Committee was also due to the tireless efforts of its Chairman, Ambassador Jeremy Greenstock of the UK, who relentlessly tracked down his colleagues at the UN to induce them to implement the resolution. See on the work of the CTC E. C. Luck, ‘Tackling Terrorism’, in D. Malone (ed.), The UN Security Council: From the Cold War to the 21st Century 85, at 96 et seq. (2004).

56

UN Security Council Res. 1535, UN Doc. S/RES/1525 (2004), established a sub-organ of the CTC, the Counter Terrorism Executive Directorate (CTED), devoted to ensuring full implementation of UN Security Council Res 1373 UN Doc. S/RES/1373. The CTED’s mandate was renewed with UN Security Council Res. 1787, UN Doc. S/RES/1787 (2007).

57

The first committee to invite independent experts was the committee monitoring the arms embargo against Hutu rebels in Rwanda, see UN Security Council Res. 1013, UN Doc. S/ RES/1013 (1995). For the evolution of monitoring and verification in the Security Council see Cortright/Lopez, supra note 54, at 172 et seq.

58

An example is UN Security Council Res. 1805, UN Doc. S/RES/1805 (2008), which instructs the experts of the CTC, the 1267 and the 1540 committees to enhance their cooperation to optimize synergies in monitoring compliance.

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D.

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Individual Criminal Responsibility

This also holds true for the acceptance of individual accountability and responsibility as legal and moral imperatives in international relations. Institutionalized in the form of the International Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), the Rwanda Tribunal (ICTR), the Sierra Leone Tribunal and the Cambodia Tribunal, this recognition is epitomized in the International Criminal Court (ICC), mandated to ensure that future war crimes and crimes against humanity not go unpunished. Initially the ICC was under substantial pressure by a hostile US administration, which concluded a series of bilateral treaties to exclude extradition of US nationals to the Court.59 The US also insisted on immunity for its peacekeepers and persuaded the Security Council to adopt a resolution exempting peacekeepers from states that were not party to the Rome Statute of the ICC from the jurisdiction of the ICC for one year.60 After one renewal, however, the exemption failed to meet the required 9 votes in the Council and the project was abandoned.61 Today, the ICC has asserted itself as the competent international institution to address criminal responsibility for war crimes and crimes against humanity. Indeed, the ICC seems to have more impact on the ground in some instances than the Security Council – for obvious reasons: rebel fighters are rarely concerned about economic sanctions directed against the state or a targeted travel ban. They do worry, however, that they may be personally subjected to worldwide criminal prosecution for their crimes. So far, they could count on the possibility that amnesty for crimes would be part of a local or national peace settlement. Now it is no longer up to any individual government to accord such amnesty; it is the international prosecutor of the ICC who determines whether or not to commence proceedings. Apparently, the prospect of respecting the rule of law, of real enforcement of international criminal law before an independent court, can be an even greater incentive to act according to international humanitarian law than threats of sanctions from the world’s premier political and security body. The reports about the positive impact of the ICC on the ground had a further positive effect: The Court has managed to gain recognition from the US. In 2005, the US supported a Security Council resolution that entrusted the International Prosecutor of the Court with investigating the crimes committed in Darfur.62 59

On the US position towards the International Criminal Court see C. Tomuschat, Multilateralism in the Age of US Hegemony, in R. S. J. Macdonald/D. M. Johnston (eds.), Towards World Constitutionalism 53 et seq. (2005).

60

UN Security Council Res. 1422, UN Doc. S/RES/1422 (2002). See on this resolution Kirsch/ Holmes/Johnson, ‘International Tribunals and Courts’, in D. Malone (ed.), The UN Security Council: From the Cold War to the 21st Century 281, at 289 et seq. (2004).

61

The renewal was adopted in UN Security Council Res. 1487, UN Doc. S/RES/1487 (2003).

62

UN Security Council Res. 1593, UN Doc. S/RES/1593 (2005), referred the situation in Darfur since 1 July 2002 to the Prosecutor of the ICC. The Security Council subsequently endorsed the Committee and instructed states to fully cooperate with it, UN Security Council Res. 1538, UN Doc. S/RES/1538 (2004).

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Accountability and Good Governance

The international focus on the rule of law has ensured that the responsibility for individual acts is not only addressed in the context of international criminal law. Political instruments, accountability and good governance have become increasingly important not only as indicators in the evaluation of the administration of states and international organizations but also, in combination with public pressure, as an effective tool to induce states and international organizations and their organs to provide transparency and justification regarding administrative issues beyond legal obligations to do so.63 Individual responsibility, accountability and good governance were at the centre of the inquiry into allegations of mismanagement of the UN’s Oil-for-food-Program for Iraq, a project conceived to help the Iraqi population suffering under the sanctions imposed by the Security Council against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq.64 In 2004, Secretary General Annan appointed an Independent Inquiry Committee, chaired by former US Federal Reserve Chairman Paul Volcker, to investigate the administration and management of the Program.65 Though the investigation essentially failed to uncover corruption and conspiracy at the highest levels, the reports of the Committee exposed a culture of inadequate accountability and an appalling lack of effective oversight and control. Most of all, the exercise itself was an unprecedented recognition of the relevance of the rule of law in the internal administration of an organisation long immune from whistle-blowing and exposure of illegal practices. The new interest in transparency and accountability has enabled the United Nations to address other issues of concern, such as the sexual exploitation and abuse by UN peace-keepers, a longstanding problem ignored for many years. Appointed in 2004 as Special Adviser on the issue by Secretary General Annan, Prince Zeid Ra’ad Zeid Al-Hussein of Jordan assembled a report exposing the scale of the problem, exacerbated by a policy of tolerance and total lack of effective oversight instruments. The report contained several recommendations based on the rule of law to implement a culture of accountability: clear and comprehensible rules, compliance with and enforcement of these rules, disciplinary measures and criminal responsibility.66 63

Hafner, ‘Accountability of International Organizations’, supra note 20. See also A. Reinisch, ‘Governance without Accountability?’, 44 GYIL 270 (2001).

64

Sanctions were imposed by UN Security Council Res. 661, UN Doc. S/RES/661 (1990); UN Security Council Res. 706, UN Doc. S/RES/706 (1991); and UN Security Council Res. 712, UN Doc. S/RES/712 (1991), created the Oil-for-food Program, which was initially rejected by Iraq. It was reformed and expanded by UN Security Council Res. 986, UN Doc. S/RES/986 (1995), and several further resolutions.

65

The Independent Inquiry Committee published a Report on the Management of the Oil-forfood Program (7 September 2005) and a Report on the Manipulation of the Oil-for-food Program (27 October 2005). A Special Working Group elaborated a report on the Impact of the Oil-for-food Program on the Iraqi people (7 September 2005). All documents are available on the website of the Committee: http://www.iic-offp.org/documents.

66

The report was conveyed to the General Assembly and is annexed to the Letter dated 24 March 2005 from the Secretary General to the President of the General Assembly, UN Doc. A/59/710 (2005).

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Today, this standard is expected not only at the UN but in all international and regional organizations. It is also beginning to be invoked in the relations between states. As a result, ‘no impunity’ is a cry no longer reserved for the offenders of the most heinous crimes, war crimes and crimes against humanity. It holds all violators of international or regional rules and regulations accountable.

IV.

Don’t Count your Chickens…

The growing interest for rules and their implementation in the areas discussed above has created new assertiveness in others: international legal cooperation is increasing in the fields of energy, environment, illegal trafficking of humans, organized crime, food security, health issues and many others. Treaties that experienced long periods of frustration, such as the Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, have reasons for new optimism.67 Membership in international organizations is steadily increasing. Regional organizations are becoming more legalized, in respect of both primary norms and institutional structures.68 States are less prone to wilfully ignore the decisions of international courts and tribunals for political reasons.69 But while the general environment may be good for hard law in international relations, it is not the time to be complacent.

A.

Lack of Means

Though the level of compliance in the sanctions committees of the Security Council is improving, there are indications of ‘reporting fatigue’ on behalf of the member states. The reasons are diverse: lack of political will, inadequate resources or technical capacity, concerns about confidentiality and coordination difficulties on a national level.70 67

After years of deliberation, the Annex II State Colombia ratified the Convention on 29 January 2008, bringing the number of ratifications necessary for its entry into force down to 9.

68

Examples are the evolution of the African Union and, most recently, ASEAN, which after years of resistance to legalization finally adopted a Charter in November 2007. With the Lisbon Treaty, the European Union is currently undertaking a second attempt to give itself a constitution (albeit without calling it so).

69

In 2005, the US formally accepted the ruling of the International Court of Justice in regard to executions of foreign nationals, see Avena and Other Mexican Nationals (Mexico v. United States of America), Judgment of 31 March 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 12. At the same time, however, the US withdrew from the Optional Protocol of the Vienna Convention of the Law of Consular Relations, which made ICJ decisions on disputes regarding the Convention binding.

70

As regards the problem of confidential information, see S. Chesterman, Shared Secrets – Intelligence and Collective Security (2006). In some instances, resolutions proved difficult to implement even for states with advanced and well-resourced administrations. The duty to freeze all financial assets of individuals created problems for states having a domestic obligation to assist persons in need. Once the persons had no funds left, they became eligible for national aid programs. Aiding persons on a list, however, is a violation of the 1267 regime.

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The Council must remain vigilant and counter a sustained erosion of compliance. In doing so, however, the Council members – especially the permanent five – must also pay close attention to the grievances of the wider membership. It is regrettable that the Council, for incomprehensible bureaucratic and technical reasons, has so far been unable to consolidate committees entrusted with related issues and their reporting obligations. The Council will also have to address the ongoing refusal by Iran to implement resolutions 1773, 1747 and 1803 regarding the questions of nuclear non-proliferation and the Iranian nuclear energy program. Persistent challenges to the Security Council’s authority weaken the system of obligatory Chapter VII resolutions as a whole.

B.

Lack of Effective Institutions

Without directly applicable legislation, executive organs with authoritative competences and mandatory independent judicial review, international and regional organizations lack the effectiveness to ensure respect for the rule of law in international affairs. Though some regional organizations are exemplary in this respect, the general reluctance of states to submit to higher authority still prevails. A particular concern is the consistent lack of recourse to international judicial institutions and the waning interest for compulsory jurisdiction. While interest in the rule of law has strengthened the relevance of human rights globally, the institutional human rights structure of the UN is in a dismal condition. The UN Human Rights Commission had deteriorated to an extent that only its dissolution was seen as an appropriate remedy. The General Assembly and the international conferences on human rights since the 1990s have been paralyzed by a growing divide between the West and the Non-Aligned Movement. The new Human Rights Council – conceived, after all, as an improvement of the Commission – is far from where the drafters of this instrument had hoped it would be. The United Nations’ role in monitoring human rights and reacting to serious violations lacks credibility. Without radical improvement in the near future, the functions of the UN will be taken up either by groups of states acting outside the UN system or by NGOs and private institutions.

C.

Lack of Trust, Commitment and Cooperation

The international disarmament machinery, which used to provide positive examples for the rule of law during the Cold War, has been in steady decline for over a decade. Since 1997, the Conference on Disarmament in Geneva has been unable to agree on an agenda. The last Review Conference of the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) in 2005 failed miserably. Arms control treaties have been suspended, confidence building The problem was solved with UN Security Council Res. 1452, UN Doc. S/RES/1452 (2002), which enabled States to request for permission to give social aid.

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measures were adopted but not implemented.71 Instead of progress on disarmament, we have witnessed huge increases in military spending and exports of weapons, including to volatile regions.72 Most worrisome are the cases of North Korea and Iran. Irrespective of the existence of an almost universally recognised treaty, the NPT, and a trusted independent agency to monitor and verify compliance, the International Atomic Energy Agency, North Korea tested a nuclear device in October 2006 and suspicions regarding nuclear programs of other states – most prominently Iran – persist. In the interest of international peace and security, the rule of law and its instruments of implementation of obligations, independent and fair verification as well as soft and hard enforcement must be used more effectively in disarmament, arms control and nuclear non-proliferation.73 In the area of strengthening the rule of law on the national level, sustained support for the establishment of legal institutions is crucial for states emerging from conflict. While coalitions form easily to agree on sanctions against states and donors give generously to counter humanitarian disasters, the fairly unspectacular but costly and time-consuming efforts to build sustainable, well-functioning institutions often fail to garner the support they need.74 While international attention in the context of post71

One example of such a confidence building measure is the ‘Hague Code of Conduct’, which requires states to notify missile launches in advance. Adopted in 2002, the Code quickly expanded to almost 130 member states in 2008. However, the US, though a member from the outset, never sent pre-launch notifications. Russia initially did, but suspended its compliance for a year as of January 2008.

72

According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, world military expenditure rose by almost 37 per cent in the years 1997-2006 and arms transfers increased by 50 per cent in the years 2003-2007, SIPRI Yearbook 2007, summaries of Chapters 8 and 10 are available online at http://yearbook2007.sipri.org/.

73

Though the general picture is bleak, there are some positive developments in the disarmament field. When efforts in the context of the Convention on Conventional Weapons to prohibit cluster munitions that cause unacceptable harm to civilians failed in 2006, a group of states initiated an international process to ban these weapons and within a year brought together 138 states at a conference in Vienna to elaborate a legal prohibition by the end of 2008. The states involved in the so-called ‘Oslo-Process’ (after the declaration of Oslo in February 2007 which launched the process) adopted a text in Dublin in May 2008 of a Convention on Cluster Munitions containing a categorical ban on these weapons and new humanitarian standards for victim assistance. See A. Breitegger, ‘Preventing Human Suffering during and after Conflict? The Complementary Case for a Specific Convention on Cluster Munitions’, 10 ARIEL 3 (2005). The Convention will be signed in Oslo on 3 December 2008. IAEA-Director General Mohamed El Baradei took the initiative to re-launch discussions on the multilateralization of the nuclear fuel cycle and to create a new international legal framework for nuclear energy to address security concerns about enrichment and re-processing of uranium (see the Report of the Director General to the Board of Governors, Possible New Framework for the Utilization of Nuclear Energy: Options for Assurance of Supply of Nuclear Fuel, GOV/INF/2007/11 of 13 June 2007).

74

For an example of the complexity of the enterprise, see the well documented account of the efforts to establish an effective and independent judicial system in post-conflict Afghanistan in J. A. Thier, ‘A Third Branch? (Re)Establishing the Judicial System in Afghanistan’, in W. Danspeckgruber/R. P. Finn (eds.), Building State and Security in Afghanistan 56 et seq. (2007).

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conflict state-building is often focused almost exclusively on the holding of elections, it is true that ‘there is life after elections, especially for the people who live there’.75 Not least in the interest of self-preservation, the international community must show more determination to support the establishment and safeguarding of the rule of law at the national level.

V.

A Rule of Law Agenda

While fixing the international human rights and security architecture and achieving progress in disarmament and nuclear non-proliferation will require massive efforts from the international community, presumably even a new grand consensus on global security, strengthening international law via the rule of law can be achieved in small steps and by individual contributions. Many of the past success stories in international law find their origin in individual or collective efforts of NGOs, interest groups, academic institutions and other private actors.76 Initiatives of states acting individually or in collaboration with others have had considerable effect on international legal administration and jurisdiction and on the progressive development of international law.77 Austria, for instance, has championed international law ever since becoming a member of the UN in 1955 and in the past few years acted as informal spokesperson of a group of states known as the ‘Friends of the Rule of Law’ at the UN in New York. Together with New York University (NYU), the Austrian UN Mission organized a series of panels from 2004 to 2008 to examine how the rule of law is affected by the Security Council’s recent practice of expanding its political mandate and taking up legislative and judicial functions. NYU’s Simon Chesterman compiled a report which was presented at the UN in April 2008. The report lists 17 recommendations how the Security Council should respect and make better use of international law and argues that the Council would effectively benefit from applying and promoting the rule of law.78

75

Zakaria, supra note 24, at 156.

76

The essential contribution of NGOs in achieving progress in general international law, human rights and humanitarian law is well-established. The initiatives of the NGO-Coalition for the International Criminal Court and the Liechtenstein Institute on Self-Determination of Princeton University in strengthening support for the ICC have been exemplary. The American Bar Association has undertaken a laudable initiative to globally strengthen the rule of law on the national level.

77

Examples abound. Canada established a commission of experts that examined the question of humanitarian intervention and elaborated a report on the responsibility to protect; see International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty, The Responsibility to Protect (2001). The concept was included in the Final Outcome Document of the UN Reform Summit in 2005.

78

Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs and Institute for International Law and Justice of the New York University School of Law, The UN Security Council and the Rule of Law: The Role of the Security Council in Strengthening a Rules-based International System, Final Report and Recommendations from the Austrian Initiative 2004-2008 (2008).

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Many other means to strengthen international law and the rule of law deserve reflection: –

Law-making: the International Law Commission (ILC) and the 6th Committee are lost in stagnation. Should they prove immune to reanimation, alternative mechanisms of open, transparent and fair multilateral law-making must be explored. The added value of international norms and the rule of law must be better explained both to state representatives and to the wider public, while, at the same time, unnecessary bureaucratic legislation should be avoided.79

–

Harmonization: as a member of the ILC Gerhard Hafner examined the dangers posed by the fragmentation of international law due to a proliferation of organizations and regimes.80 An international act today can be mandatory under one regime and illegal under another. Though this might not put international law, peace and stability at risk, it contributes to undermining the credibility of international law and of international institutions. Efforts to harmonize law globally should be promoted.

–

Universality: for the sake of coherence, the conventions forming the basis of the international legal system should be universal.81 States should refrain from making reservations to these agreements and reservations made in the past should be regularly reviewed and their continued necessity reassessed. The UN Secretary General should use the annual ‘Treaty Event’ in the margins of the General Assembly to raise the issue of reservations.

The panels brought together leading international experts on international law and politics. Gerhard Hafner participated at a panel in 2005. His topic was ‘Who Needs Rules? The Prospects of a Rules-Based International System’. On the Austrian initiative see K. Bühler, ‘The Austrian Rule of Law Initiative’, 12 Max Planck Yearbook of United Nations Law 409 (2008). 79

Though it has become a tedious tradition of ‘eurosceptics’ to criticize the EU for being overly regulative and intrusive into national or local affairs, it is undoubtedly true that too much legislation can be counterproductive.

80

G. Hafner, ‘The risks posed by the fragmentation of international law’, International Law Commission 2000, Report on the Work of its 52nd Session, UN Doc. A/55/10, Annex, 143 et seq.; see also Buffard/Hafner, supra note 20, at 29 et seq.

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Apart from the 1945 UN Charter and the founding instruments of the main international organizations, today these would seem to be: the 1969 The Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, 1155 UNTS 331, 8 ILM 679; the 1961 Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, 500 UNTS 95; the 1963 Vienna Convention on Consular Relations, 596 UNTS 261; the Geneva Conventions and Additional Protocols; the 1951 Genocide Convention, 78 UNTS 277; the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 2187 UNTS 90; the 1968 Non-Proliferation Treaty, 729 UNTS 161; the 1996 Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, 35 ILM 1439 (1996); the 1982 UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, 21 ILM 1261 (1982), and the core human rights treaties.

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–

Implementation of rules: on a national level, states should ensure that their legal system possesses the necessary legal instruments and institutions for the rule of law to function. Internationally, states and organizations should ensure that international norms are clear and unambiguous to facilitate implementation and compliance. The UN’s rule of law assistance unit should provide assistance in this regard.

–

Enforcement: the assessment of compliance requires independent, fair and reliable monitoring and verification. Sanctions or other enforcement actions must have clear conditions and sunset clauses. When targeted by international enforcement measures, states and individuals need adequate legal protection, assurances of due process and assistance to make use of these rights.

–

Accountability and responsibility: criminal responsibility of individuals, especially for war crimes and genocide, and state responsibility are cornerstones of societies that rely on the rule of law. International organizations – their organs and their staff – must not misuse their status. Clear rules to punish misconduct must be enforced internationally. The UN’s rule of law assistance unit should actively promote the highest standards for both international organizations and states.

–

International Courts and Tribunals: though there is an undeniable trend in international jurisdiction for crimes of individuals, the role of courts deciding on disputes among states is still minimal. The UN should devise incentives to persuade more states to accept compulsory jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice. The UN organs should overcome their reluctance in requesting advisory opinions. Strengthening the ICJ, the ICC and other international tribunals, as well as promoting universal participation in and cooperation with the ICC should be a top priority of all states devoted to the rule of law.

–

Civil Society: the important contribution of civil society, NGOs and academic institutions in strengthening international law and the rule of law must be recognized. States should support these private organisations and include their expertise in their decision-making processes. The annual ‘International Law Week’ at the UN during the 6th Committee should be enhanced to enable more active participation from civil society and academic institutions. Global issues, where the rule of law can make a positive contribution, should be discussed with wider participation.

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VI.

83

Conclusion

The last decades have seen an impressive proliferation of international norms. Most of these are primary rules containing specific rights or obligations for states. Little attention was devoted to the question whether the rules were actually properly applied. It has become clear in the post-9/11, post Iraq-war world that safety and security require not only states to cooperate closely but that this cooperation is effective and reliable. Political declarations or recommendations may serve a vital purpose in international diplomacy, but sometimes there is no alternative to compulsory norms, to ‘hard’ international law that carries in it the threat that non-compliance will be sanctioned. Recently, states and international organizations have begun focusing on strengthening the rule of law as a means to ensure compliance with existing norms. As a legal concept, the rule of law is designed to protect the individual from the arbitrariness and power of the state. In international relations, it is often used to assess the existence and relevance of laws, order and justice within states or regions. It is the basis for many initiatives that promote these, such as assistance programs to strengthen national legal systems or peacekeeping missions to restore order on the ground. But the rule of law is also used in the relations between states and within international organizations, especially to advance compliance with international norms. Here the concept is more legalist, very close to the principle pacta sunt servanda, emphasizing the need to implement existing rules and agreements. We see it behind many of the current initiatives to make international norms ‘harder’, such as the push for compliance with UN sanctions or individual responsibility for international crimes and accountability in international administration. In hierarchical relations, especially in international organizations, the rule of law plays a more traditional role in protecting the weaker parties from misuse of superior powers and arbitrariness. Practice shows that the rule of law is a useful concept inasmuch as it is easy to support. Apart from its politically advantageous vagueness, the rule of law serves no immediate political interest to the detriment of others. It is abstract and fairly neutral, assisting the weak against arbitrary use of power. As the examples analyzed demonstrated, however, nobody would really lose by strengthening the rule of law. The Security Council would benefit from stronger emphasis on compliance with its resolutions, but the focus on procedural norms, human rights and due process would limit the Council’s freedom of action. If anything, the rule of law in international relations serves the pursuit of fairness within the existing international order. In a book on World Constitutionalism, Bertrand Ramcharan sums up the UN’s efforts to contribute effectively to international peace and security in the post cold war world: ‘The key to the security of nations and to the success of the United Nations is

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the international rule of law.’82 Gerhard Hafner would certainly concur. In examining the rule of law in the context of international organizations he observed: ‘One must acknowledge that the present world can provide safety to individuals, can ensure their survival under humane conditions exclusively through the instrument of international organizations. The efficiency of international organizations depends on the trust States place in them. [...] This confidence can only be established if the States are convinced that the organizations act in full compliance with the rule of law. It is only under these circumstances that international organizations would become effective and reliable in order to secure peace and security in the broadest sense of mankind.’83

By strengthening the relevance of international norms, the rule of law makes a significant contribution to peace and stability. The many initiatives taken under the label of the rule of law serve to increase predictability, reduce arbitrariness and enable fairness in international relations. They promote legality and legitimacy. They protect the individual beyond borders and institutional hierarchies and provide justice to victims of international crimes. On the national and the international level, in relations between states, international organizations and individuals, the rule of law will remain a uniquely practical instrument to achieve legitimate order. It may not be photogenic. It may never make the headlines. But the rule of law will remain the reliable foundation on which to build a fair and just rules-based international system.

82

B. Ramcharan, ‘The United Nations and New Threats, Challenges and Change: The Report of the High Level Panel’, in R. S. J. Macdonald/D. M. Johnston (eds.), Towards World Constitutionalism 912 (2005). Clearly influenced by the strong criticism of the UN at the height of the Oil-for-food scandal, he notes also: ‘Unless the UN can help uphold the international rule of law it will have no future.’ ibid., at 919.

83

Hafner, ‘The Rule of Law and International Organizations’, supra note 20, at 314.

6

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The Concept of International Community in International Law: Theory and Reality Pemmaraju Sreenivasa Rao

I.

Introduction

The concept of international community and its close relationship to the development and application of international law needs no special mention to international lawyers. This is a topic that interested Professor Gerhard Hafner very much. He made a substantial contribution to the development of the concept during his tenure as a member of the International Law Commission, particularly in the context of the development of Draft Articles on State responsibility and as a member of the Austrian delegation to the negotiations that led to the conclusion of the Rome Statute on the International Criminal Court. Given the currency and importance of the concept, it is proposed to review some of the developments bearing on the concept and to draw some conclusions on its nature, scope and limits.

II.

The International Community and International law

The concept of international community has been a steady driving force behind the progressive development of international law and its codification. Ever since the organization of international relations on the basis of the Westphalia Treaty in 1648, an international community of States with sovereign equality began to develop international law to regulate their relationships. Present-day international law may owe much to the doctrine and practice originated among European countries.1 But it is equally well-documented that there were well-developed systems of treaty and diplomatic relations as well as laws of war with emphasis on humanitarian principles among States in other parts of the world as well,2 where States with advanced civilizations

1

For the view that ‘international law in the modern sense came into being in the middle of the seventeenth century’, see C. Tomuschat, ‘International Law As The Constitution of Mankind’, in International Law on the Eve of the Twenty-first Century: Views from the International Law Commission 37, at 39 (1997).

2

The point was noted by the present author in another context, see P. S. Rao, ‘The Indian Position on Some General Principles of International Law’, in Bimal Patel (ed.), India and International Law 35, at 33-34 (2005).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 85-106, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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flourished long before the industrial revolution in Europe.3 This testifies to the fact that every community at every level of social interaction is governed by its own rules of behavior,4 and this is true of the international community of States as well. In that sense, the relationship between international law and the international community it regulates is as inextricable and inexorable as the relationship between law and society anywhere.

III.

The UN and the International Community

While as old as international law itself (see, for example, Francisco de Vitoria’s totius orbis communitas), the concept of international community began to acquire solidity and substance with the establishment of the United Nations in 1945. The Charter of the United Nations pronounced many of the fundamental principles which guide and provide the foundation for the contemporary world order. These fundamental principles are significantly pronounced in the name of ‘We, the people of the United Nations’. In addition, the Charter in another far-reaching development prohibited the use of force as an instrument of national policy besides centralizing a system of collective use of force under the aegis of the Security Council. The Security Council under Article 24 of the Charter is invested with primary responsibility for the maintenance of international peace and security. In accordance with Article 25 read with Article 2(6), decisions 3

The origins of international law and the lineage of its precise structure cannot be traced exclusively to any one society or culture or region of the world. Onuma notes organized community interactions in different parts of the world generating regional systems of international law in the pre-19 century. He however makes the point that ‘[i]nternational society covering the entire globe with international law did not exist until the late nineteenth century.’ What existed during most of modern history, according to him, ‘was the coexistence of European international law, the sy’ar, the Sinocentric tributary system and the other regional normative systems , all of which had only limited local validity despite their universalistic claims.’ Further, ‘(G)lobal international society came to exist as a result of the triumph of the imperial and colonial policies of the Western powers and the submission of the non-Western peoples to them.’ See O. Yasuaki, ‘When was the Law of International Society Born? An Inquiry of the History of International Law from an Intercivilizational Perspective’, 2 Journal of the History of International Law 1, at 63-64 (2000). The issue, in any event, is fairly complex and cannot be addressed in any detail here.

4

These rules of behavior, when formalized through institutions recognized as authoritative by the community, give rise to rules of law. For an exposition on the role of authority and control in the world constitutive process, and for the view that that the ‘conjunction of common expectations concerning authority with a high degree of corroboration in actual operation is what we understand by law’, see M. S. McDougal/H. D. Lasswell, ‘The Identification and Appraisal of Diverse Systems of Public Order’, 53 American Journal of International Law 9 (1959). It is also stated that ‘authoritative decisions, those made in accordance with community expectations [about how, and with what content, they should be made], and disposing of enough effective power to be put into controlling practice, that we suggest, are in any community most appropriately regarded as law’. See M. S. McDougal/W. M. Reisman, International Law in Contemporary Perspective: the Public Order of the World Community 93 (1981) (brackets added).

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taken by the Security Council in respect of a threat to the peace, a breach of the peace or an act of aggression are binding on all States including States which are not members of the United Nations. The Charter with the establishment of the General Assembly, the Security Council and the office of the Secretary-General created a complex system of mediation, good offices and conciliation promoting peaceful settlement of disputes among States.5 The principle of peaceful settlement of disputes is the other crucial element of the world order system based on the UN Charter. In all, the UN Charter which is based on sovereign equality of States sets out the rule of law6 and (at least in the view of some) a veritable ‘constitution’ for the world community.7 The UN with presently 192 member States as parties truly symbolizes and sets pace to the collectivization of the interests of the international community of States.8 More importantly, the United Nations has created several institutions which are slowly but steadily gaining and in the process adding more content to the concept of international community. Notable among these building blocks is the work of the International Court of Justice, the principal judicial organ of the United Nations. The International Law Commission, a body established by the United Nations under Article 13 of its Charter, is an important institution of individual experts entrusted under the Statute with the task of progressive development of international law and its codification. Equally important is the work of the United Nations in the field of human rights. The work of the respective UN bodies not only promotes the broader goals of the United Nations, that is, to ensure the maintenance of international peace and security, but aids the very flowering of the concept of the international community. The work of the UN resulted in declaring the outer space, the moon and other celestial bodies, for the purpose of exploration and use, ‘the province of all mankind’.9 Concerning 5

K.V. Raman (ed.), Dispute Settlement through the United Nations (1977). See also United Nations, Handbook on the Peaceful Settlement of Disputes between States (1992).

6

One key element of the rule of law is that ‘[a]ll legal persons are subject to rules of law which are applicable on the basis of equality.’ For a notation on the key elements of the rule of law, see I. Brownlie, ‘International Law at the Fiftieth Anniversary of the United Nations: General Course on Public International Law’, 255 Recueil des Cours 213 (1995).

7

See B. Simma, ‘From Bilateralism to Community Interest’, 250 Recueil des Cours 256-284 (1994), for a discussion of the UN Charter as the ‘constitution’ of the international community. He concludes that ‘the competencies exercised by the principal organs of the UN cannot simply be assessed according to the model of national constitutions. However one does find at least some elements of a separation of powers. The lack of any effective judicial review does not distinguish the Charter from most domestic constitutions.’ Ibid., at 283. For a comprehensive review of the idea, B. Fassbender, ‘The United Nations Charter as Constitution of the International Community’, 36 Columbia Journal of Transnational Law 529-619 (1998).

8

See generally I. I. Lukashuk, ‘The law of the International Community’, in United Nations, International law on the Eve of the Twenty-first Century: Views from the International Law Commission 51-68 (1997). See also C. Tomuschat, supra note 1; and J. Crawford, ‘Universalism and Regionalism from the Perspective of the Work of the International Law Commission’, ibid., at 100.

9

1967 Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space including the Moon and other Celestial Bodies, 610 UNTS 205, art. 1.

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the international seabed area and its resources beyond national jurisdiction, the UN not only declared them as the common heritage of mankind10 but was also instrumental, thanks to the 1982 UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, for the establishment of an International Seabed Authority. The Authority is solely competent to regulate access to the area and its resources. Its main objective is to ensure that exploitation of the same is done for the benefit of mankind, taking into consideration, in particular, the interests and needs of developing States and others who have not yet attained full independence or other self-governing status in accordance with General Assembly resolution 1514 (XV) and other relevant General Assembly resolutions.11 The work of the UN in the fields of international environment and human rights is more fundamental and far-reaching for the crystallization of the concept of international community. The concept of ‘common concern’ of mankind overarches the development of international environmental law. This concept has served to highlight not only the existence and interests of the international community, as opposed to individual entities, at the global level. It also emphasized the interests of the future generations. It is to this feature that many principles of international environmental law owe their growth and relevance. The principles addressing inter-generational equity, the precautionary approach, sustainable development; the duty to prevent transboundary harm arising from hazardous activities and the principles of allocation of loss in case of transboundary harm, particularly the protection of and liability for harm to the environment per se; proposals on the cutting of emission of green house gases to arrest ill-effects of climate change; protection of global commons, demilitarization of outer space, and prohibition of atmospheric nuclear tests are some of the examples of the widely accepted modern principles of international environmental law that address the ‘common concern’ of the international community. As noted by Kiss and Shelton: ‘While the contours of this classical system [of international law] remain intact, it has undergone fundamental changes in the past half a century. International environmental law is both a product of and in part a cause of this transformation that affects the process of law-making and the role of consent as well as concepts of sovereignty. Many aspects of modern international environmental law are linked to the concepts of common concern of humanity and common heritage of mankind.’12 [Brackets added.]

Protection of the interests of the international community is at the base of the United Nations actions when the Security Council decided to establish ad hoc international criminal tribunals to prosecute persons accused of committing the serious crimes of 10

The UN Declaration of Principles Governing the Seabed and the Ocean Floor and the Subsoil Thereof, beyond the Limits of National Jurisdiction, UN General Assembly Res. 2749, UN Doc. A/RES/2749 (XXV), reproduced in International Seabed Authority, The Law of the Sea: Compendium of Basic Documents 360-363 (2001).

11

1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, arts. 136, 137, 140, reproduced in the Compendium of Basic Documents on the Law of the Sea, supra note 10, at 48-50.

12

A. Kiss/D. Shelton, International Environmental Law 26 (2004).

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genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes in the context of dissolution of the former Yugoslavia and in Rwanda.13 Whatever political and legal controversy the establishment of these ad hoc tribunals created was not about the ends sought to be achieved but about the means adopted.14

IV.

The International Law Commission and the International Community

The International Law Commission, given its nature and functions, took every opportunity to promote the concept of international community. Thus, in the context of progressively developing and codifying the law of treaties, it developed the concept of jus cogens, a sort of ordre public of the international community, postulating thereby that treaties entered into by States are not valid if they are contrary to jus cogens. In defining the concept of jus cogens (or peremptory norms of international law), Article 53 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties refers to norms ‘accepted and recognized by the international community of States as a whole’ as norms from which no derogation is permissible. It also referred to the concept of international community in the context of its work on State responsibility. Article 19 of the Draft Articles adopted by the Commission in its first reading established State responsibility for actions of States in violation of an international obligation ‘so essential for the protection of fundamental interests of the international community’. In addition, such a violation or internationally wrongful act would constitute an international crime, in so far as it is ‘recognized as a crime by that community as a whole’.15 The Commission in its second reading of the articles on State responsibility retained the notion of jus cogens, even though it abandoned the concept of international State

13

See Security Council Res. 827 and 855, UN Docs. S/RES/827 (1993) and S/RES/855 (1994). Tomuschat observed that ‘it is no exaggeration to state that a system for the prosecution of individuals committing grave violations of the fundamental rules of international legal order belongs also to a core element of constitution of the international community’, supra note 1, at 48.

14

See for a mention of the criticism leveled against the Security Council’s decision, P. S. Rao, ‘International Crimes and State Responsibility’, in M. Ragazzi (ed.), International Responsibility Today. Essays in Memory of Oscar Schachter 63, at 73, n. 35 (2005). For the view that the Security Council has validly exercised its powers to establish these tribunals, see S. Lamb, ‘Legal limits to the United Nations Security Council Powers’, in G. S. Goodwyn-Gill/S. Talmon (eds.), The Reality of International Law: Essays in Honor of Ian Brownlie 361, at 378-379 (1999). The Appellate Chamber of the ICTY in Prosecutor v. Tadic, Case No. IT-94-1-A, also held that art. 41 provided a proper legal basis for the Security Council to establish the ICTY, http://www.un.org/icty.

15

Report of the ILC on the work of its Thirty-second session, General Assembly Official Records, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/10/58 (1980), at 32.

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crimes in favor of individual criminal responsibility for international crimes.16 Thus, under article 40, international responsibility will be incurred by a State if its wrongful acts involve a ‘serious breach […] of an obligation arising under a peremptory norm of general international law’. A breach of such an obligation is serious ‘if it involves a gross or systematic failure by the responsible State to fulfill the obligation’. In addition, article 41 imposed upon all the States a general obligation to ‘cooperate to bring to an end through lawful means any serious breach within the meaning of article 40’. More specifically, States are obliged not to ‘recognize as lawful a situation created by a serious breach within the meaning of article 40, nor render aid or assistance in maintaining that situation’. This is, in addition, and without prejudice to the other consequences flowing from the law of State responsibility or under international law. Further, any State other than an injured State is entitled to invoke the responsibility of another State in accordance with Article 48, paragraph 2 if: (a) the obligation breached is owed to a group of States including that State, and is established for the protection of a collective interest of the group; or (b) the obligation breached is owed to the international community as a whole. Such a State in accordance with article 48, paragraph 2, may claim from the responsible State: (a) cessation of the internationally wrongful act, and assurances and guarantees of non-repetition in accordance with article 30; and (b) performance of the obligation of reparation in accordance with the preceding articles, in the interest of the injured State or of the beneficiaries of the obligation breached. The Commission also had occasion to refer to the concept of international community in the context of its work on a draft Code of Crimes,17 establishment of international criminal jurisdiction18 and more notably in connection with its work on fragmentation of international law.19

16

A. Pellet, ‘The New Draft Articles of the International Law Commission on the Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts: A Requiem for States’ Crimes?’, 32 NYIL 55-79 (2001). On the importance of the concept of international crimes for the protection of essential interests of the international community and for providing suitable representation for defense of ‘the victim’ who does not have a voice at the international level, see G. Abi Saab, ‘The Concept of “International Crimes” and its place in Contemporary International Law’, in J. H. H. Weiler/A. Cassese/M. Spinedi (eds.), International Crimes of State: a Critical Analysis of the I.L.C’s Draft Article 19 on State Responsibility 141 (1989). See also id., ‘The Uses of Article 19’, 10 EJIL 339-351 (1999).

17

It took 40 years for the Commission to adopt a draft Code of Crimes. The final draft adopted a truncated list of crimes in 1994 compared to the one endorsed in its first reading in 1991. For the understanding reached at the time of the adoption of the Code and for a mention of the aspects of the Code which did not attract wide support, see P. S. Rao, supra note 14, at 71.

18

For the 1994 Draft Statute of the International Criminal Court prepared by the International Law Commission, see Report of the International Law Commission on the work of its Fortysixth session, UN General Assembly Official Record, Supplement No. 10, UN Docs. A/49/10 (1994), at 43-161.

19

See infra, at 93.

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The International Court of Justice and the International Community

If the contribution of the International Law Commission, a UN Charter body, to the enunciation of the concept of international community is significant, the role of the International Court of Justice as principal judicial organ of the UN in furthering the contours of the concept is equally noteworthy. The task of the International Court of Justice is to settle disputes among States on the basis of international law, even if the dispute is intensely political, which is no bar to the exercise of its jurisdiction.20 This feature automatically gives priority to the rule of law over political preferences in international relations. The ICJ in performing the task of identifying the applicable international law provides a strong fillip to the creation and nurturing of the concept of international community, without often stating the same or even intending to do so. Its frequent reliance on UN General Assembly resolutions and the various law codification conventions as evidence of needed State practice and opinio juris is an indication of the authority it accords to the will of the international community as distinct from and, in some cases, in clear opposition to the will of the individual State.21 The decisions of the ICJ are binding. In case of non-compliance, the aggrieved party could take recourse to the Security Council under Article 94 of the UN Charter.22 The Security Council has competence to issue either recommendations or take binding decisions in such matters. This competence may be treated as a form of an appeal to the power of the international community, which the Security Council symbolizes. The Court, in addition, is also proactive in strengthening the concept of international community. In the Corfu Channel Case (1949) it referred to the ‘elementary considerations of humanity’.23 The Court in the Reservations to the Genocide Convention case (1951) distinguished between obligations States owed to each other where reciprocity and contractual balance govern the treaty relationship from obligations created by conventions such as the Genocide Convention which had a ‘common interest, namely, the accomplishment of those high purposes which are raison d’ etre of the convention’. Since that case, according to one commentator, it has become common for scholars and international and domestic courts and tribunals alike to refer to certain ‘overriding universal values’.24 The Barcelona Traction Light and Power Company, Limited (Second 20

See M. N. Shaw, International Law 967, n. 113-114 (2003), for relevant citations.

21

On the work of the ICJ and its reliance on UN resolutions and codification conventions in assessing uniform State practice and the necessary opinio juris for inferring international obligations, see A. Pellet, ‘Commentary to Article 38’, in A. Zimmermann/C. Tomuschat/K. Oellers-Frahm (eds.), The Statute of the International Court of Justice: A Commentary 677, at 755-757, paras. 222-224, at 755-757.

22

Shaw, supra note 20, at 997.

23

Corfu Channel (United Kingdom v. Albania), Merits, Judgment of 9 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 22.

24

V. Gowlland-Debbas, ‘Judicial Insights into Fundamental Values and Interests of the International community’, in A. S. Muller et al. (eds.), The International Court of Justice. Its Future role after Fifty-Years 335-342 (1997), cited in M. Koskenneimi, Fragmentation of

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Phase) (1970) case provided opportunity for the Court to draw an essential distinction between ‘the obligations a State owed to the international community as a whole, and those arising vis-a vis another State in the field of diplomatic protection’. In addition, the Court in this case further emphasized that the obligations owed to the international community as a whole, that is, obligations erga omnes, are by their very nature ‘the concern of all States’. Further, it not only reaffirmed the ‘importance of the rights involved’ which created such erga omnes obligations, but noted that ‘all States can be held to have the legal interest in their protection’.25 The Court drew the attention of the international community in the United States Diplomatic and Consular Staff in Tehran case (1980) to the irreparable harm that may be caused if States allow detention of diplomatic and consular staff affecting the sanctity of international diplomatic relations ‘which is vital for the security and well-being of the complex international community’.26 The Court, during the course of its advisory opinion on the Legality of the Threat and Use of Nuclear Weapons case (1996), reminded States that the fundamental principles of international humanitarian law embodied in The Hague and Geneva conventions constitute ‘intransgressible principles of international customary law’.27 While the Court was for long reluctant to give explicit recognition to the concept of jus cogens,28 it finally acknowledged the same in the Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (New Application: 2000) case where it referred to the prohibition of genocide in international law as having the character of jus cogens.29 The concept of jus cogens and hence the existence of a higher category of norms which are of fundamental value to the international community is also recognized in the jurisprudence of the ICTY in the Furundzija case (1998) where the prohibition of torture, because of the values it protects, was said to have ‘evolved into a peremptory norm or jus cogens, that is a norm that enjoys a higher rank in the international hierarchy than

International Law: Difficulties Arising from Diversification and Expansion of International Law: Report of the study group of the International Law Commission, UN Doc. A/CN.4/ L.682 (2006), at 195. 25

Case concerning the Barcelona Traction, Light and Power Company, Limited (Belgium v. Spain) (Second Phase), Judgment of 5 February 1970, 1970 ICJ Rep. 32.

26

United States Diplomatic and Consular Staff in Tehran, Judgment of 24 May 1980, 1980 ICJ Rep. 3, at 43, para. 92.

27

Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, Advisory Opinion of 8 July 1996, 1996 ICJ Rep. 226. See also the Legal Consequence of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestine Territory, Advisory Opinion of 9 July 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 136, at 172, para. 89.

28

However, on a number of occasions judges of the Court referred to and relied upon the concept of jus cogens in their separate and dissenting opinions. For a mention of these instances, see Koskenneimi, supra note 24, at 191-192, n.529. On the reluctance of the ICJ and the opportunities it had to pronounce upon and use the concept of jus cogens in its decisions, see the separate opinion of judge ad hoc John Dugard, in the case concerning Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (New Application: 2002) (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Rwanda), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 3 February 2006, 2006 ICJ Rep. 86, at 86-91, paras. 3-14.

29

Ibid, at 27.

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the treaty law or even “ordinary” customary rules’.30 This case was relied upon by the House of Lords of the United Kingdom in the Pinochet case (1999) while rejecting his claim of sovereign immunity against extradition to Spain. The Lords held that ‘the jus cogens nature of the international crime of torture justifies states in taking universal jurisdiction over wherever torture committed’.31 Given the above, the International Law Commission, which relied upon this concept in the context of its work on law of treaties and State responsibility, was able to observe in 2002 that ‘the concept of peremptory norms of general international law is recognized in international practice, in the jurisprudence of international and national courts and tribunals and in legal doctrine’.32 However, as Brownlie noted ‘more authority exists for the category of jus cogens than exists for its particular content’.33 A study report of the International Law Commission which visited and reviewed this concept in 2006 stated that ‘disagreement about its theoretical underpinnings, scope of application and content remains as ripe as ever’.34 Further it is pointed out that ‘there is no single authoritative list of jus cogens norms’ and equally ‘there is no agreement about the criteria for inclusion on that list’.35 Different principles have been identified as having the character of jus cogens, but ‘any “criterion” one might wish to invoke so as to support any particular norm as jus cogens would seem to infect that putative norm with all the uncertainties and vulnerabilities that relate to that criterion’.36 It is not the purpose of this contribution to dwell upon the legal status and content of the concept of jus cogens or the nature and scope of erga omnes obligations,37 but to stress the point that the concept of international community is at the base of the development of these two concepts which are being invoked frequently for the development and application of international law. It has also been a potent instrument in integrating the community of States and the peoples they represent into a composite legal community of mankind in as much as certain norms are set out as of higher and fundamental value to the community. The higher purposes and values represented by 30

Prosecutor v. Furundzija, Case No. IT-95-17/I-T, 121 International Law Reports 214, at 260, paras. 153-156. See Koskenneimi, supra note 24, at 182. The concept has also been recognized by the European Court of Human Rights in Adsani v. United Kingdom, 123 International Law Reports 24, ibid., at 187; and Ferrini v. Federal Republic of Germany (Italian Court of Cassation), 99 AJIL 242 (2005). These cases are also cited by Judge ad hoc Dugard, ibid., at 88, para. 5.

31

R. Bow Street Metropolitan Stipendiary Magistrate: Ex parte Pinochet Ugarte (No.3) (1999) 2 All ER 97 (HL).

32

International Law Commission, Commentaries to the Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, 2001 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 282.

33

I. Brownlie, Principles of Public International Law 490 (2003).

34

Ibid., at 183-184.

35

Ibid., at 189-190.

36

Koskenneimi, supra note 24, at 190. For a suggested list of principles with jus cogens status, ibid., at 188-189.

37

On the relationship between jus cogens and erga omnes, see M. Ragazzi, The Concept of International Obligations Erga Omnes 190-210 (1997).

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these superior norms, which are deemed non-derogable, constitute the basic elements of a world ‘constitution’.38

VI.

Essential Interests of the International Community: The Duty to Ensure Compliance with Erga Omnes Obligations

It is clear from the above that every State is obliged, whether directly injured or not, under the law of State responsibility, not to recognize as lawful the situation created by the serious breach nor render aid or assistance in maintaining the situation. These are the legal consequences for all States, which the Commission noted in its commentary as necessarily flowing form serious breaches of obligations arising under a peremptory norm of general international law. However, the nature of the obligation imposed upon not so directly injured States is not at once clear when it comes to obliging them to ‘cooperate to bring to an end through lawful means any serious breach within the meaning of article 40’. Are States obliged as a matter of positive duty to take individual and collective action to bring to an end the infringement of an erga omnes obligation on the part of another State? Gaja examined the question and concluded that there is good case to argue that States have a positive duty to act to uphold jus cogens norms and act on their own or together with others to bring to an end serious breaches of obligations States owed erga omnes. He relies on the Namibia opinion, where the Court noted that there is an obligation especially upon all the members of the United Nations to bring to an end the continued presence of South Africa in Namibia which the United Nations declared as illegal.39 Similarly in the recent Wall advisory opinion, he pointed out, the Court endorsed the general obligation of all States parties to the Geneva Convention relative to the protection of Civilian Persons in times of war to ensure compliance by Israel with international humanitarian law as embodied in that Convention.40 But this is an obligation which all States parties, as Gaja rightly noted, have undertaken in terms of the common Article 1 of the Geneva Conventions governing international humanitarian law. Hence it may not be possible to generalize the same. In the specific instance, the Court also enjoined all States to bring to an end ‘any impediment, resulting from the construction of the wall, in the exercise by the Palestinian people of its right of self-determination’. The 38

Where there exists a conflict between the UN Charter, which is regarded as the constitution of the international community, and norms of jus cogens or peremptory norms of international law, howsoever improbable it might seem, practice and doctrine unequivocally confirm that it would ‘result not in the Charter obligations’ pre-eminence but their invalidity’. See Koskenniemi, supra note 24, at 176.

39

In this connection the Court also noted that the injured party ‘is a people which must look to the international community for assistance in its progress towards the goals for which the sacred trust was instituted’. See G. Gaja, ‘Do States have a Duty to Ensure Compliance with Obligations Erga Omnes by Other States?’, in M. Ragazzi (ed.), International Responsibility Today 31, at 32 (2005).

40

Ibid., at 32.

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Court’s injunction is clearly related to the context of the construction of the wall. Any extension of the duty to the broader context would however have to be reconciled with the specific practical and particular circumstances of the case.41 Gaja himself, having raised the argument, considered any such duty under existing international law as ‘debatable, given the limited practice that would appear to support the existence of such duties’.42 Judge Rosalyn Higgins writing a separate opinion in the Wall Advisory Opinion Case was more convinced that there is no such duty under international law. In her view the ‘legal interest’ States have in certain rights ‘has nothing to do with imposing substantive obligations on third parties to a case’.43 The law of State responsibility does not indicate any additional legal consequences that could be attached to the ‘erring’ States which do not take any positive action in respect of such serious breaches of peremptory norms of general international law. In the absence of any specified consequences, it is difficult to conclude that a positive duty to act is intended. However, it is fair to say that States are urged or called upon to act, respecting at all times their obligations under the UN Charter and international law, to bring to end, as expeditiously as possible, the situations created by infringement of an erga omnes obligation. The commentary of the International Law Commission is more to the point when it noted that ‘It is, however, made clear that the obligation to cooperate applies to States whether or not they are individually affected by the serious breach. What is called for in the face of serious breaches is a joint and coordinated effort by all States to counteract the effects of these breaches. It may be open to question whether general international law at present prescribes a positive duty of cooperation, and paragraph 1 in that respect may reflect the progressive development of international law. But in fact such cooperation, especially in the framework of international organizations, is carried out already in response to the gravest breaches of international law and it is often the only way of providing an effective remedy. Paragraph 1 seeks to strengthen existing mechanisms of cooperation, on the basis that all States are called upon to make an appropriate response to the serious breaches referred to in article 40.’44

41

Crawford aptly noted that while ‘circumstance can be imagined where the international community would be entitled to treat’ the existence of a Palestine State as ‘constitutive, definitive, and universally determinative’, ‘it seems clear that this possibility does not, or not yet, apply in the case of Palestine’. The reason is that the PLO ‘has expressly accepted that an important agenda of issues remains to be resolved through permanent status negotiations, and both parties have agreed that unilateral actions must not be taken in the mean time to change the status quo’. J. Crawford, ‘Israel (1948-1949) and Palestine (1998-1999): two Studies in the Creation of States’, in Goodwin-Gill/Talmon (eds.), supra note 14, at 124.

42

Gaja, supra note 39, at 34.

43

Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, Advisory Opinion of 9 July 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 207, at 216, para. 37 (Judge Higgins, Separate Opinion).

44

The Report of the ILC to the 56 Session of the UN General Assembly, UN Doc. A/56/10 (2001). Commentary of art. 41, para. 3, at 287.

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The emergence of the concept of jus cogens or the application of the erga omnes obligations and the reference to the international community clearly refers to and is based on the existence of the community of States. It refers only to the rights and obligations of States, even when the draft articles on State responsibility referred to the ‘international community as whole’.45 According to Tomuschat, the ICJ also confirmed this position when it referred to erga omnes obligations, the omnes being States. ‘This is a model’, he noted, ‘which seemingly has no hidden mysteries’. ‘Arguing strictly’, he continued, ‘on the level of international law where according to traditional concepts only subjects of international law are located, the Court appears to use “international community” as an abbreviation for all States’.46 States are obliged, in any case, within their sovereign domain and jurisdiction, to ensure that all non-State actors, that is, all natural and legal persons, conduct themselves in accordance with national law, which in turn should be consistent with their international obligations. This explains why States cannot argue with justification that, for example, in the context of terrorism, they should not be held to international standards higher than the ones accepted by non-State actors. Such non-State actors are neither exempt from legal scrutiny under national law for their violations when caught by national authorities nor unaccountable under international law once they establish effective authority and control over a territory and its people.

VII. Human Rights and the International Community In recent years the concern for ensuring human rights has gained prominence in direct proportion first to the enlargement of the field of human rights and second to the gravity and scale of their violations. The impunity with which the law of human rights and international humanitarian law are violated around the world has aroused the conscience of the international community. In this context, one interesting development is that the monitoring bodies created by States as part of different international treaty regimes on human rights have claimed authority to pronounce upon the validity of reservations made by States parties to the treaty instrument in question and to deny it effect if found incompatible with the object and purpose of the treaty. The result is the ‘severance’ of 45

For an interesting discussion on the meaning of ‘international community as a whole’ see Hafner, who wanted a clarification (at 82, para. 16), and Simma who noted that no definition of that term is needed as proposed by Gaja (ILC (L.II)/WG/SR/CRD.4) as it meant only international community of States (at 83, para. 30). Lukashuk, who expressed a similar view, also thought that the broader notion of international community as a whole was not yet defined and was alien to the subject of state responsibility (at 83, para. 26). Gaja noted that his proposal was not raising anything new and stressed that the meaning of the term essentially depended on the content of the primary rule involved. The main aim of his proposal was to avoid a definition of an injured State or legal standing necessary to invoke State responsibility but to stress the importance of the primary rule (at 87, para. 70). See the Summary Record of the ILC 2622 (17 May 2000) meeting, 2000 YILC, Vol. I.

46

C. Tomuschat, ‘Obligations Arising for States Without or Against their Will’, 241 Recueil des Cours 231 (1993-IV).

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the incompatible reservation and application of the treaty without the reservation. This claim47 is based on the assumption that the monitoring bodies have inherent powers like all judicial and quasi-judicial bodies to determine the scope of their jurisdiction. Accordingly, it is argued, the monitoring bodies are entitled to determine whether a statement is a reservation; if so, whether it is a valid reservation; and to give effect to a conclusion with regard to validity. Given the unilateral nature of human right commitments undertaken by States, it is suggested, monitoring has become the primary mode of ensuring compliance, even if an inter-State complaint system is in position. In effect, the monitoring bodies appear to claim this power as agents of the international community. Under the law of treaties, reservations to a treaty submitted by one party can only be questioned by other States parties to the treaty and not by anyone else including the depository. Accordingly, some States contested the claim of the human rights monitoring bodies to judge the effect of ‘incompatible’ reservations as contrary to international law.48 The International Law Commission, as the premier UN international law body, considered the matter and offered several conclusions.49 While reiterating the Vienna regime on reservation to treaties, where States alone are considered competent to decide on the admissibility and validity of reservations, the Commission acknowledged the important role and functions of the monitoring bodies in promoting and protecting human rights. The Commission further urged States to respect and give full weight to the recommendations of the monitoring bodies and promptly withdraw any reservations which such bodies consider as contravening the very object and purpose of the treaty in question. The Commission continues to dialogue regularly with the human right bodies on this matter in the context of its work on the development of a guide on reservation to treaties.

47

For the presentation of this view see Human Rights Committee, General Comment 24 (52), UN Doc. CCPR/C/21/Rev.1/Add/6 (1994). See also the expanded working paper prepared by Françoise Hampson in accordance with the mandate contained in decision 2001/17 of the Sub-Commission on the Promotion and Protection of Human Rights. See also, for a statement of the claim, the Second Report by Alain Pellet, the Special Rapporteur of the ILC on the subject of reservations to treaties, A/CN.4/477/ Add.1, June 13, 1996, Chapter, paras. 55-63. There is a considerable amount of literature on the subject. See Y. Tyagi, ‘The Conflict of Law and Policy on Reservations To Human Rights Treaties’, 71 BYBIL 181 (2000); C. Redgwell, ‘Reservations to Treaties and Human Rights Committee General Comment 24’, 46 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 390 (1997); B. Simma, ‘Reservations to Human Rights treaties: Some Recent Developments’, in G Hafner et. al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Professor Seidl-Hohenveldern 659 (1998); R. Higgins, ‘Human Rights: Some Questions of Integrity’, 52 Modern Law Review 1 (1989).

48

For the government responses to the General comment 24, France (CCPR A/51/40), USA (CCPR A/50/40/Vol.1) and the United Kingdom (CCPR A/50/40).

49

For the conclusions of the Commission, Report of the International Law Commission on the work of its Forty-Ninth session, UN General Assembly Official Records, UN Doc. A/52/10 (1997), at 57-58. Those conclusions did not apply to regional bodies vested with powers to make binding decisions (European Court of Human Rights, Inter-American Court of Human Rights), see conclusion 12, at 58.

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VIII. Universal or Extra-Territorial Jurisdiction and the International Community In the context of promoting an effective international order safeguarding human rights, some States have claimed the right to try and punish persons accused of egregious breaches of human rights involving war crimes and/or crimes against humanity in war or peace time, and torture even if the victims are not their nationals and/or the crime is committed on a foreign soil. A case in point is the trial of Pinochet, the former Chilean dictator and head of State, before the British courts50 which was commenced as a result of a request for extradition sought by a Spanish judge. It involved charges of torture against Pinochet, the basis of jurisdiction being the Torture Convention of 1984 to which the UK, Spain and Chile were parties at the time of the proceedings. The alleged acts were committed in Chile involving mostly Chilean nationals at a time when Pinochet was Head of State of Chile. At the time of the trial Pinochet was a Senator and was visiting the UK for medical treatment. The House of Lords at the end of a long process through which the matter went from October 1988 to March 1999 decided that Senator Pinochet did not enjoy sovereign immunity in respect of alleged acts of torture prohibited by the 1984 Torture Convention. In this connection, Lord Browne-Wilkinson, who presided over the No. 3 House of Lords hearing, concluded that ‘the jus cogens nature of the international crime of torture justifies states in taking universal jurisdiction over torture wherever committed’. Even though the UK courts have found in favor of extradition of Senator Pinochet to Spain, the Home Secretary disallowed the extradition on the ground that he was too ill to be able to stand trial and allowed him to return to Chile. But the point has been made that the UK national courts would be entitled to try any person including a former Head of State for acts of torture committed outside the UK. Under the 1993 Belgian Act concerning the Punishment of Grave Breaches of International Humanitarian Law, as amended in 1999, Belgian courts are competent to try any person, irrespective of nationality, accused of crimes of genocide, crimes against humanity committed in times of peace or war crimes, involving some twenty acts that constitute grave breaches under the 1949 Geneva Conventions and its 1977 Additional Protocols. This jurisdiction is exercisable irrespective of the place where the alleged crimes have been committed. The prosecution, which can be initiated at the request of any person claiming to be the victim of any of the enumerated crimes, can proceed irrespective of the official capacity of the accused. The Belgian Act has several novel features. It allows a victim or a relative of the victim, bypassing the discretion of the 50

United Kingdom High Court of Justice, Queen’s Bench Division (Divisional Court): In re Augusto Pinochet Ugarte, 38 ILM 68 (1999); United Kingdom House of Lords: Regina V. Bartle and the Commissioner of Police for the Metropolis, Ex Parte Pinochet, 37 ILM 1302 (1998), at 1302-1339; United Kingdom House of Lords: Regina v. Bartle and the Commissioner of Police for the Metropolis, Ex Parte Pinochet, 38 ILM 581 (1999), at 581-663. See also, R. Jennings, ‘The Pinochet Extradition Case in the English Courts’, in L. Boisson de Chazourne/V. Gowlland-Debbas (eds.), The International Legal System in Quest of Equity and universality, Liber Amicorum Georges Abi-Saab 677-698 (2001).

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public prosecutor, to seize the jurisdiction of an examining magistrate of civil court. Prosecution will have to commence criminal investigation if jurisdiction is established.51 It is a different matter that at the end of the day actual prosecution before the Belgian court cannot fruitfully proceed without the active support of the public prosecutor. This is because under Belgian law the public prosecutor alone is competent to decide on the quality and quantum of resources to be available for any investigation.52 Nevertheless, a Belgian court utilizing its powers under the 1993 law held jurisdiction to try Pinochet for crimes against humanity in 1998 finding ‘as a matter of customary law and even more strongly as a matter of jus cogens, universal jurisdiction over crimes against humanity exists, authorizing national judicial authorities to prosecute and punish the perpetrators in all circumstances’. The request for extradition of Pinochet sent to the UK was however not acted upon by the UK as they decided to let him return to Chile on medical grounds. But this decision and the broad authority given to the Belgian courts under the 1993 Act gave rise to a flood of complaints against foreign authorities, including Ariel Sharon of Israel. More recently, responding to the serious concern expressed by various governments (including the US Government),53 the Belgian authorities effectively renounced the extra-territorial jurisdiction over such crimes.54 Moreover, the problem remains of a double standard, whereby, while extra-territorial jurisdiction is claimed to bring to trial certain heads of states, others who may likewise be charged are left untouched. 51

L. Reydams, Universal Jurisdiction: International and Municipal Legal Perspectives (2003); for the novel features of the Belgian law, at 107, on the locus standi of the crime victims, at 108.

52

Ibid., at 108.

53

The Democratic Republic of Congo even went to the ICJ questioning the jurisdiction of the Belgian courts which issued an international warrant of arrest against the Foreign Minster of Congo and seeking the withdrawal of the warrant. The Court granted the request of DRC but did not find it necessary to examine the validity of the Belgian law which was also questioned by the DRC. See The Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000 (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Belgium), Judgment of 14 February 2002, 2000 ICJ Rep. For a mention of similar attempts to prosecute Heads of State or former Heads of State in foreign jurisdictions, see P. Dailler/A. Pellet, Droit interntional public 453 (2002); and A. Borghi, L’immunite des dirigeants politiques en droit intenational (2003), cited in R. A. Kolodkin, ‘Immunity of State officials from foreign criminal jurisdiction’, paper presented to the ILC working group long-term program of work. Fifty-eighth session, ILC, (LVIII)/WG/LT/INFORMAL/2, 2 June 2006. This paper also set out the issues that arise because of the parallel policy considerations concerning the need to protect immunity of State officials and the need to deny impunity for individuals accused of egregious breach of human rights, irrespective of their official status. It provides an excellent bibliography of contemporary legal materials and writings on the subject.

54

Belgium amended their law of 1993 and 1999 once on 7 May 2003 and again on 22 June 2003, excluding prosecution where the matter should be brought before either international tribunals or tribunals with territorial or national connection to the offence or alleged offenders. Another amendment required either the accused or victim to be Belgian citizens or residents for at least three years’ standing. See M. N. Shaw, supra note 20, at 598, n. 117. Also see A. Peters, ‘The Growth of International law between Globalization and the Great Power’, 8 ARIEL 109, at 114 (2003).

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IX.

The International Criminal Court and the International Community

The evolution of the international jurisdiction is not confined to the enlargement of the extra-territorial jurisdiction by national courts. The 1998 Rome Statute establishing the International Criminal Court (ICC) is one of the most significant steps that advanced international criminal jurisdiction. At the same time it also helped to materialize the concept of international community in a significant way. The Rome Statute is the result of efforts of the international community to cure the ills of victor’s justice which characterized the trials of war criminals at the end of World War II. It is also an attempt to evolve an international criminal jurisdiction beyond the piece-meal approach which is characteristic of the creation of ad hoc criminal tribunals. Such an approach does not satisfy the needs of universal justice and equity. The jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court is limited to the ‘most serious crimes of concern to the international community’.55 The crime of genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes come within the jurisdiction of the Court, while the same is suspended in respect of the crime of aggression, pending a definition yet to be agreed upon by States parties to the Statute.56 The ICC jurisdiction is built upon the principle of complementarity giving primacy to prosecution at the national level.57 Nevertheless, the discretion entrusted to the prosecutor of the ICC58 and the role given to the Security Council of the UN to refer to the Court serious violations of crimes of concern to the international community59 does provide opportunity to invoke the jurisdiction of the ICC in such cases, bypassing the national jurisdiction or objections of a State.60 55

1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, art. 5(1), UN Diplomatic Conference of Plenipotentiaries on the Establishment of an International Criminal Court, Rome, 15 June17 July 1998, Official Records, Vol. I, Final Documents, UN Doc. A/CONF.183/13 (1998), at 4.

56

Ibid., arts. 5(1), 5(2).

57

Ibid., art. 17(1).

58

Ibid., art. 15.

59

Ibid., art. 13(b).

60

This is one of the reasons why States considered that the jurisdiction of the ICC is not strictly complimentary to national jurisdiction and the latter does not enjoy the kind of primacy that some of them demanded as necessary. For a mention of the objections voiced by India which led that government to abstain from voting in favor of the adoption of the Statute, see P. S. Rao, supra note 2, at 59-60. The opposition of the US government to the Rome Statute is different and attracted wide criticism. The US Government wanted total exclusion of allegations against its nationals from the jurisdiction of the ICC. USA can block any decision of the Security Council with its veto. It also ensured that other States in possession of its nationals not surrender them to the Court by entering into appropriate bilateral agreements of extradition as well as seeking bilateral immunity agreements for stationing its troops abroad. According to one commentator, the US moved beyond a mere opposition to actively undermining ICC jurisdiction, see A. Peters, supra note 46, at 111-112. In any event, the reasons for the American opposition to the ICC are fairly complex and have been recently discussed in J. Ralph, Defending the Society of States. Why America Opposes the International Criminal Court and its Vision of World Society (2007).

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These are important legal trends, particularly the ones that attempt to establish international criminal jurisdiction, that not only attest the growing significance of the concept of the international community but indicate strong signs of its consolidation. At a more informal and unorganized level, citing the plight of the poor, the sick and other helpless people, scores of activists around the world confront global institutions like the World Bank, WTO and the G8 Summit meetings challenging their policies as anti-people through peaceful and sometimes not so peaceful protest marches. These movements may be portrayed as representing the spirit of the international community, but involve only a vocal section of that community. These protests and the proposals such movements support act as pressure points in the process of decision-making, while States reserve to themselves the ultimate responsibility to take necessary decisions in the national and international arena.61

X.

The Emergence of the International Community: Present-Day Reality

The dynamics of interaction between the concept of international community and the development of international law confirms the unmistakable role the concept plays in accelerating the emergence of a global legal order. But it is equally clear that a true legal community of mankind is still elusive.62 There are several reasons for this. While each of these reasons requires its own exposition for a proper appreciation, we shall note some of them, albeit briefly. While the United Nations is the most obvious symbol of the international community, the Security Council, its principal and operating arm, is not representative in its composition of the current economic and political realities of the world. There is no denying the fact that the world order has significantly changed since 1945. Today even the permanent members of the Security Council recognize that the burden of the maintenance of international peace and security has to be shared over a wider spectrum 61

Tomuschat noted a two level approach in international community efforts to promote and defend the interests of the international community: ‘the first proposition may be formulated in the sense that with regard to a limited number of fundamental obligations in the field of human rights the international community in its entirety bears a responsibility to see to it that these obligations are respected and observed. Since, on the other hand, the international community has not yet developed fully satisfactory implementation mechanisms, it must be left to States acting individually to take appropriate enforcement measures.’ C. Tomuschat, supra note 45, at 231. For the view that a global civil society is not equal in status to the sovereign State, see R. Khan, ‘The Anti-Globalization Protests: Side-show of Global Governance, or Law-making on the Streets?’, 61 Heidelberg Journal of International Law 323, at 534 (2001).

62

See S. Chesterman, ‘An Interantioanl Rule of Law?’, 56 The American Journal of Comparative Law 331-361 ( 2008). On the elements that should be present at a minimum for the international legal community to come into being, see C. Tomuschat, supra note 1, at 44-50. Also see P. S. Rao, ‘Is the Nature of the International System Changing? A Response’, 8 Austrian Review of International and European Law 141, at 143-44 (2003).

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of major powers representing all the five continents. It is widely accepted that such a step would not only remedy the problem of ‘democracy deficit’63 in the working of the Security Council but would also improve the efficiency and effectiveness of measures that need to be taken by that body. While the need for reform of the composition and working of the Security Council is widely accepted, lack of agreement within the United Nations on the precise details is holding up conclusive action on the matter.64 The decisions of the Security Council by design are manifestly political decisions. Accordingly, there is no guarantee that the decisions of the Security Council will reflect either the requirements of law or justice of the world at large. They are essentially reflective of the self-interests of its permanent members, as perceived by their governments, which may or may not coincide with the interests of the parties concerned. Decisions of the Security Council are often questioned for their selectivity and double standards.65 The decisions of the Security Council in the peace-keeping and peace-enforcement fields and the authorization it provided in respect of some international humanitarian interventions and those concerning the establishment of ad hoc international criminal

63

For an exposition of this view, see the Statement of the Prime Minister of India addressing the 59th UNGA, cited in P. S. Rao, ‘The Indian Position on some General Principles of International Law’, in B. Patel (ed.), India and International Law 33 at 60 (2005).

64

As part of the Millennium Declaration all States resolved to intensify their efforts to achieve comprehensive reform of the Security Council in all its aspects, UN General Assembly Res. 55/2, UN Doc. A/RES/55/2 (2000), para. 30. Some of the policy objectives of reform of the Security Council are set out by the Report of the High Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility, UN Doc. A/59/565 (2004), and noted in the Report of the Secretary-General, In larger freedom: towards development, security and human rights for all, UN Doc. A/59/2005 (2005), para. 169. These are: increase the involvement in the decision-making of the Security Council of those States who contribute most to the United Nations financially, diplomatically and militarily; bring into the decision-making process countries more representative of the broad membership, particularly the developing countries; reform should not impair the effectiveness of the Security Council and increase the democratic and accountable nature of the body. The Secretary-General also recommended to States the adoption of one of the two models suggested by the report of the High Level Panel or any variation of them preferably by consensus or at any rate by the end of the 2005 General Assembly Session. Both the models proposed the increase of the membership of the Security Council from 15 to 24, while retaining the veto power only to the present five permanent members. One model proposed the increase in the permanent membership from 5 to11 and non-renewable two-year term seats to from 10 to 13. It allocated to Africa 2, Asia 3, Europe 4, and Americas 2 permanent seats. Model B provides for no new permanent seats but creates a new category of 8 four year renewable seats, allocating 2 seats each to each of the four regions and one non-renewable and non-permanent seat. See Report of the Secretary General, ibid., para. 170. Japan, Germany, India, Brazil, South Africa and Nigeria among others appear to be the leading contenders for the occupation of the proposed permanent seats. No consensus could be achieved in spite of intense consultations in any regional group about the candidates for these seats. The role of veto is also under question.

65

E. Lauterpacht, Aspects of the Administration of International Justice 37-48 (1991), cited in I. Brownlie, supra note 7, at 212.

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courts have been the subject of intense international legal debate.66 It is felt that the decisions taken by the Security Council on some of these issues do not contribute to the legitimacy and fairness of international relations and hence its stature as a custodian of the interests of the international community.67 The Security Council no doubt enjoys wide discretionary powers, but such powers can be exercised only in accordance with the provisions of the UN Charter. As such, its decisions are open to be challenged and can be subject to legal scrutiny.68 It is a fact that economic and military power is concentrated in the hands of a few States. Conversely, the large majority of the States that suffered colonialism for long is poor and remains without any real power except their numbers within the scheme of the present-day world order. Their ability to control the agenda and outcomes of the important international political, economic and financial institutions is equally weak. There is thus a strong and justifiable view that the third world perspective and interests are often ignored and neglected in the development and application of international law. According to this view, many areas of international law are neither just nor equitable and hence cannot be regarded as legitimately reflecting the aspirations, needs and interests of the majority of the international community.69 The predominant role military and economic power plays in international relations and hence in the development and application of international law is a cause for concern. Excessive reliance on power play and on the unilateral use of force or the so-called self-help is a hindrance for the true play and protection of the interests of the international community. States, because of their inequalities in size, economic and military power are, in reality, not equally placed to press for their rights. The absence of effective power at the disposal of international institutions leaves powerful 66

On the problems concerning the UN authorized use of force see G. Gaja, ‘Use of Force Made or Authorized by the United Nations’, in C. Tomuschat (ed.), The United Nations at Age Fifty: A Legal Perspective 39, at 41 (1995). See also O. Schachter, ‘United Nations Laws in the Gulf Conflict’, 85 AJIL 452 (1991); B. Simma, ‘NATO, the UN and the Use of Force’, 10 EJIL 1 (1999); W. M. Reisman, ‘Unilateral Action and the transformations of the world constitutive Process: The Special Problem of Humanitarian Intervention’, 11 EJIL 3 (2000); and P. S. Rao, ‘International Organizations and Use of Force’, in N. Ando et. al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Judge Shigeru Oda, Vol. 2, at 1575-1608 (2002).

67

G. Arangio-Ruiz, ‘Security Council’s Law-Making’, LXXXIII Rivista di diritto internationale 609, at 631, 725 (2000).

68

The present author had an opportunity to review various views on the competence of the ICJ to engage in judicial review of the decisions of the Security Council, see P. S. Rao, ‘The United Nations and International Peace and Security-An Indian Perspective’, in C. Tomuschat (ed.), The United Nations at Age Fifty – a Legal Perspective 143, at 174-181 (1995).

69

For a forceful presentation of this perspective, see B. S. Chimney, ‘The International Law of Humanitarian Law’, in State Sovereignty in the 21st Century: Proceedings of an International Seminar held under the auspices of the Indian Institute of Defense Studies and Analysis and the Indian Council for World Affairs, New Delhi, July 23-24, at 103-131 (2001). Also B. S. Chimni, ‘International Relations and The Rule of Law’, in N. R. Madhava Menon (ed.), Rule of Law in a Free Society 174-197 (2008). See also R. P. Anand, ‘Universality of International Law: an Asian Perspective’, in Asian African Consultative Organization, Fifty Years of AALCO: Commemorative Essays in International Law 21-40 (2007).

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States to resort to unilateral actions. Such unilateral actions are justified or explained both as necessary measures of self-help and as the only means available, at this stage of world order, to protect and defend what some States consider as their essential and fundamental interests as well as the common interests of the international community.70 Selectivity of unilateral actions and international sanctions, which is a predominant feature of the contemporary world order, does reflect the fact that not all States are equal before law. As long as self-help in international relations is made to seem inevitable71 and States are not obliged to stand as equals before law, the emerging concept of international community will remain more a theory than a reality.72 Effective, timely and uniform response to internationally wrongful acts that threaten the essential interests of the international community will only provide a true foundation for the building of legal community of mankind.

XI.

Final Thought

From a brief analysis of the concept of international community and the role it plays in the development and application of international law, it is clear that the concept of international community is a strong and powerful stimulus for ushering in a world order that transcends the bilateral inter-State relations reaching out to the collectivity of mankind. Even if the concept has not fully matured and is not effectively supported by the workings of the contemporary international institutions, international law, in its development and application, is continuously attempting to give it both form and substance. States and their political interests would continue to condition the working of the international institutions and the contemporary world order. But the world order to be regarded as just must be nurtured by States as trustees of the international community. In order for the international legal order to be treated as universal, just and equitable, States must undertake urgent reform of the composition and decision-making 70

For a broad exposition of this perspective, W. M. Reisman/S. Shuchart, ‘Unilateral Action in an Imperfect World Order’, 8 Austrian Review of International and European Law 163 (2003).

71

The International Law Commission debated for years the legitimacy of counter-measures in international law. While some members expressed themselves against their legitimacy in the absence of any commonly agreed mechanism to determine in the first place about the existence of a wrongful act and the condition of inequality among States, another group of members considered them as inevitable and hence argued that they cannot be treated as outlawed. In the latter view, which prevailed, as long as there is no commonly conceived multilateral institutions or procedures to put in motion effective and expeditious international sanctions to deter and remedy international wrongful acts of States, particularly the more serious and egregious ones, there is room for countermeasures as long as they conform to certain terms and conditions. For analysis of the debate and the outcome of the work of the International Law Commission on this subject, see P. S. Rao, ‘Countermeasures in International Law. The Contribution of the International Law Commission’, in Studi Di Diritto Internationale in Onore Di Gaetano Arangio-Riuz, Editorial Scietifica, Vol. 2, 853-880 (2004).

72

B. Simma, supra note 7, at 247.

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procedures of the multilateral institutions with a view to take effective cognizance of the views and interests of the millions of the poor and the underprivileged people of the world.

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7

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The Proliferation of International Dispute Settlement Mechanisms: The Threat of Fragmentation vs. the Promise of a More Effective System? Some Reflections From the Perspective of Investment Arbitration klfklkflkfk lklkökökkö1

August Reinisch*

I.

Introduction

For more than a decade, international lawyers and international relations scholars have been fascinated by an ever-increasing number of international courts and tribunals. These are producing more international case-law, thereby replacing the traditional scarcity of international law precedents embodied in a few celebrated ICJ and PCIJ cases. Today, there is a host of frequently highly specialized international dispute settlement mechanisms like the WTO Dispute Settlement Body, the International Tribunal for the Law of The Sea, the International Criminal Court, various investment tribunals acting under The International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID) Convention or other arbitration rules. All apply, interpret and probably ‘make’ international law. One question frequently raised in this context is whether these institutions contribute to the development of a single uniform body of international law or whether they make ‘their own’ ever more fragmented law. To the extent that they must apply specifically agreed upon rules, such as the WTO agreements, various bilateral investment protection treaties or the Law of the Sea Convention, etc., this is of course largely a false problem. In so far as they rely on common rules of international law, coherence vs. fragmentation does indeed arise and is a serious issue.

*

This contribution is based on a paper presented at Stanford University in July 2007. The author would like to thank Christina Knahr for her excellent research assistance.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 107-126, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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Scholars of international law have intensely debated these problems mostly under the heading ‘fragmentation’ of international law1 or ‘proliferation’ of international courts and tribunals.2 Gerhard Hafner has significantly contributed to this scholarly 1

Canadian Council on International Law, Fragmentation: Diversification and Expansion of International Law: Proceedings of the 34th Annual Conference of the Canadian Council of International Law, Ottawa, Canadian Council on International Law 2006 (2006); I. Brownlie, ‘Problems concerning the Unity of International Law’, in Le droit international à l’heure de sa codification. Études en l’honneur de Roberto Ago, Vol. I, (1987); M. Craven, ‘Unity, Diversity and Fragmentation of International Law’, 14 The Finnish Yearbook of International Law 3 (2003); P.-M. Dupuy, ‘The Danger of Fragmentation or Unification of the International Legal System and the International Court of Justice’, 31 NYU Journal of International Law and Politics 791 (1999); P.-M. Dupuy, ‘L’unité de l’ordre juridique international. Cours général de droit international public’, 297 Recueil des Cours 9-490 (2002); A. Fischer-Lescano/G. Teubner, ‘Regime-Collisions: the Vain Search for Legal Unity in the Fragmentation of Global Law’, 25 Michigan Journal of International Law 999 (2004); A. Gattini, ‘Un regard procédural sur la fragmentation du droit international’, 110 Revue générale de droit international publique 303 (2006); R. Huese Vinaixa/K. Wellens (eds.), L’influence des sources sur l’unité et la fragmentation du droit international (2006); M. Koskenniemi/P. Leino, ‘Fragmentation of International Law? Postmodern Anxieties’, 15 Leiden Journal of International Law 553 (2002); J. Pauwelyn, ‘Bridging Fragmentation and Unity: International Law as a Universe of Inter-Connected Islands’, 25 Michigan Journal of International Law 903 (2004); E.-U. Petersmann, ‘Justice as Conflict Resolution: Proliferation, Fragmentation and Decentralisation of Dispute Settlement in International Trade Law’, 27 University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Economic Law 273 (2006); M. Prost/P. Kingsley Clark, ‘Unity, Diversity and Fragmentation of International Law: How Much Does the Multiplication of International Organizations Really Matter?’, 5 Chinese Journal of International Law 341 (2006); P. Rao, ‘Multiple International Judicial Forums: A Reflection of the Growing Strength of International Law or its Fragmentation’, 25 Michigan Journal of International Law 929 (2004); B. Simma, ‘Fragmentation in a Positive Light’, 25 Michigan Journal of International Law 849 (2004); T. Stephens, ‘Multiple International Courts and the ‘Fragmentation of International Environmental Law’, 25 Australian Yearbook of International Law 227 (2006); T. Treves, ‘Judicial Law-Making in an Era of “Proliferation” of International Courts and Tribunals: Development or Fragmentation of International Law?’, in R. Wolfrum/V. Röben, Developments of International Law in Treaty Making 587 (2005); K. Wellens, ‘Fragmentation of International Law and Establishing an Accountability Regime for International Organizations: the Role of the Judiciary in Closing the Gap’, 25 Michigan Journal of International Law 1159 (2004).

2

M. Bedjaoui, ‘La multiplication des tribunaux internationaux ou la bonne fortune du droit des gens, Conclusions générales du colloque de Lille’, in Société française pour le droit international (ed.), La juridiction du droit international, Colloque de Lille, at 529-545 (2003); T. Buergenthal, ‘Proliferation of International Courts and Tribunals: Is it Good or Bad?’, 14 Leiden Journal of International Law 267 (2001); J. Charney, ‘The Impact on the International Legal System of the Growth of International Courts and Tribunals’, 31 NYU Journal of International Law and Politics 697 (1999); J. I. Charney, ‘Is International Law Threatened by Multiple International Tribunals?’, 271 Recueil des Cours 101 (1998); J. Finke, Die Parallelität internationaler Streitbeilegungsmechanismen (2004); S. Karagiannis, ‘La multiplication des juridictions internationales: un système anarchique?’, in Société française pour le droit international (ed.), La juridiction du droit international, Colloque de Lille, at 7-161 (2003); B. Kingsbury, ‘Is the Proliferation of International Courts and Tribunals a Systemic Problem?’, 31 NYU Journal of International Law and Politics 679 (1999); K. Oellers-Frahm, ‘Multiplication of International Courts and Tribunals and Conflicting Jurisdiction: Problems

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debate in a number of articles,3 and most importantly in a report4 prepared for the International Law Commission (ILC), which triggered the Commission’s work on fragmentation and was further pursued by Gerhard Hafner’s successor on the ILC, Martti Koskenniemi.5 It thus appears appropriate to dedicate a few modest thoughts about these issues to a great international lawyer with whom I have had the privilege to work at the Department of International Law and International Relations at the University of Vienna during the last twenty years. Gerhard Hafner will understand that due to the space allotted in this liber amicorum, I must limit the scope of my remarks on fragmentation and proliferation to a specific sub-field of international law. He will also appreciate that the chosen field is investment law and arbitration, which, in many respects, may be viewed as a test laboratorium of international law where many of the pertinent problems mentioned above have appeared in particularly visible form.

and Possible Solutions’, 5 Max Planck Yearbook of UN Law 67 (2001); H. Thirlway, ‘The Proliferation of International Judicial Organs: Institutional and Substantive Questions: The International Court of Justice and other International Courts’, in N. Blokker/H. G. Schermers (eds.), Proliferation of International Organizations: Legal Issues 251 (2001); Y. Shany, The Competing Jurisdictions of International Courts and Tribunals (2003); D. Prager, ‘The Proliferation of International Judicial Organs: the Role of the International Court of Justice’, in N. Blokker/H. G. Schermers (eds.), Proliferation of International Organizations: Legal Issues 279 (2001). 3

G. Hafner, ‘Should One Fear the Proliferation of Mechanisms for the Peaceful Settlement of Disputes?’, in L. Caflisch (ed.), The Peaceful Settlement of Disputes between States 25 (1998); G. Hafner, ‘Pros and Cons Ensuing from Fragmentation of International Law’, 25 Michigan Journal of International Law 849 (2004); G. Hafner/I. Buffard, ‘Risque et fragmentation en droit international’, L’ Observateur des Nations Unies No. 22, at 29-56 (2007); G. Hafner, ‘Der Internationale Gerichtshof und der Internationale Strafgerichtshof: Konkurrenz oder Ergänzung?’, in Liber amicorum judge Shigeru Oda, Vol. 1, 587 (2002); G. Hafner, Comment on R. Geiß, ‘Non-States Actors: Their Role and Impact on the Fragmentation of International Law’, in A. Zimmermann/R. Hofmann (eds.), University and Diversity in International Law. Proceedings of an International Symposium of the Kiehl Walther Schücking Institute of International Law 329 (2006).

4

G. Hafner, ‘Risks Ensuing from Fragmentation of International Law’, Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-fifth Session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/55/10 (2000), at 321-339.

5

International Law Commission Report on the work of its fifty-eighth session, General Assembly Official Records Sixty-first Session Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/61/10 (2006), paras. 233-251; M. Koskenniemi, ‘Study on the Function and Scope of the lex specialis Rule and the Question of “Self-Contained Regimes”’, UN Doc. A/59/10 (2004); Report of the Work of the Study Group of the International Law Commission, finalized by Martti Koskenniemi, UN Doc. A/CN.4/L.682 (2006); see also M. Koskenniemi, ‘Fragmentation of International Law: Difficulties Arising from the Diversification and Expansion of International Law’, Report of the Study Group of the International Law Commission (2007).

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Investment Arbitration Boom

Since the mid-1990s a constantly growing jurisprudence of ICSID and other investment arbitration has begun to interpret the rather general and sometimes vague standards usually contained in international investment agreements. Most of the roughly 2500 bilateral investment treaties (BITs), NAFTA’s Chapter 116 as well as other investment chapters of Free Trade Agreements and treaties, such as the Energy Charter Treaty,7 contain similarly worded guarantees to foreign investors. They usually prohibit uncompensated expropriation, require fair and equitable treatment, as well as full protection and security, demand non-discriminatory treatment, such as most-favored nation and national treatment and provide for transfer of capital and gains as well as other guarantees.8 The 1965 Washington Convention on the Settlement of Investment Disputes between States and Nationals of Other States established The International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID).9 The Centre offers arbitration services and provides arbitration rules in investment disputes between private parties and states where both the host state and the home state of the investor are parties to the Convention.10 As of January 2008, ICSID lists 138 concluded and 121 pending cases.11 Where only one is a treaty party, arbitration may be conducted pursuant to the ICSID Additional Facility.12 ICSID Additional Facility arbitration is frequently used in the context of the investment rules of NAFTA Chapter 11 since only the United States is a party to the ICSID Convention. In addition, investment arbitration, i.e. mixed arbitration between states and private parties, is taking place according to the arbitration rules of the ICC,13

6

1992 North American Free Trade Agreement between the Government of Canada, the Government of the United Mexican States, and the Government of the United States of America (NAFTA), 32 ILM 289 (1993).

7

1995 Energy Charter Treaty, 34 ILM 381 (1995).

8

See R. Dolzer/M. Stevens, Bilateral Investment Treaties (1995); R. Dolzer/C. Schreuer, Principles of Investment Protection (2008); A. Reinisch (ed.), Standards of Investment Protection (2008).

9

1965 Convention on the Settlement of Investment Disputes between States and Nationals of Other States (1965 ICSID Convention), 575 UNTS 159; 4 ILM 532 (1965).

10

Cf. ibid., art. 25.

11

See http://icsid.worldbank.org/ICSID/FrontServlet?requestType=CasesRH&actionVal=Li stCases (last visited 7 January 2008).

12

Additional Facility for the Administration of Conciliation, Arbitration and Fact-Finding Proceedings, ICSID Doc. 11 (1979), http://www.worldbank.org/icsid/facility/facility.htm; amended in April 2006, see Amendments to the ICSID Rules and Regulations and the Additional Facility Rules, effective 10 April 2006, http://www.worldbank.org/icsid/basicdoc/ CRR_English-final.pdf.

13

‘ICC Rules of Arbitration 1998’, in ICC (ed.), ICC Rules of Arbitration, Publication No. 808, at 6 (2001), http://www.iccwbo.org/uploadedFiles/Court/Arbitration/other/rules_arb_eng lish.pdf.

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the Stockholm Chamber of Commerce,14 the LCIA,15 or the UNCITRAL Rules,16 which are often administered by the Permanent Court of Arbitration. Investment arbitration is an important practical alternative to settling disputes between investors and host states pursuant to traditional methods under domestic or international law, i.e. before national courts or administrative agencies of the host state or through inter-state arbitration or litigation or by other means of diplomatic protection. In investment arbitration, private investors have a direct right to institute arbitral proceedings against host states. Thus, starting such proceedings is not influenced by any political considerations of their home states, whether or not they should espouse the claims of their nationals. This ‘emancipation’ of the individual investor17 has been a crucial element in producing the current boom of investment arbitration under NAFTA as well as ICSID and other arbitral regimes. The second decisive factor as to why investment arbitration has become so ‘popular’ is its rather high enforcement probability.

III.

The Enforceability of Investment Arbitration Awards

The lack of enforcement options in international law is often deplored. Some commentators still question the ‘legal’ quality of international law because of its perceived absence of enforcement mechanisms.18 Indeed, the judgments and decisions of international courts and arbitration tribunals are usually complied with as a matter of political considerations, reciprocity, etc., or they are simply disregarded. Actual enforcement is rare. With regard to the binding judgments of the ICJ,19 Article 94(2) of the UN Charter has remained a theoretical threat of enforcement, though it unequivocally gives the UN Security Council broad enforcement powers.20 In practice, the only attempt to rely

14

2007 Arbitration Rules of the Arbitration Institute of the Stockholm Chamber of Commerce, http://www.sccinstitute.com/_upload/shared_files/regler/2007_Arbitration_Rules_ eng.pdf.

15

1998 London Court of International Arbitration, Arbitration Rules, 37 ILM 669 (1998), http:// www.lcia-arbitration.com/.

16

1976 UNCITRAL Arbitration Rules, 15 ILM 701 (1976), http://www.uncitral.org/english/ texts/arbitration/arb-rules.htm.

17

See G. Hafner, ‘The Emancipation of the Individual from the State under International Law’, Recueil des Cours (2008) (forthcoming).

18

See, e.g., L. F. Damrosch, ‘Enforcing International Law Through Non-forcible Measures’, 269 Recueil des Cours 9, at 19 (1997).

19

1945 Statute of the International Court of Justice, art. 59 provides: ‘The decision of the Court has no binding force except between the parties and in respect of that particular case.’

20

1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 94(2) provides: ‘If any party to a case fails to perform the obligations incumbent upon it under a judgment rendered by the Court, the other party may have recourse to the Security Council, which may, if it deems necessary, make recommendations or decide upon measures to be taken to give to the judgment.’

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upon this provision was defeated by a veto in the Security Council.21 Also regarding other inter-state dispute settlement mechanisms such as regional courts or tribunals or ad hoc arbitration, enforcement is usually not provided. Instead, states are expected to comply with judicial or arbitral outcomes. The scarcity of enforcement measures against states in international dispute settlement is mirrored by the protection afforded through state immunity on the domestic level. National courts are still very reluctant to permit enforcement measures against foreign states. even where they have denied jurisdictional immunity. It is against this background that investment arbitration provides a stark contrast. Investment and, in particular, ICSID awards enjoy a very high level of enforceability. The awards rendered pursuant to most ad hoc investment arbitrations as well as those administered by arbitration institutions, such as ICC, LCIA, SCC or the like, are usually treated as foreign arbitral awards pursuant to the 1958 New York Convention22 and are thus enforceable in domestic courts according to the Convention’s provisions.23 Pursuant to Article V of the New York Convention, ‘a court may refuse to recognize and enforce an award on its own initiative if: (a) the subject matter is not capable of settlement by arbitration under the local law; or (b) recognition or enforcement would be contrary to the local public policy’. In general, however, arbitral awards governed by the New York Convention must be recognized and enforced in its Contracting States. ICSID awards enjoy an even higher effectiveness. The enforcement of ICSID awards is directly regulated by the ICSID Convention, which provides that awards shall be enforced in all Contracting States, like judgments of their own domestic courts.24 This excludes public policy exceptions that would be available under the New York Convention. The only remaining obstacles to a quasi-automatic enforcement of ICSID awards are the rules on state immunity from execution, which are expressly reserved in Article 55 of the ICSID Convention.25 21

See H. Mosler/K. Oellers-Frahm, in B. Simma (ed.), The Charter of the United Nations: A Commentary 1178 (2002).

22

1958 New York Convention on the Recognition and Enforcement of Foreign Arbitral Awards, 330 UNTS 38; 7 ILM 1046 (1968).

23

Ibid., art. III provides: ‘Each Contracting State shall recognize arbitral awards as binding and enforce them in accordance with the rules of procedure of the territory where the award is relied upon, under the conditions laid down in the following articles. There shall not be imposed substantially more onerous conditions or higher fees or charges on the recognition or enforcement of arbitral awards to which this Convention applies than are imposed on the recognition or enforcement of domestic arbitral awards.’

24

1965 ICSID Convention, art. 54 provides: ‘(1) Each Contracting State shall recognize an award rendered pursuant to this Convention as binding and enforce the pecuniary obligations imposed by that award within its territories as if it were a final judgment of a court in that State. A Contracting State with a federal constitution may enforce such an award in or through its federal courts and may provide that such courts shall treat the award as if it were a final judgment of the courts of a constituent state.’

25

1965 ICSID Convention, art. 55 provides: ‘Nothing in Article 54 shall be construed as derogating from the law in force in any Contracting State relating to immunity of that State or of any foreign State from execution.’

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These specific rules of state immunity are determined by national procedural law26 and should conform to customary international law and, where applicable, to treaty law.27 There is a clearly discernible trend to permit enforcement measures against property serving commercial purposes, while property serving official or governmental functions is generally regarded to be immune from execution. The dividing line between these two types of property is difficult to draw28 and also in the context of enforcing ICSID awards, national courts encountered a few problems.29 Diplomatic and consular property, including embassy bank accounts, as well as military property and state ships are usually immune from execution. Most national courts will recognize a waiver of enforcement immunity. In practice, however, enforcement immunity questions regarding ICSID awards rarely arise because awards are regularly complied with. Whether this is a result of the increased likelihood of successful enforcement remains speculative though appears very probable. In addition to the relatively strict provisions of the ICSID Convention concerning recognition and enforcement before national courts, the Convention also imposes an international law obligation upon host states to comply with awards rendered against them.30 If this treaty-based obligation were disregarded, the right of diplomatic protection of the investor’s home state would revive and may lead to additional political pressure to comply with an award. 26

Some states have adopted specific immunity legislation. See, e.g., 1976 United States: Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act (FSIA), 28 USC §§ 1330, 1602-1611, 15 ILM 1388 (1976), as amended in 1988, 28 ILM 396 (1989) and in 1996/7, 36 ILM 759 (1997); 1978 United Kingdom: State Immunity Act (SIA), 17 ILM 1123 (1978); 1985 Australia: Foreign States Immunities Act, 25 ILM 715 (1986).

27

2004 The United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, is not yet in force, UN General Assembly Res. 59/38, Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-ninth Session, Supplement No. 49, UN Doc. A/59/49 (2004). See on the Convention in general G. Hafner/U. Köhler, ‘The United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property’, 35 Netherlands Yearbook of International Law 3-49 (2004); on issues of state immunity in general see Council of Europe/G. Hafner/M. Kohen/S. Breau (eds.), State Practice Regarding State Immunities/La Pratique des Etats concernant les Immunités des Etats (2006).

28

Cf. A. Reinisch, ‘European Court Practice Concerning State Immunity from Enforcement Measures’, 17 EJIL 803-836 (2006).

29

LETCO v. Liberia, District Court, S.D.N.Y., 5 September and 12 December 1986, 2 ICSID Reports 383; Benvenuti & Bonfant v. Congo, Tribunal de grande instance, Paris, 13 January 1981, Cour d’appel, Paris, 26 June 1981, 1 ICSID Reports 368; LETCO v. Liberia, US District Court for the District of Columbia, 16 April 1987, 2 ICSID Reports 390; SOABI v. Senegal, Cour d’appel, Paris, 5 December 1989, Cour de cassation, 11 June 1991, 2 ICSID Reports 337; AIG Capital Partners Inc. and Another v. Republic of Kasakhstan (National Bank of Kasakhstan Intervening), High Court, Queen’s Bench Division (Commercial Court), 20 October 2005, 2005 EWHC 2239 (Comm), 11 ICSID Reports 118.

30

1965 ICSID Convention, art. 53 provides: ‘(1) The award shall be binding on the parties and shall not be subject to any appeal or to any other remedy except those provided for in this Convention. Each party shall abide by and comply with the terms of the award except to the extent that enforcement shall have been stayed pursuant to the relevant provisions of this Convention.’

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Ultimately, it seems that concerns over a host state’s investment climate, or rather its perception by investors, play a crucial part in the decision of states to ‘voluntarily’ comply with investment awards whether rendered pursuant to the ICSID Convention or under other arbitration rules.

IV.

The ‘Dangers’ of the Proliferation of Investment Arbitration

The attractiveness and thus increased use of investment arbitration owes much to the high likelihood of compliance with its outcomes. At the same time, the proliferation of investment dispute settlement mechanisms bears its own risks. The concurrent availability of different investment dispute settlement systems may lead to parallel proceedings or to the re-litigation of already decided cases. This phenomenon is, of course, not limited to investment arbitration but a general problem arising in situations of an increased availability of dispute settlement mechanisms. The proliferation of international courts and tribunals can lead to forum shopping and to a duplication or multiplication of proceedings before different fora, involving a waste of judicial resources as well as the threat of divergent or even conflicting outcomes. This may ultimately contribute to the fragmentation of international law and weaken both coherence and credibility of international law.31 Because of the rapid increase in investment arbitration, some of these dangers have actually materialized. Four groups of cases illustrate the potential threats: The SGS cases, where two ICSID tribunals came to divergent assessments of the meaning of umbrella clauses, the Maffezini tribunal and others that are split on the interpretation of MFN clauses, the CME/Lauder v. Czech Republic arbitrations, where the same dispute was arbitrated under two different bilateral investment agreements, and finally the CMS v. Argentina and LG&E v. Argentina cases which, together with subsequent cases, answered the question of whether a state of necessity prevailed differently in Argentina. These cases demonstrate the inherent danger of a multiplication of procedures if answers found by different tribunals are contradictory.

A.

The SGS Cases

In two ICSID proceedings initiated by the Swiss company SGS against Pakistan32 and the Philippines,33 the arbitral tribunals came to opposing results regarding the meaning of so-called umbrella clauses, according to which host States stipulate that they will 31

See A. Reinisch, ‘International Courts and Tribunals, Multiple Jurisdiction’, in Max Planck Encyclopedia of Public International Law (forthcoming).

32

SGS Société Générale de Surveillance S.A. v. Islamic Republic of Pakistan, ICSID Case No. ARB/01/13, Decision on Jurisdiction of 6 August 2003, 18 ICSID Review-FILJ 301 (2003), 42 ILM 1290 (2003).

33

SGS Société Générale de Surveillance S.A. v. Republic of the Philippines, ICSID Case No. ARB/02/6, Decision on Jurisdiction of 29 January 2004, 8 ICSID Reports 515.

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observe obligations assumed with regard to specific investments in their territories by investors of the other contracting parties.34 The SGS v. Pakistan tribunal rejected the view that ‘breaches of a contract […] concluded with a State (widely considered to be a matter of municipal rather than international law) are automatically “elevated” to the level of breaches of international law’.35 The SGS v. Philippines tribunal, however, adhered to the traditional view that an umbrella clause ‘makes it a breach of the BIT for the host State to fail to observe binding commitments, including contractual commitments, which it has assumed with regard to specific investments. But it does not convert the issue of the extent or content of such obligations into an issue of international law’.36 This divergence was not the result of oversight but embodies a deliberate disagreement. The SGS v. Philippines tribunal justified its dissent by expressly renouncing any system of binding precedent under the ICSID Convention or international law in general. It held: ‘no doctrine of precedent in international law, if by precedent is meant a rule of the binding effect of a single decision. […] It must be […] in the longer term for the development of a common legal opinion or jurisprudence constante, to resolve the difficult legal questions discussed by the SGS v. Pakistan Tribunal and also in the present decision.’37

The ‘development of a common legal opinion’ has still not materialized with investment tribunals partly adhering to the SGS v. Pakistan38 and partly to the SGS v. Philippines approach.39

B.

Maffezini and Its Progeny

A similarly controversial assessment of BIT provisions arose in the aftermath of the decision on jurisdiction in the ICSID case, Maffezini v. Spain.40 In this case, brought by an Argentine investor against a member state of the EU, the arbitral tribunal permitted

34

1995 Switzerland/Pakistan BIT, art. 11 reads: ‘Either Contracting Party shall constantly guarantee the observance of the commitments it has entered into with respect to the investments of the investors of the other Contracting Party.’ 1997 Switzerland/Philippines BIT, art. X(2) reads: ‘Each Contracting Party shall observe any obligation it has assumed with regard to specific investments in its territory by investors of the other Contracting Party.’

35

SGS v. Pakistan, supra note 32, para. 167.

36

SGS v. Philippines, supra note 33, para. 128.

37

SGS v. Philippines, supra note 33, para. 97.

38

El Paso Energy Int’l Co. v. The Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/03/15, Decision on Jurisdiction, 27 April 2006, para. 82; Pan American Energy LLC v. The Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/04/8, Decision on Jurisdiction of 27 April 2006, para. 113.

39

Eureko B.V. v. Republic of Poland, Partial Award of 19 August 2005, para. 257.

40

Emilio Agustín Maffezini v. Kingdom of Spain, ICSID Case No. ARB/97/7, Decision on Jurisdiction of 25 January 2000, 5 ICSID Reports 396 (2002).

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the claimant to rely on more favourable dispute settlement provisions than those contained in the Argentina/Spain BIT as a result of the MFN clause contained in the latter treaty.41 Whether MFN clauses are limited to the substantive treatment standards of BITs, like fair and equitable treatment, full protection and security or guarantees against uncompensated expropriation, or include dispute settlement provisions is an issue that keeps investment tribunals divided. While in a number of cases tribunals have adopted the Maffezini approach,42 other tribunals have sharply rejected it.43 Although tribunals tend to emphasize the different wording of the applicable MFN clauses as a rationale for their diverging assessments, it is obvious that there remains a deeper underlying disagreement about the scope of MFN treatment that is still unresolved.

C.

CME/Lauder v. Czech Republic

The ultimate fiasco in investment arbitration occurred in the Lauder/CME arbitrations against the Czech Republic. The Lauder tribunal unanimously held that although the Czech Republic had committed breaches of its obligations under the US-Czech Republic BIT in relation to some of the alleged events, these infringements did not give rise to liability.44 Shortly after the initiation of the Lauder proceedings, CME, a company incorporated in the Netherlands and controlled by Mr Lauder, also initiated arbitration against the Czech Republic and relied on the BIT between The Netherlands and the Czech Republic. CME claimed and pleaded the same violations and facts as Mr Lauder had done in the other proceedings. Within days after the award had been rendered in Lauder v. Czech Republic, a partial award was adopted by the tribunal in CME v. Czech Republic which came to conclusions diametrically opposing the first award.45 Attempts by the Czech Republic to set aside the second award through legal 41

1991 Argentina/Spain BIT, art. IV(2) provides: ‘In all matters subject to this Agreement, this treatment shall not be less favorable than that extended by each Party to the investments made in its territory by investors of a third country.’

42

Technicas Medioambientales Tecmed S.A. v. Mexico, ICSID Case No. ARB/AF/00/2, Award of 29 May 2003, 43 ILM 133 (2004); Siemens A.G. v. The Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/02/8, Decision on Jurisdiction of 3 August 2004, 44 ILM 138 (2005); Gas Natural SDG, S.A. v. Argentina, ICSID Case No. ARB/03/10, Decision on Preliminary Questions on Jurisdiction of 17 June 2005, http://ita.law.uvic.ca/documents/GasNaturalSDG-Decisionon PreliminaryQuestionsonJurisdiction.pdf.

43

Plama Consortium Ltd. v. Bulgaria, ICSID Case No. ARB/03/24, Decision on Jurisdiction of 8 February 2005, 44 ILM 721 (2005); Salini Costruttori S.p.A and Italstrade S.p.A v. The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, ICSID Case No. ARB/02/13, Decision on Jurisdiction of 29 November 2004, 44 ILM 573 (2005); Telenor Mobile Communications A.S. v. Republic of Hungary, ICSID Case No. ARB/04/15, Decision on Jurisdiction of 13 September 2006, 21 ICSID Rev.-FILJ 603 (2006).

44

Lauder v. The Czech Republic, UNCITRAL, 3 September 2001, 9 ICSID Reports 66; 14 World Trade and Arbitration Materials, 35 (2002).

45

CME Czech Republic BV v. The Czech Republic, UNCITRAL, Partial Award of 13 September 2001, 9 ICSID Reports 121; 14 World Trade and Arbitration Materials 109 (2002).

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proceedings before Swedish courts remained unsuccessful.46 Both the CME v. Czech Republic tribunal and the Swedish courts stressed the formal non-identity of the two claimants, Mr Lauder and CME, which militated against the application of the general principles of res judicata and/or lis pendens in order to prevent the re-litigation of one investment dispute before two different investment tribunals.47

D.

CMS v. Argentina and LG&E v. Argentina and Others

The latest examples of investment tribunals assessing identical facts in a contradictory fashion is provided by the difference of opinion regarding the question whether the situation during the Argentine economic crisis at the beginning of the 21st century constituted a state of necessity. In the Argentine cases the tribunals did not have to interpret and apply BIT provisions but rather the same customary international law defence of ‘state of necessity’ as ‘codified’ in the ILC Articles on State Responsibility.48 The ‘applicable’ international law was Article 25 of the ILC Articles on State Responsibility which provides: ‘1. Necessity may not be invoked by a State as a ground for precluding the wrongfulness of an act not in conformity with an international obligation of that State unless the act: (a) Is the only way for the State to safeguard an essential interest against a grave and imminent peril; and (b) Does not seriously impair an essential interest of the State or States towards which the obligation exists, or of the international community as a whole. 2. In any case, necessity may not be invoked by a State as a ground for precluding wrongfulness if: (a) The international obligation in question excludes the possibility of invoking necessity; or (b) The State has contributed to the situation of necessity.’

46

Czech Republic v. CME Czech Republic BV, Svea Court of Appeals, Appeal of Arbitration Award of 15 May 2003, 15 World Trade and Arbitration Materials 171 (2003).

47

See C. N. Brower/J. K. Sharpe, ‘Multiple and Conflicting International Arbitral Awards’, 4 The Journal of World Investment and Trade 211 (2003); A. Reinisch, ‘The Use and Limits of Res Judicata and Lis Pendens as Procedural Tools to Avoid Conflicting Dispute Settlement Outcomes’, 3 LPICT 37 (2004).

48

ILC, Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, Report of the International Law Commission on the Work of Its Fifty-third Session, UN General Assembly Official Record, 56th Session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/56/10 (2001), at 43.

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In the view of the CMS v. Argentina tribunal, such a state of necessity did not prevail during the period in question because the situation, though ‘severe’, was not severe enough to amount to necessity. The tribunal reasoned: ‘The Tribunal is convinced that the crisis was indeed severe and the argument that nothing important happened is not tenable. However, neither could it be held that wrongfulness should be precluded as a matter of course under the circumstances. As is many times the case in international affairs and international law, situations of this kind are not given in black and white but in many shades of grey. It follows that the relative effect that can be reasonably attributed to the crisis does not allow for a finding on preclusion of wrongfulness.’49

Less than a year later, another ICSID tribunal found that the same situation did reach the level of a state of necessity. According to the LG&E v. Argentina tribunal: ‘[the] essential interests of the Argentine State were threatened in December 2001. It faced an extremely serious threat to its existence, its political and economic survival, to the possibility of maintaining its essential services in operation, and to the preservation of its internal peace.’50

In fact, the two tribunals disagreed less about the interpretation of the law of state responsibility than on the qualification of the actual facts. While it may be understandable that reasonable persons disagree about such fundamental issues like whether an economic crisis amounted to a state of necessity in international law, it is hardly understandable that a tribunal deciding such an important issue disregarded the findings of a previous tribunal.51 It should be added that as of the end of 2007, the view of the CMS v. Argentina tribunal that there had not been a state of necessity in Argentina prevailed among investment tribunals as can been seen on the Enron52 and the Sempra53 award. This by now dominant view was not even corrected by the ad hoc Committee in the annulment decision concerning CMS v. Argentina, which found fault with many aspects of the tribunal’s 2005 award but refrained from annulling it on grounds related to the state of necessity defence.54 49

CMS Gas Transmission Company v. The Argentine Republic, ARB/01/8, Award of 12 May 2005, 44 ILM 1205 (2005), paras. 320, 321.

50

LG&E Energy Corp., LG&E Capital Corp. and LG&E International Inc. v. Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/02/1, Decision on Liability of 3 October 2006, 46 ILM 40 (2007), para. 257.

51

See A. Reinisch, ‘Necessity in International Investment Arbitration – An Unnecessary Split of Opinions in Recent ICSID Cases? Comments on CMS and LG&E’, 8 The Journal of World Investment and Trade 191-214 (2007).

52

Enron Corporation and Ponderosa Assets, L.P. v. Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/01/3, Award of 22 May 2007, paras. 291-345.

53

Sempra Energy International v. The Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/02/16, Award of 28 September 2007, paras. 325-397.

54

CMS Gas Transmission Company v. The Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/01/8, Decision on Annulment of 25 September 2007, paras. 101-137.

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V.

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Options to Avoid These Risks

The phenomenon of inconsistent and sometimes even contradictory outcomes of dispute settlement results from the overall increase of investment arbitration. There is no doubt that a further rise of such inconsistencies may erode the predictability and reliability of the system and may in the long run seriously undermine the confidence of the system’s users, i.e. of investors and states. It is thus natural that those concerned about the viability of international investment arbitration have begun to consider ways of improving it by eliminating or at least reducing the risks that have become apparent. On a domestic level, the traditional judicial approach to secure uniformity in the interpretation and application of the law lies in the establishment of appellate review exercised by higher courts coupled with a formal or informal obligation to follow appellate decisions on the part of lower courts, and possibly even by courts on the same level. Up until recently appellate review was practically unknown in international law. In 1994, however, the WTO Understanding on Rules and Procedures Governing the Settlement of Disputes55 introduced an Appellate Body with the task of hearing appeals from panel cases.56 It was a central aim of this innovative feature in international economic law to contribute to one of the main goals of the WTO dispute settlement system, i.e. ‘providing security and predictability to the multilateral trading system’.57 Meanwhile, other international courts and tribunals provide for appellate review: the ad hoc criminal tribunals established by the UN Security Council as well as the International Criminal Court have appeals chambers competent to review judgments of the trial chambers. One must acknowledge, however, that in the context of criminal tribunals the main rationale for appellate review is found in the fundamental right of individuals to have their convictions reviewed by a higher tribunal, as guaranteed by human rights instruments such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.58

A.

An Appellate Mechanism for Investment Arbitration

The notion of an appellate mechanism for investment arbitration apparently had some appeal and was intensely discussed in the investment arbitration community in the aftermath of the Lauder/CME arbitrations against the Czech Republic. A discussion

55

Understanding on Rules and Procedures Governing the Settlement of Disputes, 1994 Marrakesh Agreement Establishing the World Trade Organization, 1869 UNTS 401, 33 ILM 1226, Annex 2.

56

Ibid., art. 17(1).

57

Ibid., art. 3(2).

58

See 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, art. 14(5), 999 UNTS 171, which provides: ‘Everyone convicted of a crime shall have the right to his conviction and sentence being reviewed by a higher tribunal according to law.’

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paper of the ICSID Secretariat was circulated and widely debated.59 It outlined the possibility of the establishment of an appellate institution within the ICSID system that was clearly influenced by the system of WTO appellate review. The contemplated introduction of an appellate mechanism clearly departed from the ‘correction’ tool presently contained in the ICSID Convention in the form of the annulment of awards by special ad hoc committees. The grounds of annulment provided in Article 52 are, however, limited to extreme procedural defects of the arbitration proceedings and do not give rise to wide powers of substantive review.60 The proposal for an appellate mechanism to be included in ICSID arbitration faced serious difficulties. Since Article 53 of the ICSID Convention expressly provides that ICSID awards ‘shall be binding on the parties and shall not be subject to any appeal […]’61 it would be hard to introduce an appellate system without treaty amendment. As a matter of practice, changing the ICSID Convention would be hardly feasible. Thus, the plan was not further pursued. However, some relicts can still be found in a number of US BITs. Based on a provision in the 2004 US Model BIT, they provide for future discussions on the establishment of an ‘appellate body or similar mechanism’ for investment arbitration.62 So far, no action has been taken.

B.

A Preliminary Reference System

The practical difficulties with establishing an appellate system for investment arbitration meant that alternative ideas pursuing similar purposes were called for. It was thus not surprising that one of the major ‘harmonization’ vehicles, successfully employed in the EU, the ‘preliminary reference’ system was invoked as possible template for investment arbitration. According to the EC Treaty, national courts may ask the European Court

59

Possible Improvements of the Framework for ICSID Arbitration, discussion paper of the ICSID Secretariat dated 26 October 2004.

60

1965 ICSID Convention, art. 52(1) provides: ‘Either party may request annulment of the award by an application in writing addressed to the Secretary-General on one or more of the following grounds: (a) that the Tribunal was not properly constituted; (b) that the Tribunal has manifestly exceeded its powers; (c) that there was corruption on the part of a member of the Tribunal; (d) that there has been a serious departure from a fundamental rule of procedure; or (e) that the award has failed to state the reasons on which it is based.’

61

See supra note 30.

62

See 2004 US Model BIT, Ann. D, which provides: ‘Within three years after the date of entry into force of this Treaty, the Parties shall consider whether to establish a bilateral appellate body or similar mechanism to review awards rendered under Article 34 in arbitrations commenced after they establish the appellate body or similar mechanism.’

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of Justice for a preliminary ruling on matters of Community law which is then binding for them in their final decision of the dispute.63 The potential usefulness of such a system for securing the coherence and uniformity of international law has been recognized by a number of international law scholars and practitioners, including presidents of the ICJ, who have proposed that specialized international courts and tribunals should have similar opportunities to make such ‘references’ to the ICJ with regard to questions of general public international law.64 It was suggested that the establishment of a permanent body authorized to give preliminary rulings on investment law issues would be less ambitious than the creation of an appellate court or tribunal, that it would avoid the ‘constitutional’ difficulty of Article 53 ICSID Convention and equally serve the purpose of ensuring consistency in investment decisions.65 Despite the ‘lighter’ design of such a system it would still require a number of legal steps. Whether they will be taken depends on the political will of the states involved.

C.

Consolidation of Proceedings or Similar Pragmatic Moves

Another, even more pragmatic, measure to avoid the risk of diverging dispute settlement outcomes in investment arbitration, which does not require any treaty action by states, is the consolidation of arbitration proceedings that are related to each other. In fact, such consolidation has already happened in a number of NAFTA Chapter 11 cases.66 The high number of investment claims brought against Argentina in the aftermath of the latter’s currency crisis has prompted another practical move to secure the consistency of results by trying to obtain an identical or at least a similar composition of

63

Treaty establishing the European Community, art. 234(1) provides: ‘The Court of Justice shall have jurisdiction to give preliminary rulings concerning: (a) the interpretation of this Treaty; (b) the validity and interpretation of acts of the institutions of the Community […].’

64

See ‘The proliferation of international judicial bodies: The outlook for the international legal order’, Speech by His Excellency Judge Gilbert Guillaume, President of the International Court of Justice, to the Sixth Committee of the General Assembly of the United Nations, 27 October 2000, http://www.icj-cij.org/presscom/index.php?pr=85&p1=6&p2=1&search=%2 2nagymaros%22. In fact, these suggestions are not completely new. Already the 1948 Havana Charter provided in its art. 96 for the possibility to ask the ICJ for advisory opinions with regard to various issues concerning the envisaged International Trade Organization, 1948 Havana Charter for an International Trade Organization, UN Doc. E/CONF.2/78 (1948).

65

See Ch. Schreuer, ‘Preliminary Rulings in Investment Arbitration’, in K. Sauvant (ed.), Appeals Mechanism in International Investment Disputes 207 (2008).

66

Re The North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and a Request for Consolidation by the USA of the Claims in Canfor Corp v. USA & Tembec v. USA & Terminal Forest Products Ltd v. USA, NAFTA Consolidation Tribunal, Order of 7 September 2005, http://naftaclaims. com/Disputes/USA/Softwood/Softwood-ConOrder.pdf. Canfor Corporation v. United States of America & Terminal Forest Products Ltd. v. United States of America, Consolidated NAFTA Arbitration, UNCITRAL Rules, Decision on Preliminary Question of 6 June 2006, http://naftaclaims.com/Disputes/USA/Softwood/ NAFTA-Softwood_Consolidation-Preliminary_Decision-6_June_2006.pdf.

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ICSID tribunals, as it happened in Camuzzi v. Argentina67 and Sempra v. Argentina.68 The two awards on jurisdiction, based on two different BITs because of the different nationality of the two investors, were rendered on the same date and did not only reach the same conclusion, but also relied on largely identical reasons in upholding their jurisdiction over the claims. This demonstrates that very simple mechanisms may often lead to the wanted result. As a practical matter it must be mentioned, however, that such consolidation always depends upon the willingness of the parties to accept it. Where parties reject it, often as a result of strategic considerations,69 the best intentions will fail. Also, the 2004 US Model requires the consent of the parties.70

D.

Strengthening the Power of Precedent

The least spectacular but probably most effective adjudicatory technique to avoid inconsistent decisions is relying on and ‘remaining faithful to’ prior decisions: stare decisis.71 But international adjudication exhibits an awkward relationship to the doctrine of precedent or stare decisis. Since the renunciation of stare decisis by the drafters of the Statute of the Permanent Court of International Justice in the 1920s, carried over to the present ICJ Statute,72 most international dispute settlement rules, including those applying in investment arbitration, expressly or implicitly disavow any binding force of precedent.73 67

Camuzzi International S.A. v. The Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/03/2, Decision on Jurisdiction of 11 May 2005.

68

Sempra Energy International v. The Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/02/16, Decision on Jurisdiction of 11 May 2005.

69

For instance, in the CME case, supra note 45, the Czech Republic resisted consolidation with the Lauder arbitration, supra note 44.

70

2004 US Model BIT, art. 33(1) provides: ‘Where two or more claims have been submitted separately to arbitration under Article 24(1) and the claims have a question of law or fact in common and arise out of the same events or circumstances, any disputing party may seek a consolidation order in accordance with the agreement of all the disputing parties […].’

71

According to B. A. Garner, Black’s Law Dictionary 1406 (1990), the Common Law doctrine of stare decisis (et non quieta movere) means a ‘[p]olicy of courts to stand by precedent and not to disturb settled point.’

72

1920 Statute of the Permanent Court of International Justice, art. 59, PCIJ (Ser. D) No. 1, 7, 25, provided – in the same words as today’s Statute of the ICJ – that ‘[t]he decision of the Court has no binding force except between the parties and in respect of that particular case.’

73

See, e.g., 1982 Statute of the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea, Annex VI to the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), art. 33(2); 1992 NAFTA, supra note 6, art. 1136(1), expressly states: ‘An award made by a Tribunal shall have no binding force except between the disputing parties and in respect of the particular case.’ Though 1965 ICSID Convention, art. 53(1) merely provides that an ‘award shall be binding on the parties’, this provision is generally interpreted as excluding the applicability of the principle of binding precedent in ICSID arbitration. Cf. Ch. Schreuer, The ICSID Convention: A Commentary 1082 (2001).

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As a practical matter, however, most international dispute settlement systems have developed a de facto case law whereby they rather faithfully tend to follow their earlier decisions. The ICJ is notorious for closely following its earlier judgments, almost exclusively citing its own precedent and rarely overruling itself.74 WTO Panels and the WTO Appellate Body have equally developed a consistent body of international trade law by a de facto stare decisis.75 In an almost schizophrenic fashion, international courts and tribunals regularly first reject any stare decisis and then follow their own and others’ precedents. This phenomenon can also be witnessed in investment arbitration. In the early annulment decision of the Amco case, the ad hoc Committee found that ‘[n]either the decisions of the International Court of Justice in the case of the Award of the King of Spain nor the Decision of the Klöckner ad hoc Committee are binding on this ad hoc Committee’.76 It added, however, that ‘the absence […] of a rule of stare decisis in the ICSID arbitration system does not prevent this ad hoc Committee from sharing the interpretation given to Article 52(1)(e) by the Klöckner ad hoc Committee’.77 In a similar way, the ICSID tribunal in LETCO v. Liberia found that though it was ‘not bound by the precedents established by other ICSID Tribunals, it is nonetheless instructive to consider their interpretations’.78 With the increasing number of investment awards, the potential sources serving as precedents are also growing. It is thus no wonder that ICSID and other investment tribunals must carefully navigate between the Scylla of overly zealous adherence to false precedents in the form of arbitral pronunciations on differently worded BIT provisions, inapplicable in the specific case, and the Charybdis of disregarding relevant interpretations of general international law, putting the unity of the law at risk. The danger of falsely relying on arbitral interpretations of investment treaty provisions that are not applicable and do not even resemble the applicable interpretations in a specific dispute is usually met by the tribunals’ careful emphasis that they must exercise their adjudicatory powers only on the basis of the specific applicable law. In the words of the SGS v. Philippines tribunal, ‘in the end it must be for each tribunal to exercise its competence in accordance with the applicable law, which will by definition be different for each BIT and each Respondent State’.79 The threat of creating inconsistencies and deviating from accepted interpretations of international law may be met by the alertness

74

See M. Shahabuddeen, Precedent in the World Court (1996); R. Jennings, ‘The Judiciary, International and National, and the Development of International Law’, 45 ICLQ 9 (1996).

75

See R. Bhala, ‘The Precedent Setters: De facto stare decisis in WTO Adjudication’, 9 Journal of Transnational Law & Policy 1 (1999).

76

Amco v. Indonesia, Decision on Annulment of 16 May 1986, para. 44, 1 ICSID Reports 509, 521.

77

Ibid.

78

LETCO v. Liberia, Award of 31 March 1986, 2 ICSID Reports 346, 352.

79

SGS v. Philippines, supra note 33, para. 97.

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of tribunals and their willingness to adopt persuasive interpretations of similar or comparable issues. In the words of the ICSID tribunal in AES v. Argentina,80 ‘decisions on jurisdiction dealing with the same or very similar issues may at least indicate some lines of reasoning of real interest; this Tribunal may consider them in order to compare its own position with those already adopted by its predecessors and, if it shares the views already expressed by one or more of these tribunals on a specific point of law, it is free to adopt the same solution.’81

The navigating skills employed by arbitrators in such rough waters have been aptly summarized and characterized by two recent ICSID tribunals. In ADC v Hungary,82 the tribunal stated: ‘The Parties to the present case have also debated the relevance of international case law relating to expropriation. It is true that arbitral awards do not constitute binding precedent. It is also true that a number of cases are fact-driven and that the findings in those cases cannot be transposed in and of themselves to other cases. It is further true that a number of cases are based on treaties that differ from the present BIT in certain respects. However, cautious reliance on certain principles developed in a number of those cases, as persuasive authority, may advance the body of law, which in turn may serve predictability in the interest of both investors and host States.’83

Similarly, the ICSID tribunal in Saipem v. Bangladesh84 said: ‘The Tribunal considers that it is not bound by previous decisions. At the same time, it is of the opinion that it must pay due consideration to earlier decisions of international tribunals. It believes that, subject to compelling contrary grounds, it has a duty to adopt solutions established in a series of consistent cases. It also believes that, subject to the specifics of a given treaty and of the circumstances of the actual case, it has a duty to seek to contribute to the harmonious development of investment law and thereby to meet the legitimate expectations of the community of States and investors towards certainty of the rule of law.’85

80

AES Corporation v. The Argentine Republic, ICSID Case No. ARB/02/17, Decision on Jurisdiction of 26 April 2005.

81

AES v. Argentina, supra note 80, paras. 30.

82

ADC Affiliate Limited and ADC & ADMC Management Limited v. Republic of Hungary, ICSID Case No. ARB/03/16, Award of 2 October 2006.

83

ADC v. Hungary, supra note 82, para. 293.

84

Saipem S.p.A. v. The People’s Republic of Bangladesh, ICSID Case No. ARB/05/07, Decision on Jurisdiction of 21 March 2007.

85

Ibid., para. 67.

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VI.

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A More Effective International System?

The current boom of investment arbitration demonstrates that the enforcement of treaty and customary law obligations has become a matter of routine in this particular field of international economic law. The increased probability of the actual enforcement of international standards of investment protection is generally welcomed in a system, such as the international legal order, which normally suffers from rather weak compliance mechanisms. At present, investment tribunals provide a constant ‘supply’ of the actual application of international law, not only of specific treaty standards contained in bilateral and multilateral agreements, but also of customary international law concerning foreign investment. Beyond that, investment arbitration significantly contributes to the development of general international law by rendering decisions on questions such as attribution of conduct to states, preclusion of wrongfulness, treaty interpretation and others. Today, as a result of carefully argued awards, we know much better what fair and equitable treatment, expropriation, or full protection and security mean than we did ten of fifteen years ago. That the increase of investment decisions also leads to a certain number of inconsistencies is probably normal in any developed legal system. Thus, the risk of fragmentation should not be exaggerated. The overall tendency of investment tribunals to adhere to previous decisions and attempt to contribute to the formation of a ‘jurisprudence constante’ is likely to safeguard the coherence and predictability required of any mature legal system.

VII. Conclusion Investment arbitration has turned into a ‘hothouse’ for all problems associated with the proliferation of courts and tribunals in international law. It has all the drama of arbitral decision-makers uttering conflicting and diverging opinions about central legal issues which may cast doubt on the reliability and predictability of the entire system. At the same time, it re-cycles old hopes and generates innovative ideas about remedying these problems while most arbitral tribunals simply become more cautious in their pronouncements, trying to avoid open conflict by largely adhering to what has become a body of de facto precedent.

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8

8 – BOUNDARIES OF JUSTICE? AN INTERNATIONAL LAW APPROACH

127

Boundaries of Justice? An International Law Approach Daniel Thürer*

‘The remoter and more general aspects of the law are those which give it universal interest. It is through them that you not only become a great master in your calling, but connect your subject with the universe and catch an echo of the infinite, a glimpse of its unfathomable process, a hint to the universal law.’1

Gerhard Hafner will agree with me that the legal craft requires, above all, competent and careful drafting, interpretation and application of texts. This is, after all, one of the many areas in which Professor Hafner excels. At the same time, he is convinced that eventually, these technical skills – and the law itself – are but a means to an end, ultimately destined to help bring about justice. Famous judges such Lord Denning,2 Benjamin N. Cardozo3 or Aharon Barak4 have repeatedly stressed the importance of the notion of justice. For them, justice was or is not just an abstract principle, but an approach that helps to strengthen the credibility and persuasiveness of their decisions and opinions.5 In exceptional cases of blatant injustice it will even be necessary – as *

I would like to thank lic. iur. et. phil., M. Phil. Lorenz Langer, lic. iur. Alison Wiebalck and lic. phil. Karin Spinnler Schmid for their valuable help.

1

O. W. Holmes, ‘The Path of the Law’, in E. London (ed.), The Law as Literature 634 (1960).

2

See D. Thürer, Kosmopolitisches Staatsrecht – Grundidee Gerechtigkeit 433-434 (2005), for further reverences.

3

Cf. T. Rosenbaum, The Myth of Moral Justice 303 (2005): ‘Benjamin N. Cardozo, a former United States Supreme Court Justice, and, even more famously, the chief judge on the New York Court of Appeals, was in many ways the model of a moral judge, a man capable of integrating moral consciousness into his legal decision-making. He often suggested that a judge is like a ’wise pharmacist’ who balances and combines a number of ingredients, such as logic, history, custom, and a sense of rightness in arriving at a just decision.’

4

Cf. A. Barak, The Judge in a Democracy 66-67 (2006): ‘Indeed, justice is the goal of law. Justice is a standard for evaluating the law. I am convinced that many judges, once they have exhausted the different values they must balance yet still have not reached a single exclusive solution, aspire to reach the solution they find to be just. Indeed, justice is one of the central values of a legal system.’ And, continued Barak: ‘When other values do not lead to decision, it is appropriate for the judge to turn to his sense of justice. This is justice’s elation: it is not merely another one of the system’s values; it is a residual value, capable of decisiveness in hard cases.’

5

But see H. Miller, ‘A Letter Defending the Freedom to Read’, in E. London (ed.), The Law as Literature 612 (1960): ‘[W]hen issues of grave import arise, the last Court of reference, in

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 127-138, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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Gustav Radbruch has taught us – to rescind positive law so that justice can prevail.6 Yet paradoxically – given its paramount importance for the concept of law – the question of justice is rarely addressed in our daily legal work. Indeed, centuries have come and gone, and still no legal philosopher has been able to produce a universally accepted definition of justice. Given this state of affairs, it would be foolhardy indeed even to attempt such a definition in this short essay. Nor will Professor Hafner be unhappy that the title of this piece is framed as a question. Consequently, I content myself with addressing one aspect of justice only: whether and in what form the notion of justice influences, and is apparent in, the international legal order. This raises three questions. First: Does international law expressly refer to, and rely on, justice as an objective principle? And if so, in what way? Would it be possible to substantiate the content of justice with the help of other principles that confer legitimacy on the law? Second: Are there norms and institutions in international law in which the subjective experience of outrage in the face of injustice has found a quasi-normative or institutional embodiment? Third: Is it not, in an increasingly globalised world, one of the principal functions and tasks of international law to extend the reach of ethical awareness, and with it the principle of justice, in every possible direction: in other words, to expand and, perhaps, eventually overcome the traditional boundaries of justice?

I.

Justice as an Objective Principle of International Law ‘Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies? For what are robberies themselves, but little kingdoms?’ St Augustine7 my opinion, should be the public. When justice is at stake, responsibility cannot be shifted to an elect few without injustice resulting. No Court could function if it did not follow the steel rails of precedent, taboo, and prejudice.’

6

G. Radbruch, ‘Gesetzliches Unrecht und übergesetzliches Recht’, 1 (5) Süddeutsche Juristenzeitung 105-108 (1946); see also id., Rechtsphilosophie (1976) (original 1932).

7

St. Augustine, The City of God, Book IV, Chapter 4, 1977 (ed. & transl. by Marcus Dods). It is interesting to take note of the whole text: ‘Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies? For what are robberies themselves, but little kingdoms? The band itself is made up of men; it is ruled by the authority of a prince, it is knit together by the pact of the confederacy; the booty is divided by the law agreed on. If, by the admittance of abandoned men, this evil increases to such a degree that it holds places, fixes abodes, takes possession of cities, and subdues peoples, it assumes the more plainly the name of a kingdom, because the reality is now manifestly conferred on it, not by the removal of covetousness, but by the addition of impunity. Indeed, that was an apt and true reply which was given to Alexander the Great by a pirate who had been seized. For when that king had asked the man what he meant by keeping hostile possession of the sea, he answered with bold pride, “What thou meanest by seizing the whole earth; but because I do it with a petty ship, I am called a robber, whilst thou who dost it with a great fleet art styled emperor”.’

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A.

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The Abstract Ideal of Justice

It would be naive to believe that one could ever create a world where the lamb would lie with the lion under the protection of law and justice. ‘World Peace through World Law’ is certainly more than a mere dream, yet for the time being it remains an ideal in a warring world. To a large extent, the interests of the powerful still dominate international affairs, and will do so for the foreseeable future. Nevertheless, modern international law does have the ambition to make the world a better and more just place, if only step by step. Yet few passages can be found in instruments of international law where justice as such is invoked either explicitly or implicitly. These few norms, however, are key to the entire international legal order. What do they state? The fundamental importance of justice is indicated by its invocation in the Preamble to the Charter of the United Nations, according to which ‘the people of the United Nations are determined to establish conditions under which justice and respect for the obligations arising from treaties and other sources of international law can be maintained’. In the same vein, Article 2(3) of the Charter provides that all Members ‘shall settle their international disputes by peaceful means in such a manner that international peace and security, and justice, are not endangered.’ So it would seem that it is both as basic purpose and principle of the United Nations to maintain justice and to provide the procedural and institutional means to secure it.8 It is also significant that the Statute of the International Court of Justice recognises ‘the general principles of law recognized by civilized nations’ (Art. 38 (1)(c) of the Statute) as a source of law in its own right, alongside treaties and international customary law. In the ‘travaux préparatoires’ of the Statute, these principles are referred to as the ‘general principles of law and justice’.9 The Court also has the power to decide a case ‘ex aequo et bono, if the parties agree thereto’ (Art. 38 (2) of the Statute), which allows the Court to introduce notions of justice into their considerations. In addition, the United Nations has specified crucial material aspects of justice by stating unequivocally that human rights form the very basis of justice. In this spirit the preamble of the Declaration of Human Rights states, as do subsequent human rights covenants, that the ‘recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world’. This universal notion of justice has found earlier expression in State constitutions, such as the Constitution of the United States of America of 1787, where justice takes place of pride among the aims of the nascent union.10 According to Article 8

On the methods to maintain peace see P. Allan/A. Keller, ‘The Concept of a Just Peace or Achieving Peace Through Recognition, Renouncement, and Rule’, in id. (eds.), What is a Just Peace? 195 (2006).

9

Cf. D. Degan, Sources of International Law 50 (1997). On the drafting process of the PCIJStatute see A. Pellet, ‘Article 38’, in A. Zimmermann/C. Tomuschat/K. Oellers-Frahm (eds.), The Statute of the International Court of Justice 685 (2006).

10

As set forth in the preamble to the Constitution of the United States: ‘We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic

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2 of the 1999 Federal Constitution, the Swiss Confederation shall strive, inter alia, ‘to support the long-term preservation of natural resources, and to promote a just and peaceful international order’.

B.

Specific, Complementary Aspects of Justice

It might be argued that justice as such manifests itself in a tangible way in exceptional circumstances only and that it remains too abstract as an objective principle. Nevertheless, I venture to suggest here that in combination with other legitimizing principles of the legal order, justice gains in substance, meaning and influence. It provides guidance, revealing its specific power to question the status quo of positive law. Many aspects of justice concern us directly in our everyday life: We frequently talk about social, ecological and democratic justice. But what exactly do these terms refer to?

1.

Social Justice

The notion of justice is most closely linked to the social principle.11 And indeed, equal opportunities for all constitute the very substance of justice.12 But it is here that, world-wide, ideal and reality diverge dramatically. Many states have managed to create national institutions and processes to further social equality in the sense of iustitia distributiva (to each according to his needs and merits), thus establishing and maintaining social harmony. Yet on the international plane and within the international community (if one wants to use this ambitious term), the situation is alarming, even desperate. Today, more than 8 million people die every year because they are simply too poor to keep themselves alive.13 Particularly wretched is the fate of countless peoples in Africa – the victims of famine and of diseases such as cholera and HIV/AIDS. Hospitals and other health-care facilities as well as schools and opportunities for further education Tranquillity, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.’ 11

Cf. H. F. Zacher, Commentary on the Paper by Philip Allott on ‘International Society and the Idea of Justice’, in The Pontifical Academy of Social Sciences, XIII Plenary Session, Vol. 27 (2007), at 1, who justifiably argues: ‘[…] “global justice” at this time is not more than a project, but a necessary one all the same.’ And: ‘We see a big dangerous gap developing between the global social space and the domains of particulate entities. This space is being filled by global society, which – if not challenged by a common global regime – remains weak and tentative. This space is also selectively occupied by international law and international institutions, but only in a fragmented way. All the more so, transnational movements, activities and organisations are moving into this gap – partly seeking to build up power, partly looking for refuge or offering refuge, and partly trying to cultivate the emptiness, while at the same time mostly eroding the control and responsibility of the particulate entities. After global society’s self-detection, however, no path leads back to the exclusive role of national states or other particulate entities.’

12

Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, V, 6, para 1131a.

13

J. Sachs, The End of Poverty – How We Can Make It Happen in Our Lifetime 1 (2005).

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or cultural exchange are non-existent or inadequately equipped. Infrastructure such as roads, harbours and airports, or facilities to provide the population with drinking water and electricity, are all desperately in need of upgrading – or, in many cases, have not even been established yet. Poverty affects not only the physical well-being of its victims: It leaves little breathing room for high-minded morals, and entails criminality and corruption. Indeed, to alter Lord Acton’s dictum, abject and absolute poverty often corrupts absolutely. And yet, the global resources to remedy such deplorable conditions would be available. Thus, our modern world confronts us daily with the principle of, and demand for, social justice. For millennia, calamities such as epidemics, floods, drought or desertification have been perceived as a blow of fate or divine punishment; but now that humankind has the economic means and the technological potential to at least alleviate their effects, their unmitigated impact on the poorest of the poor are not reconcilable with distributive justice. Indeed, anyone passing judgement on justice and injustice behind the ‘veil of ignorance’ would reject such unequal suffering. Scientific analysis shows that for the first time in history, it would be possible to create a world largely freed from extreme poverty by the year 2025.14 In 2000, a United Nations summit of statesmen and prime ministers approved the Millennium Goal to halve poverty worldwide by 2015.15 Here, the abstract principle of social justice transforms into a concrete and measurable task. Injustice concerns us all, regardless of how distant the grievances are, and we are challenged to act not only in the name of justice but also in the name of peace, stability and the (preventative, not pre-emptive!) war on terror.16 All members of the international community share a collective responsibility to use the framework of a prospering globalised economy to mitigate rampant, worldwide social injustice.

2.

Ecological Justice

Closely related to the principle of social justice is that of ecological justice. The fundamental idea is that above and beyond the social dimension, there is a pact transcending the generations.17 According to this pact, every generation has the right to use the natural resources of the planet; at the same time, however, we must respect the same right of future generations. Each generation is merely the guardian of the rights of generations to come, acting as a trustee for the natural wealth to which future beneficiaries are equally entitled. Hence, it is necessary to limit the apparently intrinsic tendency of 14

J. Sachs, Investing in Development: A practical Plan to Achieve the Millennium Development Goals 262 (2005).

15

‘United Nations Millennium Declaration’, UN General Assembly Res. 55/2, UN Doc. A/ Res/55/2 (2000).

16

Cf. A. Cassese, ‘The International Community’s “Legal” Response to Terrorism’, 38 ICLQ 589 (1989).

17

Cf. Stiftung für die Rechte zukünftiger Generationen (ed.), Generationen-Gerechtigkeit, Issue 4 (2007), with editorial contributions by O. Höffe/P. Koller/U. Steinworth/A. Bohmeyer/J. Tremmel/O. Goeth.

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mankind to profit from control over natural resources with no regard to what is left for their children and their children’s children – to squander their inheritance while ignoring the legitimate claims of the nascituri. The use of earth’s natural resources must be sustainable, which means, as Edith Brown Weiss writes, ‘that we look at the earth and its resources not only as an investment opportunity, but as a trust passed to us by our ancestors for our benefit, but also to be passed on to our descendents for their use’.18 The same principle applies in relation to mankind’s collective responsibility to take measures against climate change. The most important legal instrument in this context is the 1992 United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change,19 the implementation of which was urged by the UN Climate Change Conference in Bali in its ‘Action Plan’ of 15 December 2007. Article 3 of the Convention provides: ‘In their actions to achieve the objective of the Convention and to implement its provisions, the Parties shall be guided, inter alia, by the following: 1. The parties should protect the climate system for the benefit of present and future generations of humankind, on the basis of equity and in accordance with their common but differentiated responsibilities and respective capabilities. Accordingly, the developed country Parties should take the lead in combating climate change and the adverse effects thereof. […] 2. The parties should take precautionary measures to anticipate, prevent or minimize the causes of climate change and mitigate its adverse effects. Where there are threats of serious or irreversible damage, lack of full scientific certainty should not be used as a reason for postponing such measures.’

3.

Democratic Justice

Democracy rests on the premise that all human beings are equal, the principle enshrined in modern constitutions and human rights documents through the protection of human dignity and equality before the law.20 From the notion of equality and dignity of all men follows their fundamental right to participate in equal measure, directly or indirectly, in the political process. Yet this fundamental right faces special difficulties in a globalised world. It is with some justification that transnational, international and supranational

18

E. Brown Weiss, ‘The Fairness to Future Generations and Sustainable Development’, in American University Journal of International Law and Politics 19 (1992-1993). The author also speaks of ‘planetary rights and obligations held by each generation’, ibid., at 239. In this sense already L. Wildhaber, ‘Rechtsfragen des internationalen Umweltschutzes’, in id., Wechselspiel zwischen Innen und Außen 319, at 339 et seq. (1996).

19

1992 United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, FCCC/INFORMAL/84, GE.05-62220 (E) 200705.

20

E.g. J. P. Müller, Demokratische Gerechtigkeit – Eine Studie zur Legitimität politischer und rechtlicher Ordnung 20 (1993). On the concept of human dignity, see J. A. Frowein, ‘Human Dignity in International Law’, in D. Kretzmer/E. Klein (eds.), The Concept of Human Dignity in Human Rights Discourse 121-132 (2002).

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politics are criticised for suffering from a ‘democracy deficit’. Indeed, this may be one of the major deficiencies of our modern political system.21 ‘Global governance’ is difficult to reconcile with a citizenry’s active and effective participation in public affairs. Still, by now powerful individuals at least have to render account to the international community, and often in spectacular ways. Thus, the President of the United States had to make his case for the war in Iraq in the international forum of the United Nations, when he had to explain, justify and legitimise his strategy to the General Assembly and the Security Council22 – where world opinion weighed his arguments in the balance, and, by a large majority, found them wanting. Overall, never before in the history of mankind have the processes of world politics been as transparent as they are today. If one understands the democratic principle ‘global governance’ in the sense of participation, public accountability and transparency, then the accusation of a ‘democracy deficit’ carries somewhat less weight. On the other hand, if democracy is perceived as the form of government of an active and responsible citizenry, then we cannot but acknowledge that the world is increasingly drifting away from this ideal. Still, the last few years have also witnessed large demonstrations against the concentration of economic power in Seattle, Davos, Prague, Genoa and Salzburg. Somewhat paradoxically, these opponents of globalisation have (sometimes with questionable means) pushed globalised protest. Thus, ‘civil society’ with its ‘grassroots’ movements is developing into a formative force on a global level.23 On an international level, democracy is increasingly realised in the realm of public opinion and public discourse, in a novel ‘espace démocratique où chacun peut s’exprimer librement en tant que citoyen du monde et non pas comme citoyen d’un Etat’.24 In this ‘global common’, the idea of democracy receives new and important impulses and inputs.25 In light of the ideal of democratic justice however, it is necessary to strive to make the authentic voice of citizens better heard on the international plane: International structures such as the legal orders of States and both international and supra-national organisations will have to be modified accordingly. Democratic justice demands that citizens be regarded neither as objects in the ‘power play’ of politics, nor as mere beneficiaries of human rights, but as active and creative subjects on all levels.

21

Cf. T. M. Franck, ‘The Emerging Right to Democratic Governance’, 86 AJIL 46, at 50 et seq. (1992).

22

This points to the legitimacy that processes may confer: cf. T. M. Franck, ‘Legitimacy in the International System’, 82 AJIL 705 (1988).

23

Cf. P. Sands, Lawless World – Making and Breaking Global Rules 18-19 (2005).

24

E. Jouannet, ‘L’idée de communauté humaine à la croisée de la communauté des Etats et à la communauté mondiale’, ‘La mondialisation entre Illusion et l’Utopie’, 47 Archives de philosophie du droit 191, at 227 (2003).

25

D. Thürer, ‘The Democratization of Contemporary International Law-Making Processes and the Differentiation of Their Application, Comment’, in R. Wolfrum/V. Röben (eds.), Developments of International Law in Treaty Making, Beiträge zum ausländischen öffentlichen Recht und Völkerrecht 53 (2005).

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Outrage in the Face of Injustice

‘Ce premier sentiment de la violence et de l’injustice est resté si profondément gravé dans mon âme, que toutes les idées qui s’y rapportent me rendent ma première émotion, et ce sentiment, relatif à moi dans son origine, a pris une telle consistence en lui-même, et s’est tellement détaché de tout intérêt personnel, que mon cœur s’enflamme au spectacle ou au récit de toute action injuste, quel qu’en soit l’objet et en quelque lieu qu’elle se commette, comme si l’effet en retombait sur moi.’ Jean-Jacques Rousseau26

Up to this point, we have tried to examine justice as an objective (and admittedly ambitious) goal, and as a core value of international law. We have also seen that it would be illusory ever to claim to know what justice in this sense means. It might, however, be more fruitful to approach the phenomenon of justice from its opposite: from its denial or violation – in other words, from injustice.27 Law defines itself by what it is meant to prevent: Any ‘right’ presupposes (and opposes) a ‘wrong’; the legal order is a response to what must not be. Similarly, the shock in the face of injustice, humiliation, outrage or anger is consciousness of justice in its most elementary form or, as Rousseau has so accurately described, the intuitive genesis of the notion of justice. Did not Job and Jonas at the dawn of history, or the archaic historiographer Hesiod express their feelings of injustice through the archetypical ‘outcry’ as the most basic form of communication, as a lament of justice denied? Clearly, there is a universal sensorium for injustice, intrinsic to the human being as such, perceptive to the denial of justice, and reinforced by the pivotal experience of injustice. It seems that this elementary experience, this sting of injustice, has gradually been condensed into legal norms, for instance Article 3 common to the four 1949 Geneva Conventions, which constitutes a ‘mini Convention’ of international humanitarian law of sorts,28 and which the International Court of Justice has held to embody elementary 26

J.-J. Rousseau, Les Confessions, livre I, at 47 (1972 and 1998).

27

For a more detailed discussion, see D. Thürer, ‘Das Willkürverbot nach Art. 4 BV’, 106 Zeitschrift für Schweizerisches Recht 600 (1987/II).

28

Art. 3 common to the 4 Geneva Conventions, 75 UNTS 31, 75 UNTS 85, 75 UNTS 135, 75 UNTS 267, which applies to non-international armed conflict, provides that: In the case of armed conflict not of an international character occurring in the territory of one of the High Contracting Parties, each Party to the conflict shall be bound to apply, as a minimum, the following provisions: (1) Persons taking no active part in the hostilities, including members of armed forces who have laid down their arms and those placed hors de combat by sickness, wounds, detention, or any other cause, shall in all circumstances be treated humanely, without any adverse distinction founded on race, colour, religion or faith, sex, birth or wealth, or any other similar criteria. To this end the following acts are and shall remain prohibited at any time and in any place whatsoever with respect to the above-mentioned persons: (a) violence to life and person, in particular murder of all kinds, mutilation, cruel treatment and torture; (b) taking of hostages;

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considerations of humanity’.29 Other examples include the clauses barring derogation from certain rights in a number of human rights conventions,30 the Nuremberg Charter (1945), and the Statutes of the United Nations Tribunals for ex-Yugoslavia (1992) and Rwanda (1993) as well as the international law crimes enumerated by the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (1998).31 On a methodological level, demands have been made to grant special weight to the voice of the victim as the authentic expression of the suffering caused by injustice. ‘His voice’, wrote Judith N. Shklar, ‘has pre-eminence over all others, for without his testimony, it is impossible to decide whether he has suffered injustice or misfortune.’32 When trying to capture the quintessence of justice through the moral outrage in the face of injustice, intuition and imagination play an essential role. Yet this ‘visceral’ approach complements, rather than contradicts, the objective or ‘philosophical’ approach discussed earlier. It is a combination of the heart and the head that will allow us to extend the realm of justice.

III.

Boundaries of Justice

‘Avant qu’ il y eût des loix faites, il y avait des rapports de justice possibles’ Montesquieu33 (c) outrages upon personal dignity, in particular, humiliating and degrading treatment; (d) the passing of sentences and the carrying out of executions without previous judgment pronounced by a regularly constituted court affording all the judicial guarantees which are recognized as indispensable by civilized peoples. (2) The wounded and sick shall be collected and cared for. An impartial humanitarian body, such as the International Committee of the Red Cross, may offer its services to the Parties to the conflict. The Parties to the conflict should further endeavour to bring into force, by means of special agreements, all or part of the other provisions of the present Convention. The application of the preceding provisions shall not affect the legal status of the Parties to the conflict. 29

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicargua v. United States), Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14, at 113-114, where the ICJ considered that certain rules stated in common art. 3 ‘constituted a minimum yardstick, in addition to the more elaborated rules which are also to apply to international conflicts; and they are rules which, in the Court’s opinion, reflect what the Court in 1949 called “elementary considerations of humanity”’. Cf. Corfu Channel Case, Merits, Judgment of 9 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 4, at 41.

30

Cf., e.g., International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, 999 UNTS 171, art. 4; and 1950 European Convention of Human Rights, 213 UNTS 221, art. 15.

31

Concerning the (slightly differing) statutory definitions of genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes. Cf. W. M. Reisman, ‘Legal Responses to Genocide and other Massive Violations of Human Rights’, 59 Law and Contemporary Problems 75-80 (1996).

32

J. N. Shklar, Über Ungerechtigkeit – Erkundungen zu einem moralischen Gefühl 113 (1997).

33

Montesquieu, De l’esprit des lois (1755), part I, book 1, ch. 1.

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We live in an age of globalisation. By that we mean not only an economic process, but a novel kind of reality, a new mode of consciousness and a different way of thinking. It is no longer possible to divide this world into a given number of states and to assume that each and every nation will fend for itself, solve its own problems. Today’s pressing questions are not restricted to states; therefore, they cannot be answered on a national level. The era of ‘sovereign States’ is over, and will not return any time soon.34 It is not new to view humankind as a global collective, to speak of humanity rather than of various peoples. On an intellectual level, Philosophers such as the Stoics,35 Dante,36 Shakespeare37 or Kant,38 have paved the way for a global approach by regarding all men as equally endowed with reason and equal rights. Yet what is new – as Philip Allott put it – is that the international community, indeed mankind itself, is about to develop a new idea or perception of itself, a new consciousness and new ideals; and this evolving ‘self-socialisation’ of humankind is reflected in a new language and embodied in new institutions.39 Only recently have expressions such as ‘mankind’ been added to the vocabulary of international lawyers. ‘Crimes against humanity’ or the notion of a ‘common heritage of mankind’ are but two examples of this development. Above and beyond the states, an ‘international community’ with numerous (and partly new) players is about to constitute itself; its ‘citizens’ are interconnected in a nascent framework of ‘global governance’. New universal institutions of mankind are being established. Perhaps the most spectacular result of this development – apart from universal human rights – is the establishment of the institution and norms of the International Criminal Court. The ‘homo faber’40 of international law has perforated in Nuremberg (and later in 34

Cf. B. Simma, ‘From Bilateralism to Community Interest in International Law’, 250 Recueil des Cours 229 (1994); and C. Tomuschat, ‘International Law: Ensuring the Survival of Mankind on the Eve of a New Century’, 281 Recueil des Cours 70-72 (1999).

35

Cf., e.g., Seneca, de beneficiis, 3,18 2002, ed. & transl. A. Stewart: ‘The path of virtue is closed to no one, it lies open to all; it admits and invites all, whether they be free-born men, slaves or freed-men, kings or exiles; it requires no qualifications of family or of property, it is satisfied with a mere man. […] A slave can be just, brave, magnanimous; he can therefore bestow a benefit, for this is also the part of a virtuous man.’

36

D. Allighieri, De Monarchia, I, iii, 4 ed. & transl. R. Imbach and Chr. Flüerer, 1989: ‘Est ergo aliqua porpria operatio humane universitatis, ad quam ipsa umiversitas hominum in tanta multitudine ordinatur’ – ‘Thus, there is a peculiar operation of all of mankind, towards the entirety of mankind in its variety is orientated.’ Subsequently, Dante argues that the unique task of mankind is to realise the sum of humanity’s intellectual.’ Ibid., I, iv, 1.

37

W. Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Act 3, Scene 1, ‘Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?’

38

‘... in weltbürgerlicher Absicht’, quoted in P. Häberle, Europäische Verfassungslehre 72 (2008).

39

P. Allott, ‘International Society and the Idea of Justice’, in The Pontifical Academy of Social Sciences, XIII Plenary Session, Rome (2007). Similarly F. Ermacora, Menschenrechte in der sich wandelnden Welt, Vol. 1, § 285 (1974).

40

Allott, supra note 39, at 1.

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the ‘the spirit of Nuremberg’) the immunity and impunity of state representatives and the principle of individual international responsibility has been established. As the chief prosecutor, Robert H. Jackson, stated in his closing argument before the Nuremberg Tribunal: ‘The Agreement of London, whether it originates or merely records, at all events marks a transition in International Law which roughly corresponds to that in the evolution in local law when men ceased to punish local crime by “hue and cry”, and began to let reason and inquiry govern punishment. The society of nations has emerged from the primitive “hue and cry”, the law of “catch and kill”. It seeks to apply sanctions to enforce International Law, but to guide their application by evidence, law, and reason instead of outcry.’41 In this vein, it may be claimed that a new paradigm, a communal collective consciousness is rising, with a ‘public mind of all-humanity’42 as its final result. I think that this is the fundamental truth of the assumption that David Hume expressed more than 200 years ago: ‘(A)gain, suppose that several distinct societies maintain a kind of intercourse for mutual convenience and advantage, the boundaries of justice still grow larger, in proportion to the largeness of men’s views, and the force of their mutual connection. History, experience, reason sufficiently instruct us in this natural progress of human sentiments, and in the gradual enlargement of our regards to justice, in proportion as we become acquainted with the extensive utility of that virtue.’43

Today, no one would claim that justice is an a priori valid principle of the co-existence of people, groups and institutions, providing precise and consistent solutions for problems ‘on the ground’. For that task, the idea of justice is too vague and too nebulous. But justice still is of practical relevance to the (international) lawyer: It is the driving force behind the creation and further development of rights; it provides important practical guidelines when constructing and implementing rights; and it may sometimes even overrule positive law. *** The aim of this essay is to highlight an aspect of justice that has perhaps been somewhat neglected so far: the special benefit that embedding justice as a guiding principle into the law of the international community has offered for the consolidation and development of the notion of justice itself. As a principle deeply rooted in human reason and in the idea of human equality, justice impels us to break through the psychological, social, institutional and geographical barriers which limit our self-consciousness and our perception of the world at large. Our working tools are comparison, experiments, the dialectics of generalisation and specific application, and the adaptation to change 41

R. H. Jackson, ‘Closing Address in the Nuremberg Trial’, in London, supra note 1, at 468.

42

Allott, supra note 39, at 5: ‘The rediscovery by the public mind of all-humanity of the full potentiality of the ideal self-ordering of the human mind is an unprecedented intellectual and practical challenge – a challenge that may prove too great even for the amazing power of the self-transcending of human self-contemplating.’

43

D. Hume, An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, Chapter III (Of Justice), at 47 (1751).

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and to new realities of human conditions. We should aim at, as Immanuel Kant has put it, an ‘expansion of our mentality’ (Erweiterung der Denkungsart). In our context, this would require a process resulting in a universal acceptance of the legal principle and the rule of law respectively. This process would, no doubt, lend increasing importance and influence to the notion of justice on the international plane. For any community, establishing a positive legal order is an important achievement. But at one point – as the development on a national level has shown – simply having laws does not suffice any longer: there need to be good and just laws. The international community has so far operated under a legal system which, to be sure, has provided some order to an otherwise anarchic world. But it might have reached the point where mere order should be complemented by a just order.

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CHAPTER II

Basic Principles of International Law

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Rechtliche Hegung von Gewalt zwischen Theorie und Praxis Michael Bothe

I.

Die Fragestellung

Die rechtliche Hegung von militärischer Gewalt in den internationalen Beziehungen ist eine zentrale Aufgabe des Völkerrechts. Andrerseits dient eine gewisse nicht zu leugnende Erfolglosigkeit des Völkerrechts bei der Hegung von Gewalt – oft als Argument, nicht nur bei Politikern und Journalisten – die Geltung einschlägiger Normen überhaupt zu verneinen. Ob und warum völkerrechtliche Normen zur Hegung von Gewalt gelten und wie sie eine Steuerungsfunktion entfalten, ist darum eine theoretisch und praktisch zentrale Frage des heutigen Völkerrechts. Deshalb ist es notwendig, genauer zu durchleuchten, wie sich das Recht dagegen wehrt, durch Nichtbeachtung irrelevant zu werden – oder anders herum ausgedrückt: welche Mechanismen zur Sicherung der Einhaltung des Rechts bestehen. Sowohl in der Praxis als auch in der Theorie weist die rechtliche Hegung von Gewalt im Völkerrecht einige Besonderheiten auf. Eine derselben besteht darin, dass die rechtliche Hegung von Gewalt auf zwei Stufen erfolgt: ius contra bellum und ius in bello. Letzteres setzt das Versagen des ersteren voraus. Das ist erklärungsbedürftig. Das innerstaatliche Recht verbietet das Töten und enthält nur ausnahmsweise Vorschriften über die Art und Weise wie zu verfahren ist, wenn doch getötet wird. Rechtsvorschriften für den Fall, dass das Recht nicht beachtet wird, pflegen nur die Frage zu betreffen, wie denn das Recht am besten durchgesetzt werden kann. Dass aber das Recht für den Fall des Rechtsbruchs einen ganzen eigenen Codex mit eigenen Rechtswidrigkeitsurteilen zur Verfügung stellt, ist schon inkonsequent. Eben dies aber tut das ius in bello. Eigentlich konsequent waren darum diejenigen Juristen, die sich nach 1945 nicht weiter mit dem ius in bello beschäftigen wollten, nachdem der Krieg durch die Satzung der Vereinten Nationen abgeschafft sein sollte. Er ließ sich aber jedenfalls de facto nicht abschaffen. Deshalb blieb das ius in bello als eine zweite Ebene der Hegung von Gewalt notwendig und entwickelte sich weiter. Diese beiden Rechtsmassen, getrennte Normenkomplexe, zeigen sich deutlich in den bedeutenden Entscheidungen des IGH zur rechtlichen Hegung von Gewalt:1 Ius contra bellum und ius in bello werden getrennt und nacheinander behandelt und zum Gegenstand getrennter Urteilsaussprüche. 1

Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Uganda), Urteil vom 19 Dezember 2005, 2005 ICJ Rep. 168; auch schon Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States), Merits, Urteil vom 27 Juni 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 141-170, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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Diesen zwei Rechtsmassen ist allerdings gemeinsam, dass sie unter Umständen angewendet werden müssen, in denen die Sicherheit, ja das Überleben des Staates gefährdet sind oder jedenfalls scheinen. Unter diesen Umständen ist die Sicherung der Beachtung des Rechts besonders schwierig, ist der Anreiz, staatliches Interesse (oder was in dieser Situation dafür gehalten wird) der Einhaltung des Rechts überzuordnen, sehr groß. Trotz dieser Gemeinsamkeit zeigt es sich, dass die Instrumente, die in beiden Rechtsbereichen zur Sicherung der Beachtung des Rechts eingesetzt werden oder werden können, sehr unterschiedlich sind. Inwiefern und warum das so ist, versucht der folgende Beitrag auszuleuchten. Er kann sich dabei nicht auf die Darstellung bestimmter Rechtsverfahren beschränken, er muss vielmehr politische und gesellschaftliche Verhältnisse in den Blick nehmen, die letztlich Einhaltung oder Nichteinhaltung des Rechts bestimmen. Dabei zeigt sich, dass es ein sehr komplexer Mix von Instrumenten ist, die bewirken, dass sich die Chancen der Beachtung des Völkerrechts erhöhen, wenn es um die rechtliche Hegung von Gewalt geht. Es gibt informelle, gesellschaftliche und politische Rahmenbedingen, die die Einhaltung des Rechts befördern. Es gibt politische Verfahren, es gibt rechtsförmliche Verfahren. Hinzu tritt die Mehr-Ebenen-Problematik: Solche Mechanismen und Verfahren bestehen auf nationaler und internationaler Ebene. Der vorliegende Beitrag versucht, die Vielfalt dieser Mechanismen zu zeigen, in einer gewissen Ordnung darzustellen und zusammenfassend zu würdigen.

II.

Instrumente der Einhaltung des ius contra bellum

Kernstück des ius contra bellum ist das allgemeine völkerrechtliche Gewaltverbot sowie die Regeln, die bestimmen, in welchen Fällen Gewalt ausnahmsweise doch eingesetzt werden darf. Um diesen Kern gibt es einen großen Bestand von Normen, die dem Ziel dienen, die Einhaltung dieser Normen zu sichern. Zum Teil handelt es sich um Sekundärnormen (Schadenersatzpflichten, Strafsanktionen), zum Teil aber auch um besondere Primärnormen (Recht der Friedenssicherung, Rüstungskontrolle und Abrüstung).

A.

Interessenkonstellationen und Konfliktursachen

Bevor diese Mechanismen im einzelnen für das ius contra bellum untersucht werden, ist ein kurzer und notwendigerweise allgemeiner Blick auf politische Rahmenbedingungen zu werfen, in denen und unter denen das ius contra bellum seine Wirksamkeit entfalten muss. Dass Kollektive versuchen, ihre kollektiven Interessen, oder das, was die Entscheidungsträger dafür halten, mit Gewalt durchzusetzen, ist ein historischer Befund, der sich bis in graue Vorzeit nachweisen lässt. Die Entschlossenheit, solches zu tun, wurde über die Jahrhunderte als Tugend angesehen. Religionen, insbesondere die monotheistischen Religionen haben mit Forderungen der Ausbreitung oder Verteidigung der

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Religion das ihre dazu beigetragen. Die schon früh im Christentum entwickelte Lehre vom gerechten Krieg hat daran auch wenig geändert, bedeutete sie zwar einerseits eine moralisch-rechtliche Begrenzung kriegerischer Gewalt, auf der anderen Seite aber eben auch ihre Rechtfertigung. Das ist erst im 20. Jahrhundert anders geworden, ausgelöst durch eine Skandalisierung2 der öffentlichen Meinung, die die Leiden des modernen Krieges als nicht mehr hinnehmbar ansah. Diese Skandalisierung hat nach dem ersten Weltkrieg zwar sehr rasch zu einer Entwicklung von Rechtsnormen geführt, die die bis dahin bestehende Indifferenz des Völkerrechts gegenüber dem Krieg, die „liberté à la guerre“,3 durch ein Kriegsverbot ablösten, eine Entwicklung, die sich durch die leidvollen Erfahrungen des zweiten Weltkrieges konsolidierte. Diese Skandalisierung war aber nie so stark und so allgemein, dass sie die Anreize, Interessen von Kollektiven, insbesondere von Staaten mit Gewalt durchzusetzen, völlig verdrängt hätte. Will man die Einhaltung oder Nichteinhaltung des Völkerrechts mit einer KostenNutzen-Rechnung seitens der relevanten Akteure erklären,4 dann hat die genannte Entwicklung wohl die politischen Kosten einer Entscheidung, militärische Gewalt einzusetzen, erhöht. Aber sie hat diese Kosten sozusagen nicht unbezahlbar gemacht. Dabei treten zwei unterschiedliche Arten von Kosten des Militäreinsatzes in den Blick: die materiellen Kosten und Nutzen eines zu führenden Konflikts und die politischen Kosten rechtswidrigen Handels. Eine wesentliche Konfliktursache sind Fehlprognosen auf ersterem Gebiet. Die Geschichte ist voll von Konflikten, die aufgrund einer groben Fehleinschätzung von Kosten und Nutzen begonnen wurden. Eklatante Beispiele aus jüngerer Zeit sind die Angriffe des Irak gegen den Iran 1980 und Kuwait (1990) sowie die Intervention der USA und Großbritanniens im Irak 2003. Mechanismen, die die Einhaltung des ius contra bellum sichern sollen, können bei dieser Kostenkalkulation ansetzen und tun dies auch teilweise. Dies ist zum Beispiel der Sinn bestimmter Rüstungskontrollabkommen aus der Zeit des Kalten Krieges, die die Kommunikation zwischen möglichen Konfliktparteien erleichtern und Fehleinschätzungen verhindern sollen.5 Diese Zeit war dadurch gekennzeichnet, dass das Risiko von Schäden im Falle eines bewaffneten Konflikts als unannehmbar hoch angesehen wurde.6 Das war das System der gegenseitigen Abschreckung zwischen den Supermächten, das auch eine indirekte Wirkung auf Konflikte entfaltete, in denen die Supermächte zunächst nicht unmittelbar involviert waren. Rüstungskontrollmechanismen hatten das Ziel, dieses 2

Zu diesem Phänomen N. Luhmann, Das Recht der Gesellschaft 581 (1995); A. Fischer-Lescano, Globalverfassung 67 et seq. (2005).

3

B. Fassbender, „Die Gegenwartskrise des völkerrechtlichen Gewaltverbots vor dem Hintergrund der geschichtlichen Entwicklung“, 31 EuGRZ 241, S. 243 (2004).

4

Kritisch dazu H. P. Neuhold, „The Foreign Policy Cost-Benefit-Analysis Revisited“, 42 GYIL 84 (1999).

5

1963 Memorandum of Understanding regarding the Establishment of a Direct Communications Link (US/UDSSR), revidiert 1971 („Heißer Draht-Abkommen“); 1971 Agreement on Measures to Reduce the Risk of Outbreak of Nuclear War; 1972 Agreement on the Prevention of Incidents on and over the High Seas, revidiert 1973; 1973 Agreement on the Prevention of Nuclear War.

6

Fassbender, supra Fn. 3, S. 253.

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Gleichgewicht der Abschreckung, sogar in Form einer „mutual assured destruction“ aufrecht zu erhalten. Die relative Konflikthäufigkeit nach dem Ende des Ost-WestKonflikts deutet darauf hin, dass diese Kostenkalkulation sich nachhaltig geändert hat. Deshalb kann, so ist zu folgern, die „klassische“ Abschreckung die Einhaltung des Gewaltverbots nicht mehr sichern. Diese hängt vielmehr heute von anderen Mechanismen ab, die auf die Motivation der Entscheidungsträger einwirken – sei diese Motivation nun die Folge eines rationalen Kostenkalküls, sei sie eher ethisch oder auch irrational inspiriert. Hier liegt die Bedeutung rechtlicher Diskurse, die diese Motivation formen. Der IGH hat diese Bedeutung in einem viel zitierten, schon klassisch zu nennenden Absatz in seinem Nicaragua-Urteil formuliert:7 „It is not to be expected that in the practice of States the application of the rules in question should have been perfect, in the sense that States should have refrained, with complete consistency, from the use of force or from intervention into each other’s internal affairs. The Court does not consider that, for a rule to be established as customary, the corresponding practice must be in absolutely rigorous conformity with the rule. In order to deduce the existence of customary rules, the Court deems it sufficient that the conduct of States should, in general, be consistent with such rules, and that instances of State conduct inconsistent with a given rule should generally have been treated as breaches of that rule, not as indications of the recognition of a new rule. If a State acts in a way prima facie incompatible with a recognized rule, but defends its conduct by appealing to exceptions or justifications contained within the rule itself, then whether or not the State’s conduct is in fact justifiable on that basis, the significance of that attitude is to confirm rather than to weaken the rule.“

Diese Passage bezieht sich zunächst auf die Frage der Geltung der Norm des Gewaltverbots. Diese hängt nicht nur von dem tatsächlichen Verhalten der Staaten ab, sondern von einem Diskurs, nämlich von den einen Gewalteinsatz begleitenden Erklärungen sowohl des Staates, der Gewalt einsetzt, als auch von dritten Staaten. Angesichts der relativen Häufigkeit von Gewalteinsätzen gewinnt dieser Diskurs besondere Bedeutung. Im weiteren Verlauf seiner Argumentation gibt sich das Gericht mit einer Analyse der verbalen Praxis der Staaten zufrieden, wobei es den Erklärungen der am Prozess beteiligten Staaten besonderes Gewicht beimisst. Diese Diskursanalyse ist für das Gericht der entscheidende Gesichtspunkt, mit dem es die Geltung des Gewaltverbots und die Tragweite seiner Ausnahmen begründet. Man wird allerdings nicht sagen können, dass das Gericht dem tatsächlichen Verhalten jede Bedeutung abgesprochen habe. Es wird ja verlangt, das Verhalten der Staaten müsse „in general, be consistent with such rules“. Wo diese Schwelle aber liegt, bleibt unklar. Der letzte Satz des Zitats zeigt deutlich, worum es sich bei dem rechtlichen Diskurs in aller Regel handelt, nämlich um die Frage, ob eine der Ausnahmen des Gewaltverbots greift. Am wichtigsten ist die Berufung auf Selbstverteidigung, sehr wesentlich ist auch

7

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua, supra Fn. 1, § 186 des Urteils.

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die Berufung auf die Zustimmung des Zielstaates eines militärischen Eingreifens sowie das Vorliegen einer Ermächtigung des Sicherheitsrats. Der Diskurs, den der IGH meint, ist stark fallbezogen, er begleitet einzelne Fälle des Einsatzes von Gewalt. Deshalb ist er, wie noch im Einzelnen zu zeigen sein wird, auch Bestandteil der Mechanismen, die die Einhaltung des ius contra bellum sichern.

B.

Eigenmächtige Rechtsdurchsetzung

Das klassische Mittel der Rechtsdurchsetzung in der dezentralisierten Ordnung des Völkerrechts war die Eigenmacht in der Form der Repressalie. Sie ist bei Verletzungen des Gewaltverbots immer noch zulässig, allerdings mit wesentlichen Einschränkungen. Die gewaltsame Repressalie ist als Verletzung des Gewaltverbots nicht mehr erlaubt. Einseitige Gewaltausübung ist nur als Selbstverteidigung zulässig, die von der Repressalie zu unterscheiden ist, u.U. aber mit ihr zusammenfallen kann. Selbstverteidigung ist nur bei einem bestimmten Fall der Verletzung des Gewaltverbots zulässig, nämlich als Reaktion auf einen bewaffneten Angriff. Selbstverteidigung ist eine Schutzmaßnahme, keine Maßnahme der Rechtsdurchsetzung. Die vom Gegner wahrgenommene Möglichkeit wirksamer Selbstverteidigung ist aber ein wichtiger Faktor, der Erstausübung militärischer Gewalt verhindert. Darauf beruhte das System der gegenseitigen Abschreckung im Kalten Krieg. Im Folgenden sind Institutionen und Verfahren zu erörtern, die die Einhaltung des Gewaltverbots anders als durch einseitige Gegenmaßnahmen zu sichern geeignet sind

C.

Informelle Verfahren – Internalisierung von Normen und Foren des rechtlichen Diskurses

Internalisierung von Normen bedeutet eine Motivation, die die Einhaltung des Gewaltverbots bewirkt. Eine wesentliche und unverzichtbare Rolle spielt dabei das Rechtsbewusstsein der relevanten Akteure. Deshalb sind gesellschaftliche und politische Umstände, die bewirken, dass politischen und militärischen Entscheidungsträgern bei der Entscheidung über den Einsatz militärischer Gewalt die Rechtlage eine wesentliche Handlungsanleitung bietet, bedeutsam. Dabei sind zwei ganz unterschiedliche Mechanismen zu unterscheiden. Zum einen geht es um das allgemeine gesellschaftliche Umfeld der Entscheidungen. Friedenserziehung und Friedensbewegungen, pazifistische Meinungsbildung haben hier ihren Platz. Diese Mechanismen wirken auf nationaler und auf internationaler Ebene. Aus dem Kreis der Sonderorganisationen der Vereinten Nationen ist es vor allem die UNESCO, die sich diesen Fragen widmet. Seit 1981 verleiht die Organisation einen Preis für Friedenserziehung:8 „The promotion of peace is contingent upon the respect of cultural and religious differences […]. To achieve a culture of peace, the principles of diversity and dialogue 8

UNESCO Prize for Peace Education 2006, UNESCO: Paris 2007.

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must be deeply embedded within each and every one of us. Education is, therefore, of critical importance […].“9

Ein zweites Element ist der Einfluss rechtlicher Gesichtpunkte auf die Entscheidung selbst. Dies ist eine Frage der politischen Kultur in jedem Land.10 Ob und wie sich gegebenenfalls die politische Kultur in jedem Land auf die Entscheidung der Exekutive, die ja der primäre Entscheidungsträger ist, auswirkt, ist z.T. eine Frage der Wirkung der öffentlichen Meinung, z.T. ein Problem der Gewaltenteilung.11 In den meisten Demokratien ist die Kriegserklärung dem Parlament vorbehalten, aber unter den modernen Bedingungen ist der Einsatz militärischer Gewalt nicht auf einen zu erklärenden Krieg beschränkt. Deshalb ist die parlamentarische Rückbindung jeglicher Entscheidung über den Einsatz militärischer Gewalt in der modernen Demokratie eine wesentliche Frage, zum Teil verwirklicht, zum Teil nur ein Petitum.12 In Großbritannien, wo es eine formelle parlamentarische Mitwirkung an Entscheidungen über Militäreinsatz nicht gibt, aber eine allgemeine parlamentarische Kontrolle der Regierung, hat das Rechtsargument in der parlamentarischen Debatte über die Irak-Intervention 2003 eine sehr große Rolle gespielt. In der Bundesrepublik, in der es eine entwickelte Parlamentsbeteiligung gibt, ist wohl der Unwillen der Regierung, die Frage der Rechtmäßigkeit des Irak-Krieges öffentlich zu diskutieren, ein wesentlicher Grund dafür, dass die Regierung versuchte, die Beteiligung von Bundeswehrsoldaten an der Verteidigung des Luftraum über der Türkei nicht zum Gegenstand parlamentarischer Zustimmung zu machen – allerdings wiederum unter Einsatz eines Rechtsarguments, mit dem die Zustimmungsbedürftigkeit geleugnet wurde.13 Es ist sicher nicht so, dass parlamentarische Beteiligung stets dem Rechtsargument zum Sieg verhelfen würde. Das Rechtsargument hat in der parlamentarischen Debatte um die Irak-Intervention in Europa eine große Rolle gespielt, in der entsprechenden Debatte in USA war es weniger wichtig. Aber sicher bietet die parlamentarische Debatte ein wichtiges Potential für die Wirkung des rechtlichen Diskurses, und damit für die Gewalt hegende Steuerungsfunktion des Rechts.

9

Koïchiro Matsuura, supra Fn. 8, S. 16. Vgl. auch die auf Initiative der UNESCO angenommene 1997 Yamoussoukro Declaration on Peace in the Minds of Men, http://www.unesco.org/cpp/ uk/declarations/yamoussoukro2.pdf.

10

Vgl. etwa zur Kuba-Krise A. Chayes, The Cuban Missile Crisis (1974), aus der von der ASIL herausgegebenen Reihe International Crises and the Role of Law.

11

M. Bothe/A. Fischer-Lescano, „The Dimensions of Domestic Constitutional and Statutory Limits on the Use of Military Force“, in M. Bothe/M.E. O’Connell/N. Ronzitti (Hrsg.), Redefining Sovereignty. The Use of force After the Cold War 195 (2005); vgl. auch infra, II.I.

12

O. Eberl/A. Fischer-Lescano, „Grenzen demokratischen Rechts? Die Entsendeentscheidungen zum Irakkrieg in Großbritannien, den USA und Spanien“, 8/2005 HSFK-Report 13 ff.

13

Zu dem darüber geführten Prozess vgl. F. Schröder, Das parlamentarische Zustimmungsverfahren zum Auslandseinsatz der Bundeswehr in der Praxis 127 ff (2005).

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D.

147

Die Vereinten Nationen, insbesondere der Sicherheitsrat

Die zweite Ebene der Mechanismen, die eine Beachtung des Gewaltverbots sichern sollen, sind die Systeme der Friedenssicherung auf universeller und regionaler Ebene, insbesondere also das System der Vereinten Nationen. Allerdings ist eine strikte Durchsetzung des Gewaltverbots sehr wohl zu unterscheiden von der Aufrechterhaltung bzw. Wiederherstellung von Frieden und Sicherheit, die Aufgabe des Sicherheitsrates sind. Eine schwere Verletzung des Gewaltverbots, nämlich ein „act of aggression“, ist nur eine der Situationen, die die Zuständigkeit des Sicherheitsrates zum Erlass von Zwangsmaßnahmen auslösen. Daneben sind auch eine Bedrohung und ein Bruch des Friedens solche Auslöser. In der Praxis des Sicherheitsrates fällt auf, dass dieser sehr häufig darauf verzichtet, einen der Rechtsverletzung schuldigen Staat als solchen zu benennen. In der Regel begründet heute der Sicherheitsrat Maßnahmen nach Kap. VII der Satzung damit, dass eine Bedrohung des Friedens („threat to the peace“) vorliege. Den israelischen Angriff auf den irakischen Nuklear-Reaktor 1981 hat der Sicherheitsrat zwar als Völkerrechtsverletzung verurteilt, ihn aber lediglich als „threat to the peace“ bezeichnet. Nur in ganz wenigen Fällen stellt der Sicherheitsrat einen Friedensbruch fest, bei dem auch ein Friedensbrecher genannt wird, so beim Angriff auf Südkorea „aus Nordkorea“,14 bei der argentinischen Invasion auf den Falkland-Inseln15 und beim irakischen Einmarsch in Kuwait.16 Eine Verurteilung wegen eines „act of aggression“ hat es bislang nur zweimal gegeben.17 In vielen Fällen, in denen offenkundig eine Verletzung des Gewaltverbots vorlag, hat sich der Sicherheitsrat jeder Qualifikation der Situation oder eines beteiligten Staates enthalten, so jedenfalls lange Zeit in dem bewaffneten Konflikt zwischen Irak und Iran (1980-88) sowie in dem Konflikt zwischen Israel und Libanon 2006. So bedeutsam die Rolle des Sicherheitsrates bei der Friedenssicherung heute politisch auch ist, sowohl die Undeutlichkeit der rechtlichen Aussagen als auch die politische Selektivität18 hinsichtlich der Auswahl der Konflikte, zu denen überhaupt eine Aussage getroffen wird, machen den Sicherheitsrat zu einer etwas zweifelhaften Institution, wenn es um die Sicherung der Einhaltung des völkerrechtlichen Gewaltverbots unter rechtlichen Gesichtspunkten geht.

E.

Internationale Gerichtsbarkeit

Klassisches rechtsförmliches Verfahren der Sicherung der Beachtung des Rechts ist das gerichtliche Verfahren. Seine Bedeutung ist eine doppelte: zum einen ist das Risiko, in 14

UN Sicherheitsrats Resolutionen, UN Dok. S/RES/5/82 (1950), S/RES/5/83 (1950).

15

UN Sicherheitsrats Resolution, UN Dok. S/RES/502 (1982).

16

UN Sicherheitsrats Resolution, UN Dok. S/RES/660 (1990).

17

UN Sicherheitsrats Resolution, UN Dok. S/RES/573 (1985), bezüglich israelischer Angriffe auf PLO-Ziele in Tunesien; UN Sicherheitsrats Resolution, UN Dok. S/RES/577 (1985) bezüglich südafrikanischer Angriffe auf Angola.

18

J. Boulden, „Double Standards, Distance and Disengagement“, 37 Security Dialogue 409-423 (2006).

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einen Prozess gezogen zu werden, ein wesentliches Element eines rationalen Kostenkalküls vor einer Entscheidung. Zum andern hat die gerichtliche Entscheidung, sei sie auf Feststellung einer Rechtsverletzung, sei sie auf Ersatz des Schadens für rechtwidriges Handeln gerichtet, eine wesentliche Funktion des Ausgleichs, der Verwirklichung von Gerechtigkeit und damit der gesellschaftlichen Befriedung. Welche Rolle spielt nun das gerichtliche Verfahren bei der Durchsetzung des ius contra bellum? In der Rechtsprechung des IGH wurde das Gewaltverbot in erheblichem Umfang thematisiert. Grundlegend ist bis heute die Nicaragua-Entscheidung von 1986.19 Die Entscheidung ist gekennzeichnet durch eine konsequent restriktive Haltung hinsichtlich der Legitimation militärischer Gewalt. Sie klärt drei praktisch wesentliche Fragen der Legitimation militärischer Gewalt: — Trotz der zahlreichen Verletzungen ist das Gewaltverbot Bestandteil des Gewohnheitsrechts (was in Bezug auf seine vertragsrechtliche Geltung auch bedeutet, dass es nicht durch eine gegenteilige Praxis derogiert ist). — Ein bewaffneter Angriff, der das Selbstverteidigungsrecht auslöst, kann auch in der Unterstützung von Rebellen bestehen. Dies ist jedoch nur der Fall, wenn der ausländische unterstützende Staat in erheblichem Umfang in Gewaltausübung der Rebellen involviert ist. — Kollektive Selbstverteidigung als Rechtfertigung von Gewalt setzt ein Hilfsersuchen des Staates voraus, der das Recht der individuellen Selbstverteidigung besitzt. M.a.W., Hilfeleistung kann nicht aufgezwungen werden. Obwohl die Klage sich erledigt hat, bevor in der zweiten Prozessphase über einen Schadenersatz verhandelt wurde, haben diese und weitere Feststellungen des Gerichts eine erhebliche Wirkung entfaltet. Sie haben den ganzen folgenden rechtlichen Diskurs zu Fragen des Gewaltverbots geprägt. In weiteren Verfahren wurde stets auf der Grundlage der Aussagen des Nicaragua-Urteils argumentiert, auch von den Vereinigten Staaten, die diesen Prozess ja verloren hatten, so insbesondere in dem Verfahren wegen der Zerstörung iranischer Ölinstallationen durch die Vereinigten Staaten im Persischen Golf während des ersten Golf-Krieges.20 Auch in den Debatten um die Rechtmäßigkeit der Afghanistan-Intervention, nämlich bei der Frage, ob die Angriffe des 11.9.2001 dem Staat Afghanistan zuzurechnende bewaffnete Angriffe darstellten, war die Interpretation des IGH eine Grundlage.21 Streit bestand über ihre Auslegung und auch darüber darüber, ob sie angemessen sei und das Selbstverteidigungsrecht nicht zu sehr verkürze. 19

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua, supra Fn. 1.

20

Case concerning Oil Platforms (Iran v. USA), Urteil vom 6 November 2003.

21

Vgl. C. Stahn, „Nicaragua is dead, long live Nicaragua – the Right to Self-defence under Art. 51 UN Charter and International Terrorism“, in C. Walter et al. (Hrsg.), Terrorism as a Challenge for National and International Law: Security versus Liberty? 827-877, 859 ff (2004).

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Seine restriktive Haltung gegenüber der Legitimierung militärischer Gewalt hat das Gericht auch in seiner weiteren Rechtsprechung nicht aufgegeben. Der nächste Fall, der schon erwähnte Oil Platforms case, brachte keine wesentlichen neuen Klärungen. Das Gericht bekräftigte den Grundsatz der Verhältnismäßigkeit als Schranke der Selbstverteidigung und die Beweislast des Selbstverteidigers für das Vorliegen eines bewaffneten Angriffs. Wesentlicher als das, was das Gericht zum ius contra bellum gesagt hat, ist jedoch die Tatsache, dass es überhaupt etwas gesagt hat. Das Gericht wählte eine Anordnung der Entscheidungsargumentation, bei der es etwas zu den aufgeworfenen Fragen des Gewaltverbots sagen konnte. Das wurde als unnötig kritisiert. Denn das Ergebnis der Entscheidung (Ablehnung der Verletzung des amerikanisch-iranischen Vertrages) hätte auch ohne das Eingehen auf die Auslegung des Gewaltverbots und seiner Ausnahmen begründet werden können. Die Argumentationsstrategie des Gerichts zeigt, dass es sich einer Verantwortung für den Rechtsdiskurs zur Auslegung des Normenkomplexes des ius contra bellum bewusst ist und sich dieser Rolle stellt. Allerdings ist das Gericht in diesem Zusammenhang auf der anderen Seite sogar der Halbherzigkeit geziehen worden.22 Die wesentliche Rolle des Gerichts wird von Richter Simma in eindringlichen Worten hervorgehoben: „What we cannot but see outside the courtroom is that, more and more, legal justifica-

tion of the use of force within the system of the United Nations Charter is discarded even as a fig leaf, while an increasing number of writers appear to prepare for the outright funeral of international legal limitations on the use of force. If such voices are an indication of the direction in which legal-political discourse on use of force not authorized by the Charter might move, do we need more to realize that for the Court to speak up as clearly and comprehensively as possible on that issue is never more urgent than today?“

Die dritte Entscheidung zum ius contra bellum im Parteistreitverfahren (DRC gegen Uganda.23 ist in vielem klarer als die zweite und brachte weitere Klärungen. Zum einen bestätigte sie die Nicaragua-Entscheidung in der Frage, unter welchen Voraussetzungen Beteiligung an und Unterstützung von grenzüberschreitender nicht-staatlicher Gewalt ein Selbstverteidigungsrecht des Zielstaates begründen,24 welche Akte bei einem ausländischen Eingreifen in einen internen Konflikt einen bewaffneten Angriff darstellen und welche Akte als Selbstverteidigung gerechtfertigt sind. Zum andern ging es um die Frage, unter welchen Umständen die Zustimmung eines Staates als Rechtfertigung einer ausländischen Militärpräsenz anzusehen ist. Das Gericht macht klar, dass beim Wegfall der Zustimmung die Präsenz nur noch gerechtfertigt sein könnte, wenn sie als Selbstverteidigung zu charakterisieren wäre. An dem rechtlichen Diskurs über die rechtliche Hegung militärischer Maßnahmen nehmen auch die Rechtsgutachten des IGH teil. Für die Auslegung des Gewaltverbots und seiner Ausnahmen, insbesondere des Selbstverteidigungsrechts, ist zunächst das 22

Case concerning Oil Platforms, supra Fn. 20, § 7 (Richter Simma, Dissenting Opinion).

23

Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo, supra Fn. 1.

24

Ibid., §§ 143, 146.

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Gutachten über die Zulässigkeit des Einsatzes von Atomwaffen von Bedeutung.25 Hier betont das Gericht vor allem das Prinzip der Notwendigkeit und Verhältnismäßigkeit als Begrenzung des Rechts auf Selbstverteidigung.26 Einschlägig ist ferner das Gutachten zu den Folgen des israelischen Mauerbaus in den besetzten palästinensischen Gebieten.27 Das Gericht bestätigt die alte Regel des Verbots von Gebietserwerb durch Gewalt28 und verneint in einer etwas umstrittenen Weise die Rechtfertigung einer Reaktion auf nicht-staatliche Gewalt als Selbstverteidigung.29 Die Entscheidungen des IGH in Parteistreitigkeiten sind zur Durchsetzung des Gewaltverbots nicht zuletzt deshalb bedeutsam, weil sie Fälle betrafen, in denen der Sicherheitsrat wegen der direkten Veto-Situation (Klage im Nicaragua-Fall gegen die Vereinigten Staaten) überhaupt nicht geäußert oder jedenfalls (Fall Kongo gegen Uganda) von einer klaren Stellungnahme abgesehen hat. Hier ist also das Gericht bei der Sicherung der Einhaltung des Gewaltverbots eine wichtige Alternative oder jedenfalls Ergänzung zum Sicherheitsrat. Auf der andren Seite haben die Verfahren haben auch die Grenzen dieser Möglichkeit gezeigt. Diese liegen vor allem in der beschränkten Zuständigkeit des IGH. Als Jurisdiktionsgrundlage kommt vor allem die Fakultativ-Klausel in Betracht (Art. 36 Abs. 2 IGH-Statut). Das Netz von „jurisdictional links“, das durch die einseitigen Erklärungen nach Art. 36 Abs. 2 gebildet wird, ist bis auf den heutigen Tag relativ dünn: nur etwa ein Drittel der Staaten haben eine solche Erklärung abgegeben, und dies meist nicht ohne Vorbehalte.30 Die Fakultativklausel war eine der beiden Zuständigkeitsgrundlagen im NicaraguaFall, allerdings bestritten. Aufgrund des Vorbehalts der USA, der die Zuständigkeit des Gerichts für die Auslegung und Anwendung multilateraler Verträge beschränkte, war der Gerichtshof nicht zuständig für die Anwendung der Satzung der Vereinten Nationen, sondern nur für die Anwendung des gewohnheitsrechtlichen Gewaltverbots. In dem Ölplattform-Fall stand diese Grundlage nicht zur Verfügung, wohl aber im Falle DRC gegen Uganda. Jugoslawien versuchte aufgrund der Fakultativ-Klausel, die Kosovo-Aktion der NATO-Staaten vor den Gerichtshof zu bringen,31 scheiterte aber in der Zuständigkeitsphase an der zeitlichen Beschränkung seiner eigenen Erklärung. Im Nicaragua- und Ölplattform-Fall stand ferner als Zuständigkeitsgrundlage ein Freundschafts- Handels- und Schifffahrtsvertrag zur Verfügung, in beiden Fällen mit im wesentlichen textgleichen Bestimmungen, da beide zu einer Serie von ent25

Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, Advisory Opinion vom 8 Juli 1996.

26

Ibid., §§ 37 ff.

27

Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, Advisory Opinion vom 9 Juli 2004.

28

Ibid., §§ 115 f.

29

Ibid., § 139.

30

C. Tomuschat, „Article 36“, in A. Zimmermann/C. Tomuschat/K. Oellers-Frahm (Hrsg.), The Statute of the International Court of Justice, Randnr. 61-63 (2006).

31

Legality of Use of Force (Yugoslavia v. United States of America), Application vom 29 April 1999, General List Nr. 214.

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sprechenden Verträgen der Vereinigten Staaten gehörten. Im Nicaragua-Fall war die Klage auch auf dieser Rechtsgrundlage begründet, im Ölplattform-Fall scheiterte die Klage an einer Detailvorschrift des Vertrages, obwohl das Gericht eine Verletzung des Gewaltverbots bejaht hatte. Eine vertragliche Jurisdiktionsklausel als Grundlage einer Entscheidung über die Verletzung des Gewaltverbots, wie sie in den Fällen Nicaragua und Ölplattformen einschlägig war, ist aber eine seltene Ausnahme. Eine wirklich in allen Fällen einschlägige Grundlage für die Durchsetzung des Gewaltverbots bietet das Statut des IGH also nicht. Immerhin ist die Bereitschaft der Staaten, sich auch in hochpolitischen Streitigkeiten, also einschließlich der Frage der Anwendung des Gewaltverbots, einer Gerichtsbarkeit zu stellen, in den letzten Jahren wieder gestiegen. Im Nicaragua-Fall blieben die Vereinigten Staaten nach Zurückweisung ihrer Zuständigkeitseinreden32 dem Verfahren fern. Dies war nicht der einzige Fall, in dem Staaten im Verfahren nicht erschienen. Das hat sich geändert. In dem Fall der iranischen Ölplattformen33 beteiligten sich die Vereinigten Staaten bis zum Ende. Von dieser höheren Akzeptanz gerichtlicher Streitbeilegung profitiert auch die Schiedsgerichtsbarkeit. Für den bewaffneten Konflikt zwischen Äthiopien und Eritrea wurde die Eritrea Ethiopia Claims Commission34 eingesetzt, die sich zwar schwerpunktmäßig mit dem ius in bello während dieses Konflikts zu befassen hatte, in einem Fall aber auch auf das ius contra bellum eingegangen ist.35

F.

Sekundärnormen – Schadenersatzansprüche

Ein wesentliches Mittel, Normen zu praktischer Wirksamkeit zu verhelfen, ist die Existenz von Sekundärnormen. An die Verletzung einer Norm werden weitere Rechtsfolgen geknüpft, in aller Regel negative für den Rechtsverletzer und positive für das Opfer der Rechtsverletzung. Die wesentlichsten Sekundärnormen sind Schadenersatzpflicht und strafrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit. Beide spielen für das ius contra bellum eine große Rolle. In den bereits dargestellten Gerichtsverfahren ging es auch und gerade um die Durchsetzung dieser Sekundärnormen. Dass für einen Schaden, der durch die Verletzung einer Primärnorm entstanden ist, der Verletzer haftet, ist unbestritten. Dieser allgemeine Grundsatz der Staatenverantwortlichkeit gilt auch für das ius contra bellum.36 Die Rechtsprechung des IGH lässt

32

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Jurisdiction and Admissibility vom 26 November 1984.

33

Case concerning Oil Platforms, supra Fn. 20.

34

Die Einsetzung beruht auf dem 2000 Algiers Agreement, 40 ILM 260 (2001).

35

Partial Award Jus ad Bellum, Ethiopia’s Claims 1-8 vom 19 Dezember 2005; Decision No. 7, Guidance Regarding Jus ad Bellum Liability, 27 Juli 2007, verfügbar auf http://www. pca-cpa.org.

36

Grundlegend S. Kadelbach, „Staatenverantwortlichkeit für Angriffskriege und Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit“, 40 Berichte der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht 63-105, insb. 66 f (2003). Dieser Ausgangspunkt wurde in der nachfolgenden Diskussion nicht in Zweifel gezogen.

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daran keinen Zweifel.37 Der Sicherheitsrat hat nach dem 2. Golfkrieg den Irak zum Ersatz des gesamten durch die Intervention in Kuwait entstandenen Schadens verpflichtet angesehen. Das bedeutete, dass die Grundlage der Schadenersatzpflicht eine Verletzung des ius contra bellum, nicht lediglich des ius in bello war. Zum Zwecke der Feststellung der Schäden im Einzelnen richtete der Sicherheitsrat eine Compensation Commission ein.38 Von der Schadenersatzpflicht für Verletzungen des ius contra bellum geht auch die Eritrea Ethiopia Claims Commission aus. Allerdings ist die internationale Praxis auch voller Fälle, in denen ein Schadensersatz nicht geltend gemacht wurde. Nach dem zweiten Weltkrieg ist die Frage des Ersatzes der durch Deutschland in diesem Krieg verursachten Schadens im Londoner Schuldenabkommen weitgehend und durch den 2+4-Vertrag letztlich dauerhaft auf Eis gelegt worden.39 An der rechtlichen Perspektive, dass die Verletzung des Gewaltverbots eine Schadenersatzpflicht nach sich zieht, ändert das aber nichts. Eine weitere Frage ist, ob es für die geschädigten Individuen auch einen Schadenersatzanspruch nach innerstaatlichem Recht gibt, der die völkerrechtliche Schadenersatzpflicht um- oder fortsetzt.40 Das ist zum einen eine Frage des innerstaatlichen Rechts, das auch das ius contra bellum als self-executing behandeln kann. Für die Frage, ob denn eine solche Gestaltung völkerrechtlich geboten ist, kommt es unter anderem darauf an ob man die Errichtung der Compensation Commission, die ja über individuelle Schadenersatzansprüche wegen Verletzung des ius contra bellum zu entscheiden hatte, einen Gewohnheitsrecht bildenden Präzedenzfall ansieht. Insofern sind Bedenken am Platz.

G.

Sekundärnormen – strafrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit

Nachdem sich ein allgemeines Kriegsverbot unter wesentlichem Einfluss des BriandKellogg-Pakts von 1928 gebildet hatte, zogen die Siegermächte des zweiten Weltkriegs daraus Konsequenzen, die sich rechtlich stimmig nur damit erklären lassen, dass sich aus dem Kriegsverbot als völkerrechtliche Sekundärnorm eine persönliche strafrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit für „Verbrechen gegen den Frieden“ entwickelt hatte. Das ist die Grundlage der Bestimmungen der Statuten der Internationalen Militärgerichtshöfe von Tokio und Nürnberg:41 „Crimes against peace: namely planning, preparation, initiation or waging if a war of aggression, or a war in violation of international treaties, agreements or assurances,

37

So vor allem zuletzt in dem Urteil Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo, supra Fn. 1.

38

UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 687, UN Dok. S/RES/687 (1991), Teil E, §§ 16 ff.

39

I. Seidl-Hohenveldern, „Reparations after World War II“, in R. Bernhardt (Hrsg.), 4 Encyclopedia of Public International Law 180-185 (2000).

40

Siehe dazu für das ius in bello, infra III.F.

41

1945 Agreement for the Prosecution of Punishment of the Major War Criminals of the European Axis, Art. 6(a).

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or participation in a common plan or conspiracy for the accomplishment of any of the foregoing;“

Dies war ein wesentlicher Präzedenzfall für die gewohnheitsrechtliche Bildung einer Strafnorm. Viel spricht dafür, dass sich in der Tat damit eine solche Strafnorm gebildet hatte. Schon der 1954 von der International Law Commission angenommene „Draft Code of Offenses against the Peace and Security of Mankind“ enthielt als Straftatbestand das „Crime of Aggression“. Die Erklärung der Generalversammlung über die Definition der Aggreession von 1974,42 die in einer anderen Vorschrift vom IGH als Ausdruck von Gewohnheitsrecht gewertet wurde, bestimmt (Art. 5 Abs. 2): „A war of aggression is a crime against international peace. Aggression gives rise to international responsibility.“

Zwar herrschte zwischen dem Ende der 40er und dem Beginn der 90er bei der praktischen Entwicklung des Internationalen Strafrechts weitgehend Stagnation. Bei der Errichtung der Ad hoc-Strafgerichte zu Beginn der 90er Jahre wurde das Verbrechen gegen den Frieden, das Verbrechen der Aggression ausgespart. Doch enthielt der 1996 von der ILC angenommene Draft Code of Crimes Against the Peace and Security of Mankind in den Straftatbeständen wiederum an erster Stelle das Crime of Aggression (Art. 16). Auch das Statut des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofs, angenommen 1998 in Rom, enthält wieder eine Strafnorm für das Verbrechen der Aggression. Allerdings kann die Jurisdiktion des ICC über dieses Verbrechen erst ausgeübt werden, wenn im Wege der Vertragsänderung eine Definition der Aggression verabschiedet ist. Dazu wird es so schnell nicht kommen. Der Ausschuss, der eine solche Definition erarbeiten soll, ist politisch blockiert. Das ist nicht verwunderlich. Der Streit besteht im Wesentlichen über die Frage, ob die Feststellung einer Aggression durch den Sicherheitsrat Voraussetzung für die Strafbarkeit bzw. Strafverfolgung ist. Sollte diese Lösung in den Verhandlungen angenommen werden, so hätten die Vetomächte im Sicherheitsrat eine absolute Kontrolle über die Zulassung einer Strafverfolgung wegen Aggression – angesichts der oben beschriebenen Praxis des Sicherheitsrats bei der Feststellung oder Nichtfeststellung von Verletzungen des Gewaltverbots eine nicht sehr ermutigende Perspektive. Sie wäre auch einer kritischen Weltöffentlichkeit schwer zu vermitteln. Deshalb dürfte sie in den Verhandlungen wohl ebenso wenig durchsetzbar sein wie die andere Lösung, bei der eine allgemeine Definition vom Chef der Anklagebehörde und vom Gericht zur Bestimmung der Zuständigkeit und Strafbarkeit angewandt werden und der Sicherheitsrat dies nur durch eine Negativentscheidung verhindern könnte. So wird es wohl beim status quo bleiben: Die Zuständigkeit des ICC für das Verbrechen der Aggression besteht nicht. Diese Situation ist auch Staaten nicht unwillkommen, die den ICC sonst unterstützen. Denn auch solche Staaten besitzen, wie die vergangenen zehn bis fünfzehn Jahre gezeigt haben, eine eigene Agenda des Einsatzes militärischer Gewalt, für die die Rechtsgrundlage schon mal zweifelhaft ist. Beispiele sind die

42

UN Generalversammlung Res. 3314(XXIX), UN Dok. A/RES/3314 (XXIX).

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Interventionen im Kosovo,43 im Irak44 und auch in Afghanistan.45 Neue Fälle einer strafrechtlichen Ahndung von Verletzungen des Gewaltverbots durch internationale Gerichte zeichnen sich also nicht ab. Die strafrechtliche Ahndung einer Verletzung des Gewaltverbots ist auch auf innerstaatlicher Ebene denkbar. Das Grundgesetz der Bundesrepublik Deutschland enthält ein Verfassungsgebot der Strafbarkeit des Angriffskrieges (Art. 26).46 Der Deutsche Bundestag hat sich mit dem Schaffen der entsprechenden Strafnorm viel Zeit gelassen und ist dann deutlich hinter dem Verfassungsgebot zurückgeblieben. Strafbar ist nur die Vorbereitung, nicht das Führen eines Angriffskrieges (!), und auch nur eines Krieges, an dem die Bundesrepublik beteiligt wäre. Als dann während des Kosovo-Konflikts wegen der Beteiligung der Bundesrepublik und während des Irak-Konflikts wegen der Unterstützungsleistungen der Bundesrepublik für diese Intervention beim Generalbundesanwalt eine Strafanzeige gegen die Mitglieder der Bundesregierung einging, weigerte sich dieser, ein Strafverfahren zu eröffnen, und zwar mit einer Begründung, die der bisher in der Literatur unstreitigen Auslegung des Art. 26 Hohn sprach: Diese hatte Angriffskrieg und Verletzung des völkerrechtlichen Gewaltverbots weitgehend gleichgesetzt. Nunmehr bietet der Generalbundesanwalt eine wesentlich engere Definition, reduziert den von der Strafnorm erfassten Teil der Gewaltverbots auf einen klaren und unbezweifelbaren Kern des Verbots, womit der Kosovo-Fall und die Unterstützungsleistungen für die Irak-Intervention nicht mehr erfasst seien. Der Fall ist signifikant für eine Abneigung vieler hoher Gerichte und ihnen folgend der Justizbehörden, sich mit juristischen Maßstäben in Fragen der hohen Politik zu mischen. Darauf wird sogleich zurückzukommen sein.47

H.

Sekundärnormen – ex iniuria ius non oritur?

Weitere Folgen einer Verletzung des Gewaltverbots ergeben sich aus der freilich nicht ohne Einschränkung geltenden Regel, dass aus der Verletzung einer Rechtsnorm dem Rechtsverletzer keine Rechtsvorteile erwachsen dürfen: ex iniuria ius non oritur. In

43

Zum Streitstand vgl. auf der einen Seite M. Bothe, „Die NATO nach dem Kosovo-Konflikt und das Völkerrecht“, 10 SZIER 177 (2000); und J. Delbrück, „Effektivität des Gewaltverbots“, 74 Friedenswarte 139 (1999) auf der anderen.

44

Vgl. M. Bothe, „Der Irak-Krieg und das völkerrechtliche Gewaltverbot“, 41 AVR 255, 262 ff. (2003), auf der einen Seite und C. Greenwood, „The Legality of the Use of Force: Iraq in 2003“, in M. Bothe/M. E. O’Connell/N. Ronzitti (Hrsg.), supra Fn. 11, S 387-415.

45

Die Operation Enduring Freedom wird meist als Ausübung des Selbstverteidigungsrechts bis zum Zeitpunkt der Bildung einer allgemein anerkannten afghanischen Regierung gerechtfertigt, danach als Intervention auf Einladung. Es ist jedoch nicht unbestritten, ob die Angriffe des 11. September 2001 Afghanistan zuzurechnen waren und ob, wenn man dies bejaht, bei Beginn der Intervention noch eine Selbstverteidigungssituation vorlag, vgl. dazu Stahn, supra Fn. 21.

46

Zum Folgenden M. Bothe, in Bonner Kommentar zum Grundgesetz, Art. 26, Rdn. 16, 22 ff.

47

Siehe II.I.

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Bezug auf das Gewaltverbot hat dieses Prinzip insbesondere zwei positivrechtliche Ausformungen erhalten. Die erste ist die Nichtigkeit von Verträgen, bei denen die Willenserklärung, an den Vertrag gebunden zu sein, durch Zwang erreicht wird, der eine Verletzung des Gewaltverbots darstellt (Art. 52 WÜV).48 Die zweite ist die Nichtanerkennung eines durch die Verletzung des Gewaltverbots bewirkten Gebietserwerbs, eine schon früh entwickelte Sanktion für Verletzungen des Briand-Kellogg-Pakts – sogenannte Stimson-Doktrin.49 Der Sache nach wird dieser Grundsatz auch vom IGH in seinem Gutachten zum Bau einer Mauer auf dem besetzten palästinensischen Gebiet angewandt.50 Auf der anderen Seite ist es heute klar, dass eine mögliche Konsequenz des Grundsatzes „ex iniuria“ nicht Bestandteil des positiven Rechts geworden ist: der Aggressor wird im ius in bello nicht schlechter behandelt, sondern es gilt der Grundsatz der Gleichheit der Parteien ohne Rücksicht auf die Frage, welche von ihnen das ius contra bellum verletzt hat.51

I.

Die innerstaatliche Dimension der Durchsetzung des Gewaltverbots – Garantien der Einhaltung des Völkerrechts im Mehrebenensystem

Mit den innerstaatlichen Schadenersatzansprüchen und der innerstaatlichen strafrechtlichen Verantwortlichkeit wurde bereits eine immer wichtiger werdende Dimension der Instrumente für die Einhaltung des Völkerrechts im allgemeinen und des ius contra bellum im besonderen angesprochen: das innerstaatliche Recht, das die Akteure bindet, die über die Einhaltung der Völkerrechtsnorm entscheiden. Das Problem ist komplex.52 Zu unterscheiden ist zwischen einer materiellen Bindung an das völkerrechtliche Gewaltverbot (einschließlich der Frage, ob und in welchen Beziehungen das völkerrechtliche Gewaltverbot self-executing ist) und verfahrensrechtlichen Gestaltungen (Parlamentsbeteiligung, richterliches Prüfungsrecht), die die Möglichkeit bieten, die Einhaltung der einschlägigen völkerrechtlichen Normen zu sichern und zu überprüfen. Die Perspektive, die so gegebenen Möglichkeiten fruchtbar zu machen, haben juri48

Siehe dazu im Einzelnen O. Corten, „Article 52“, in O. Corten/P. Klein (Hrsg.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le droit des traités, Bd. 2, 1067 ff (2006).

49

W. Meng, „Stimson Doctrine“, in R. Bernhardt, 4 Encyclopedia of Public International Law 690 (2000).

50

Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, supra Fn. 27, § 159.

51

Eine vertragsrechtliche Anerkennung dieses Grundsatzes findet sich zum Beispiel in 1977 Zusatzprotokolle I und II zu den Genfer Konventionen, 1125 UNTS 3, 1125 UNTS 609, Präambel: „[…] und erneut bekräftigend, dass die Bestimmungen der Genfer Abkommen vom 12. August 1949 und dieses Protokolls unter allen Umständen uneingeschränkt auf alle durch diese Übereinkünfte geschützten Personen anzuwenden sind, und zwar ohne jede nachteilige Unterscheidung, die auf Art oder Ursprung des bewaffneten Konflikts oder auf Beweggründen beruht, die von den am Konflikt beteiligten Parteien vertreten oder ihnen zugeschrieben werden […].“

52

Vgl. ausführlich Bothe/Fischer-Lescano, supra Fn. 11.

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stische Phantasie manchenorts beflügelt, man muss aber zugeben, dass die Gerichte in diesem Zusammenhang eher gezögert haben, sich in den Dienst der Durchsetzung des Gewaltverbots zu stellen und dabei der Exekutive in den Arm zu fallen.53

J.

Zusammenfassung

Die Mechanismen und Instrumente, die eine Einhaltung des völkerrechtlichen Gewaltverbots sichern sollen, sind vielfältig und komplex. Schneidende Reaktionen auf Verletzungen hält das Völkerrecht in diesen Bereichen nicht bereit. Dennoch konnten Elemente eines Diskurses gezeigt werden, der die Chance hat, gewalthemmend zu wirken. Es werden eine Fülle von Verfahrensoptionen eröffnet, die jedenfalls die Möglichkeit bieten, das Gewaltverbot auch wirklich durchzusetzen. Es ist die Fülle dieser Optionen, die die Chance der Durchsetzung des Gewaltverbots erhöht, nicht mehr, aber auch nicht weniger.

III.

Das ius in bello

A.

Interessenkonflikte, Gegenseitigkeit und asymmetrische Konflikte

Das ius in bello, das in bewaffneten Konflikten anwendbare Recht, ist aus einer bemerkenswerten Mischung von humanitären Gesichtspunkten und Eigeninteressen der Staaten entstanden. Ein wesentlicher Grundsatz dieses Rechts, die Unterscheidung zwischen Zivilisten sowie zivilen Objekten auf der einen und Kombattanten sowie militärischen Zielen auf der anderen Seite beruht auf der Philosophie der Aufklärung ebenso wie auf der historischen Realität der Kriege des 18. Jahrhunderts. In Konzeption und Realität, in Theorie und Praxis jener Zeit ist der Krieg eine Auseinandersetzung, die ein Staat mit seinen militärischen Mitteln gegen die militärischen Anstrengungen des Gegners richtet. Als philosophischer Vater dieses Konzepts gilt Rousseau, der juristische ist wohl Vattel. Das Konzept entsprach der Realität der „Kabinettskriege“ jener Zeit.54 Die konflikthegende Wirkung des Konzepts, wird es denn respektiert, ist enorm, spart es doch weite Bereiche aus der Konfliktführung aus, sowohl Menschen als auch Sachgüter. Dieser Ansatz ist auf Gegenseitigkeit angelegt und steht im Grunde seit seiner Formulierung unter Druck. Denn in asymmetrischen Konflikten, die es immer wieder gibt, bestehen gerade hinsichtlich des Prinzips der Unterscheidung gegenläufige Interessen. Der in einem solchen Konflikt Schwächere hat ein taktisches Interesse daran, dass das Recht zur Schädigung des Feindes nicht auf Militärpersonen, die als solche auch erkennbar sind, beschränkt ist. Der Schwächere sieht sich eher genötigt, einerseits den Schutz der Zivilbevölkerung für seine Kämpfer in Anspruch zu nehmen, andrerseits aber nicht das Verbot von Kampfhandlungen durch Zivilisten zu akzeptie53

Genauere Nachweise bei Bothe/Fischer/Lescano, supra Fn. 52, S 205 ff.

54

W. G. Grewe, The Epochs of International Law 367 ff (2000).

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ren. Der offene Kampf zwischen regulären Armeen ist stets nur ein Teil der Realität kriegerischer Auseinandersetzungen gewesen.55 Ein Rechtsproblem wird das, wenn man den regulären Armeen das alleinige Recht zur Teilnahme an den Kampfhandlungen zuspricht, wie es das Prinzip der Unterscheidung verlangt. Seit seiner Entstehung im 18. Jahrhundert wurde es denn auch in Frage gestellt.56 Ein frühes Beispiel hierfür ist die Guerilla-Taktik im spanischen Befreiungskrieg gegen Napoleon Anfang des 19. Jahrhunderts, die diesen Begriff geprägt hat. Seitdem ist der Status von Kämpfern, die nicht zur regulären Armee einer staatlichen Konfliktpartei gehören und militärischen Erfolg mit den Mitteln des „Kleinkriegs“ suchen, ein Streitthema der Entwicklung des ius in bello.57 Ist diese Unterscheidung allerdings einmal aufgegeben, so wird der bewaffnete Konflikt zu einem schonungslosen Kampf, ja Gemetzel aller gegen alle, eine Entwicklung, die mit besonderer Grausamkeit in neuerer Zeit in den Konflikten in Jugoslawien und Ruanda zu sehen war. Bemerkenswert ist freilich das Ergebnis dieses spannungsreichen Prozesses: die Unterscheidung zwischen Kombattanten einerseits, die zu militärischen Schädigungshandlungen berechtigt sind, als solche erkennbar sein müssen, bekämpft werden dürfen und im Falle ihrer Gefangennahme nicht bestraft werden dürfen, und Zivilisten andererseits, die nicht zu Schädigungshandlungen berechtigt sind und nicht angegriffen werden dürfen, ist positives Recht geblieben. Die Zusatzprotokolle von 1977 bekräftigen diese Unterscheidung, und ebenso tut dies das Statut des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofs von 1998. Die Urteile nationaler und internationaler Gerichte haben sie bestätigt. Das Prinzip der Unterscheidung ist wesentlicher Bestandteil der rechtlichen Diskurse, die militärische Gewaltausübung begleiten. Das ändert allerdings nichts daran, dass es in asymmetrischen Konflikten starke Anreize gibt, diese Grundregel nicht zu beachten, aber diese Anreize haben die Regel auch nicht zu beseitigen vermocht. Eine ähnliche Entwicklung ist für die Unterscheidung zwischen zivilen Objekten und militärischen Zielen zu verzeichnen. Diese Unterscheidung wurde vor allem durch die industrielle Entwicklung und die damit verbundenen Fortschritte der Waffentechnik in Frage gestellt. Sie machte Ziele weit hinter der Frontlinie erreichbar und militärisch bedeutsam. Die Folge war die Entwicklung eines Luftkriegs, der katastrophale Folgen für die Zivilbevölkerung hatte. Die Versuchung, diese Technik auch als eine psychologische, den Gegner demoralisierende Waffe einzusetzen, war offenbar unwiderstehlich. Hiroshima und Nagasaki bezeichnen den traurigen Höhepunkt dieser Entwicklung. Das Problem ist aber keineswegs vom Tisch. Auch insofern ist das Ergebnis der rechtlichen Entwicklung bemerkenswert. Die Praxis der Angriffe, die die Zivilbevölkerung auf qualvolle Weise in Mitleidenschaft gezogen haben, hat nicht dazu geführt, dass rechtlich

55

Eine vorzügliche Übersicht über die historische Entwicklung gibt W. Laqueur, Guerilla (1977).

56

Wieweit Rousseau das Prinzip der Unterscheidung, dem ein Volkskrieg eher fremd ist, wirklich ganz konsequent vertreten hat, mag auch fraglich sein, G. Best, War and Law since 1945, 33 (1994).

57

Vgl. aus der älteren Literatur P. C. Mayer-Tasch, Guerilla-Kireg und Völkerrecht 10 ff (1972); F. A. Freiherr von der Heydte, Der moderne Kleinkrieg 40 ff (1972).

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die Unterscheidung zwischen zivilen Objekten und militärischen Zielen aufgegeben wurde. Auch insofern sind die Anreize geblieben, die Unterscheidung zu missachten. Aufgabe der Mechanismen und Instrumente, die die Beachtung des ius in bello erreichen sollen, muss es also sein, eine Motivation der relevanten Akteure, vom einfachen Soldaten bis zum Oberbefehlshaber, zu schaffen, die auf die Beachtung dieser Rechtsnormen und gegen die Anreize zur Rechtsverletzung hinwirken. Auch das ius in bello kannte und kennt zum Teil immer noch58 das dezentrale Mittel der Rechtsdurchsetzung, die Repressalie.59 Sie pflegt gerade in der Situation bewaffneter Konflikte zum Schaden derer zu gereichen, deren Schutz das ius in bello erreichen will, nämlich der Konfliktopfer. Deshalb haben sich im humanitären Völkerrecht eine Reihe spezifischer Verbote von Repressalien zu Lasten geschützter Personen und Objekte entwickelt.60

B.

Internalisierung von Normen

Ein entscheidender Faktor bei der Motivation relevanter Akteure ist auch für das ius in bello die Internalisierung von Normen. Ihre Bedeutung ist früh erkannt worden. In bewaffneten Konflikten muss mitunter „in der Hitze des Gefechts“ über die Einhaltung des Rechts entschieden werden. Deswegen ist die Vorbereitung relevanter Akteure auf diese Situation und ihre positive Haltung zur Rechtsordnung eine wesentliche Voraussetzung. Dem dient u.a. die Verpflichtung der Staaten, den Inhalt der Genfer Konventionen und ihrer Zusatzprotokolle zu verbreiten.61 Ferner sind Ausführungsregeln zu erlassen.62 Ein wesentlicher Teil derselben sind Handbücher, Dienstanweisungen oder ähnliche Dokumente, die das Völkerrecht der bewaffneten Konflikte in Anweisungen an bestimmte innerstaatliche Akteure, insbesondere an die Mitglieder der Streitkräfte umwandeln.63 Dies sind traditionelle 58

ICRC/J.-M. Henckaerts/L. Doswald-Beck, Customary International Humanitarian Law 513 ff (2005).

59

Das grundlegende Werk hierzu ist immer noch F. Kalshoven, Belligerent Reprisals (1971).

60

Verbot von Repressalien gegenüber Verwundeten und Kranken bzw. Sanitätspersonal und Sanitätseinheiten (Genfer Konvention II, infra Fn. 91, Art. 46; Genfer Konvention II, infra Fn. 91, Art. 47; Zusatzprotokoll I, supra Fn. 51, Art. 20), Kriegsgefangenen (Genfer Konvention III, infra Fn. 91, Art. 13), geschützten Zivilpersonen (Genfer Konvention IV, infra Fn. 91, Arts. 33) sowie gegenüber der Zivilbevölkerung (Zusatzprotokoll I, supra Fn. 51, Art. 51 Abs. 6), Kulturgütern (Zusatzprotokoll I, supra Fn. 51, Art. 54 Abs. 4), der Umwelt (Zusatzprotokoll I, supra Fn. 51, Art. 55 Abs. 2) und Anlagen, die gefährliche Kräfte enthalten (Zusatzprotokoll I, supra Fn. 51, Art. 56 Abs. 4).

61

Genfer Konventionen, infra Fn. 91, Arts. 47, 48, 127, 144; Zusatzprotokoll I, supra Fn. 51, Art. 83I; Zusatzprotokoll II, supra Fn. 51, Art. 20.

62

Zusatzprotokoll I, supra Fn. 51, Art. 80.

63

Vgl. dazu die Berichte von K. Obradovic/D. Fleck/C. Greenwood, in M. Bothe/T. Kurzidem/P. Macalister-Smith (Hrsg.), National Implementation of International Humanitarian Law 179-201 (1990); R. Wolfrum/D. Fleck, „Enforcement of International Humanitarian Law“, in D. Fleck (Hrsg.), The Handbook of International Humanitarian Law 675-722, 721 f. mit weiteren Nachweisen (2008),

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Instrumente, mit denen Oberbefehlshaber sicherstellen, dass sich die Streitkräfte in einer dem Recht gemäßen Weise verhalten. Das erste und berühmt gebliebene Beispiel ist der von dem aus Deutschland stammenden Juristen Francis Lieber verfasste „Lieber Code“, den Präsident Lincoln als General Order No. 100 im amerikanischen Bürgerkrieg für die Bundestruppen verbindlich machte.64 Auch in der Folgezeit waren solche Dienstanweisungen wichtige Elemente der Praxis.65 In den letzten zwei Jahrzehnten ist der Erlass solcher Dienstanweisungen verstärkt zu beobachten. Diese Entwicklung folgt Initiativen des IKRK, das die Bedeutung dieser „Manuals“ für die Sicherung der Beachtung des humanitären Völkerrechts erkannt hat. Allerdings ist der Erlass solcher Dokumente nicht nur ein Mittel, die Beachtung des Völkerrechts sicherzustellen, sondern auch ein Weg, Völkerrecht mit zu gestalten. Einige dieser Dokumente haben weltweite Beachtung gefunden und sind darum prägend für die Entwicklung des Völkerrechts bewaffneter Konflikte geworden. Diese Manuals werden häufig als Beleg für den Stand des Gewohnheitsrechts zitiert.66 Mit diesen Manuals kann darum Völkerrechtspolitik gemacht werden.67

C.

Internationale Institutionen – der Sicherheitsrat

Die bereits erwähnte neue Handlungsfähigkeit des Sicherheitsrats hat auch dazu geführt, dass der Sicherheitsrat ein wesentlicher Akteur für die Einhaltung des humanitären Völkerrechts geworden ist. Grundlage dieser Funktion des Sicherheitsrats ist die Rechtsauffassung, dass erhebliche Verletzungen dieses Rechts Elemente einer Friedensbedrohung oder eines Friedensbruchs im Sinne des Art. 39 der SVN sind, dass also der Sicherheitsrat Zwangsmaßnahmen ergreifen kann, um sie abzustellen. Der erste praktische Fall war die Errichtung des Jugoslawien-Tribunals 199368 als Reaktion auf die furchtbaren Verletzungen des humanitären Völkerrechts, die den Balkan-Konflikt der frühen 90er Jahre gekennzeichnet haben. Es folgte der Gerichtshof für Ruanda69 und einige weitere gemischte, d.h. aus nationalen und internationalen Elementen zusammengesetzte Gerichte.70 Seit den 90er Jahren ergreift der Sicherheitsrat auch allgemeine, d.h. nicht auf eine konkrete Konfliktsituation bezogene Maßnahmen zur Friedenssicherung wie z.B. 64

Text in D. Schindler/J. Toman (Hrsg.), The Laws of Armed Conflict 3 (2004).

65

Vgl. die neueste Übersicht in ICRC/Henckaerts/Doswald-Beck, supra Fn. 58, Bd. II, 4196 ff.

66

ICRC/Henckaerts/Doswald-Beck, supra Fn. 58, Bd. I, xxxxii.

67

M. Bothe, „Customary International Humanitarian Law: Some Reflections on the ICRC Study“, 8 Yearbook of International Humanitarian Law 143-178, 157 (2005).

68

UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 808, UN Dok. S/RES/808 (1993).

69

UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 955, UN Dok. S/RES/955 (1994).

70

L. A. Dickinson, „The Promise of Hybrid Courts“, 97 AJIL 295 (2003); C. P. R. Romano/A. Nollkaemper/J. Kleffner (Hrsg.), International Criminal Courts. Sierra Leone, East Timor, Kosovo and Cambodia (2004); J. Mayr-Singer, „Hybridgerichte – eine neue Generation internationaler Strafgerichte (I). Der Sondergerichtshof für Sierra Leone“, 56 Vereinte Nationen 68-72 (2008).

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Maßnahmen zur Bekämpfung des Terrorismus und gegen die Verbreitung von Massenvernichtungswaffen. Zu diesen allgemeinen Maßnahmen des Sicherheitsrats gehören auch seine Beschlüsse zur Einhaltung des humanitären Völkerrechts, insbesondere zum Schutz der Zivilbevölkerung in bewaffneten Konflikten.71 Insgesamt ist der Sicherheitsrat eine für die Einhaltung des ius in bello wesentliche Institution geworden.

D.

Internationale Institutionen – das IKRK

Der zentrale internationale Akteur, der praktisch wirksam auf die Einhaltung des humanitären Völkerrechts hinwirkt, ist heute das IKRK.72 Die ausdrücklichen Bestimmungen, die die Genfer Konventionen und die Zusatzprotokolle über das IKRK enthalten, geben diese Funktion nur unvollkommen wieder. Vielmehr beruft sich das IKRK auf sein gewohnheitsrechtlich begründetes Initiativrecht,73 wenn es Maßnahmen zur Sicherung der Einhaltung des humanitären Völkerrechts ergreift. Bestandteile dieser Maßnahmen sind eine konstante und umfassende Tatsachenfeststellung, die nicht zuletzt durch das weitgehende anerkannte Zugangsrecht des IKRK zu Gefangenen (nicht nur zu Kriegsgefangenen im engeren Sinn) ermöglicht wird, ferner eine diplomatische, d.h. vertrauliche Intervention bei den zuständigen Stellen der Konfliktparteien, und nur im Ausnahmefall als letztes Mittel eine Veröffentlichung festgestellter Verletzungen. Wie wichtig und auch praktisch wirksam diese Tätigkeit des IKRK ist, zeigt sich daran, dass das IKRK die einzige außen stehende Institution ist, die Zugang zu dem Gefangenenlager von Guantanamo Bay hatte und hat. Mit dieser praktischen Tätigkeit zur Sicherung der Einhaltung des humanitären Völkerrechts hat das IKRK weitgehend die Funktion der Schutzmächte übernommen, die im zweiten Weltkrieg sehr wesentlich zur Einhaltung des Völkerrechts beigetragen haben, wo das überhaupt möglich war

E.

Zwischenstaatliche Streitbeilegung

1.

Der IGH

Wie schon oben für das ius contra bellum dargestellt, spielt der IGH heute auch bei der Durchsetzung des humanitären Völkerrechts eine erhebliche Rolle. In den zitierten Parteistreitigkeiten ging es auch um Fragen des humanitären Völkerrechts, im Nicaragua-Fall74 eher am Rande um Fragen des nicht-internationalen Konflikts, im Falle DRC gegen Uganda75 um ein breites Spektrum von Regeln zum Schutz der 71

UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 1838, UN Dok. S/RES/1838 (2006).

72

Best, supra Fn. 56, S. 372 ff.

73

Y. Sandoz, „Le droit d’initiative du Comité international de la Croix-Rouge“, 22 German Yearbook of International Law 352-373 (1979).

74

Siehe Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua, supra Fn. 1.

75

Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo, supra Fn. 1, §§ 205 ff., zur kriegerischen Besetzung §§ 167 ff.

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Konfliktopfer und insbesondere um die Pflichten einer Besatzungsmacht. Einen anderen fundamentalen Gesichtspunkt des humanitären Völkerrechts behandelt das Urteil zur Völkermord-Konvention im Falle Bosnien-Herzegowina gegen Serbien.76 Die beiden großen Rechtsgutachten zur rechtlichen Hegung von Gewalt (Legalität von Atomwaffen77 und Bau einer Mauer in den besetzten palästinensischen Gebieten78) behandeln Kernfragen des humanitären Völkerrechts (gewohnheitsrechtliche Geltung der Regeln über den Schutz der Zivilbevölkerung, Verhältnismäßigkeit, Anwendung auf Atomwaffen; Menschenrechte und das Recht der kriegerischen Besetzung). Der IGH ist ein ganz zentraler Akteur in dem rechtlichen Diskurs über das humanitäre Völkerrecht. Allerdings leidet auch diese Rolle an den bestehenden Lücken der Zuständigkeit des Gerichts.79

2.

Schiedsgerichtsbarkeit

Mit der für den Konflikt zwischen Äthiopien und Eritrea eingesetzten Claims Commission hat auch die Schiedsgerichtsbarkeit einen Stellenwert in der Durchsetzung des ius in bello erhalten. Die Einsetzung der Kommission beruht auf dem Abkommen von Algier vom 12. Dezember 2000.80 Wesentlich ist, dass die Schadensfolgen eines bewaffneten Konflikts von dieser Kommission umfassend rechtlich aufgearbeitet werden und gegebenenfalls Schadenersatz zugesprochen wird.

3.

Andere Verfahren

Die Genfer Konventionen sehen des Weiteren ein traditionelles Element der zwischenstaatlichen Streitbeilegung vor, nämlich die Ermittlung (inquiry). Dieses Instrument wurde durch das ZP I ergänzt und verstärkt durch die Errichtung einer Internationalen Humanitären Ermittlungskommission (Art. 90 ZP I). In der Praxis hat dieses Instrument aber bislang keine Rolle gespielt, wenngleich die Generalversammlung der Vereinten Nationen die Staaten aufgefordert hat, von dieser Kommission Gebrauch zu machen, wo das angemessen erscheint.81

4.

Bewertung

Insgesamt ist also die Rolle der zwischenstaatlichen Streitregelung zur Durchsetzung des ius in bello nicht unbeträchtlich. Aus der Sicht der individuellen Opfer hat sie 76

Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnien-Herzegowina v. Serbien), Urteil vom 26 Februar 2007.

77

Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, supra Fn. 25.

78

Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, supra Fn. 27.

79

Siehe supra II.E.

80

Vgl. bereits supra, Text zu Fn. 34.

81

UN Generalversammlung Res. 61/30, UN Dok. A/RES/61/30 (2006).

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einen entscheidenden Nachteil: sie ist nach wie vor in den Händen der staatlichen Bürokratien. Die Opfer selbst sind auf die Rolle des mehr oder weniger hoffnungsvollen Zuschauers beschränkt – ein Befund, der wenig zufrieden stellend ist. Darauf ist sogleich noch zurückzukommen.

F.

Sekundärnormen – Pflicht zum Schadenersatz und Verfahren ihrer Durchsetzung

Die Pflicht des Rechtsverletzers, den durch die Verletzung entstandenen Schaden auszugleichen, ist eine traditionelle Sekundärnorm, die unterschiedliche Funktionen erfüllt, unter anderem die eines gerechten Ausgleichs zwischen Täter und Opfer, wesentlich für die Rechtskultur, und die einer Motivation zur Rechtstreue. Im Bereich des Rechts bewaffneter Konflikte ist diese Sekundärnorm in der (IV.) Haager Konvention über die Gesetze und Gebräuche des Landkriegs verankert. Sie hat nach bewaffneten Konflikten auch immer wieder eine praktische Rolle gespielt.82 In den angeführten Fällen der zwischenstaatlichen Streitbeilegung ging es um Schadenersatz, wurde zum Teil auch Schadenersatz zugesprochen.83 Angesichts der Defizite der zwischenstaatlichen Streitbeilegung für den Opferschutz liegt es nahe, ihren Rechtsschutz auf der innerstaatlichen Ebene zu suchen. Dies ist in der Tat schon nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg versucht worden, sowohl vor den Gerichten der Schädigerstaaten als auch vor denen der Heimatstaaten der Opfer, mit wechselndem Erfolg. Deutsche Gerichte haben für Verletzungen des Rechts bewaffneter Konflikte, die im Zweiten Weltkrieg begangen wurden, keine individuellen Rechte auf Schadenersatz anerkannt,84 und dies mit Billigung durch das Bundesverfassungsgericht.85 Der größte Komplex von Schadenersatzforderungen, nämlich die Verfolgungsmaßnahmen Deutschlands gegen das jüdische Volk, ist vor allem vor Gerichten der Vereinigten Staaten geltend gemacht worden, was dann schließlich zu einer zwischenstaatlichen Regelung und zur Bildung eines Sonderfonds für Entschädigungsleistungen geführt hat.86 Ohne die innerstaatlichen Rechtsbehelfe wäre es sicher nicht zu dieser Regelung gekommen. Andrerseits zeigt es sich wohl, dass gerade bei solchen großen Schadenskomplexen der individuelle Rechtsschutz mit der Herstellung eines insgesamt gerechten Ausgleichs, der alle in Betracht kommenden Opfer einbezieht, überfordert ist. Dennoch hat sich in den vergangenen Jahrzehnten der Trend zum individuellen Rechtsschutz verstärkt. Ob insofern allerdings schon ein Durchbruch erreicht ist, ist 82

Zusammenfassend W. Heintschel von Heinegg, „Entschädigung für Verletzungen des humanitären Völkerrechts“, 40 Berichte der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht 1-61 (2003).

83

Vgl. vor allem die Urteile des IGH im Falle Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo, supra Fn. 1; und der Eritrea Ethiopia Claims Commission, supra Fn. 34.

84

BGH vom 26 Juni 2003, BGHZ 155, 279; 2 November 2006, III ZR 190/05 (Distomo).

85

BVerfG vom 20 März 2000, 1 BvR 69/00 (Zwangsarbeiter); 15 Februar 2006, 2BvR 147/03 (Distomo).

86

B. Heß, „Kriegsentschädigungen aus kollisionsrechtlicher und rechtsvergleichender Sicht“, 40 Berichte der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht 107-212, 194 ff (2003).

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immer noch nicht ganz unstreitig. Es spricht aber viel dafür, es ist ein klarer Trend zu erkennen.87 So sind Verfahren im Zusammenhang mit dem Kosovo-Konflikt vor den Gerichten unterschiedlicher Staaten anhängig gemacht worden. Bekannt geworden sind insbesondere Verfahren in Italien, in den Niederlanden und in Deutschland. Die Human Rights Commission hat in einer Resolution vom 19 April 2005 jedenfalls die Staaten aufgefordert, innerstaatliche Rechtsbehelfe für Verletzungen des humanitären Völkerrechts und Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit zur Verfügung zu stellen.88

G.

Sekundärnormen – strafrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit

1.

Internationale Strafgerichte

Die Entwicklung der internationalen Strafgerichtsbarkeit ist einer der großen Erfolge der Rechtsfortbildung in den letzten beiden Jahrzehnten. Anders als bei der Durchsetzung des ius contra bellum hat die Entwicklung der internationalen Strafverfolgung zu Beginn der 90er Jahre auch praktisch an Nürnberg angeknüpft und grundlegende Fortschritte gemacht. Befürchtungen, die man nach den Entscheidungen des Sicherheitsrats über die Errichtung der Strafgerichtshöfe für Jugoslawien und Ruanda haben konnte, dass es sich hier lediglich um symbolische Akte handeln würde, die aber rasch vergessen würden, wenn sie unbequeme Entscheidungen zur Folge hätten, haben sich so nicht bewahrheitet. Die Strafverfolgung durch die Verfolgungsorgane der beiden Gerichte ist nicht auf dem Altar der Friedensprozesse geopfert worden. Die Zusammenarbeit der Staaten, deren das Gericht bedarf, hätte sicher besser sein können – das ist vielfach zurecht bemängelt worden. Dennoch ist die Gesamtbilanz der Strafverfolgung ansehnlich. Von dieser Erfolgsbilanz sind Impulse ausgegangen. Die Schaffung des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofs wäre ohne den Vorlauf der beiden Tribunale nicht denkbar gewesen. Die Tatsache, dass dieses neue Gericht auch wirklich Fälle hat, und zwar auch ohne dass der Chef der Verfolgungsbehörde von seinem Initiativrecht Gebrauch macht, zeigt, dass die internationale Strafgerichtsbarkeit nun fest etabliert ist. Der zweite Impuls ging in Richtung auf die nationale transitional justice. Mit Beteiligung der Vereinten Nationen sind nach Konflikten und nach der Überwindung von Unrechtsregimen in unterschiedlichen Formen Institutionen der justizförmigen Ahndung vergangenen Unrechts geschaffen worden, wenn auch teilweise sehr spät, wie das Beispiel Kambodscha zeigt.89 87

A. Fischer-Lescano, „Subjektivierung völkerrechtlicher Sekundärregeln“, 45 Archiv des Völkerrechts 299-381 (2007); vorsichtiger R. Hofmann, „Victims of Violations of International Humanitarian Law: Do they Have an Individual Right to Reparation against States under International Law“, in P. M. Dupuy et al. (Hrsg.), Völkerrecht als Wertordnung. Festschrift für Christian Tomuschat 341-359 (2006).

88

Human Rights Commission Res. 2005/35 vom 19 April 2005.

89

Bericht des UN Generalsekretärs, UN Dok. A/57/769 (2003). Das „internationalisierte“ Gericht beruht auf ein kambodschanischen Gesetz sowie auf einer Vereinbarung zwischen

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Nationale Strafgerichte

Nationale Strafgerichtsbarkeit des Täterstaates ist die einfachste Lösung für das Strafbedürfnis bei Verletzungen des ius in bello. Dieser Staat hat in der Regel den schnellsten eigenen Zugriff auf den Täter. Diese Strafverfolgung kann nicht als Siegerjustiz diskreditiert werden. Das Problem der nationalen Strafverfolgung ist auf der anderen Seite meist der fehlende politische Wille, das begangene Unrecht wirklich zu verfolgen. Deutschland ist insofern nach dem ersten Weltkrieg mit schlechtem Beispiel vorangegangen. Die Verfolgung deutscher Kriegsverbrecher vor dem Reichsgericht anstelle der ursprünglich im Vertrag von Versailles vorgesehenen internationalen Strafgerichtsbarkeit war, das wird kaum bestritten, ein Misserfolg.90 Vor dem Hintergrund dieser Erfahrung war es sicher konsequent, dass die Genfer Konventionen von 1949 die Bestrafung von schweren Verletzungen durch alle Vertragsstaaten vorsehen, und zwar nicht nur als Bestrafungszuständigkeit nach dem Weltrechtsprinzip, sondern als Bestrafungspflicht.91 Mit dieser an sich grundlegenden Neuerung von 1949, der das ZP I von 1977 noch einige Straftatbestände hinzufügte, war das Problem der strafrechtlichen Ahndung von Verstößen gegen das ius in bello allerdings noch nicht gelöst. Das Problem des politischen Willens bestand fort. Es gab kaum Fälle von Kriegsverbrecherprozessen. Die Siegermächte des zweiten Weltkriegs hatten schon wenige Jahre nach Kriegsende kaum mehr ein Interesse, die Verfolgung der deutschen Kriegsverbrechen fortzuführen. Diese Aufgabe wurde jedoch aus ganz unterschiedlicher Perspektive von Deutschland und Israel wahrgenommen.92 Ein neues Bemühen zur Ahndung des Unrechts des zweiten Weltkriegs kam in einigen Siegerstaaten erst in den 80er Jahren wieder auf und wurde dann auch Gegenstand neuer Gesetzgebung.93 Im übrigen fehlte lange Zeit der politische Wille, die Bestrafungspflichten der Genfer Konventionen ernsthaft umzusetzen. Die Reaktion der US-Justiz auf Kriegsverbrechen in Vietnam muss als halbherzig bezeichnet werden.94 den Vereinten Nationen und Kambodscha, die von der Generalversammlung der Vereinten Nationen gebilligt wurde, Resolution 57/228 B, UN Dok. A/RES/57/228B (2003). 90

Vgl. die eingehende historische Analyse von G. Hankel, Die Leipziger Prozesse, insbesondere die Schlussfolgerungen 518 ff (2003).

91

1949 Genfer Konventionen I-IV, 75 UNTS 31, 75 UNTS 85, 75 UNTS 135, 75 UNTS 267, arts. 49, 50, 129, 146.

92

M. Bothe, „International Humanitarian Law and War Crimes Tribunals. Recent Developments and Perspectives“, in K. Wellens (Hrsg.), International Law: Theory and Practice. Essays in Honour of Eric Suy 581, S 583 (1998).

93

Ein wesentliches Element dieses erneuerten Interesses war die Medienwirkung, die von dem Bericht der Deschênes-Kommission 1986 in Kanada ausging: Das Gremium hatte festgestellt, dass eine nicht geringe Zahl von Kriegsverbrechern des II. Weltkriegs in Kanada Zuflucht gefunden hatten. Das kandische Bundesparlament reagierte darauf 1987 mit einer Gesetzesänderung, die die Verfolgung von im Ausland von Ausländern begangenen Kriegsverbrechen in Kanada ermöglichte. Ähnlichen Zwecken diente in Großbritannien der War Crimes Act 1991. Weitere Nachweise bei Bothe, supra Fn. 92, 583 f.

94

Best, supra Fn. 56, S. 398.

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Die gegenwärtige Lage ist differenziert. Einige Staaten haben es unternommen, Strafbarkeit nach dem Weltrechtsprinzip durchzusetzen, vor allem bei schweren Menschenrechtsverletzungen, vor allem Belgien und Spanien. Deutschland hat mit großer Verspätung im Völkerstrafgesetzbuch eine ausdrückliche und klare gesetzliche Grundlage für die Erfüllung dieser Verpflichtung geschaffen. Bei den ersten Testfällen zeigte sich jedoch wiederum der Mangel an politischem Willen, diese Möglichkeit auch zu gebrauchen und die Pflichten nach den Genfer Konventionen zu erfüllen. Mit einer rechtlich angreifbaren Begründung hat sich der Generalbundesanwalt geweigert, eine Strafverfolgung gegen hohe amerikanische Amtsträger wegen Kriegsverbrechen, nämlich Folter im Irak, durchzuführen.95 Die Bilanz nationaler Verfolgung von Verletzungen des ius in bello ist also eher gemischt.

3.

Die Bedeutung des Strafrechts für die Einhaltung des ius in bello

Die Entwicklung der internationalen Strafgerichtsbarkeit, aber auch gewisse Fortschritte der nationalen Strafgerichtsbarkeit werfen die Frage auf, welche Rolle denn das Strafrecht überhaupt als Instrument für die Einhaltung des ius in bello spielt. Von Abschreckung ist oftmals die Rede, sie ist aber eher skeptisch zu sehen. Gerade in den Fällen von massiven Rechtsverletzungen in großem Stil ist der typische Kriegsverbrecher eingebettet in einem System. Er ist ein guter, da systemkonformer Mensch. Signale von außerhalb des Systems empfängt er nicht, jedenfalls sind sie für ihn bedeutungslos. Was immer man von der generalpräventiven Wirkung des Strafrechts im Allgemeinen halten mag, in dieser Situation ist das Strafrecht gerade nicht in der Lage, eine abschreckende Wirkung zu entfalten. Aus einer aufmerksamen Beobachtung der Realität ergibt sich vielmehr, dass ein anderer Aspekt wesentlich ist. Ausübung von Strafgerichtsbarkeit wird immer wieder verlangt im Sinne eines „fight against impunity“. 96 Dieses Schlagwort bezeichnet treffend den Befund: Es geht um eine Genugtuung für die Opfer, um einen Täter-OpferAusgleich, für den ein gesellschaftliches Bedürfnis besteht und der darum, so er denn gelingt, eine friedensstiftende Wirkung besitzt. Das ist auch der tiefere Grund dafür, dass die rechtliche Konstruktion zutrifft, die die Errichtung der Straftribunale durch den Sicherheitsrat auf dessen Kompetenz stützt, Zwangsmaßnahmen zur Wiederherstellung des Friedens zu ergreifen.97

95

M. Bothe, „La juridiction universelle en matière des crimes de guerre – menace sérieuse contre les criminels? Un point d’interrogation sur l’Allemagne“, in Droit du pouvoir, pouvoir du droit. Mélanges offerts A Jean Salmon 833-854, insbesondere 840 ff (2007).

96

Bothe, supra Fn. 92, S. 583 f., 593; M. Sassóli, „Le rôle des tribunaux pénaux internationaux dans la répression des crimes de guerre“, in F. Lattanzi/E. Sciso (Hrsg.), Dai tribunali penali internazionali ad hoc a una corte permanente 109 ff (1996).

97

So ausführlich im Falle The Prosecutor v. Duško Tadić, Entscheidung der Berufungskammer vom 2 Oktober 1995, 35 ILM 35, §§ 33 ff (1996).

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Menschenrechtliche Rechtsbehelfe

Eine wesentliche Erweiterung erfahren die Mechanismen zur Einhaltung des ius in bello durch die Verfahren des internationalen Menschenrechtsschutzes. Sie beruht auf der inzwischen herrschend gewordenen Erkenntnis, dass die Regime des Menschenrechtsschutzes und des humanitären Völkerrechts im Prinzip parallel anwendbar sind und sich in den Fällen, wo sich die Anwendungsbereiche beider Regime überschneiden, nicht gegenseitig ausschließen, sondern ergänzen.98 Im Falle eines bewaffneten Konflikts sind Regeln des Menschenrechtsschutzes, sofern sie nicht gemäß der einschlägigen Notstandsvorschriften suspendiert sind, immer dann anwendbar, wenn eine Konfliktpartei Hoheitsgewalt über Opfer ausübt. Das liegt vor im Falle eines nicht-internationalen Konflikt, einer kriegerischen Besetzung, einer Freiheitsentziehung im Zusammenhang mit dem Konflikt und der Anwesenheit von Staatsangehörigen einer Konfliktpartei auf dem Gebiet der anderen. Die Frage, wie Organe des Menschenrechtsschutzes in diesem Zusammenhang Regelungsgehalte des ius in bello berücksichtigen, ist in vielem noch nicht zufrieden stellend geklärt. Der Sache nach wird aber der Einsatz von Rechtsbehelfen des Menschenrechtsschutzes die Schutzwirkungen des humanitären Völkerrechts verstärken. Er fügt dem gerade in seinen Durchsetzungsmechanismen zwischenstaatlich geprägten humanitären Völkerrecht eine am individuellen Opfer orientierte Dimension hinzu und ergänzt und erweitert so die Wirkung der strafrechtlichen Verantwortlichkeit und der individuellen Schadenersatzansprüche. Diese opferbezogenen Rechtsbehelfe bieten auch einen wesentlichen Ansatzpunkt, in dem sich die Kräfte der Zivilgesellschaft in die Mechanismen der Durchsetzung des Rechts einbringen.

I.

Zusammenfassung

Es zeigt sich wie schon bei der Analyse der Instrumente zur Einhaltung des Gewaltverbots, dass deren Wirksamkeit nur gesamthaft betrachtet werden kann. Es liegt mit anderen Worten ein Instrumentenmix vor. Diese Vielfalt der Verfahren erhöht die Chance der Rechtsdurchsetzung. Zwischen den beiden Bereichender rechtlichen Hegung von Gewalt bestehen insofern allerdings erhebliche Unterschiede. Das ius in bello verfügt im Rahmen der nicht förmlichen Mechanismen mit dem IKRK über eine neutrale Aufsichtsinstanz, die allein dem Schutz der Opfer verpflichtet ist und deshalb, anders als bei Verfahren im Rahmen politischer Organisationen, nicht durch sonstige politische Interessen und Rücksichtnahmen in seiner Aktion behindert ist. Ein weiterer Unterschied besteht darin, dass die Rolle förmlicher Verfahren bei der Durchsetzung des ius in bello stärker ausgebildet ist. Das gilt für die internationale Strafgerichtsbarkeit, die menschenrechtlichen Rechtsbehelfe, die innerstaatliche Gerichtsbarkeit sowohl für strafrechtliche Sanktionen als auch für Schadenersatzansprüche. Diese Verfahren sind auch deshalb so wichtig, weil sie von den Interessen der Opfer bestimmt sind. Diese Verfahren werden darum auch vielfach durch Organisationen der Zivilgesellschaft betrieben und unterstützt. 98

Zusammenfassend M. Bothe, „Humanitäres Völkerrecht und Schutz der Menschenrechte“, 21 Humanitäres Völkerrecht – Informationsschriften 4 (2008), mit weiteren Nachweisen.

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IV.

167

Nichtsstaatliche Gewalt

Die vorstehende Darstellung von Mechanismen, die die rechtliche Hegung von Gewalt wirksam machen sollen, war konzentriert auf staatliche militärische Gewalt. Das Problem der internationalen Beziehungen heute ist aber auch, ja vielleicht noch mehr die nicht-staatliche Gewalt. Diese wird vielfach als ein auch rechtlich ungelöstes Problem wahrgenommen. Passt der vorstehende Versuch einer Systematik auf die durch nichtstaatliche Gewalt aufgeworfenen Fragen. Bei näherem Hinsehen erweist sich das Problem als nicht so neu. Es gibt schon fast klassische Ansätze, wie mit dem Problem rechtlich umzugehen ist. Dabei ist allerdings zu differenzieren, denn die Arten und Kontexte nichtstaatlicher Gewalt sind sehr unterschiedlich. Ein solcher Ansatz besteht darin, die nicht-staatliche Gewalt doch einem Staat zuzuordnen. Das ist etwa der Fall bei der Unterstützung der grenzüberschreitenden Tätigkeit von Aufständischen,99 bei der Frage, ob irreguläre Milizen Kombattantenstatus besitzen100 und wohl auch bei dem Problem der „private military companies“.101 Betrachtet man die nicht-staatlichen Akteure als besondere, eben wirklich nicht staatliche Einheiten, dann gibt es zwei unterschiedliche Ansätze. Zum einen wird versucht, diese Einheiten in die völkerrechtlichen Regelwerke einzubinden, indem man ihnen völkerrechtliche Rechte und Pflichten verleiht, sie also zu Völkerrechtssubjekten macht, wenn auch in begrenztem Ausmaß. Das klassische Beispiel hierfür ist die Anerkennung als kriegführende Partei, ein neueres die Stellung der nationalen Befreiungsbewegungen nach Art. 1 Abs. 4 ZP I. Auch bei den Regeln für den nichtinternationalen Konflikt geschieht der Sache nach eben dies. Es gibt in solchen Konflikten „Parteien“, die aus den einschlägigen Regeln für den nicht-internationalen bewaffneten Konflikt völkerrechtlich berechtigt und verpflichtet werden, insoweit also Völkerrechtssubjekte sind. Das bedeutet, dass diese Einheiten den Staaten sozusagen auf Augenhöhe begegnen, eine Konsequenz, die zu ziehen sich Staaten im konkreten Fall immer wieder weigern. Dieser Lösungsansatz hat aber den Vorteil, dass dann die dargestellten Mechanismen zur Sicherung der Einhaltung des Rechts, insbesondere hier des ius in bello, von und gegenüber diesen Einheiten angewandt werden können. Es sei nicht geleugnet, dass dies in der Praxis auf Schwierigkeiten stößt. Wie soll die Verbreitungsarbeit für die Genfer Konventionen bei Rebellen aussehen. Können solche Gruppen eine de facto-Rotkreuz-Gesellschaft haben, die solche Aufgaben übernimmt (der kurdische Rote Halbmond). Gewisse Verfahren der internationalen Streitregelung sind diesen Akteuren verschlossen. Aber eine Schiedsgerichtsbarkeit ist immer möglich, und auch das Verfahren der International Humanitarian Fact-finding Commission

99

Siehe supra II.E.

100

Vgl. aus der kaum übersehbaren Literatur K. Watkin, Warriors without Rights? Combatants, Unprivileged Belligerents, and the Struggle over Legitimacy (2005).

101

A. McDonald, „The Legal Status of Military and Security Subcontractors“, in R. Arnold/P.-A. Hildbrand (Hrsg.), International Humanitarian Law and the 21st Century’s Conflicts 215 (2005).

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(Art. 90 ZP I) kann mit Zustimmung der betroffenen Partei von und gegen solche nicht-staatlichen Akteure in Anspruch genommen werden. Wenn und soweit den nicht-staatlichen Anwendern von Gewalt ein solcher völkerrechtlicher Status nicht zukommt, sind die Adressaten der anwendbaren Regeln die Staaten, und zwar jeweils diejenigen, in deren Zuständigkeitsbereich sich ein solcher Akteur befindet. Das Völkerrecht hält dann Regeln bereit, wie mit solchen Akteuren umzugehen ist. Dieser Ansatz ist im gegenwärtigen Völkerrecht herrschend in der Terrorismus-Bekämpfung. Das einschlägige Netzwerk von Verträgen102 weist eine weitgehend einheitliche Struktur auf. Die Sanktion gegen terroristische Aktivitäten werden vom nationalen Strafrecht bestimmt. Die Staaten werden verpflichtet, solche Strafnormen zu erlassen und auch durchzusetzen, und zu diesem Zweck sind sie zur Zusammenarbeit verpflichtet. Auch die Regeln zur Verhinderung der Finanzierung von Terrorismus verfolgen einen so strukturierten Ansatz: Die Staaten müssen Maßnahmen ergreifen, die verhindern, dass Terroristen Zugang zu Finanzquellen haben. Eben dies ist auch der Regelungsansatz des Sicherheitsrats in seinen einschlägigen Resolutionen, die im Grunde die vertragliche Regelung vorwegnehmen.103 Die klassische Verpflichtung eines Staates ist, den grenzüberschreitenden Einsatz nicht-staatlicher Gewalt zu verhindern. Die Maßnahmen, die die Einhaltung dieser staatlichen Verpflichtungen sichern, sind grundsätzlich nicht die dargestellten Verfahren zur Hegung von Gewalt. Es handelt sich eher um die sonst üblichen Einhaltungskontrollen, etwa durch Berichtssysteme. Allerdings stellt sich die Frage nach den Folgen einer konstanten Weigerung eines Staates, diese Verpflichtungen zu erfüllen. Dann kann es sein, dass dies auf eine Unterstützung hinausläuft, die die Gewalt dann doch dem Staat zurechenbar macht, eine nicht seltene Situation. 104 Eine besondere Frage ist in diesem Zusammenhang das Unvermögen von failed States, die genannten Verpflichtungen zu erfüllen. Reaktion auf nicht-staatliche Gewalt ist also vom Völkerrecht in differenzierter und unterschiedlicher Weise vorgesehen. Das massive Auftreten solcher Gewalt ist kein Grund zu einem grundlegenden Wandel des Völkerrechts. Die Regeln der Hegung von Gewalt, wie sie sich in den letzten Jahrzehnten entwickelt haben, haben durchaus eine Antwort auf diese Formen der Gewalt.

V.

Theorie und Praxis der rechtlichen Hegung militärischer Gewalt

Das Völkerrecht formuliert kontrafaktische Erwartungen, gerade im Bereich der Hegung von militärischer Gewalt. Es wurde gezeigt, dass in diesem Bereich erhebliche Anreize zu nicht rechtmäßigem Verhalten bestehen. Das macht den kontrafaktischen 102

Eine Liste der einschlägigen Verträge und Vertragsentwürfe findet sich in Walter et al., supra Fn. 21, S. 987 ff.

103

Insbesondere Sicherheitsrats Res. 1373, UN Dok. S/RES/1373 (2001).

104

Dazu Stahn, supra Fn. 21, S. 862 ff.

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Charakter der Normen aus. In solchen Bereichen ist die Einhaltung des Völkerrechts prekär, und eben dies führt immer wieder zu den eingangs erwähnten Thesen, die aus der mangelnden Einhaltung und Durchsetzung auf eine Nicht-Geltung schließen. Dieser Beitrag hat versucht, die Mechanismen, mit denen die Einhaltung der einschlägigen Normen zu sichern ist, systematisch zu ordnen. Die Rechtswirklichkeit spricht aber mitunter solcher Systematik Hohn. Der Einsatz der Mechanismen ist eher erratisch. Es sollte auch gezeigt werden, dass diese Mechanismen sehr vielgestaltig sind – vielgestaltiger, als dies lange angenommen wurde. Die kontrafaktischen Erwartungen werden durch ein Netzwerk von unterschiedlichen Verfahren abgesichert. Diese sind in den letzten Jahren auch wirklicher umfassender geworden, nicht zuletzt dadurch, dass die Durchsetzung des Völkerrechts vielfach auch von Kräften der Zivilgesellschaft betrieben wird. Dadurch haben sich die Durchsetzungschancen erhöht und ist die Geltung der Normen sicherer geworden.

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10

171

The Three Cores of Aggression Antonio Remiro Brotóns*

I.

Introduction

‘Launching a War of Aggression’, stated the International Military Tribunal of Nuremberg in 1946, ‘is not only an international crime, it is the supreme international crime, differing only from other war crimes in that it contains within itself the accumulated evil of all of them’.1 Thus, it is quite natural that more than half a century later, when there has finally been an opportunity to sign a Statute for the creation of an International Criminal Court with jurisdiction over ‘the most serious crimes of concern to the international community as a whole’,2 the crime of aggression was included.3 Nevertheless, unlike crimes such as genocide, crimes against humanity or war crimes,4 over which the Court can exercise jurisdiction since the Statute entered into force on 1 July 2002,5 its authority over the crime of aggression has been suspended until approval of a provision in accordance with Articles 121 and 123 defining the crime and setting out the conditions under which the Court shall exercise jurisdiction with respect to the crime. Such a provision, adds the Statute, ‘shall be consistent with the relevant provisions of the Charter of the United Nations’.6 This will not take place immediately and perhaps may never ever occur. Articles 121 and 123 of the Statute concerning its amendment and review are very demanding. They stipulate that when seven years have passed from the time that the Statute entered into force, that is, from 1 July 2009, the UN Secretary-General shall convene a conference of the State Parties in which the proposals concerning the crime of aggression will require, in the absence of consensus, a two-third majority vote. The approved amendments will enter into force one year after seven-eighths of the State Parties have deposited *

This contribution is a revised version of ‚Agression, Crime of Aggression, Crime without Punishment‘, published online by the Fundación para las Relaciones Internacionales y el Diálogo Exterior (FRIDE), available at http://www.fride.org/publication/46/aggressioncrime-of-aggression-crime-without-punishment.

1

International Military Tribunal of Nuremberg, Judgment of 30 September/1 October 1946. See 41 AJIL 172, at 186 (1947).

2

1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 90 UNTS 2187, preamble, para. 9 and art. 5.1.

3

Ibid., art. 5.1, d.

4

Ibid., art. 5.1, a, b and c, 6, 7 and 8.

5

In accordance with art. 126.1 of the Statute, ibid.

6

Ibid., art. 5.2.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 171-194, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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their instruments for ratification or adhesion, and only within the relations among those States. The reader may be surprised to find that, although many years have passed since Nuremberg, the only thing that the authors of the Criminal Court Statute have been able to codify is an impasse.7 This is all the more surprising when considering that a definition of aggression has existed since 1974 and was adopted by consensus after twenty years of efforts by the General Assembly of the United Nations.8 The International Law Commission also considered that this definition could offer some guidance when it approved a Draft Statute for an International Criminal Court in 1994.9 According an extended opinion, the main reason behind the current situation is the profound disagreement over the role of the Security Council in prosecuting the crime of aggression. Had it not been for this, the debate and negotiation over the definition and elements of the crime and the conditions for exercising jurisdiction over it could have been resolved within a reasonable timeframe. Hence, rather than considering the technical problems of regulation, that is, the attractive approach to aggression as a crime of leaders or its eventual commission by agents of non-state subjects, this contribution focuses on the extraordinary preclusive role of the judicial action which certain States, particularly the permanent members of the Security Council, intend to attribute to this organ, deliberately confusing the different levels upon which aggression can be analyzed. Such examination is timely, since recent events suggest that aggression is not foreign to the practices of countries deemed democratic. Practices can recur over time if, instead of being condemned, they are tolerated with resignation and if they receive public recognition. It is interesting to note that the more than one hundred page long High-level Panel report on ‘Threats, Challenges and Change’, elaborated at the request of the UN Secretary-General, does not mention the word ‘aggression’ even once.10 In the Secretary-General’s report, the term appears only once and in a different context.11 The fact that aggression can: 1) unleash action to restore peace, 2) demand responsibility of the aggressor state and 3) demand criminal prosecution of state agents, raises problems when determining the competences and relationships of the interested organs and institutions: 1.

7

The action to restore peace is the realm of the Security Council and, if it fails, of the United Nations General Assembly.

S. A. Fernández de Gurmendi (co-ordinator of the working group on Aggression of the ICC Preparatory Committee), ‘An Insider’s View’, in M. Politi/G. Nesi (eds.), The International Criminal Court and the Crime of Aggression 176 (2004).

8

UN General Assembly Res. 3314(XXIX), UN Doc. A/RES/3314 (XXIX).

9

Draft Statute for an ICC, Commentary, art. 20, 1994 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 38.

10

A More Secure World: A Shared Responsibility, UN Doc. A/59/565 (2004).

11

K. Annan, ‘In Larger Freedom: Towards Development, Security and Human Rights for All’, UN Doc. A/59/2005 (2005), para. 19.

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2. The Security Council’s power to determine the consequences of the aggression in the domain of the international responsibility of states is at least doubtful and, in any case, concurrent with that of other institutions, particularly judicial institutions. 3. Political organs cannot claim any competence when the indictment of state agents accused of the crime of aggression is under question, as this is a task that lies with courts, which could indeed be established by a Security Council Resolution. 4. The two spheres of responsibility, international for the state and criminal for its agents, are, although closely connected, autonomous. The ICC Statute makes this distinction clear upon warning that ‘no provision in this Statute relating to individual criminal responsibility shall affect the responsibility of States under international law’.12 This is also confirmed by the Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts approved by the International Law Commission (2001). It provides that its Articles ‘are without prejudice to any question of the individual responsibility under international law of any person acting on behalf of a State’.13 5. Nevertheless, are the judges, in cases in which they intervene, albeit in the domain of international responsibility of the States or in that of individual criminal responsibility of their agents, conditioned by the decisions of the Security Council, and if so, to what extent?

II.

Aggression and the Maintenance of Peace

Aggression, or the act of aggression, is of the most serious type and apparently the most precise among the open types referred to in Article 39 of the UN Charter14 in order to articulate the formidable measures that Chapter VII puts in the hands of the 12

1998 ICC Statute, supra note 2, art. 25.4.

13

Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, art. 58. The text of the draft and the comments accompanying the Articles were published with an introduction by the last special rapporteur of the International Law Commission, J. Crawford, The ILC’s Art. s on State Responsibility. Introduction, Text and Commentaries (2004). In Spain it has been published by Dykinson Los artículos de la CDI sobre la Responsabilidad Internacional del Estado. Introducción, Texto y Comentarios (2005) (Introduction and Appendices translated by Luis Fonseca under the supervision of Carlos Espósito). The Draft Articles were recently examined by C. Gutiérrez Espada in El hecho ilícito internacional, Cuadernos Internacionales de la UAM, 5, Dykinson (2005).

14

1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 39 asserts that: ‘The Security Council shall determine the existence of any threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression and shall make recommendations, or decide what measures shall be taken in accordance with Articles 41 and 42, to maintain or restore international peace and security.’

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Security Council to fulfil its responsibility for the maintenance of international peace and security.15 In practice, however, the Security Council has been reluctant to make a formal finding of aggression for situations that appeared to be so, preferring instead to cultivate ambiguity.16 The fact that the General Assembly in 1974 provided the Council a definition of aggression meant to guide its actions,17 brought about no changes whatsoever. Although it is possible to find among Security Council Resolutions a few that refer to armed aggression or aggressive acts by certain states, the impression is that these terms appear in the text with a more rhetorical rather than legal significance, as the same text often asserts that such acts are a ‘threat to [international] peace’.18 In this way, some of the actions by South Africa and Rhodesia against neighbouring states in the seventies and the eighties were qualified as acts of aggression or aggressive acts,19 along with the Israeli air raid on the PLO base in Tunisia in 1985.20 Also, the Council’s condemnation of the ‘armed aggression’ on 16 January 1977 against the People’s Republic of Benin by a group of mercenaries21 is worth mentioning, although the intent in that case was to invoke the Council’s authority to back up the thesis that the instigator of aggression does not have to be a state. This was much debated at the time and is now being revived. Apparently very grave situations, such as Iraq’s actions against Iran in 1980 and against Kuwait ten years later, came and went with no Council decision qualifying them 15

Ibid., art. 24.1; This responsibility is understood as a primordial and non exclusive responsibility, because, according to the Charter, the General Assembly may also discuss and make recommendations on all matters related to international peace and security (arts. 10-12, 14 of the Charter). In any case, however, as the International Court of Justice has cautioned: ‘It is only the Security Council which can require enforcement by coercive action against an aggressor.’ see Certain Expenses of the United Nations (Art. 17.2 of the Charter), Advisory Opinion of 20 July 1962, 1962 ICJ Rep. 151, at 163.

16

In the Korean War (1950) the Security Council (in its Res. 82-V, UN Doc. S/RES/82 (V)) set a standard on another situation mentioned in art. 39 of the United Nations Charter, the breach of the peace, and even this has been brought up on rare occasions. When the member states in 1957 were asked to assist the Council to ‘halt the aggression’ against Egypt by France and Britain during the violent crisis brought about by the nationalisation of the Suez Canal, the alleged aggressors, permanent members of the Council, vetoed the draft Resolution.

17

UN General Assembly Res. 3314(XXIX), UN Doc. A/RES/3314 (XXIX).

18

Despite this, these determinations may provide the bases to demand international responsibility from the states to whom such acts are attributed, see infra section III.

19

See, for example, UN Security Council Res. 387 and 393 (1976), UN Docs. S/RES/387 (1976) and S/RES/393 (1976); UN Security Council Res. 411 and 418, UN Docs. S/RES/411 (1977) and S/RES/418 (1977); UN Security Council Res. 428, 527, 546 and 577, UN Docs. S/RES/428 (1978), S/RES/527 (1982), S/RES/546 (1984), S/RES/577 (1985).

20

UN Security Council Res. 573, UN Doc. S/RES/573 (1985). When four years beforehand Israeli aircraft destroyed Iraq’s nuclear plant in Osirak, then under construction, the Security Council Res. 487, UN Doc. S/RES/487 (1981) condemned the act but did not deem it as ‘aggression’, which for its part, was done by the General Assembly Res. 36/27, UN Doc. A/RES/36/27 (1981).

21

UN Security Council Res. 405, UN Doc. S/RES/405 (1977).

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as ‘acts of aggression’. In the first case, the Council, after seven years of war, warned that it was confronted with a ‘breach of the peace’ (Resolution 598 of 20 July 1987). In the second, despite a much clearer materialization of facts and the political climate of co-operation between the Council’s permanent members rising at the end of the Cold War, it was equally impossible to decide on a formal finding of aggression.22 On 2 August 1990, the Council (Resolution 660) condemned the ‘invasion’ of Kuwait, which had taken place the same day, considering it a ‘breach of the peace’. Four days later it adopted sanctions against Iraq because of its ‘invasion and occupation’ of the emirate (Resolution 661) and a week later it declared the ‘annexation’ null and void (Resolution 662). The term ‘aggression’ appears in Resolution 667 (1990) of 16 September, but is linked to the failure to respect the immunity of diplomatic premises and the arrest of diplomats in Kuwait. The rhetorical nature of this Resolution is confirmed by the fact that neither the French nor the English versions of the Resolution mention ‘aggression’, but rather actes agressifs and aggressive acts, respectively. Not even when the Council authorized the members of the Organization to use all necessary means, in co-operation with the Kuwaiti government, to force the immediate and unconditional withdrawal of Iraq from the emirate (Resolution 678-1990 of 29 November) did it decide to formalize the qualification of the Iraqi behaviour. To find a mention of ‘Iraqi aggression’ one must turn to the statement of the Chairman of the Council, issued somewhat later, on 31 January 1992, in the context of a programmatic approach to the responsibilities of the Council within the realm of the maintenance of the international peace and security. Against this backdrop, one may ask whether a strict qualification of the situations presented to the Security Council is actually necessary to bring about the adoption of the measures required to maintain or restore peace. The answer is no. Indeed, experience shows that it is enough to place the action within the framework of Chapter VII of the Charter, without further precisions, or to resort to the most generic type of threats against international peace as grounds for action. This practice facilitates the adoption of measures and avoids problematic political pronouncements that are unnecessary as long as the measures are not determined by them.

III.

Aggression and the Responsibility of the State

An act of aggression necessarily results in the international responsibility of the aggressor state. This is an aggravated responsibility to the extent that, upon involving a serious breach of an obligation arising under a peremptory norm of general international law, its wrongfulness cannot be excluded under any circumstances, nor can its consequences be accepted. The right to invoke this responsibility is recognized, not 22

Hence Paz Andrés, ‘Réplica: cuestiones de legalidad en las acciones armadas contra Irak’, XLII, Revista Española de Derecho Internacional 117, at 118 (1991), asks reasonably whether by chance UN General Assembly Res. 3314(XXIX), supra note 17, which contained the definition of aggression, so laboriously drafted, was already a United Nations museum piece. Indeed, was there (at the time) any issue more propitious for invoking it?

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only for the injured states, but also for the non injured ones, as the obligation breached is owed to the international community as a whole.23 For twenty years, from 1976, when Robert Ago was special reporter, to 1996, when the International Law Commission approved a first reading of the Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, violations of this nature were determined crimes.24 Some years before, the Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Co-operation among States in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations (Resolution 2625-XXV of the General Assembly of 24 October 1970) had already defined ‘a war of aggression’ as ‘a crime against peace’ for which there is responsibility under international law, a statement copied almost literally in Resolution 3314 (XXIX) of 14 December 1974 (Article 5.2 of the appendix containing the definition of aggression). In 1983, special reporter Riphagen, who had replaced Ago, proposed excluding from the Draft Articles those acts such as aggression, whose legal consequences were covered in the Charter and over which the United Nations had ‘jurisdiction’.25 Riphagen received some support, but the majority of the Commission members held that the draft should set out, at least in general terms, the legal consequences of the crime.26 The final outcome of the debate was that an Article (Article 39) was kept in the Draft approved on the first lecture in 1996, according to which: ‘The legal consequences of an internationally wrongful act of a State […] are subject, as appropriate, to the provisions and procedures of the Charter of the United Nations relating to the maintenance of international peace and security.’27 This rule was strongly opposed by the then special reporter Gaetano Arangio-Ruiz. The Italian professor reopened the debate on the vis atractiva of the Security Council’s jurisdiction in the maintenance and restoration of international peace and security vis-à-vis the international responsibility derived from aggression. For Arangio-Ruiz, the rule in Article 39 of the Draft was unacceptable and superfluous. It was unacceptable because it would have the effect of subordinating the Draft’s provisions on responsibility to the Charter, including the procedures envisaged for maintaining peace and, therefore, to Security Council Resolutions, an outcome that would not guarantee either the equality of states or the primacy of law over international relations. It would also be superfluous because Article 103 of the Charter already regulates this legal relationship.28 According to the Italian professor, whose opinion I share, the Security Council would not have ‘unlimited powers’; the rights and obligations of states in the domain of inter23

ILC Draft Articles on State Responsibility for Wrongful International Acts, arts. 26, 33.1, 40, 41, 48 (2001).

24

See Draft Articles on State Responsibility, art. 19.3, 1996 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 60.

25

1983 YILC, Vol. II (Part One), at 10-13, paras. 52-56, 59-70.

26

1983 YILC, Vol. I, at 100 et seq.; Ibid., Vol. II (Part Two), at 41, para. 125.

27

1996 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 62, n. 187.

28

‘In the event of a conflict between the obligations of the Members of the United Nations under the present Charter and their obligations under any other international agreement’, states art. 103, ‘their obligations under the present Charter shall prevail’.

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national responsibility would not be affected by Chapter VII of the Charter and, at most, they could be considered in the domain of the pacific settlement of disputes (Chapter VI) under which the powers of the Council are only recommendatory. Attempting to get a political organ with limited membership endowed with judicial and legislative powers to try crimes committed by states was, as Arangio-Ruiz stated, ‘contrary to the most elemental principles of a civilised legal order’; hence, the recognition of an ‘important judicial function for the International Court of Justice as an indispensable complement for all preliminary decisions by the General Assembly or the Security Council regarding the possible existence of a crime’.29 Unfortunately, after sharp confrontations with other members of the Commission, particularly Rosenstock, the proposal to delete Article 39 was narrowly defeated, eleven for, eleven against with seven abstentions,30 a decision comforted by a wide support from government representatives in the Sixth Commission of the General Assembly (Legal Affairs), where only Bahrain and Libya opposed it.31 Nevertheless, five years later in 2001, the Draft Articles on Responsibility of States approved on second lecture leaned toward the more neutral wording proposed unsuccessfully in 1996 by M. Bennouna after the deletion of Article 39 was rejected.32 ‘These Articles’, states Article 59, the last of the Draft, ‘are without prejudice to the Charter of the United Nations’.33 The swords are raised and it would be imprudent to assert that the Security Council’s determinations are compulsory and binding for other organs, particularly judicial ones, which are called to decide on the international responsibility of a state originated by an act of aggression. There are measures, such as the requirement to cease and not repeat the wrongful act or even the restitutio in integrum, which pertain to both the arenas of peace and security and that of international responsibility. Yet there are others, such as the numerous forms of reparation (indemnity, satisfaction) or nullity and non-recognition of the advantages achieved by the offender as a consequence of the aggression, which are characteristic of international responsibility, and the Security Council has had no qualms about using them when it deemed necessary. Besides maintaining or restoring peace, the Council assigns the wrongful acts, determines their legal consequences and establishes mechanisms to make them effective. It may even be said that by pronouncing 29

1996 YILC, Vol. I, at 22-25, (paras. 1-18), at 30-31 (paras. 59-62), at 46-47 (paras. 59-63), at 137-139 (paras. 17-30), at 141 (paras. 48), at 142 (paras. 61-62). This experience – ArangioRuiz resigned as special rapporteur – translated into a doctrinal work: G. Arangio-Ruiz, ‘The Federal Analogy and the UN Charter Interpretation: a Critical Issue’, 8 EJIL 1 (1997).

30

1996 YILC, Vol. I, at 25-30 (paras. 19-58), at 139-142 (paras. 31-47, 49-60, 63-73).

31

See M. J. Aznar, Responsabilidad internacional del Estado y acción del Consejo de Seguridad de las Naciones Unidas, Biblioteca Diplomática Española, M.A.E, Madrid, at 45-70 (2000).

32

1996 YILC, Vol. I, at 137-142. The Bennouna’s amendment was rejected by the Commission in a narrow vote (nine for, ten against and seven abstentions).

33

The sole difference between the text adopted by the ILC in 2001 and the Bennouna’s amendment was that the latter limited the provision of the Charter to ‘the legal consequences of the wrongful international act’.

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on the effects of the crime in terms of responsibility, the Council has indeed taken into account the types of crimes that have remained ‘hidden’ in its Resolutions. M. Aznar observes that Article 39 of the Charter has become ‘the new open sesame enabling the Security Council to enter the cave housing the new coercive powers that are not clearly explained in Chapter VII of the Charter and which could influence the extent of a state’s international responsibility’.34 However, although showing no inhibition about entering the domain of international responsibility, the Council has maintained its reluctance to qualify the situations that could fall into the category of aggression. In the war with Iraq, for instance, Iran insisted that responsibility for the conflict should be ascertained. For political reasons, the Council did not want to do so itself. By means of the aforementioned Resolution 598, of 28 July 1987, it asked the Secretary-General to examine, in consultation with the parties, the question of ‘entrusting an impartial body’ to investigate said responsibility and to report back to the Council ‘as soon as possible’. More than four years passed before Secretary-General Pérez de Cuéllar, nearing the end of his term, mentioned in a report to the Council dated 9 December 1991,35 which had no practical consequences, that ‘Iraq’s aggression against Iran, followed by Iraq’s occupation of Iranian territories during conflict, is a violation of the prohibition on the use of force, which is considered one of the rules of ius cogens’. According to Iraq, in a letter dated 22 December, such considerations were outside the powers of the Secretary-General, but at the time Iraq was already under a sanctions regime imposed by the Council following its failed adventure in Kuwait. The history of the Secretary-General’s report nevertheless took a turn reminiscent of vaudeville when G. Pico, the then assistant Secretary-General for political affairs, published his memoirs in which he claimed that the Pérez de Cuéllar’s report was due to a pact with Iran, whose mediation was needed to free American hostages held in Lebanon.36 The Iraqi government had naturally long denounced the existence of such a deal, and took care to disseminate in the United Nations the relevant pages by the outspoken retired official.37 The existence of a ‘hidden’ qualification of aggressor state is clearly devised in the Iraq-Kuwait case. The Council did not declare Iraq as an aggressor state, but treated it as such when the time came to draw conclusions.38 The Council explicitly concerned itself with the type, quantity and procedure of the reparation. The main affirmation of Iraq’s responsibility for losses, damages and harm caused to Kuwait or third states, their nationals or businesses, due to the illegal invasion and occupation of the

34

M. J. Aznar, supra note 31, at 30.

35

UN Doc. S/23273 (1991).

36

G. Picco, Man Without a Gun. One Diplomat’s Secret Struggle to Free the Hostages, Fight Terrorism and End a War 118, 150-152, 172, 181, 183, 184, 234, 235, 267, 268 (1999).

37

Annex to the letter dated 5 February 2001 from Tarek Aziz, vice-prime minister and acting minister of foreign relations of Iraq, to the Secretary-General, distributed as a Security Council document, UN Doc. S/2001/124 (2001).

38

M. J. Aznar, supra note 31, at 149.

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emirate (Resolution 674-1990 of 29 October), reiterated with the provisional cease-fire (Resolution 686-1991 of 2 March), was broadly developed in Resolution 687 (1991) of 3 April, which specified the conditions for the definitive cessation of hostilities, leading to, among other measures, the establishment of a Compensation Fund to cover the direct losses and the damages caused, including environmental damages, and a Commission to manage it (Resolution 692-1991 of 20 May).39 This Commission has examined millions of claims and awarded indemnities of billions of dollars. In one of its most significant decisions, it even agreed to hold Iraq responsible for the damages inflicted by its adversaries during the hostilities. It is probably appropriate to tone down the nature of these measures by indicating that they were expressly accepted by Iraq as they were presented as sine qua non conditions for the cease fire.40 However, the practice provides evidence of the scant attention paid by the Security Council, and its ad hoc Commission, to the general rules of international responsibility concerning the elements of the wrongful act and the circumstances precluding wrongfulness, as well as the assumption of decision-making powers on points that should have been resolved by the parties, turning, if agreed, to arbitrators and courts.41 The Council even deemed it necessary to delimit and impose the international border between Iraq and Kuwait.42 Obviously, none of this works when faced with a permanent member of the Security Council or one of its protégés. Is it necessary to compare the treatment of Iraq as the material aggressor in 1990 with its treatment as the material victim of aggression in 2003? Here is where judicial and arbitration organs and, particularly the International Court of Justice, are unquestionably considered the most appropriate institutions to decide on the international responsibility arising from the use of force in interstate relations. Moreover, they are the only hope to achieve a fair pronouncement as to whether international obligations and rules have been observed, and to establish the consequences of responsibility in the case of non-compliance. Those who drew up the Charter of the United Nations were aware of this when they expressly envisaged that the Security Council, by making recommendations on the appropriate procedures for resolving a dispute whose continuation could endanger international peace and security, should take into consideration that ‘legal disputes 39

UN Security Council Res. 705, UN Doc. S/RES/705 (1991) set the Fund’s maximum threshold at 30 per cent of the annual value of Iraqi petroleum exports.

40

Letters from the vice-prime minister and minister of foreign relations of Iraq to the chairman of the Security Council and the UN Secretary-General dated 2 April 1991, UN Doc. S/22456 (1991), and a letter from the chairman of the Security Council to the permanent representative of Iraq on the 11th, UN Doc. S/22485 (1991).

41

M. J. Aznar, supra note 31, at 151-152, 161 et seq.

42

On this interesting point, M. Mendelson/S. Hulton, ‘The Iraq-Kuwait Boundary’, 64 BYIL 135-195 (1993); J. P. Quéneudec, ‘La démarcation de la frontière entre l’Irak et le Koweit’, 97 RGDIP 767-775 (1993) (report from the Demarcation Committee at 827 et seq.); E. Suy, ‘Le Conseil de Sécurité et la frontière entre l’Iraq et le Koweit’, El Derecho Internacional en un mundo en transformación. Liber Amicorum E. Jiménez de Aréchaga (1994). Likewise, H. Brown, ‘The Iraq-Kuwait Boundary Dispute: Historical Background and the UN Decisions of 1992 and 1993’, IBRU Boundary and Security Bulletin at 66-80 (1994).

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should as a general rule be referred by the parties to the International Court of Justice in accordance with the provisions of the Statute of the Court’.43 Indeed, the first lawsuit filed with the Court (by the United Kingdom against Albania) concerning the Corfu Channel incidents in 1947 was preceded by a recommendation from the Security Council to do so in Resolution 22-1947. On the said occasion, the Court issued one of its most famous rulings, duly noting the British Navy’s violation of Albanian sovereignty. The Court declared in its judgment of 9 April 1949 that it could ‘only regard the alleged right of intervention as the manifestation of a policy of force, such as has, in the past, given rise to most serious abuses and such as cannot, whatever be the present defects in international organisation, find a place in International Law’. The intervention, the Court continued, ‘is perhaps still less admissible in the particular form it would take here; for, from the nature of things, it would be reserved for the most powerful States, and might easily lead to perverting the administration of international justice itself’.44 The major powers obviously took note of how the independent administration of justice could bring about disagreeable results, and from then on not only paid little attention to the Charter’s provocative recommendations,45 but went even further. Defendant countries have often sought a way to escape the Court, questioning not only the title or bases for its jurisdiction, but also claiming that the applications filed were inadmissible when they concerned disputes that by their subject matter are considered to be political and should thus, in their opinion, always be passed on to the Security Council. If this doctrine were recognized, the permanent members of the Council and their protégés could then consider themselves free of any decisions to which they did not consent in a particular case. The International Court of Justice has nevertheless rejected the exclusion of its jurisdiction due to an alleged political nature of a dispute, and affirmed, once its jurisdiction is established, the suitability of its exercise. The Court has neither allowed exceptions to the admissibility of a suit based on such arguments, even when the matter concerned the use of force; nor has it admitted a Council’s domaine reservé in such cases; on the contrary, it has considered the possibility that its role – deciding legal disputes – be developed in parallel with the Council’s political function of maintaining peace. Beyond this, the Court has considered that its intervention could have an added beneficial effect to eliminate threats to peace or overcoming the harmful consequences of breaching it. In this regard, it has even preventively ordered, at the request of a party involved, the suspension of hostilities and armed actions. 43

1945 United Nations Charter, art. 36.3.

44

1949 ICJ Rep., at 35.

45

One of the scant assumptions on which a recommendation of this type arises is warned of in UN Security Council Res. 395, UN Doc. S/RES/395 (1976), in which the Security Council recommends that the Court’s efforts to resolve the controversy over delimitation of the continental shelf of the Aegean Sea between Greece and Turkey should continue to be taken into account. Greece had put the question in parallel before the Security Council and before the Court, which in the judgment dated 19 December 1978 declared that it did not have competence to recognise the Greek suit, as Turkey had not consented to its jurisdiction.

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There have been a number of very unique examples of recourse to the International Court of Justice by states that considered themselves victims of aggression. The Court has analyzed the bases of its jurisdiction – when these have been contested by defendants – and the admissibility of the suit filed, without conceding any influence on its decision to the exercise by the Security Council of its functions in the domain of the maintenance of the peace. Twenty years ago, on 9 April 1984, Nicaragua’s suit against the United States was a milestone, particularly because the defendant was a permanent member of the Security Council, which clamoured for respect of said organ’s powers on the one hand, but on the other was determined to ensure that these powers were not exercised so that its own interventionist and coercive policies avoided subjection, not only to justice, but even to a political debate in a privileged political arena. The Court did not enter into this game. To begin, on 10 May 1984, it decided provisional measures ordering the United States to cease immediately all actions whose aim was to restrict entry to and exit from Nicaraguan ports, particularly the placing of mines, and urged it to respect Nicaragua’s right to sovereignty and independence, and not compromise it with military and paramilitary activities forbidden by the principles of international law.46 The Court later affirmed its competence, considered the lawsuit admissible and the exercise of its jurisdiction appropriate in its judgment of 26 November 1984.47 Finally, the Court ruled that the defendant had infringed a number of fundamental principles of International Law in its judgment of 27 June 1986.48 Only Nicaragua’s withdrawal of its application to determine the due reparation on 12 September 1991 prevented a judgment that would have closed the circle on the United States’ responsibility.49 More recently, the way the Security Council has for years handled the wretched crisis in the Democratic Republic of the Congo is also noteworthy. Dozens of Resolutions have passed and a peacekeeping operation (MONUC) has been established,50 while the International Court of Justice required by Congo ‘on account of acts of armed aggression perpetrated […] in flagrant violation of the United Nations Charter’ by Uganda ordered on 1 July 2000 the provisional measures sought by the applicant51 and, finally in a Judgment of 19 December 2005, decided that the defendant had violated the principle of non-use of force in international relations and the principle of non-intervention.52 46

1984 ICJ Reports, at 169 et seq.

47

Ibid., at 392 et seq.

48

1986 ICJ Reports, at 14 et seq.

49

Order of 26 September 1991, 1991 ICJ Rep., at 47 et seq.

50

Taking UN Security Council Res. 1234, UN Doc. S/RES/1234 (1999) of 9 April as a departure point and until 1st March 2008 forty-five Resolutions had been adopted by the Security Council, the last (UN Security Council Res. 1799, UN Doc. S/RES/1799 (2008)) on 15 February of this year.

51

2000 ICJ Rep., at 111 et seq.

52

Suits were also filed on 23 June 1999 against Burundi and Rwanda. The D. R. of the Congo withdrew in 2001 from its suits against these countries (Orders of 30 January). Later, on 28 May 2002, the D. R. Congo filed a new suit against Rwanda, this time for ‘massive grave and

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We could make the list even longer upon considering the Court’s pronouncement in the case of Oil Platforms in Islamic Republic of Iran vs. the United States,53 the suit by the Islamic Republic of Iran against the United States over the Aerial Incident of 3 July 1988 and Nicaragua’s suits against Honduras and Costa Rica for Border and Transborder Armed Actions, which did not proceed due to the plaintiff’s withdrawal of the case,54 or the suits by Yugoslavia ( Serbia-Montenegro) against the NATO countries that bombed Serbian territory in 1999, which was turned down because the Court did not find grounds for its jurisdiction.55 In practical terms, the only limit the Court has accepted on the exercise of its functions concerns the adoption of provisional measures when, regardless its own judgement of opportunity, it has deemed that the requested measures might conflict with orders emanating from Security Council Resolutions. In such situations, the Security Council may be suspected of taking on a judiciary role incompatible with its nature as a political body. In the Lockerbie cases, the Council endorsed the claims on Libya put forth by the United States and the United Kingdom flagrant violations of human rights and international humanitarian law’. The Court considered that it lacked of jurisdiction on this issue (Judgment of 3 February 2006). 53

The suit was filed by the Islamic Republic of Iran on 2 November 1992 based on the ‘attack and destruction of three offshore oil production complexes […] by several warships of the United States Navy on 19 October 1987 and 18 April 1988’. The counter-memorial by the United States included a counter-claim for ‘the actions by Iran in the Persian Gulf during 1987-1988’, which comprised operations of mining and other attacks against ships flying the United States flag. These acts by one or the other party took place during the ‘tanker war’ between 1984 and 1988, as part of the armed conflict between Iran and Iraq that began in 1980. The Court’s judgment was handed down 11 years later (6 November 2003) and had to restrict its focal point to accommodate the limited jurisdictional base (a treaty of friendship, trade and consular relations, dated 1955) which had allowed it to enter into the merits, once the preliminary exceptions put forward by the United States were disregarded (Judgment of 12 December 1996). The Court, which rejected the counter-claim by the United States, declared that the actions against the Iranian oil platforms could not be justified in light of international law regarding the use of force, 1996 ICJ Rep., at 803 et seq.; 2003 ICJ Rep., at 161 et seq.

54

The Iranian suit was filed in 1989, and in 1996 the plaintiff withdrew it (Order of 22 February, 1996 ICJ Rep., at 9 et seq.). The Nicaraguan suits were filed in 1986, once the judgment against the United States over its military and paramilitary actions in and against Nicaragua had been handed down. The plaintiff withdrew its suit against Costa Rica in 1987 (Order of 19 August, 1987 ICJ Rep., at 182 et seq.) and its suit against Honduras in 1992 (Order of 27 May, 1992 ICJ Rep., at 222 et seq.). In this case the Court had already affirmed its jurisdiction and the admissibility of the suit, which were contested by Honduras (Judgment of 20 December 1988, 1988 ICJ Rep., at 69 et seq.).

55

Yugoslavia’s lawsuits concerning the Legality of Use of Force were filed on 29 April 1999 against Belgium, Canada, France, Germany, Great Britain, Italy, the Netherlands, Portugal, Spain and the United States. The Court dismissed in limine the cases against Spain and United States because the notorious lack of grounds of jurisdiction. Regarding the other suits, the doubts on the jurisdictional bases led to denial of the provisional measures requested by the plaintiff (Orders of 2 June 1999, 1999 ICJ Rep., at 124 et seq.). The Court later considered that also with respect to the latter it lacked jurisdiction (Judgment of 15 December 2004, ibid., at 279 et seq.).

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in their joint Declaration of 27 November 1991, demanding: 1) the surrender of the two Libyan citizens accused of placing on board the Boeing 747 Pan Am flight 103 the bomb, whose explosion over Lockerbie, Scotland on 21 December 1988 destroyed the aircraft and caused the death of 270 people; and 2) the assumption of international responsibility for the criminal actions of those Libyan citizens, with the corresponding payment of indemnities. While in Resolution 731 of 21 January 1992 the Council limited itself to urging Libyan authorities to respond fully and effectively to the requests ‘in order to contribute to the elimination of international terrorism’ in Resolution 748 of 31 March 1992, the Council decided, this time under Chapter VII of the Charter, that Libya had to yield within two weeks to the Anglo-American demands and demonstrate its rejection of terrorism by specific acts should it wish to avoid being applied the sanctions envisaged in that same Resolution. This case nevertheless serves as a good example to examine the Court’s performance of its role in relation to the Security Council, as on 3 March 1992, Libya filed similar applications against both the United Kingdom and the United States, seeking to focus the dispute on the interpretation and application of the Montreal Convention of 23 September 1971 for the Suppression of Unlawful Acts Against the Safety of Civil Aviation. Libya considered that the defendants had breached several Articles of the Convention and asked the Court for a pronouncement to that end, and also to declare that the defendants were ‘under a legal obligation to respect Libya’s right not to have the Convention set aside by means which would in any case be at variance with the principles of the United Nations Charter and with the mandatory rules of general international law prohibiting the use of force and the violation of the sovereignty, territorial integrity, sovereign equality and political independence of States’.56 While Libya was subject to the sanctions imposed by the Security Council in Resolution 748 of1992, extended by Resolution 883 of 11 November 1993, the United Kingdom and the United States sought to remove the Court from the case, claiming that the Resolutions supported its allegations of the Court’s lack of jurisdiction, the inadmissibility of the suit and the lack of object of the application. Although the Montreal Convention had granted Libya the rights it claimed, they, according to the British and the Americans, could not be exercised due to the prevalence of Resolutions 748 of 1992 and 883 of 1993, according to Articles 24 and 103 of the Charter. From these Resolutions onward, a dispute, if any, would exist between Libya and the Security Council, which would be out of the reach of the Montreal Convention. This argument was sufficient for the Court to abstain from adopting the provisional measures requested by Libya,57 but it was not enough to exclude the case from the list of the cases pending before the Court. In the judgments of 27 February 1998, the Court rejected the preliminary objections concerning its lack of jurisdiction as well 56

Libya v. United Kingdom, Judgment of 28 February 1998, 1998 ICJ Rep., at 14-15. In similar terms, Libya v. United States, Judgment of 28 February 1998, 1998 ICJ Rep., at 119.

57

The Orders of 14 April 1992, adopted by eleven votes to five. When UN Security Council Res. 748, UN Doc. S/RES/748 (1992), was approved, the oral hearings before the Court had ended three days beforehand and the judges had begun the process of deliberation, 1992 ICJ Rep., at 3 et seq.; at 114 et seq.

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as those concerning the inadmissibility of the application,58 and reserved its decision on the objection regarding the lack of object of the suits. This objection was deemed by the Court not to be of an exclusively preliminary nature, but rather, inextricably interwoven with the merits.59 The withdrawal of the suits, due to a joint request made by the parties as a result of an extrajudicial settlement60 has left us without a judicial pronouncement on points of great interest, such as incompatibility of the parties’ rights under the Montreal Convention and their obligations according to the aforementioned Security Council Resolutions, the legal value of those Resolutions under Articles 25 and 103 of the Charter and the consideration, to that end, of their conformity with the principles and aims of the Charter (Article 24.2). Indeed, considering the slow pace of the proceedings, still pending the oral phase at the date of the withdrawal, the parties and judges seemed in no hurry to resolve the uncertainties. In any case, regarding the affirmation of the Court’s jurisdiction and the suit’s admissibility, the 27 February 1998 judgments were very clear and direct: if the Court had jurisdiction and the suit was admissible on the date it was filed, subsequent events, including the Security Council Resolutions, could not be taken into consideration in order to change the conclusions it had reached. The critical, relevant and decisive date was always the day the suit was filed. The judgment thus rejects any effect of Resolutions 748 in 1992 and 883 in 1993 adopted under Chapter VII of the Charter, regarding the Court’s jurisdiction and the suit’s admissibility, as they were dated after it was filed; regarding Resolution 731 in 1992, which was adopted earlier, ‘it could not form a legal impediment to the admissibility’, the Court states, ‘because it was a mere recommendation without binding effect’.61 It is naturally beyond the Court’s reach to prevent the Security Council from freely continuing to interpret its powers and from treading on a judicial territory alien to its nature. The Resolutions, in the wake of Lockerbie, ordering to hand over presumed terrorists to the countries that request them, are quite illustrative in this respect. But that is another question that reveals the risks of a perverse development of the state of international law.

IV.

Aggression as a Crime

The draft Statute of the International Criminal Court presented at the Rome Conference included the crime of aggression, leaving its definition open, and did not provide for a dependence of the Court on the previous qualification of the facts as an act of aggression by the

58

1998 ICJ Reports, at 23-26 (paras. 37-45), at 128-131 (paras. 36-44).

59

Ibid., at 26-29 (paras. 46-51), 131-134 (paras. 45-50).

60

Letters of 9 September 2003 and Order from the Court’s president on the 10th.

61

1998 ICJ Rep. at 26, para. 44; at 131, para. 43.

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Security Council acting in the framework of its competence to maintain international peace and security.62 There was radical disagreement at the Conference between those who, while satisfied on this point, also sought a restrictive definition of the crime, and others who, on the contrary, called for a broad definition and freedom for the Court in the prosecution of the crime, independent of decisions made by the Security Council, considering its very different role. Some, whose desideratum was to cross aggression off the list of crimes under the Court’s jurisdiction,63 took the opportunity to disseminate a fear of infection, which would have been fatal for the Statute. This was done so effectively that even respectable NGOs accepted, perhaps tacitly, the exclusion.64 So, two days before the Conference ended, the crime of aggression was dropped from the Statute, to be agonizingly recovered at the last minute under the formula of Article 5,65 due to vigorous efforts by some European and developing countries. Given the precedents and objectives of the Statute, it would have been incongruous and unbearable for the Court’s credibility to exclude the supreme crime, and all the more so when its prosecution by national jurisdictions is much more problematic. The International Law Commission affirmed in 1994 that its exclusion would be retrogressive.66 At the Rome Conference, Belgium stressed the illogical stance of those who accepted that the Court should try those responsible for war crimes, but not for the crime that often caused the war crimes.67 To counter the suspicion that the Statute was serving the aesthetics of principles, resubmitting its application ad calendas graecas, the Rome Conference expressly charged the Preparatory Commission of the Court with the task of drawing up provisional proposals on aggression.68 Yet when the Assembly of State Parties first met in September 2002, it was once again at the starting point, albeit this time with more documentation and a jumbled experience of progressively mitigated, though not entirely absent, fear and mistrust. Facing those who sought to suppress the debate in the Assembly of States Parties, or allow it to fade away slowly in the Sixth Committee of the UN General Assembly, a decision was made to set up a special working group, open to all members of the United Nations and Specialized Agencies, with the aim to ensure that the issue remained a subject under formal consideration in the annual sessions of the Assembly of the States

62

Draft Statute for an ICC, art. 23.2, 1994 YILC, Vol. II, at 72, 84.

63

For example, the United States, Israel and Mexico expressed this line, UN Doc. A/CONF. 183/C.1/SR.6 (1998), at 5, 6, 11, 12.

64

See P. Dascalopoulou-Livada, ‘Aggression and the ICC: Views on Certain Ideas and their Potential for a Solution’, in Politi/Nesi (eds.), supra note 7, at 79-85.

65

See supra, para. 1.

66

Draft Statute for an ICC, art. 20, commentary, 1994 YILC, Vol. II, at 38-39.

67

UN Doc. A/CONF. 183/C.1/SR.6 (1998), at 9.

68

Res. F, number 7, of the Final Act of the Rome Conference.

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Parties and even at informal intervals when there were governments willing to finance its meetings.69 The International Law Commission, which included the crime of aggression among those under the Court’s jurisdiction in its 1994 Draft Statute,70 avoided providing a definition for it. Considering that there was an authoritative definition in the appendix of Resolution 3314 (XXIX), adopted by consensus after a lengthy process of discussion by an organ as representative as the General Assembly, it was sufficient now to establish the liaison between the acts already qualified as aggression and the individuals to whom these acts could be attributed. Many proposals have moved along this line. Some have sought to expand the discretion of the International Criminal Court by using the more generic terms of Article 1 of the General Assembly definition (Resolution 3314-XXIX), inspired in Article 2.4 of the United Nations Charter,71 while others have practically copied the entire definition, including the indicative list of acts of aggression in Article 3,72 and even broadened it.73 However, the same States that tried to impose absolute control by the Security Council over the actions of the Criminal Court are also the ones that proposed definitions of the crime that tend to substantially limit the acts that can be incriminated. Their initiatives thus do not seem to be geared toward a definition of the crime but rather a redefinition of aggression in terms of prosecution and criminal responsibility. The tensions were already evident in the preparatory work of the International Law Commission.74 In 1991, the Draft Code of Crimes against the Peace and Security of Mankind included an Article that was an almost exact replicate of Resolution 3314 (XXIX). Three years later, the Commission omitted a definition in the Draft Statute of the Criminal Court but explained in its commentary to the text that the said Resolution could be used as some sort of guide.75 Finally, in 1996, when the Commission approved, in a second lecture, the Draft Code of Crimes, it abandoned Resolution 3314 (XXIX) 69

See G. Nesi, ‘An Outsider’s View’, in Politi/Nesi (eds.), supra note 7, at 172-173.

70

1994 Draft Statute, art. 20.b.

71

As in a proposal by Bosnia and Herzegovina, New Zealand and Romania (ICC Doc. PCNICC/2001/WGCA/DP.2).

72

As in a proposal by Egypt and Italy of 21 February 1997, before the Rome Conference.

73

As in the so-called Arab proposal at the Rome Conference (UN Doc. A/CONF.183/C.1/L.56 and Corr. 1). Soon afterward in the Preparatory Committee of the Criminal Court, proposal by Bahrain, Iraq, Lebanon, Libya, Oman, Sudan, Syria and Yemen (ICC Doc. PCNICC/1999/ DP.11).

74

M. D. Bollo, Derecho Internacional Penal. Estudio de los crímenes internacionales y de las técnicas para su represión, Servicio Editorial de la Universidad del País Vasco, Bilbao, at 281-283 (2004).

75

After indicating that ‘given the provisions of Art. 2(4) of the Charter of the United Nations’ Res. 3314 (XXIX) of the General Assembly, which incorporated in its appendix a definition of aggression, ‘offers some guidance’, it observes that ‘a court must, at the present time, be in a better position to define the customary law crime of aggression than was the Nuremberg Tribunal in 1946’, see Draft Statute for an ICC, commentary, art. 20, 1994 YILC, Vol. II, at 38-39.

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and adopted the formulation of the Statute of the Nuremberg International Military Tribunal.76 Thus, ‘an individual who, as leader or organiser, actively participates in or orders the planning, preparation, initiation or waging of aggression committed by a State shall be responsible for a crime of aggression’.77 A restrictive option limited to war of aggression, formalized by Russia,78 did not seem to upset the other permanent members of the Security Council. An argument in its support was that the definition of crimes against peace as pursued in Nuremberg and Tokyo is the only one, according to its advocates, that can be claimed to be customary law and opposable to all States. However, this reasoning ignores the evolution of international norms on the prohibition of the threat and use of force according to Article 2.4 of the United Nations Charter, and deems irrelevant, from the standpoint of individual criminal responsibility, the definition of aggression that was agreed to by consensus in the 1974 Resolution 3314-XXIX, and to which a majority of countries insistently base their proposals. Another restrictive option was championed by Germany, which sought to limit the crime to an armed attack whose aim is military occupation or territorial annexation.79 From this standpoint, the destruction of a country from a distance or from the air without any intention to set foot in it would not lead to criminal responsibility.80 Coincidentally, this proposal was formulated a few months before the aerial bombing of Serbia by NATO member countries, including Germany. Later, in November 2000, Germany sustained that the crime of aggression presupposed a large scale armed attack against the territorial integrity of another state manifestly unjustified in international law.81 This was meant to underscore the importance or seriousness of the attack and its doubtless illegality. The two classifications were also present in proposals from other states.82 The idea of a threshold according to which aggression becomes a crime is by itself reasonable. All the mentioned proposals can be reconsidered as manifestations of this

76

International Military Tribunal Statute, art. 6 (appendix to the 1945 London Agreement). The Statute does not, for its part, define what it understood as ‘war of aggression’, which did not prevent it from pursuing and condemning those it considered responsible.

77

Draft Articles of State Responsibility, art. 16, 1996 YILC, Vol. II, at 43.

78

ICC Doc. PCNICC/1999/DP.12.

79

ICC Doc. PCNICC/1999/DP.13. Inspired by the assumption envisaged in letter a) of art. 3 of the definition of aggression of the General Assembly, an article which extends until letter g) the list of acts which, while not exhaustive, constitute aggression (appendix to UN General Assembly Res. 3314 (XXIX), supra note 17).

80

L. Condorelli, ‘Conclusions générales’, in Politi/Nesi (eds), supra note 7, at 158 (2004). Also H. P. Kaul, ‘The Crime of Aggression: Definitional Options for the Way Forward’, ibid., at 100.

81

ICC Doc. PCNICC/2000/WGCA/DP.4.

82

This idea of the use of armed force ‘in manifest violation of the United Nations Charter’ is also found in the proposal by Greece and Portugal, ICC Doc. PCNICC/2000/WGCA/DP.5.

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ideal.83 At the same time, they may also seem redundant as far as the importance and seriousness of the aggression: 1.

this is implicit in Article 39 of the United Nations Charter, in which aggression is mentioned after the breach of peace;

2. it is also expressed in Resolution 3314 (XXIX) according to which ‘the fact that the acts concerned or their consequences are not of sufficient gravity’ is one of the relevant circumstances by which the Security Council may conclude ‘that the determination that an act of aggression has been committed would not be justified’;84 and 3. this is likewise expressed in the Statute of the Criminal Court, which affirms the Court’s jurisdiction over the most serious crimes.85 Is it now the intention to suggest that only the most serious acts of the most serious crimes should be submitted to the Court’s jurisdiction? Or rather, are there uses of force prohibited by international law that can be qualified as aggression only when they overstep a given threshold of gravity, as the International Court of Justice once declared in relation to the military and paramilitary activities in and against Nicaragua? If this is the case, then: 1) aggression is the premise to a crime; and 2) if there is aggression, there is crime; and 3) the definition of the crime requires a determination of who is linked to the aggression, how and to what degree. The most tricky question and most controversial issue concerns the authority of judges of the Criminal Court to establish that an act of aggression has been committed. While some argue in favour of this authority based on the independent exercise of the judicial function, others, particularly the spokespersons of the permanent members of the Security Council, hold that the exercise of said function inherently depends on the Council’s prior qualification of the acts as aggression. The first thing which must be noted is that the ICC Statute only claims that the provision on the crime of aggression and the conditions for exercising the Court’s jurisdiction should be ‘consistent with the relevant provisions of the Charter of the United Nations’.86 Even if the Statute was silent, this would still be true by virtue of the prevalence of the Charter’s obligations in case of conflict with other conventional obligations.87 The International Court of Justice had to assume this fact in the exercise of its jurisdiction in cases where one of its decisions, concerning the adoption of provisional measures, 83

In this sense, see ICC Doc. PCNICC/2002/WGCA/RT.1 (2002), document presented by the coordinator of the working group on Aggression of the Preparatory Commission of the ICC, Silvia A. Fernández de Gurmendi.

84

UN General Assembly Res. 3314 (XXIX), supra note 17, art. 2 of the annex (emphasis added).

85

1998 ICC Statute, supra note 2, preamble, para. 9 and arts. 1, 5.

86

1998 ICC Statute, supra note 2, art. 5.2.

87

1945 United Nations Charter, art. 103.

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might conflict with mandatory orders from the Security Council acting under Chapter VII of the Charter.88 The same could happen to the Criminal Court when exercising its jurisdiction over the crime of aggression. In fact, the ICC Statute in force recognizes that the Security Council assumes a number of formidable powers, such as the one to request, actually to order, the Court, by means of a Resolution approved under Chapter VII of the Charter, to abstain from or suspend an investigation or prosecution for a renewable period of twelve months.89 Indeed, this power, so criticized because of the political dependence it imposes on the Court,90 has already been used by the Council in an abusive manner.91 Extending the powers of the Security Council in relation to the actions of the Criminal Court, though not recommended, is possible, but not mandated by the ICC Statute. The compatibility of the Charter with a future provision on the exercise of Courts’ jurisdiction over the crime of aggression does not require a prior Council qualification as a sine qua non requisite; nor is it required by the Statute of the International Court of Justice when the latter exercises its jurisdiction, often parallel to the Council, over cases involving the use of force.92 It is absolutely inappropriate to sustain the Security Council’s exclusive authority to qualify aggression prior to judicial prosecution of the crime on the basis that there is no other solution that conforms with the Statute of the Criminal Court. On the other hand, introducing such a condition, bearing in mind considerations of opportunity, would practically ruin the opportunities to prosecute the crime.93 Of course, the Council’s declaration that certain acts do constitute aggression will clear the way for the Criminal Court, while preserving its authority to reconsider such a determination on its own. Also, a contrary declaration would make it very difficult to 88

See supra, para. 7.

89

1998 ICC Statute, supra note 2, art. 16.

90

This was the reason India invoked to justify its nay vote on the Statute: ‘The powers granted to the Council appear to be the seed of destruction of the International Criminal Court’, Press Release L/ROM/21, of 17 July 1998.

91

UN Security Council Res. 1422, UN Doc. S/RES/1422 (2002) and UN Security Council Res. 1487, UN Doc. S/RES/1487 (2003), ordering the exclusion of all preliminary investigation or criminal proceeding against nationals of states not party to the Statute who participate in peacekeeping operations authorised by the Council. Moreover, UN Security Council Res. 1497, UN Doc. S/RES/1497 (2003), authorising the establishment of a multinational force in Liberia, decided that the personnel contributed by a state not party to the ICC Statute will be subject to the exclusive jurisdiction of that state unless it has expressly renounced said exclusive jurisdiction. All these Resolutions, backed by the United States, run against the spirit and the letter of art. 16 of the Statute (which the Council says applies), for the enormous power of ordering suspension is limited to investigations and judgments that have ‘already begun’. It is good news that as a consequence of the loss of political credibility caused by the aggression in Iraq and the violations of International Humanitarian Law during and after the war, the United States was obliged to abandon in 2004 its plan to renew the suspension orders that expired on 1 July, as it could not assure the required majority of Council votes.

92

See supra, para. 6.

93

G. Gaja, ‘The Respective Roles of the ICC and the Security Council in Determining the Existence of an Aggression’, in Politi/Nesi (eds), supra note 7, at 124.

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prosecute those individuals who are allegedly responsible for these acts. However, if the former is highly unlikely, the latter is quite implausible. The Council is a political organ that votes on political resolutions bearing in mind considerations which, if sustained by a judge, could perhaps be deemed as prevarication. Exercising its primordial responsibility to maintain or restore peace does not require the Council to make a precise qualification of the situations set out in Article 39 of the Charter. We can suggest that to the effect of conditioning the action of the Criminal Court in relation to the crime of aggression, the most could be to demand a prior Security Council action under Chapter VII. The rule of the ICC Statute on the exercise of its jurisdiction when the Security Council refers to the Prosecutor, a situation in which it appears that one or more of the crimes covered by the Statute94 have been committed, could be extended to include the crime of aggression without requiring that the Council provide a specific qualification of said situation. Such a lack of determination usually broadens the consensual basis of its Resolutions without limiting the potential range of its actions. Numerous proposals of compromise have been made in the search for agreement between those who defend the absolute independence of the Criminal Court in the exercise of its jurisdiction,95 and those who back absolute dependence on the Security Council in the determination of aggression.96 The starting point of these proposals is the obligation of the Criminal Court to request the Security Council to formally qualify the acts considered as aggression. In the event that the Council does not make a declaration within the time period specified by the Statute, the Court must, according to some, conform with its own criterion,97 and, according to others, turn to the General Assembly to ask the International Court of Justice for an advisory opinion and, on the basis of that opinion, that the Assembly could approve a recommendation that the Criminal Court would then consider.98 Approaching the time (2010) considered to hold the Review Conference of the ICC Statute, the reports of the Special Working Group on the Crime of Aggression reveal the subsistence of a high level of disagreement among its members. The informal papers of the Chairman show ability to systematize the discord through an ample exhibition of square brackets and footnotes, but also the difficulties to fix the bases of a consensus on provisions susceptible to be adopted in the Review Conference.

94

1998 ICC Statute, supra note 2, art. 13.b.

95

Thus, Cuba, which indicates that the Security Council’s lack of determination over the existence of an act of aggression will not prevent exercise of the Court’s jurisdiction, ICC Doc. ICC-ASP/2/SWGCA/DP.1.

96

Thus, Russia (ICC Doc. PCNICC/1999/DP.12), Germany (ICC Doc. PCNICC/1999/DP.13).

97

To that end Cameroon presented an amendment to the Statute at the Rome Conference, art. 10.1, UN Doc. A/CONF.183/C.1/L.39. Soon after, in the ICC Preparatory Committee, Greece/Portugal (ICC Docs. PCNICC/1999/WGCA/DP.1 and PCNICC/2000/WGCA/DP.5) and Colombia (ICC Doc. PCNICC/2000/WGCA/DP.1).

98

Thus, Bosnia and Herzegovina, New Zealand and Romania (ICC Doc. PCNICC/2001/WGCA/ DP.1).

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In the 2006 inter-sessional meeting, delegations indicated that the time was ripe for an update of the 2002 Coordinator’s paper.99 Accordingly, in January 2007 a discussion paper was distributed that proposed the Chairman’s reflections of the discussions held over the past years. This paper100 is full of square brackets and footnotes expressing the alternative views and proposals advanced up to now. Concerning in particular the exercise conditions of the Criminal Court’s jurisdiction, it seems possible to agree on the obligation of the Court, before proceeding to an investigation, to ascertain whether the Security Council has made a determination of an act of aggression committed by the State concerned, or whether it has declared that it does not object to the Court’s proceeding with the case. If no Security Council determination or declaration giving the green light exists, the Court should notify the Council, giving it the opportunity to make such a determination or declaration in the lapse of six months. But what to do once the term elapsed without any pronouncement of the Council? Up to four options are considered: 1. The court may proceed with the case; 2. The Court may not proceed; 3. The Court may request the General Assembly of the United Nations to make such a determination within 12 months and may proceed in the absence of such a determination; 4. The Court may proceed if it ascertains that the International Court of Justice has made a finding in contentious proceedings before it that an act of aggression has been committed by the State concerned.101 Those calling for prior and binding intervention by the Security Council are in reality seeking to extend the veto privilege of its permanent members from the Charter of the United Nations to the Statute of the Criminal Court to ensure impunity for them and their protégés. By requiring a determination by the Council, the Court is converted into its legal tool when the Resolution is approved and, when it is not, the Court falls at the mercy of each of the permanent members. If the Criminal Court must depend on the prior pronouncement of aggression made by another organ, the logical thing to do would be to assign such authority to the principal judicial body of the United Nations, the International Court of Justice.102

V.

Denouement

In the past we have witnessed the prosecution and condemnation of the perpetrators of a war of aggression as a crime against peace. This occurred in Nuremberg and Tokyo at the end of the Second World War. An exemplary case was that of Rudolf Hess, who, 99

ICC Doc. ICC-ASP/5/SWGCA/1 (2006).

100

ICC Doc. ICC-ASP/5/SWGCA/2 (2007).

101

Inter-sessional meeting of the Special Working Group, 11-14 June 2007 (ICC Doc. ICC-ASP/6/ SWGCA/INF.1).

102

As special rapporteur of the ILC on International Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, Gaetano Arangio-Ruiz considered this possibility from the standpoint of the contentious jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice, warning at the same time about its limitations, derived from the current (consensual) bases of its jurisdiction, 1988 YILC, Vol. I, at 114.

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unlike his fellow defendants, was condemned solely for this crime. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he remained until his death in 1987. At the time, not even all the judges that comprised the international military tribunals agreed that the moral censure of the war of aggression had been transformed into legal censure.103 Fifty years later those doubts have faded, at least as far as war of aggression is concerned, and one may hold that the prohibition of the threat and use of force as proclaimed by the Charter of the United Nations has been extended to other forms of aggression and incorporated in the norms of customary international law.104 But this statement lacks practical relevance if there is no competent body to judge the crime and punish those responsible. Once the ICC Statute is in force, postponing a consideration of its jurisdiction in relation to the crime of aggression is very serious, especially due to the eagerness of the most conspicuous members of international society to reduce the meaning of the category of crime and to give the permanent members of the Security Council exclusive control over its prosecution and judgment. On the other hand, the establishment of new ad hoc international tribunals, such as those created by the Security Council for events in the former Yugoslavia since 1991, Resolution 827 of 25 May 1993, and in Rwanda in 1994, Resolution 955 of 8 November 1994, is irrelevant to this respect. By focusing on crimes that occurred in civil wars, these tribunals avoided the crime of aggression in their statutes. If we consider that the crime of aggression, by nature, is only prosecutable by international tribunals,105 we are powerless although we may hope for a future resurrection. The International Law Commission did not go so far in its drafts, but it did point out that only the judges of the national state of those allegedly involved could try them in defect or as an alternative to international tribunals.106 By making the aggressor’s nationality the only legitimate link to state jurisdiction, the Commission seems to have

103

To that end recall that Judges Pal and Roling, who sat on the Tokyo tribunal, differed from the majority, sustaining that while the aggressors did deserve moral condemnation, the crime was not so either before the war nor when it started, for the conditions which in international relations could have originated it were not met, (B. V. A. Roling/C. F. Ruter (eds), The Tokyo Judgment, Vol. II (1977).

104

Military and paramilitary activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. Unites States), Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Reports 14, at 103, para. 195. The Court asserts this with regard to letter g) of art. 3 of the definition of aggression of the General Assembly (UN Doc. A/RES/3314 (XXIX)), which sheltered the most problematic and debated of the assumptions (the sending by a state or in its name of armed bands, groups, irregulars or mercenaries who undertake acts of armed force against another state). The assumption is circumscribed to those acts of armed force ‘of such gravity as to amount to the acts listed above […].’ In these terms the implication that all the assumptions mentioned in Art. 3 are nowadays covered by consuetudinary rules seems undeniable.

105

For example, as sustained by J. Crawford in the ILC. Indeed Crawford sympathised with the opinion that there was no room for aggression as a crime of individuals under international law, 1994 YILC, Vol. I, at 221, para. 34.

106

Draft Code of Crimes Against the Peace and Security of Mankind, art. 8, 1996 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 27-30.

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taken a narrow approach that is not very realistic in its assumption that national judges would be willing to exercise.107 The Commission’s approach is narrow because 1) it presumes that those who take decisions to transform the State into an aggressor are, in any case, citizens of that State; and 2) it overlooks the legitimate interest of the assaulted state to exercise jurisdiction should the occasion arise, an interest that may also be shared by the victims’ countries of nationality or residence. The Statute of the Criminal Court affirms that ‘the most serious crimes … must not go unpunished’, and to that end ‘their effective prosecution must be ensured by taking measures at the national level … [and] that it is the duty of every state to exercise its criminal jurisdiction over those responsible for international crimes’.108 On the other hand, to believe in a national judge’s willingness to charge compatriots with aggression is not very realistic, even when they have lost power as a result of violence. In civil conflicts they are called to account for genocide, crimes against humanity, torture and war crimes; in international conflicts, they may be prosecuted for having betrayed their homeland if defeated, but not for aggression. So, the Iraqi courts failed the opportunity to include aggression against Iran and Kuwait in the list of charges against Saddam Hussein and his collaborators before his speedy hanging. The fatal transfer of the aggressor’s guilt onto the state, its institutions and citizens, who probably consented to, authorised or encouraged its acts against traditional enemies, has a dissuasive effect, not only on the administration of justice, but also on the domestic legal prescriptions. How many States’ criminal codes categorize the crime of aggression? How many establish jurisdiction over it? As if this were not enough, there is also the issue of immunity from criminal jurisdiction for state agents, and particularly its top leaders, while in office. The International Court of Justice has affirmed this immunity in absolute terms before foreign national prosecution.109 Such immunity has no relevance before the International Criminal Court,110 though the Statute does indicate that the Court cannot force State Parties to fulfil their duty to cooperate in surrendering an individual if such a handover is incompatible with the immunity obligations imposed by international law or with those it has accepted by agreement with a third party, besides such obligations.111 The latter has served as a loophole for the dozens of agreements that the United States has signed to that end to very conveniently protect its citizens from the Court, bearing in mind the extensive deployment of its personnel and certain methods employed by this

107

G. Gaja, ‘The Long Journey towards Repressing Aggression’, in A. Cassese/P. Gaeta/J. R. W. D. Jones (eds.), The Rome ICC Statute: A Commentary, Vol. I, 432 (2002).

108

1998 ICC Statute, supra note 2, preamble, paras. 4, 6.

109

The Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000 (Congo v. Belgium), Judgment of 14 February 2002, 2002 ICJ Rep. 3.

110

1998 ICC Statute, supra note 2, art. 27.

111

Ibid., art. 98.

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personnel. This is an attitude, on the other hand, that seems very civilized, given that such figures as J. Bolton proposed relegating the Court to oblivion.112 A story attributed to Augustine of Hippo tells of a pirate who, upon meeting Alexander the Great, blurted out that the sole difference between them stemmed from the degree of their depredations. As it stands, only pirates are hanged. Aggressors can sleep calmly in their stable condition as only alleged criminals. They shall die of something else, unless they are defeated, in which case their prosecution will be the result of such defeat. Aggression and crime: do they perhaps belong to the sphere of politics and diplomacy, but not to that of justice? Should this be the case, why be shocked when, faced with aggression and aggressors, others cry ‘long live peace, long live freedom, down with international justice!’? It is here, with the winners and losers, where the eternal extent of the crime stands. If aggression receives backing by citizens in some democratic and developed countries, then maybe it is not a crime at all, but rather just a point of view.

112

J. Bolton, ‘Courting Danger. What’s Wrong with the ICC’, The National Interest, No. 54, at 60-71 (1998/1999).

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195

Intergenerational Equity Revisited Malgosia Fitzmaurice

I.

Introduction: The Theory of Intergenerational Equity

There are very few topics of international and environmental law that have caused such an invigorating discussion and division of views as the concept of intergenerational equity. It may be said as well that the relationship between generations has been a fertile ground for philosophical debate.1 It must be observed from the outset that the question of environmental protection and intergenerational trusts was analysed in depth by Professor Redgwell in her seminal book.2 However, there have been certain recent developments in international law, which merit new research, such as the establishment of the Commission for Future Generations in Israel (see below). This essay analyses the little known legal settlement of the claims that arose from the Nuclear Testing Programme conducted by the United States in the Marshall Islands. These claims resulted in the establishment of the Nuclear

1

See, J. Rawls, A Theory of Justice (1971) (hereinafter Rawls 1971); J. Rawls, A Theory of Justice (revised ed. 1999) (hereinafter Rawls 1999); J. Rawls, Political Liberalism (1966); B. Barry, ‘Justice Between Generations’, in P. M. S. Hacker/J. Raz (eds.), Law, Morality and Society: Essays in Honour of H.L.A Hart 268, at 268-284 (1979), (hereinafter Barry 1979); B. Barry, Theories of Justice – A Treatise on Social Justice (1989) (hereinafter Barry 1989); The philosophical theories relating to relationships between generations were the subject of seminar organised on this subject by Loyola Law School, Los Angeles, California. The seminar was mainly devoted to philosophical issues relating to intergenerational equity. The essays were published in 35 Loyola Los Angeles Law Review (2001/2002). L. B. Solum, ‘To Our Children’s Children’s Children: The Problems of Intergenerational Ethics’, 35 Loyola Los Angeles Law Review 163, at 163-322 (2001/2002); A. P. Grosseries, ‘Do we Owe to The Next Generation(s)’, 35 Loyola Los Angeles Law Review 293, at 293-276 (2001/2002); C. Bazelon/K. Smetters, ‘Discounting in the Long Term’, 35 Loyola Los Angeles Law Review 277, at 277-291 (2001/2002); Th. P. Seto, ‘Intergenerational Decision-Making: An Evolutionary Perspective’, 35 Loyola Los Angeles Law Review 235, at 235-276 (2001/2002). See also B. M. Fischmann, ‘Some Thoughts on Shortsightedness and International Equity’, 36 Loyola University Chicago Law Journal 457, at 457-467 (2005); W. Beckerman/J. Pasek, Justice, Posterity, and the Environment (2001); D. Birnbacher, ‘Responsibility for Future GenerationsScope and Limits’, in J. Ch. Tremmel (ed.), Handbook of Intergenerational Justice 21, at 21-39 (2006); Ch. Lumer, ‘Principles of Generational Justice’, in ibid., at 39-53; C. Dierksmeier, ‘John Rawls on the Rights of Future Generations’, in ibid., at 72-86; M. Wallack, ‘Justice between Generations: The Limits of Procedural Justice’, in ibid., at 86-106; W. Beckerman, ‘The Impossibility of a Theory of Intergenerational Justice’, in ibid., at 53-72.

2

C. Redgwell, Intergenerational Trusts and Environmental Protection (1999). She also presents a critical analysis of the theory of Professor Brown Weiss.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 195-230, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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Claims Tribunal from the point of intergenerational aspect, which takes into account unborn generations in adjudging cases (see below). The fate of future generations as well as the notion of keeping our planet in trust for future generations are not new ideas. Many international environmental agreements, drafted many years ago,3 as well as soft law documents include, at least in the Preamble, the invocation to future generations.4 The concept of trust as applied to natural resources in relation to future generations was pleaded in the 1893 Pacific Fur Seal Arbitration5 over alleged overexploitation by Great Britain of fur seals beyond the limits of national jurisdiction. This arbitration concerned many very difficult legal questions relating, inter alia, to the right of a State, in this case the United States, to regulate the protection of seals beyond the three-mile limit. The Arbitral Tribunal rejected such an assumption; however, it adopted a regulation, which included the measures in order to manage fur seals outside such a limit. The US put forward an interesting argument that a protection of fur seals outside the three-mile limit was justified according to ‘established principles of the common and civil law, upon practice of nations, upon the laws of natural history, and upon the common interest of mankind’.6 Moreover, it 3

See, e.g., 1946 International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling, 161 UNTS 72: ‘The Governments […] Recognising the interest of the nations of the world in safeguarding for future generations the great natural resources represented by the whale stocks […].’

4

See, e.g., the 1979 Bonn Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, 19 ILM 15 (1980), preamble: ‘The Contracting Parties […] Aware that each generation of man holds the resources of the earth for future generations and has an obligation to ensure that this legacy is conserved and, where utilised, is used wisely […];’

the 1973 Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Flora and Fauna, 12 ILM 1085 (1973), preamble: ‘Recognising that wild fauna and flora in their many beautiful and varied forms are an irreplaceable part of the natural system of the earth which must be protected for this and the generations to come […];’

the 1979 Berne Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals, 19 ILM 15 (1980), preamble: ‘Recognising that wild fauna and flora constitute a natural heritage of aesthetic, scientific, cultural, recreational, economic and intrinsic value that needs to be preserved and handed to future generations […].’

the 1972 Stockholm Declaration on Human Environment, 11 ILM 1416 (1972), Principle 2: ‘The natural resources of the earth including the air, water, land, flora and fauna and especially representative samples of natural ecosystems must be safeguarded for the benefit of present and future generations through careful planning or management, as appropriate;’

the 1992 Rio Declaration on Environment and Development, 31 ILM 874 (1992), Principle 3: ‘The right to development must be fulfilled so as to equitably meet developmental and environmental needs of present and future generations.’ 5

‘Pacific Fur Seal Arbitration (United States of America v. Great Britain)’, 1 Moore’s International Arbitral Awards 733 (1893).

6

Ibid., at 811.

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argued that property rights were not unlimited as nations ‘are not made the absolute owners; their title is coupled with a trust for the benefit of mankind. The human race is entitled to participate in enjoyment’.7 The US put forward a very modern concept of ‘the common property of mankind’, which, when it is withdrawn by a State which thereby fails the trust of other States, gives other States the right ‘to interfere and secure their share’.8

II.

The Philosophical Basis of the Theory of Professor Brown Weiss

The relationship between generations is a subject of intergenerational ethics.9 Intergenerational ethics, which are very difficult in moral and political philosophy, are of paramount importance to, for instance, environmental policy, health policy, intellectual property law, social security policy and telecommunications policy. Concrete examples of the application of intergenerational ethics can be found, as Solum notes, in the following areas: care and feeding; nursing the elderly; social security; legacies and bequests; entailed estates, as well as in relation to environmental problems: disastrous global warming and persistent plutonium; reparation for slavery; economic development; and finally demographic policy. There are of course differences between these examples of intergenerational ethics. For example, as Solum explains in relation to global warming: ‘[T]he progress of science has, ironically, created an awareness of risks to future generations that may on easily be reduced to calculable probabilities of quantifiable harms. Global warming might be such a case. Assume […] that consumption of greenhouse gases by a current generations poses an unquantifiable risk of global environmental catastrophe for our children’s children (where the phrase is taken to mean our descendents who will be alive at the time when we are all dead). What duty do we owe them? How much of our welfare ought to be sacrificed for nonquantifiable chance of an improvement in theirs?’10

However, according to Solum, unlike global warming persistent plutonium involves calculable risks and quantifiable consequences.11 There are many concepts and definitions of intergenerational and generational justice in intergenerational ethics. Solum distinguishes between political and personal morality and analyses the notion of justice. Intergenerational justice is based on the notion of a generation, which as this author admits is in popular knowledge ‘muddled’.12 However, out of many possible 7

Ibid., at 853.

8

Ibid., at 853.

9

See Solum, supra note 1. The author of this book will present views of Professor Solum, who explained intergenerational ethics context in relation to, inter alia, environmental law.

10

Solum, supra note 1, at 167.

11

Ibid.

12

Ibid., at 169.

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definitions, Solum distinguishes and analyses three: demographic cohort generations; lineal descent generations; and unborn future generations. It appears that this last notion of a generation is the one that has been adopted by Brown Weiss in her theory of intergenerational equity. Solum, however, notes the lack of clarity of this term, which may refer to the persons who will exist in the future but are yet unborn; or to the persons who will not be born during the life of the speaker or possibly the life of any a person who is presently alive. It is not quite clear which type of unborn generations Brown Weiss refers to. It appears, however, that she approaches future generations as one general group, whose place in time is not defined. ‘[I]n this partnership, no generation knows beforehand when it will be the living generation, how many members it will have, or even how many generations there will ultimately be. If we take the perspective of a generation that is placed somewhere along the spectrum of time but does not know in advance where it will be located, such a generation would want to inherit the Earth in at least as good condition as it has been in for any previous generation and to have as good access to it as previous generations. This requires each generation to pass the planet on in no worse condition than it received it in and to provide equitable access to its resources and benefits. Each generation is thus both a trustee for the planet with obligations to care for it and a beneficiary with rights to use it.’13

Solum also notes that since the definition of a generation is ambiguous, the term ‘intergenerational’ is also quite vague. Intergenerational ethics also involve certain duties directed towards generations. This package of duties between generations was conceptualised by Brown Weiss in a notion of a partnership between generations which translated itself into the form of trust. In intergenerational ethics, these duties may involve backward looking duties, which are contemporaneous, such as the social security duty of the younger working generation to finance social benefits for the elderly; and non-contemporaneous such as the reparations duty of a present generation to compensate a deceased former generation for an injury; and forward looking duties, which are contemporaneous such as the duty of parents to care for their children and non-contemporaneous such as the persistent plutonium obligation of the present generation not to cause pollution that will injure unborn future generations.14 Inter and intra-generational morality is frequently referred to as an issue of ‘intergenerational justice’ or ‘intergenerational equity’, or as in case of lawyers or economists (for example Brown Weiss) equity is used as a synonym for justice.15 Justice can be corrective or distributive.16 There is no place here to discuss all theories concerning distributive 13

E. Brown Weiss, ‘Intergenerational Equity: A Legal Framework for Global Environmental Change’, in E. Brown Weiss (ed.), Environmental Change and International Law: New Challenges and Dimensions 385, at 397 (1992).

14

Solum, supra note 1, at 173.

15

Ibid.

16

Solum is of the view that intergenerational justice might involve both corrective and distributive justice. As an example of the first one, he returns to the case of hazardous persistent plutonium power plant, which was erected by one generation. The issue whether the polluting

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justice. Rather, the focus of the analysis in this chapter will be on the theory of distributive justice, as embodied by Rawls, and which forms the philosophical background of Brown Weiss doctrine. Very broadly speaking, his theory is based on a concept of justice as fairness and of sharing benefits and burdens in the society. Rawls addressed social inequalities in society the perception of which depends on individual characteristics and place in society, and which is therefore biased.17 Rawls aimed at discarding these preconceived biases. What would the concept of a ‘just society’ be if people were deprived of their class status, political beliefs, health, religion, in other words if they operated from behind a ‘veil of ignorance’.18 His idea was to strip the decisionmakers from the sense of their identity, which would involve being totally ignorant as to their final position, capabilities, etc. In short, they would find themselves in an ‘original position’. This would enable them to understand justice and equality in a different light than the one derived from a formal equality approach.19 Rawls introduced the so-called ‘difference principle’, which broadly speaking, is based on a premise that individuals behind the ‘veil of ignorance’ would find a fair and equal society if the assignation of benefits would result in just distribution, eradication of economic inequities, in particular in relation to the least-advantaged members of society. The final purpose of the equal economic distribution is to ensure that everybody is better off.20 Rawls theory was originally applied in the context of a State, relating to individuals in a single society. However, it had been observed that this theory can be also useful in an interstate application, although not without certain difficulties, as analysed by Drumbl in his excellent essay.21 Some of these shortcomings are related, according to Drumbl, to the fundamentally procedural nature of the Rawlsian theory. As he explains, environmental justice is concerned with just outcomes, which are based on economic inequality. Therefore, Drumbl suggests that the transformation of the Ralwsian theory onto an international level in environmental matters could be achieved by ‘melding Rawlsian approaches to economic justice with environmental regulation’ and by which ‘developing nations may have effected a particularly important paradigm shift in international relations and foreign policy’.22 The human conduct, as a means of

generations owe duties to unborn future generations is a question of corrective justice (the obligation to create trust fund). Solum, supra note 1, at 175. 17

Rawls, supra note 1, at 15-19.

18

Ibid., at 136-142.

19

Ibid., at 14-15.

20

Ibid., at 61, 83.

21

M. Drumbl, ‘Poverty, Wealth, and Obligation in International Environmental Law’, 76 Tulane Law Review 843, at 903-905 (2002).

22

Ibid., at 902-904. Drumbl in his excellent essay introduces a theory of a social compact in which responsibilities between the ‘colonizers of the North’ and the ‘colonised of the South’ are corrected by the North.

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deliberate amending of inequalities, may be a solution of not entirely relying on ‘luck’ of being born in a rich country as professed by Barry.23 The social justice as an underlying principle of Brown Weiss theory, however, had an intertemporal dimension, which in fact was also raised by Rawls. In his theory, this element appeared after a person assumed the ‘veil of ignorance’, i.e. discarded all prejudices. Not only Rawls included the time element, but it also stretched between the generations. Intergenerational justice similarly to Brown Weiss’ concept was based on the ‘just savings principle’, according to which each and every generation, has to preserve the heritage of the previous generations and put aside a suitable amount of capital accumulation. As Drumbl rightly observes, the generational justice can be applied to the environment. He writes as follows: ‘[I]f people in the “original position” did not know what generation they would be born into, then persons would take better care of the environment if there were a risk that they could be born into a generation whose predecessors had desecrated the environment or emptied it of its resources. International environmental lawyers have gone one step further and have applied intergenerational justice as a rationale for global environmental governance. For example, Edith Brown Weiss writes that intergenerational justice encompasses the duties we owe future generations to maintain a natural environment capable of sustaining life and civilisation at least to the same standard of living enjoyed today.’24

The just savings principle is relevant to economic development, but it may also be applicable to other areas of relations between generations.25 As Solum explains – if the state of the environment can be viewed as a capital resource, then intergenerational pollution may be limited by the just savings principle and that ‘[P]olicy choices about persistent plutonium and global warming might be constrained by the just savings principle, although the constraint might be fairly loose. Degrading the environments of future generations would b consistent with the just savings principle so long as the total bundle of primary goods passed to future generations was adequate.’

The philosophical foundations of the Brown Weiss’s theory were also a subject of certain criticism, which mainly derived from two sources: the critique of the theory of Rawls itself and her adaptation of his theory to fit intergenerational equity.26 As noted above, the problem of intergenerational justice according to Rawls is centred on his theory of original position and the veil of ignorance. According to Rawls, intragenerational and intergenerational justice are based on a contractarian approach, which has been much criticised, and is founded on a presumption that rational people in hypothetical original 23

Barry 1989, supra note 1, at 129; See also Barry’s theory of the ‘extreme risk aversion’, B. Barry, ‘John Rawls and the Search for Stability’, 105 Ethics 874, at 882 (1995).

24

Drumbl, supra note 22, at 919-920.

25

Solum, supra note 1, at 184.

26

See in depth analysis of these issues by Redgwell, supra note 2, at 100-109.

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positions stripped of their individual preferences and under the veil of ignorance would agree to the principles of justice. Persons in the original position only have knowledge of the conditions of human society, which is by his definition a ‘cooperative venture for mutual advantage’.27 Rawls’s social contract theory is very much limited to the relationship between physically existing persons28, therefore the contacts of people with animals are outside this relationship.29 The lack of injured parties, i.e. the future generations, makes the application of Rawls’s theory between generations very problematic.30 Present persons may not want to limit their expenditures and consumption in favour of non-present individuals.31 Motivated assumption is an answer for justice between generations, as in the real world, it should be possible to present the principles of justice as mutually advantageous. Rawls analysed the possibility and the difficulties of the extension of certain principles of justice between one generation, intragenerational justice, to justice between generations, intergenerational justice. Intragenerational justice is based according to Rawls on two principles: the fundamental principle of justice, granting basic liberties and the second, which provides the distribution of social goods. The second principle favours the least advantaged, therefore allows inequities in a society, the so-called ‘difference principle’. This principle was later reformulated by the creation of the so-called ‘savings principle’: ‘Social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so they are […] to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged, consistent with a just savings principle.’32 The relationship between the ‘difference principle’ and the ‘savings principle’ is not quite clear, however, according to Rawls the savings principle constrains to a certain degree the difference principle.33 Rawls explained that the difference principle is inapplicable to different generations over time. Therefore, in order to modify this principle, he places behind the veil of ignorance the members of past, present and future generations. Without the device of veil of ignorance, past generations would not approve of alleviating the fate of future generations, as they would not benefit from any savings made at present.34 However, if they are placed behind the veil of ignorance, they would not know to what generation they belong.

27

Rawls 1999, supra note 1, at 4.

28

Ibid., at 15.

29

Ibid. at 261.

30

See comments of this in Barry 1979, supra note 1, at 190-191.

31

Dierksmeier, supra note 1, at 74.

32

Rawls 1971, supra note 1, at 257.

33

Ibid., at 257.

34

Ibid.

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However, according to Dierksmeier this solution does not necessarily lead to the expected result. He argues as follows: ‘[A]s long as the deliberating individuals know themselves to be contemporaries – which is imperative for them to deal effectively with every other aspect of their political lives – another problem remains. Pondering that, whatever their historic starting position, future […] generations cannot negatively affect them, they could come to the conclusion not save at all, and so to maximise their interest.’35

In order to overcome this hurdle, there were certain ideas based on the principle of ‘endlessly overlapping generations to each and every future generation so that the abstract interests of future generations would be cared for by ever-concrete interest of the contiguous generations’.36 Rawls put forward several theories, which were aimed at overcoming the exclusively generational aspect of intergenerational justice such as ‘the caring parents approach’, treating decision makers as ‘heads of families’, having an emotional interest in ‘immediate descendants’.37 However, this approach was abandoned, in favour of his initial idea of the original position in which all generations were represented.38 Rawls’ later writings adjust intergenerational theory to his views expressed in Political Liberalism and elaborated in Justice as Fairness. A Restatement.39 The question of savings, according to Rawls as elaborated in 2001, ‘must be dealt with by constraints that hold between citizens as contemporaries’ and that ‘the correct principle, then, is one of the members of any generation (and so all generations) would adopt as the principle they would want preceding generations to have followed’.40 However, this rule does not convince all scholars who argue that ‘any one rational maximiser would willingly impose upon himself restrictions that de facto make it impossible that he pursue his self-interest most efficiently? The savings of former days are his, no matter how he will decide regarding the interests of posterity. So, why reduce his welfare without a payback arrangement? Only actors already morally motivated will agree to such a limitation of their consumer wants’.41

The critical analysis of the theory of Rawls by Dierksmeier leads to the conclusion that ‘any good theory of intergenerational equity cannot exclusively be explained by rational choice theory and sheer human self-interest. In contrast, a moral-based explanation

35

Dierksmeier, supra note 1, at 75.

36

Ibid.

37

Rawls 1971, supra note 1, at 256.

38

Ibid.

39

J. Rawls, Political Liberalism (1993); J. Rawls, Justice as Fairness. A Restatement (2001).

40

Ibid., at 160.

41

Dierksmeier, supra note 1, citing B. Dauenhauer, ‘Response to Rawls’, in R. Cohen et al. (eds.), Ricoeur as Another: The Ethics of Subjectivity 203, at 208 (2002).

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is essential to justify generational justice’.42 In order to overcome the difficulties of the concept of intergenerational justice, Brian Barry limits his theory by excluding past generations.43 He based intergenerational justice on the premise of ‘fundamental equality of human beings’, which applies to contemporaries and intergenerational justice.44 Barry also explained that only two of his four fundamental principles of justice apply in the context of intergenerational justice: the principle of responsibility and of ‘vital interests’.45 Barry addressed the question of renewable resources, from the intergenerational perspective and came up with the idea in relation to renewable resources that the later generations should not be left worse off in terms of productive capacity than ‘they would have been without the depletion’.46 Barry took into consideration growing costs, which have to borne by future generations in order to extract natural resources, which were depleted by previous generations. These costs result in a necessity of establishing to what extent the non-renewable natural resources may be depleted by present generations without breaching the requirements of intergenerational justice. Present generations should limit their depleting of natural non-renewable resources in order not to deteriorate the opportunities available to future generations. The application of the responsibility principle was critically analysed by Beckerman, in particular Barry’s idea of egalitarism. Beckerman argues that Barry’s concept of egalitarism ‘would go so far as to say that it would be “unjust” to take something away from any group in any society, however well off, in order to improve the welfare of some other contemporary group, however, badly off. To adopt such a position would mean opposing any egalitarian policy involving a redistribution from richer to poorer. But it may sometimes be just to make some group in society worse off against their will in the interests of helping people who are worse off, why it would it always be unjust to follow policies that might conceivably make future generations worse off even if it is in order to avoid imposing certain burden on some of the people today?’47 42

J. Ch. Tremmel, ‘Introduction’, in J. Ch. Tremmel (ed.), Handbook of Intergenerational Justice 1, at 10 (2006).

43

Barry, ‘Sustainability and Intergenerational Justice’, in A. Dobson (ed.,), Fairness and Futurity: Essays on Environmental Sustainability and Social Justice 93, at 107 (1999). He writes as follows: ‘it must be conceded that the expression “intergenerational justice is potentially misleading […]. It is simply a sort of shorthand for “justice between the present generation and future generations”. Because of time’s arrow, we cannot do anything to make people in the past better off that they actually were, so it is absurd to say that our relation to them could be either just or unjust.’

However, Barry’s theory of justice is broader from the perspective of Humean by rejecting his ‘rough equality of power’, as such a approach would exclude for example unjust treaties. 44

Ibid., at 96.

45

Ibid., at 98.

46

B. Barry, ‘The Ethics of Resource Depletion’, in id. (ed.), Democracy, Power and Justice 511, at 519 (1989).

47

Beckerman/Pasek, supra note 1, at 43 (emphasis added).

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Scholars who in principle support the generational justice approach to environmental law admit, as explored by Edward Page and seen from the above discussion, certain theoretical difficulties in relation to the question of climate change.48 One such difficulty is of course the aforementioned problem of reciprocity under the contractarian approach. Page observes that ‘[I]f reciprocity determines the scope of justice, as writers such as Rawls and Gauthier believe, there seems to be no room for future persons having claims to resources from their ancestors -they get what they inherit, and should count themselves lucky to get it!’49

The inherent problems with the justice approach to generations is that it requires, according to the same author, its revision both regarding sceptics and enthusiasts.50 The most fundamental issue regarding intergenerational justice is that of the rights of future generations, their very existence and scope. The most important questions are: what are the rights that future generations may enjoy? Are they moral or written rights? It appears that there is no unambiguous answer to this question. The majority appears to adhere to the view that they are moral, and not written rights. However, this issue becomes more complicated in the case of rights of future generations enshrined in many constitutions (see below), i.e. are they still moral or legal rights or perhaps both moral and legal rights? Tremmel is of the view that in the democratic States most legal norms are also moral norms.51 Further, if we accept that future generations have rights, a new question arises as to what the definition of these rights and obligations and who decides upon it.52 Beckerman is one of the fiercest critics of the theory of rights of future unborn generations. He is against the symmetrical concept of rights and obligations, and is of the view that obligations do not always create rights, while rights always create obligations. In many of his publications, he expressed a strong view that future generations cannot have rights. However, we should accord them ‘moral standing’ and take account of their interests. ‘Thus, we have moral obligations to take account of the interests of future generations in our policies, including those policies that affect the environment […]. The rights

48

E. P. Page, Climate Change, Justice and Future Generations (2006).

49

Ibid., at 105.

50

‘A small, but significant, measure of intergenerational equity is direct challenge to sceptical views that downgrade the ethical status of future persons because they are viewed as being unable to reciprocate ongoing attempts to mitigate global climate change. But it also suggests that the current focus of enthusiasts on subject-centred principles of justice should be widened to make space for other, less fashionable, principles, such as fair reciprocity’. Ibid., at 129.

51

See in depth J. Ch. Tremmel, ‘Establishing Intergenerational Justice in National Constitutions’, in J. Ch. Tremmel (ed.), Handbook of Intergenerational Justice 187, at 187-212 (2006).

52

Ibid., at 201-203.

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of future generations cannot be protected within the framework of any theory of international justice.’53

His negation of the rights approach to future generations is based on semantics, as his general argument is that future generations cannot have anything, including rights, follows from the meaning of the present tense of the verb ‘to have’. He emphasised many times in his writings that ‘unborn people simply cannot have anything. They cannot have two legs or long hair or a taste for Mozart’.54 Tremmel did not agree with his argumentation and although he conceded that Beckerman’s argument was correct, it was nevertheless of minor importance and its purpose is to replace the present tense with the future tense, such as ‘future generations will have rights’.55 The same author argues that if future generations cannot have rights, they equally cannot have ‘interests’; ‘needs’; ‘wishes’ etc. He states as follows: ‘If we want to favour the term “interests” over’ rights’, we must find other arguments. The hint to using the future tense instead of present tense in wording of constitutional amendments is just a minor aspect. It is more important which nouns, verbs or adjectives are chosen. Beckerman claims that his argument denounces the term “rights of future generations” […], but he is incorrect.’56

Beckerman strongly believes in alleviating the position of future generations by leaving them decent society and with a greater respect for human rights, instead of trying to accord them rights which they cannot have.57 Similar doubts were expressed by Page, i.e. whether generations as a whole should possess rights, in contrast to a future cultural group or nation. Such an idea appears to be too abstract as a ground of a theory of intergenerational justice, as well as due to the fact that people ‘do not generally act as if their generation, assuming they agree on what this might be, posses any independent value’.58 Yet another fundamental question is the issue touched upon by some scholars who accord the rights to future generations, however, not unreservedly. For example, some scholars adhere to the theory of ‘weaker’ obligations toward future generations than those toward the present generations because the claims of future generations are conditioned claims depending on the existence of future generations to make

53

W. Beckerman/J. Pasek, supra note 1, at 124.

54

W. Beckerman, supra note 1, at 55.

55

J. Ch. Tremmel, supra note 52, at 200.

56

Ibid.

57

W. Beckerman/J. Pasek, supra note 1, at 43.

58

Page, supra note 48, at 156. This author sees the value of her theory in its application to cultural groups rather than generations. ‘The idea is that appeals to holistic rights avoid problems of non-identity because the conditions of group existence are more fixed than those of their individual members: they typically endure for a much longer time-span, for example, and their formation does not depend upon the coming together of a particular sperm and egg.’

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the claim, in contrast to present generations, who have actual claims, which are not conditional.59 Further, the non-identity argument has to be taken into account as very pertinent in relation to intergenerational justice, the character of which is far from clear in ethics and has been a subject of many philosophical writings. However, an in-depth analysis of this issue is not within the remit of this chapter.60 In broad brushstrokes, justice or rights cannot be attributed to future generations because our acts, actions and policies, although remote, are indispensable to their coming into existence. Such an approach excludes the complaints of future individuals or perhaps groups relating to past injustice since without them, they would have never been born. This is a philosophical puzzle. Certain actions will result in harm for future generations, however, without these actions future generations would not have come into existence.61 In relation to the climate change, this problem can be formulated as follows: ‘For, if it is nonsensical to compensate present person for ancient wrongs committed to their ancestors, it is likewise nonsensical to insist that countries that contributed to vast majority of greenhouse emissions prior to 1990, have more than a modest harmbased duty to pay for the costly measures needed to reduce emissions. This is because the greenhouse emissions that contributed to the climate problem originated in acts and policies that also modified the size and composition of subsequent generations of all countries. If we find this implausible, it is worth asking whether a world without carbon industries would have supported a rise in world population from 2.5 billion in 1950 to over 6.4 billion people in 2005.’62

There are a number of unresolved issues concerning the problem of non-identity, both in relation to the individual and to the group-centred approach.63

59

D. Callahan, ‘What Obligations Do We Have to Future Generations?’, in E. Partridge (ed.), Responsibilities to Future Generations: Environmental Ethics 82 (1981).

60

See D. Parfit, Reasons and Persons (1984); see also Th. Scanlon, ‘Contractualism and Utilitarianism’, in A. Sen/B. Williams (eds.), Utilitarianism and Beyond 103, at 103-128 (1982); Th. Scanlon, What We Owe to Each Other (1981); W. Kymlicka, Liberalism, Community and Culture (1989).

61

Page, supra note 48, at 132, i.e., Chapter 6, ‘The Non-Identity Problem’.

62

Ibid., at 137.

63

Page argues that the group centred approach could only provide a partial solution to the non-identity problem. He says as follows: ‘Suppose that a course of action that we think will harm a certain future group’s interests would be also a necessary condition of that group coming into existence in first place. In such cases, the approach seems open to a new group-centred puzzle which we might call the extended non-identity problem.’

Page, supra note 48, at 157.

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III.

207

The Theory of Intergenerational Equity: Introductory Issues

Professor Brown Weiss, in order to overcome the unresolved problems of the rights of future generations and intergenerational justice introduced several new elements to philosophical theories of intergenerational justice, such as the theory of trust and the past, present and future partnership between generations and linked these together in the theory of intergenerational equity. The Earth resources are in a trust, and they are passed onto us by our ancestors and passed by us onto our descendants in order to maintain sustainability. Her theory is based on the premise of human beings as part of a natural system linked to other human beings, members of one generation, as well as engaged with different generations of human species using the common patrimony of earth. All generations are equal in their use of our planet and the partnership between generations is corollary to equality. Each and every generation must safeguard a healthy environment for other generations. The partnership of generations is not based on full knowledge of, e.g. how many members the future generation will have; what will be the members like of future generations, etc. Future generations are obliged to compensate for the damage done and not remedied by a previous generation, however, they can distribute the expenses of doing so across several generations by the way of various financial means. Brown Weiss found the roots of this concept in general international law such as the United Nations Charter, the Preamble to the Universal Declarations of Human Rights and various religious, cultural and legal traditions. Intergenerational equity is based on three principles: conservation of options where future generations should be entitled diversity comparable to this enjoyed by the previous generations; conservation of quality where each generation should be obliged to maintain the minimum quality of the planet, as to pass it in no worse condition on future generations; and the conservation of access where each generation should secure its member with equitable rights of access to the legacy of past generations and should secure this access for future generations. The use of the resources of our planet is restricted by the rights of future generations. These principles, according to the theory of Professor Brown Weiss, form the nexus of intergenerational obligations and rights, or in other words planetary obligations and rights that are held by each and every generation. These rights are integrally linked and are always linked with obligations. They originate as moral obligations, which must transform into legal rights and obligations. These rights and obligations are present in each generation and linked between generations. They also exist in between the members of the present generation. As a category of human rights these rights are group rights, different from individual rights, as generations hold these rights as groups in relation to other generations. Brown Weiss lists certain categories of activities, which can be earmarked as adversely impacting upon intergenerational rights.64 She 64

Such as wastes which impacts cannot be restricted either spatially or over time; damage to soils such that they are incapable of supporting fauna and flora; destruction of tropical forests, and resulting restriction of biodiversity, destruction of national monuments, constituting a part of national heritage of mankind; certain nuclear activities; destruction of libraries or gene banks; Brown Weiss, supra note 13, at 408.

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also deals with the enforcement of such interplanetary rights, possibly by a guardian or a representative of future generations as a group and proposes the establishment of a special office, which would undertake a responsibility for guarding the interests of future generations, such as ensuring that the laws impacting the environment and natural resources are implemented and by investigating complaints. She also endorses the alternative idea of the appointment of the planetary ombudsman or commissioners for future generations, as well as the creation of planetary users’ fees and funds for future generations, scientific research programmes to analyse an reduce long-term environmental dangers. The theory of intergenerational equity was subject to a certain degree of criticism. One of the authors argued that if we intervene to conserve the environment for future generations, we are heading for disaster. Professor D’Amato’s main criticism was based on the so-called ‘Parfit’s paradox’, which originated in combination with the theory of chaos. He presented a dual argument: first, future generations cannot have any rights because they will consist of individuals who at the moment do not exist; and second, there cannot be a rationale behind actions and interference taken by us at the present time if the effect they will have is on future generations, as we do not know yet what the requirements will be, or physical or what psychological make-up of these generations will come as a result of our interference. The same author further assesses the concept as anthropocentric, thus not taking into sufficient degree the rights of animals.65 The place of non-humans within environmental discourse had been analysed for many years within the context of moral dilemmas that included not only humans but also issues between humans and non humans, humans and natural resources, in general, the environmental ethics.66 Professor Lowe pointed out the fundamental flaws of this doctrine. His arguments are as follows: the principle of trusteeship of the earth and natural resources is not a norm as much as trusteeship in English law, but is construed of a cluster of rights and duties, which would be norms and ‘therefore two removes from the concept of sustainable development’.67 Further, who are the beneficiaries? What is their right of action? What are the duties of the trustees?68 He terms the intergenerational equity as a ‘chimera’ in a normative sense, since ‘[I]t is hard to see what legal content inter-generational equity could have, as equity is be definition a technique for ameliorating in the name of justice the impact of legal rules upon the existing legal rights and duties of legal persons. By definition, most “other” generations could not appear to secure the enforcement of their own rights,

65

A. D’Amato, ‘Do We Owe a Duty to Future Generations to Preserve the Global Environment’, 84 AJIL 92, at 92-194 (1990).

66

See, e.g., A. De-Shalt, ‘Environmental Policies an Justice between Generations’, 21 European Journal of Political Research 307, at 312 (1992).

67

V. Lowe, ‘Sustainable Development and Unsustainable Arguments’, in A. Boyle/D. Freestone (eds.), International Law and Sustainable Development: Past Achievements and Future Challenges 19, at 27 (1999).

68

Ibid.

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even if “generations” had locus standi in international law. There may, therefore, strictly be no rights to which equity can be applied.’69

Brown Weiss defends her approach by observing that intergenerational equity is a group right, thus the position of an individual is not important in the shaping of the rights of future generations. In her defence to other critical remarks, the excessive anthropological approach, she argues that the concept places human beings and other living creatures together, thus not isolating them or diminishing the importance of non-human creations.70 It should be, however, considered that the anthropocentric aspect of this theory originated in Rawlsian philosophy in which he argued that only humans have the capacity for justice and therefore, any moral duties are restricted to humans.71 Other critics argue that Brown Weiss wrongly conceptualised human rights in relation to intergenerational equity. She extends the concept of human rights across time ‘while at the same time embracing a generic human right to a decent environment’.72 Therefore, doubts were expressed as to whether the human rights context is a proper forum in which to discuss intergenerational equity, since it is not quite clear whether an environmental human right exists at all. He argues that such rights might exist since they operate ‘across space and time on behalf of broadly defined social and economic goods’,73 but sees a valid point of criticism about the problem relating to the needs of future generations, as we do not know what they will be like or what the condition of our planet will be in the distant future.74 There are also fundamental critical comments expressed, which put in doubt the legal content of this principle due to its inherent vagueness, as well as to indeterminate character of the underlying principles.75 As Warren argues: ‘[T]he difficulty with elevating the concept to the status of a principle is that is so vague; how do we measure fairness, how do we know what future generations will want or need, haw far into the future should we look.’76

69

Ibid.

70

E. Brown Weiss, ‘Our Rights and Obligations to Future Generations for the Environment’, 84 AJIL 198, at 204 (1990); see also Brown Weiss, supra note 13; see also A. Gillespie, International Environmental Law 124-146 (1997); L. Warren, ‘Intergenerational Equity’, available at http://www.corwm.org.uk/pgf%5C673%20-%intergenerational%20 equity.pdf (last visited 5 December 2007).

71

Rawls 1971, supra note 1, at 164, 177-178.

72

G. P. Supanich, ‘The Legal Basis of Intergenerational Responsibility: An Alternative View-The Sense of Intergenerational Identity’, 3 YIEL 94, at 96-99 (1992).

73

Ibid., at 97.

74

Ibid., at 98.

75

Warren, supra note 70.

76

Ibid., at 1.

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The theory of intergenerational equity was challenged also on an ethical basis, such as the element of inherent selfishness characterising human nature, which is often reflected in our indifference relating to the fate of distant human beings such as future generations.77 Therefore, certain authors attempt to find a different ethical basis for this theory, i.e. our gratitude towards past generations should be reflected in paternalistic responsibility for future generations.78 The main feature of the criticism expressed in relation to this theory is the attempted regulation of the generations that are not identified. This is also a problem which arises in relation to the economic issues, such as the apportionment of benefits and costs. Other concerns were put forward in relation to sustainable development. According to Alder and Wilkinson, strong sustainable development requires each generation to pass in essence the same environmental goods to the future generations. It may be said that the theory of intergenerational justice did not overcome serious theoretical issues of the application of generational justice between generations. First, the most fundamental question remains unresolved: do future generations have rights? Are these rights moral or written? As observed above, serious arguments to the contrary were presented by the number of philosophers, such as Beckerman, who consistently in all his publications had denied the existence of such rights. Brown Weiss accepts as a given fact that future generations have rights; therefore, no arguments were submitted refuting Beckerman’s assertions, or for that matter arguments supporting her theory, predicated upon the existence of such rights. Even, if we accept that future generations have rights, a number of issues remain unresolved, such as the question of the purely contractarian character of generational equity and the problem of non-identity. The introduction of the concept of trust and flowing from this the partnership between generations, in the view of the present author, did not remedy the conceptual difficulties of intergenerational justice and neither did the introduction of planetary rights enjoyed by all generations, which, according to Brown Weiss, are group rights. The character of group rights as such is not without problems and the applicability of these rights to the whole generation is doubtful. Even if we assume that such group rights can be applied to cultural groups (see above), it still does not solve the problem of planetary rights accorded to whole generations.

IV.

Certain Necessary Clarifications in the Understanding of the Concept

It may be also observed that there is a certain general lack of consistency in nomenclature and that different meanings of the concept of intergenerational equity are used interchangeably and are often incorrectly assimilated.

77

Gillespie, supra note 70, at 117.

78

J. Alder/D. Wilkinson, Environmental Law and Ethics (1999).

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The present author identified at least three ways that describe intergenerational equity in various publications, all of them under the same chapeau of the theory of intergenerational equity: (i) simple invocation of future generations in Conventions, such as the 1946 Whaling Convention, and Constitutions; (ii) intergenerational equity as the concept of trust drawing from the concept of trust in English and American laws; (iii) intergenerational equity as a philosophical concept of intergenerational justice, see e.g. Rawls

There is a subgroup: ii & iii (a) intergenerational equity which draws and modifies the concept of trust and the philosophical concept of intergenerational of justice. This is represented by Brown Weiss.

These different approaches are constantly confused and frequently treated as one theory. For example, Judge Weeramantry in his opinions gives numerous examples of the treaties, which contain the ‘generational’ aspect, which he assimilated with the theory of trust (the International Court of Justice as a trustee for future generations). In various international environmental conventions, the future generations are usually mentioned in the Preamble, such as the 1946 Whaling Convention: ‘[r]ecognising the interest of the nations of the world in safeguarding for future generations the great natural resources represented by the whale stocks.’ Similar example is contained in the 1979 Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (the ‘Bonn Convention’): ‘[a]ware that each generation of man holds the resources of the earth for future generations and has an obligation to ensure that this legacy is conserved and, where utilised, is used wisely […]’ Such statements do not amount to the concept or the theory of intergenerational justice, equity or to the establishment of a trust between the generations. Their character is very hortatory, which in fact does not aspire to impose any binding legal obligations. Such statements do not even have a legal character of ‘principles’ as opposed to ‘rules’. Such a distinction was introduced by Professor Boyle, who explained that certain environmental treaties may generate principles but not rules.79 He identified intergenerational equity with such principles: ‘[S]ustainable development, intergenerational equity, or the precautionary principle, are all the more convincing seen in this sense: not as binding obligations which must

79

A. Boyle, ‘Some Reflections on Relationship of Treaties and Soft Law’, in V. Gowlland-Debbas (ed.), Multilateral Treaty-Making: The Current Status of Challenges to and Reforms Needed in the International Legislative Process 25, at 32 (2000).

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be complied with, but as principles, considerations or objectives to be taken into account of-may be soft, but they are still law.’80

Aspirational character of such statements precludes the equation of the simple invocation of future generations in Preambles of several conventions with the concept of trust. However, as stated above, there is a methodological confusion and the lack of structured approach to this issue.81

V.

Intergenerational Equity as a Trust

Although it is an accepted view that the theory of Brown Weiss is based on Rawlsian distributive justice, it may also be said that the concept of trust, which plays a pivotal role, may be viewed as an element of corrective justice in her theory. As stated above, Solum, for example, suggested that as a reflection of corrective justice, the polluting generations might be obliged to create a trust to compensate unborn future generations for injuries that they will incur. She draws equally from the concepts of trust in domestic and international laws. It may be said that historically, the concept of intergenerational equity as a trust originated in the Bering Fur Seal arbitration, as mentioned above, and that at the time, it was the most progressive and innovative approach. This approach was based on a concept of natural resources, in this case seals, that are put in a trust for humankind, thus dissociating them from the sovereignty or jurisdiction of States. For the same reason, it also provided for the imposition of certain regulatory measures outside the States’ jurisdiction in the areas traditionally open to all States granting them almost unrestricted access for the utilisation of natural resources. This innovative use of a trust has ‘[A]n increasingly important role to play in environmental protection as the essence of trust concept is in the separation of legal and beneficial ownership of property. As a legal owner of the trust property, the trustee has the management powers over the trust property, but subject to the duty, enforceable under the equitable jurisdiction of the courts, to exercise those powers for the exclusive benefit of the beneficiary who is the beneficial or equitable owner of the trust property.’82

Trusts are established on basis of ‘three certainties’: certainty of words; certainty of subject; and certainty of object. This requirement is more relaxed in relation to charitable trusts. However, as Redgwell observes, private trusts in general are largely

80

Ibid., at 33.

81

See also Redgwell, supra note 2, at 180.

82

Ibid., at 7.

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anthropocentric and their usefulness for the protection of the environment is limited for at least three reasons: (i) the rule against perpetuities prohibits the private trust device from being used for the intergenerational protection of environmental assets; (ii) exclusive property owned by the settlor may be subject of a private trust; and (iii) private trust may only be established for the benefit of a specific named beneficiaries or a specific class of beneficiaries.

All these restrictions lead this author to the conclusion that a private trust over public lands for the benefit of unmade future generations would not legally be possible. Redgwell further investigates the charitable trusts and public trust doctrine as to their possible uses for the benefit of future generations. Charitable trusts appear more suitable for the purpose of the protecting the environmental rights of future generations. They are characterised by certain features, which make them a more effective tool than private trusts from the intergenerational interests’ point of view. First, they may be gifted in perpetuity and they are established for a purpose, not in the name of a specific beneficiary and their purpose must be ‘[for]the benefit of the community or an appreciably important section of the community and not for the benefit of particular private individual nor for a class of private individuals, such as the employees of a particular employer.’83

The suitability of charitable trusts for the protection environmental intergenerational rights is enhanced by the operation of the doctrine of cy-près, which allows for charitable trusts to survive if the trust fails and allows the transfer of the operation of trust property to other charitable purposes as close to the original purpose as possible. Charitable trusts have many other distinguishing features different from private trusts. For example, they enjoy several exemptions from: (i) the ‘certainty of objects’ in relation to specific beneficiaries; (ii) the rule against perpetuities; and (iii) to a large degree from the doctrine of lapse.

Charitable trusts also attract tax benefits.84 There is a problem fitting in the protection of the environment into the definition of the charitable fund.85 Further, there is a difference between the position of nature 83

Ibid., at 13-14.

84

Ibid., at 14.

85

As Redgwell explains charitable trusts must be established as a matter of public interest and it has to gave a charitable purpose (these include: the advancement of education; the relief of poverty; and other purposes beneficial for the community). The main categories of the

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and animals in relation to the protection available under charitable funds. Parks of outstanding natural beauty may be included, however, the protection of such trusts extends to animals only if they are useful to humankind. Such a condition emphasises the anthropocentric character of charitable funds in so far as they relate to animals. At present, the wildlife in the United Kingdom, which is included in charitable funds, is registered under the heading of ‘education’.86 Charitable trusts are limited to operations which do not have as their direct aim a political purpose. They frequently establish an institutional body to maintain and operate the trust, such as the National Trust. Trusts also have a financial means of so-called ‘trust funds’, which are distinct investment accounts as Redgwell observes, may be used for the protection of the environment and even they may be established to compensate future generations for the loss of natural resources. The portion of revenue paid for the exploitation of natural resources may be deposited by the Government in the trust fund in order to indemnify these generations for losses in natural resources. In such a scheme, the principal is held for beneficiaries with the State fulfilling the role of a trustee. Further, Redgwell analyses the doctrine of public trust from the point of view of its utility for the protection of the environment for future generations. This doctrine is known in US law and is derived from the Roman law concept of res publica. Sand is also of the view that the public trust doctrine is well established in US environmental law, however, it is contested, partly due to its reliance on property concepts.87 He is convinced that this doctrine may play a very useful role in the protection of the environment, and to a certain extent in the protection of the rights of future generations. The same author is also of the view contemporary charitable trusts include: social welfare; cultural purposes; conservation of the environment; religious cultural teachings of immigrant communities and the promotion of racial harmony. Redgwell, supra note 2, at 16-17. 86

Ibid., at 19. The same author, analyses as well the law relating to charity, which is conduced abroad, Redgwell, supra note 2, at 19-20. It must mentioned that at present there is a new Charities Bill is pending before the Houses of Parliament, which extends the charitable purpose: the prevention of poverty; the advancement of education; the advancement of religion; the advancement of health and or the savings of lives; the advancement of citizen ship or community development; the advancement of arts, culture, heritage and science; the advancement of amateur sport; the advancement of human rights, conflict resolution or reconciliation or the promotion of religious or racial harmony or equality and diversity; the advancement of environmental protection or improvement; the relief of those in need by reason of youth, age, ill-health, disability, financial hardship or other disadvantage; the advancement of animal welfare; the promotion of the efficiency of the armed forces of the Crown; any other purposes within the subsection (4). Art. 2 of the Draft (Meaning of ‘charitable purpose’).

87

On the basis of the relevant case-law, the following five-point compatibility with the public trust obligation which have been used by courts: 1 Public bodies will control the area; 2. The area will be devoted to public purposes and open to public; 3. The diminution of the area of original use will be small when compared with the entire area; 4. None of the public uses of the original area will be destroyed of greatly impaired; 5. The disappointment of those members of the public who wish to use the area of the new use for former purposes is negligible when compared with the greater convenience to be afforded those members of the public using the new facility. Redgwell analyses the complex legal character of this doctrine, whether it is a property concept or that of the public (administrative) law. Redgwell, supra note 2, at 44,

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that although a number of US state constitutions contain environmental provisions, ‘the interests of future generations-intergenerational equity-remain largely ignored’.88 However, there are certain Constitutions, such as of states Pennsylvania and Florida, which incorporate the theory of intergenerational equity that is linked to the concept of public trust.89 According to Christie, the inclusion of ‘the concept of intergenerational equity in relation to marine living resources adds an intertemporal aspect to Florida’s public trust doctrine’.90 However, there are some problems with the application of the doctrine of public trust, for instance in relation to marine reserves. The use of marine reserves is criticized in so far as they violate the public trust doctrine. The States hold lands below navigable waters in trust for the public. The classical public uses protected by the doctrine of public trust previously were navigation, fishing and commerce. However, some of the States also include recreational use as a part of public trust. Courts have extended the trust protection to environmental and ecological protection and the preservation of 63-68; and P. Sand, ‘Sovereignty Bounded: Public Trusteeship for Common Pool Resources?’, 4 Global Environmental Politics 47 (2004). Sand defines the meaning of environmental trusteeship in the following terms: ‘[I]t means that certain natural resources – e.g., watercourses, wildlife, or wilderness areas – regardless of their allocation to public or private users are defined as part of an “inalienable public trust”; certain authorities – e.g., federal agencies, state governments, or indigenous tribal institutions –are designated as “public trustees” for protection of those resources; every citizen, as “beneficiary” of the trust, may invoke its terms to hold the trustees accountable and to obtain judicial protection against encroachment or deterioration.’

He also gives ample examples of other States, which adopted the similar idea of environmental trusteeship, such as the Philippines, Eritrea, South Africa and India, ibid., at 49. 88

Redgwell, supra note 2, at 69.

89

The 1969 Constitution of Pennsylvania (as amended in 1971), art. 1, section 27, provides as follows: ‘[P]ennsylvania’s natural resources are the common property of all people, including generations yet to come. As a trustee of these resources, the Commonwealth shall conserve and maintain for the benefit of the people.’

Cited in and commented on by provisions, Sand, supra note 87, at 49; 1968 Constitution of Florida, art. X, Section 16, provides as follows: ‘(a) The marine living resources of the State of Florida belong to all of people of the state and should be conserved and managed for the benefit of the state, its people, and future generations […].’

Cited in D. Christie, ‘Marine Reserves, the Public Trust Doctrine and Intergenerational Equity’, 19 Journal of Land Use 427, at 433 (2004); The same author provides, in the same page, yet another example of the statutory incorporation of this doctrine. The legislation creating Biscayne National Park states: ‘In order to preserve and to protect for the education, inspiration, recreation, and enjoyment of present and future generations a rare combination of terrestrial, marine, and amphibious life in tropical setting of great beauty, there is hereby established the Biscayne National Park […].’ 90

Christie, supra note 89, at 434.

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scenic beauty and those lands in their natural state so they may be used for scientific study, as open space and as environment, which serves as a habitat source of food for birds and marine life. However, the greatest drawback of this doctrine is that many of protected uses can conflict with each other, and the doctrine does not establish a specific hierarchy in the uses. Therefore, agencies and legislatures must balance competing interests based on the appropriateness of the use in relation to a particular area of the ocean.91 Christie, however, is of the view that although the state’s public trust doctrine does not establish any priorities among conflicting pubis trust users: ‘[T]he additional constitutional requirement to preserve the rights of future generations to marine living resources, however, creates an overreaching limitation on the exercise of public trust uses. The inherent uncertainty in science and variability in ecosystems necessitates measures to insure the intergenerational rights in regard to diversity and quality of, and access to, marine living resources. Marine resources can provide that “insurance policy” for future generations.’92

Finally, there is the question of international trusts as embodied in the United Nations Trusteeship system. The issue of classical trusteeship is only of historical importance at present, since in 1994 the last territory remaining under the Trusteeship System, the Republic of Palau, became independent.93 Redgwell analyses such an option. It must be said, however, that the reforming of the Trusteeship Council as a body with functions relating to the environment, as guardians of the interests of future generations, as well as holder in trust for humanity its common heritage, have not gained much support over the years. There are several problems with such a solution and amendment to the United Nations, and, as Redgwell observes: ‘[A] constellation of issues needs to be considered in redesigning the Trusteeship Council. These include: the intended life-span of a revamp Council; the extent of the Charter amendments proposed; the legal relationship between the Charter, as amended, and existing (and future) international environmental agreements; membership of the Council; and finally its functions.’94

In so far as this is system is concerned, the Case Concerning Certain Phosphate Lands in Nauru 95 will be discussed as it was an example of the practical application of the 91

Ibid., at 432-433.

92

Ibid., at 434.

93

See in depth on this system: Redgwell, supra note 2, at 144-174. In 1994 the Trusteeship System has suspended its operation. See also C. Redgwell, ‘Reforming the United Nations Trusteeship System’, in W. Br. Chambers/J. F. Green (eds.), Reforming International Environmental Governance 178, at 178-204 (2005).

94

Redgwell, supra note 93, at 190.

95

Case Concerning Certain Phosphate Lands in Nauru (Nauru v. Australia). This case was discontinued by the Order of the Court of 13 September 1993, Certain Phosphate Lands in Nauru (Nauru v. Australia), Order of 13 September 1993, 1993 ICJ Rep. 322, at 322-323.

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concepts of international trust with conjunction of intergenerational equity before the International Court of Justice. The doctrine of international custodianship or stewardship over shared and exhaustible natural resources may be treated as a principle analogous to trusteeship, which supports the theory of intergenerational equity.96 Some authors approach stewardship as a form of trusteeship as well as ‘guardianship’ or ‘custodianship’.97 Certain forms of stewardship over natural resources were already proposed in the Bering Sea Fur Seal Arbitration (see above). As Sand reminds us, such concepts were suggested, e.g. for the protection of the living resources both globally or in certain marine areas; global atmosphere, and all global commons, etc.98 According to the same author, the fundamental political dimension of a trusteeship in which people are only guardians and users of the Earth and its resourses and not the owners, and where governments only manage common natural resources, is ‘often neglected in purely juridical comparisons between Anglo-American trust law and other legal systems’. He notes another misguided perception of the use of the term ‘trusteeship’. This term is frequently used as ‘a metaphor’ without any juridical content. He also challenges the widely assumed bilateral structure of the relationship of such a trusteeship; present generations of human kind as a trustee and future generations or ‘future humanity’ as the beneficiaries. According to Sand, such a structure is typically trilateral, i.e. as follows: community as trustee/settlor; States as trustees and people as beneficiaries. Sand himself is mindful of a number of problems, which are still open for discussion, such as what is the community, global or concerning special international regimes; who are trustees, States only and/or intergovernmental institutions acting outside national jurisdiction; who are the people concerned, present and future civil society, or groups or individuals and what is the corpus of the trust, designated resources only or the global commons of the whole environment?99 This is a very original approach to the trusteeship. However, in the view of the present author, some clarification may be required as to a clear distinction between the notions of ‘community’; ‘community of States’ as in Article 53 of the 1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties and ‘people’. Therefore, in order to achieve more clarity, a distinction should be made between these two notions, so as to indicate when and under what conditions people become a ‘community’. Further, Sand presents three options for the creation of an international environmental trust: by a specific trust deed, designating a specific resource to be conserved for a beneficial purpose, such as the listing of protected areas under the World Heritage Convention; by a treaty covering the entire category of trust resources in all members States, such as genetic resources included in Annex I of the FAO Plant 96

Redgwell, supra note 2, at 32.

97

Sand, supra note 87, at 52.

98

Ibid.; Judge Weeramantry in his Separate Opinion in the Gabcikovo-Nagymaros case, used the term ‘a principle of trusteeship of earth resources’, Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros Project (Hungary v. Slovakia), Judgment of 25 September 1997, 1997 ICJ Rep. 88, at 102, 108, 110 (Vice-President Weeramantry, Separate Opinion).

99

Sand, supra note 87, at 55.

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Gene Treaty; and finally, the ‘objective’ extension of a conventional regime, to all States (erga omnes), not only the parties to the treaty by customary law, on the basis of an objective natural criteria of the resource. It would require, according to Sand, some declaratory or customary specification of the international community’s common concern, such as deep seabed under the 1982 Convention, which is common heritage as a form of international trusteeship.100 As stated above, the concepts of trusts in common law formed the basis of Professor Brown Weiss theory of intergenerational equity of which a central feature is the planetary trust. The legal form of such a trust resembles only to a certain degree a charitable trust. For example, it lacks the named beneficiaries and has no time limitations. Planetary trust applies to the present and future generations and is based on the partnership of three generations: past, present and the future. Each generation holds in trust natural resources for future generations. Future generations have a dual role: on the one hand they are the beneficiaries, on the other hand they are the trustees holding the Earth’s natural resources for the generations to come. Intergenerational rights and obligations form a body of the theory of intergenerational equity or justice between generations.101 By invoking justice between generations, Brown Weiss draws from Rawls’ Theory of Justice (see above) 102 and his theory of the original position and the ‘veil of ignorance’. The Brown Weiss model refers to generations and not individuals as in Rawls’ theory. The planetary trust obliges generations to restore depleted resources. The obligations are similar in instances of trustees under private and charitable funds.103

VI.

Application of Intergenerational Equity at the Level of National Courts

The principle of intergenerational equity was once successfully applied in practice, but in conjunction with the right to healthful environment as enshrined in the Constitution of the Philippines in the famous 1993 Minors Oposa claim.104 This case was originally a civil law class action filed in the Philippines by plaintiff minors against the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (the ‘DENR’). The subject-matter of the lawsuit 100

Ibid., at 56.

101

Brown Weiss, supra note 13, at 405-408.

102

See also Barry 1979, supra note 1, at 276.

103

See Redgwell, supra note 2, at 75.

104

Minors Oposa v. Secretary of The Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), Supreme Court of the Philippines, Judgment of 30 July 1993, 33 ILM 173 (1994); on the case see A. de la Viña, ‘The Right to a Sound Environment: The Case of Minors Oposa v. Secretary of Environment and Natural Resources’, 3 Review of European Coummunity and International Environmental Law 246, at 246-252 (1994/IV); A. Rest, ‘Implementing the Principles of Intergenerational Equity and Responsibility’, 26 Environmental Policy and Law 314, at 314-320 (1994); D. Gatmayan, ‘Illusion of Intergenerational Equity: Oposa v. Factoran as Pyrrhic Victory’, 15 Georgetown International Environmental Law Review 457, at 457-486 (2003).

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was the claim to cancel the logging permits issued on basis of the Timber Licensing Agreements (TLAs) and to cease issuing new ones, as they were the reasons of the continued deforestation and remained effective for the period of twenty-five years. The minors argued that they represented themselves as well as unborn generations. The cause of action was the constitutional right of balanced and healthful ecology, as enshrined in the Constitution of the Philippines. It was also argued that the refusal to cancel TLAs was in breach of other environmental laws of the Philippines, such as the Presidential Decree. The plaintiffs argued that the State should protect them in its role of parens patriae. The environmental right was pleaded on behalf of the minors and their successors.105 In 1991, the judge granted the defendant’s motion to dismiss, on the grounds submitted by the defendant that the plaintiffs had no cause of action and the issue was of a political character, which was in the realm of the legislative or executive branches of Government. The most important argument submitted by the judge against the admission of the claim was the issue of the breach of the fundamental constitutional law of non-impairment of contracts in the case of the cancellation of the TLAs. The plaintiffs filed a special civil action for certiorari and requested the Supreme Court rescind the above-mentioned order. The petitioners submitted that TLAs are not contracts and therefore are not eligible for the non-impairment law. The Respondent argued, inter alia, that the petitioners failed to show the specific environmental right and that the cancellation of the TLAs could not be done without a due process of law where each and every holder of the TLA would be heard. The judges of the Supreme Court commented on the novel element of the petition, the representation of the petitioners’ generation and the generations to come. The petitioners’ legal argument to sue on behalf of future generations was based on the concept of intergenerational equity in so far as the right to a healthful environment is concerned. The Court said that ‘[E]ach generation has a responsibility to the next to preserve that rhythm and harmony for the full enjoyment of a balanced and healthful ecology. […] The minors’ assertion of their right to a sound environment, at the same time, performance of their obligation to ensure the protection of that right for the generations to come.’106

The Supreme Court thus was of the view that responsibility toward the posterior generations regarding maintaining an enjoyable ecology and the assertion of the right to clean environment on their behalf, gave the petitioners the locus standi. The Court did not support the Respondents’ argument that the petitioners failed to assert a specific and definite right to be protected. The Supreme Court was of the view that they presented, in a convincing manner, a right to a balanced and healthful ecology by relying on a number of the legal instruments, such as Sections 15 and 16 of Article II of the Constitution, Executive Orders of the Administrative Code. The judges, having analysed these instruments, came to the conclusion that the granting of TLAs is against the duties and functions of the DENR and damaging to the environment 105

Minors Oposa v. Secretary of The Department of Environment and Natural Resources, supra note 104, at 181.

106

Ibid., at 185.

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and against the duty to preserve the environment for future generations. The Court also refused to accept the argument that the question was that of policy formulation, therefore squarely within the remit of the executive and legislative branches. It said that such a stringent view was not acceptable, especially in the light of Section 1 Article VIII of the Constitution, which bestowed on the courts certain powers of scrutiny in relation to settling actual controversies involving rights, which are legally demandable and enforceable. The Supreme Court made further statements as to the rule of nonimpairment of contracts. It noted that the Government cannot be bound indefinitely by TLAs, notwithstanding other circumstances, such as welfare. Further, the Court said that the TLAs are not contracts, but licensing agreements and therefore the nonimpairment clause is not applicable. The case was referred to a court of first instance in order to review all existing TLAs. The judgment of the Supreme Court was subject to several critical comments. First, quite serious critical observations were contained in the Concurring Opinion of Judge Feliciano. So fundamental that in fact his Concurring Opinion resembles a Dissenting Opinion. His observations concern the locus standi that implys a legal interest, which a plaintiff must have in a subject-matter of the suit. In this case, class involves the broadest possible membership as it ‘appears to embrace everyone living in the country whether or now or in the future-it appears to me that everyone who may be expected to benefit from the course of action petitioners seek to require respondents to take, it vested with the necessary locus standi.’107

The Court then appears to recognise a beneficiaries’ right of action, which presupposes the prior exhaustion of local remedies, an issue that was not discussed.108 Judge Feliciano had objections to invoking of the right of balanced and healthful ecology as the ground for this claim. However, it is not specific enough, ‘[I]t is in fact very difficult to fashion language more comprehensive in scope and generalised in character than the right to “a balanced and healthful ecology’’’.109 Therefore the petitioners must show a more specific legal right, which is concrete enough to be violated by actions or failures to act. He was very adamant that such a right should be an operable right, rather then constitutional or statutory policy. Judge Feliciano gave two reasons as to why it should be a detailed right. First, the right should be specific enough to give defendants a possibility to defend themselves effectively (the due process dimension). Second, where the right in question is a broad as this Constitutional right, the courts will be forced into the ‘uncharted ocean of social and economic policy making’.110 The issue of environmental human rights as a policy statement was a subject of many other critical comments. Rest argues that it is only a ‘“reflex-right” of an individual 107

Minors Oposa v. Secretary of The Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), supra note 104, at 200-201 (Judge Feliciano, Concurring Opinion) (emphasis added).

108

Ibid., at 201.

109

Ibid.

110

Ibid., at 205.

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against the State to use its free discretion for reaching the political aims.’111 From this follows only a discretionary power of a competent organ of a State to select the relevant policy in each and every case. This power does not bestow on an individual a specific human right against the authority in question to implement environmental policies. As a result thereof, such rights cannot be used against private third parties.112 The same author mirrors the views of Judge Feliciano that the contents of such a right are too ill-defined and too broad to become operable and justiciable.113 As to the practical result achieved by the Oposa case, it must be stated that it did not bring about the cancellation of any timber license agreement and took three years for the judiciary to deal with this issue-one year in the lower court and two years in the Supreme Court. The Supreme Court did not order the cancellation of TLAs, but as a matter of due process, ordered the case to be remanded for trial with TLAs holders as indispensable parties where evidence must have been shown against each and every TLA holder, while ‘in the meantime, Philippine forests continue to be denuded’.114 Some authors are, however, very critical about the impact of and results achieved by the Oposa case. Gatmayan, argues that ‘Oposa adds barely anything new either to Philippines jurisprudence or to the cause of environmental protection, and that it has faded from the practice of law because it does not strengthen the legal arsenal for environmental protection.’115

The above-mentioned author gives five reasons why this case does not deserve the praise and publicity it received: 1. No TLAs were cancelled, as the petitioners did not pursue the case. 2. The Supreme Court statement as the locus standi to sue for future generations is no binding precedent, as in effect it was an obiter dictum. 3. Even, if ‘standing’ was an issue before the Supreme Court, the case law of the Philippines has assumed a liberal stand in relation to standing to sue. Therefore, the Court, by relying on the case law, could have either reached the decision that there is the children’s standing to sue or waived the requirement completely. The same author observes that even if standing to sue for future generations becomes a standard legal doctrine, it is not guarantied that it will lead to the protection of the environment. The court will have to rule as whether the challenged acts, have a detrimental effect on the environment (in the Oposa case the issuance of TLAs its effect on the right to a healthful environment).116

111

Rest, supra note 104, at 318.

112

Ibid.

113

Ibid.

114

De la Viña, supra note 104, at 250.

115

Gatmayan, supra note 104, at 459.

116

Ibid., at 459-460.

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4. The invocation of the concept of intergenerational equity in the case is in the words of this author are ‘ultimately useless’. The Supreme Court would have decided this case precisely in the same manner had the children filed the case only on their own behalf. Gatmayan explains ‘in cases involving the protection of the environment, the distinction between present and future generations is inconsequential – we cannot protect the rights of future generations without protecting the rights of the present.’117 5. In the particular case of the Philippines, the protection of the rights of future generations was already included in the law and jurisprudence before the entry in force of the 1997 Constitution and the Oposa case.

Gatmayan ultimately sees the value of the case as lying not in the observations of the Supreme Court about the concept of future generations and their standing to sue, but rather in the fact that the Constitutional law to healthful environment proved to be justiciable.118 However, as the situation stands at present, 1.3 hectares of the Philippines woodland are still covered by these agreements. The same author finally notes that this case ultimately became what Mr Oposa hoped to be avoided i.e. pure rhetoric in invoking responsibility for the world’s natural resources towards future generations.119 There are many other instances of the concept of international equity that have been invoked before the Indian and Bangladeshi courts, with very mixed results. As Razzaque observes, Indian courts mentioned this concept very seldom, only in the context of the necessity of preserving the environment for the present and future generations. She refers to cases dealing with areas of reserved forest in which the court decided to base them on the needs of present and future generations and the rational use of natural resources. The notion of equity has been linked with the concept of public trust, as well as with the right of people to enjoy a healthy environment. However, this concept was never applied in Pakistan. In Bangladesh, the courts rejected this concept on the grounds that neither the constitution nor the national legislation of this country specifically mentions it. The famous case of Vellore Citizen’s Welfare Forum refers to the Brundtland Commission’s definition of sustainable development, which included the concept of future generations. In People United for Better Living in Calcutta v. State of West Bengal, the court stated that there is responsibility of the present generation to posterity ‘for their proper growth and development as to allow posterity to breathe normally and live in a cleaner environment and have consequent fuller development’. In the J. Jagannath case, the court dealt with commercial shrimp farming. It stated that a strict environment test is needed before the grant of the permission for such farming in a sensitive coastal area. It said that a compulsory environment impact assessment had to be conducted, which would take into account intergenerational equity and the cost of rehabilitation. As to Bangladesh, Razzaque, writes that the Court 117

Ibid., at 460.

118

Ibid.

119

Ibid., at 485.

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in 1995 and 1996 mentioned intergenerational rights in two cases but did not dwell on their exact legal nature. In M. Farooque v. Bangladesh and Others, the petitioners submitted that they were representatives not only of their own generation but also of the generations to come. The court rejected this argument. The petitioner relied on the Minors Oposa case. The court was of the view that minors had the locus standi before the court in the Philippines, since in the Constitution of the Philippines the right to a balanced and healthful ecology was a fundamental right in this Constitution. In addition, several laws in the Philippines declare that it is the State’s policy to conserve forests of this country for not only the present generations but for the future generations as well. However, the Constitution of Bangladesh does not contain such a right.120

VII. Practical Application of Intergenerational Equity at the International Court Level At the international level, Judge Weeramantry was a prominent advocate of the rights of future generations, such as in the ICJ 1995 Nuclear Test II case.121 He was of the view that the Court ‘must regard itself as a trustee of those (intergenerational rights) in the sense that a domestic court is a trustee of the interests of an infant to speak for itself. If this Court is charged with administering international law, or has already dome so, this principle is one which must inevitably be a concern of this Court. This consideration involved is too serious to be dismissed as lacking in importance merely because there is no precedent on which it rests.’122

The Court as such dealt with this question in the Nuclear Weapons Advisory Opinion, in which it said as follows: ‘[T]he Court recognises that the environment is under threat and that the use of nuclear weapons could constitute a catastrophe for the environment. The Court also recognises that the environment is not an abstraction but represents the living space, the quality of life and very health of human beings, including unborn generations. The existence of the general obligations of States to ensure that their activities within their jurisdiction or control respect the environment of other States or areas beyond national jurisdiction is not part of the corpus of international law relating to the environment (para. 29) […]. The destructive power of nuclear weapons cannot be contained in either space or time. They have potential to destroy all civilisation and the entire ecosystem of the planet […]. Further, the use of nuclear weapons could be a serious danger to future 120

J. Razzaque, ‘Human Rights and the Environment. National Experiences’, 32 Environmental Policy and Law 99, at 105 (2002).

121

Request for an Examination of the Situation in accordance with Paragraph 63 of the Court’s Judgment of 20 December 1974 in the Nuclear Tests Case (New Zealand v. France), Order of 22 September 1995, 1995 ICJ Rep. 317, at 317-362 (Judge Weeramantry, Dissenting Opinion).

122

Ibid., at 317.

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generations. Ionising radiation has the potential to damage the future environment, food marine ecosystem, and to cause genetic effects and illnesses to future generations (para. 55) […] in order correctly to apply to the present Charter law on the use of force and the law applicable in armed conflict, in particular humanitarian law, it is imperative for the Court to take account of the unique characteristics of nuclear weapons, an in particular their destructive capacity, their capacity to cause untold human suffering and their ability to cause damage to generations to come (para.36). However the opinion of the Court raised certain dissatisfaction, as [t]he Court, however, stopped far short of explicitly relying on a principle of intergenerational equity or for recognising explicitly the rights of future generations.’123

Further, future generations are mentioned in the 1997 Gabcikovo-Nagymaros Project.124 The Court said as follows: ‘It is clear that the Project’s impact upon, and its implications for, the environment are of necessity a key issue. The numerous scientific reports which have been presented to the Court by the Parties — even if their conclusions are often contradictory — provide abundant evidence that this impact and these implications are considerable. In order to evaluate the environmental risks, current standards must be taken into consideration. This is not only allowed by the wording of Articles 15 and 19, but even prescribed, to the extent that these articles impose a continuing — and thus necessarily evolving — obligation on the parties to maintain the quality of the water of the Danube and to protect nature. The Court is mindful that, in the field of environmental protection, vigilance and prevention are required on account of the often irreversible character of damage to the environment and of the limitations inherent in the very mechanism of reparation of this type of damage. Throughout the ages, mankind has, for economic and other reasons, constantly interfered with nature. In the past, this was often done without consideration of the effects upon the environment. Owing to new scientific insights and to a growing awareness of the risks for mankind — for present and future generations — of pursuit of such interventions at an unconsidered and unabated pace, new norms and standards have been developed, set forth in a great number of instruments during the last two decades. Such new norms have to be taken into consideration, and such new standards given proper weight, not only when States contemplate new activities but also when continuing with activities begun in the past. This need to reconcile economic development with protection of the environment is aptly expressed in the concept of sustainable development. For the purposes of the present case, this means that the Parties together should look afresh at the effects on the environment of the operation of the Gabcíkovo power plant.

123

E. Brown Weiss, ‘Opening Doors to the Environment and to Future Generations’, in L. de Chauzournes/P. Sands (eds.), International Law, International Court of Justice and Nuclear Weapons 338, at 349-350 (1999).

124

Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros Project (Hungary v. Slovakia), Judgment of 25 September 1997, 1997 ICJ Rep. 7, at 77-78, para. 140.

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In particular they must find a satisfactory solution for the volume of water to be released into the old bed of the Danube and into the side-arms on both sides of the river.’

The Court’s invocation of the concept of intergenerational equity appears to be confined only in considering it as one of the factors to be taken into account in relation to environmental issues. This concept certainly does not emerge as a decisive element in the ICJ’s jurisprudence. The lack of possibility to invoke this concept before courts and tribunals makes it rather impractical, and even, as Professor Boyle described it, ‘widely unrealistic’.125 In his many Individual Opinions, Judge Weeramantry was a great supporter of the rights of future generations. For example in the above-described Advisory Opinion on the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, one of the arguments against the use of nuclear weapons was damage to future generations, which in fact was closely related to damage to the environment. He wrote: ‘The effects upon the eco-system extend, for practical purposes, beyond the limits of all foreseeable historical time. The half-life of one of the by-products of nuclear explosion – plutonium 239-is over twenty-thousand years. With a major nuclear exchange it would require several of these “half-life”-periods before the residuary radioactivity becomes minimal […]. At any level of discourse, it would be safe to pronounce that no generation is entitled, for whatever purpose, to inflict such damage on succeeding generations. The Court as the principal organ of the United Nations, empowered to state and apply international law with an authority to match by no other tribunal must, in its jurisprudence, pay due recognition to rights of future generations. If there is any tribunal than can recognise and protect their interests under the law, it is this Court. It is to be noted in this context that the rights of future generations have passed the stage when they where merely an embryonic rights struggling for recognition. They have woven themselves into international law through major treaties, through juristic opinion and through general principles of law recognised by civilised nations […]. All of these expressly incorporate the principle of protecting the natural environment for future generations, and elevate the concept to the level of binding state obligation.’126

This statement by Judge Weeramantry will be commented upon below. Judge Weeramantry has proven to be a staunch supporter of the Court regarding its role towards the future generations and in particular its role as the trustee of future generations. Apart from the critical comments relating to the philosophical foundations of her theory (see above), practical difficulties are encountered in so far as the questions of implementation or enforcement are concerned. Brown Weiss relies on parallels 125

A. E. Boyle, ‘Review of the Book of Brown Weiss’, 40 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 230, at 230 (1991).

126

Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, Advisory Opinion of 8 July 1996, 1996 ICJ Rep. 429, at 492 et seq. He gives numerous examples of the treaties, which have an element of ‘future generations’ included, such as the 1972 Convention on the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping of Wastes and Other Matter (London Convention), 11 ILM 1294 (1972); the 1973 Washington Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Fauna and Flora (CITES), 12 ILM 1085; and the 1972 UNESCO Convention Concerning the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage, 11 ILM 1358 (1972).

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with national institutions in these matters, a methodological approach which as a matter of principle often lends itself to serious criticism. She particularly favours the appointment of an ombudsman, who would represent future generations in international negotiations, as well as in the proceedings before the Court in the case of breach of trust. However, the role of a negotiator for future generations in such an international context appeared to be widely assumed as impractical.127 It is rather difficult to envisage that such an ombudsman would have a strong negotiating position faced with frequently insurmountable difficulties concerning negotiations of international environmental agreements on present issues and various often irreconcilable differences. The standing of such an ombudsman representing unborn generations in judicial proceedings is somewhat dubious as well. In general, the legal position of unborn generations is very controversial. As clearly evidenced by the Oposa case, certain legal issues identified by Judge Feliciano remain unresolved, such as the locus standi of unborn generations, the problem of legal interest and the cause of action. As pointed out above, the Nauru case is an example of the presence of both elements of the Brown Weiss’s theory, i.e. corrective and distributive justice (intergenerational justice and trust). The Trusteeship Agreement for the Territory of Nauru was approved by the General Assembly in 1947. The key provision of this Agreement in Article 3 was to impose of the Administering Committee an obligation to administer in such a way as to achieve a basic objective of the International Trusteeship system, as set out in Article 76 of the UN Charter. Article 5 of the Agreement made direct reference to present and future generations of Nauru:128 ‘The Administering Authority undertakes that in the discharge of its obligations under Article 3 of this Agreement […] it will, in accordance with its established policy: (a) take into consideration the customs and usages of the inhabitants of Nauru and respect the rights and safeguard the interests, both present and future, of the indigenous inhabitants of the Territory; and in particular ensure that no rights over the native land in favour of any person not an indigenous inhabitant of Nauru may be created or transferred except with the consent of the competent public authority.’129

127

See, e.g., P. W. Birnie, ‘International Environmental Law; Its Adequacy for Present and Future Needs’, in A. Hurrell/B. Kingsbury (eds.), The International Politics of the Environment: Actors, Interests and Institutions 51, at 72 (1992).

128

As noted above, the nature of the trusteeship agreement was already analysed by Regdwell. Suffice it to say that as observed in the Memorial presented on behalf on Nauru, ‘[…] [t]here can be no doubt that the principle established during the United Nations Conference on International Organisation, and embodied in Article 76 of the Charter, was based on the broad concept of trusteeship reflecting the general institutions of guardianship and curatorship.’

Case Concerning Certain Phosphate Lands in Nauru (Nauru v. Australia), Merits, Memorial of the Republic of Nauru of 20 March 1990, para. 263. 129

Ibid., para. 394.

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We may say that the alleged depletion of natural resources of Nauru, interfered with rights of future generations. Hence, ‘the resources were there, but as a result of a deliberate policy the were not made available, and consequently the advances made, for example in education, were not related to the legal entitlement of the Nauruan community to access to the financial benefits of the phosphate industry. Political and economic advancement would have provided access to those benefits and a proportionate increase in expenditure on education and other services.’130 131

The case involved indeed many issues, which have a bearing on generations to come, such as special funds established to secure the rights of present and future generations of Nauruan peoples. These funds were as follows: 1. for the resettlement of the Nauruan population; 2. for the royalties paid to the long-term trust funds; 3. for the transfer of the phosphate operation; and 4. for the rehabilitation of the worked-out land.132 Trust funds provided for under the Trusteeship Agreement were meant to secure the future ‘in terms of foreseeable long-term needs’133, while according to Brown Weiss theory, all arrangements were made applicable to the abstract future generations, not defined by or confined to any time parameters. As Mr Keke said during oral pleadings: ‘[A]ll this clearly shows how vital a role income from phosphate plays in the current and future requirements of the Nauruan economy’134 and that ‘Nauruans are very much attached to their lands. Their customary law determines the nature and extent of land rights and their transmission upon the death of a landowner. Even the extent of which is fully recognized in the courts. Ownership to land and ownership to phosphate are indivisible and indistinguishable. To an ordinary 130

Ibid., para. 393.

131

Ibid.

132

Case Concerning Certain Phosphate Lands in Nauru (Nauru v. Australia), Oral Proceedings, Preliminary Objections, Public sitting held on Monday 11 November 1991, at 10 a.m., at the Peace Palace, President Sir Robert Jennings presiding, CR1991/15, Oral pleadings of Mr Arechaga, at 36-37; text available at http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/80/5769.pdf (last visited 6 December 2007).

133

Nauru v. Australia, Memorial of the Republic of Nauru, supra note 128, para. 371.

134

Case Concerning Certain Phosphate Lands in Nauru (Nauru v. Australia), Preliminary Objections, Oral Arguments on the Preliminary Objections, Public sitting held on Friday 15 November 1991, at 10 a.m., at the Peace Palace, President Sir Robert Jennings presiding, CR1991/18, Oral pleadings of Mr Keke at 21.

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Nauruan, income from phosphate is part and parcel of the land, as it arises from the land. In the same sense, the funds held by the Nauru Phosphate Royalties Trust are closely intertwined with this concept of ownership to phosphate land.’135

However, exploitations of phosphates resulted in environmental and land degradation, which again has an impact on future generations. Therefore, an introduction of the rehabilitation process (the establishment of the Rehabilitation Fund) was necessary, which was one of the contentious issues in this case. In fact, it was noted in the Applicant’s Memorial that ‘Given the extremely recalcitrant environment created by phosphate mining in Nauru, the extensive character of the mining, the fact that the homeland of the indigenous people of Nauru has been threatened in terms of its physical integrity, and the fact that the Nauruans have a very strong sense of national identity, the failure to make provisions for rehabilitation represents at once a serious affront to the vital interests of Nauru, a major drawback to the condition of independent statehood, and also a threat to the future economic needs of the people of Nauru. Consequently, the context of phosphate mining is not comparable with the normal context of the rehabilitation of land affected by mining operations.’136

However, the standing of future generations before the International Court of Justice poses the same unresolved problems as the standing before the national courts (as evidenced by the Minors Oposa case). There are several legal issues that constitute a serious obstacle for the practical application of this concept. On what legal grounds can interests of unborn generations be claimed? Is it in the form of surrogates who represent future interests in negotiations or perhaps is it trustees with the locus standi to represent the interests of future generations in judicial proceedings?137 Standing of trustees, it has been suggested, may be based on the actio popularis or on the obligations erga omnes. The difficulties, however, with this basis for standing in judicial proceedings, at least before the ICJ, are at the moment impossible to circumvent. This concept does not only suffer from seemingly insurmountable procedural problems, but it also lacks a clear normative content. As Lowe observes, the ensuing duty of States to preserve the environment for future generations is also very fuzzy and lacking in ways in which duties would be distributed between States in a manner, which would secure the interests of future generations equally in all States. At present, international law does not have such a suitable mechanism to accommodate such claims.

135

Ibid., at 22.

136

Nauru v. Australia, Memorial of the Republic of Nauru, supra note 128, para. 489.

137

J. C. Wood, ‘Intergenerational Equity and Climate Change’, 8 The Georgetown International Environmental Law Review 297, at 302-303 (1996); see similarly V. Lowe, who says as follows: ‘But the implications of trusteeship have not been drawn out. Who are the beneficiaries? What are their rights of action? What are the duties of the trustees?’ V. Lowe, supra note 67, at 27.

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VIII. Conclusions The present essay examined the issues of intergenerational equity in light of recent developments. As presented above, the issue of the existence of the rights of future generations is not at all clear and remains an unsettled question both in philosophy and international law. It may be mentioned that at the national level many recent Constitutions such as the Constutution of Poland, invoke future generations in its part on general foundational principles of the State. However, such a mentioning of the future generations has very little effect on asserting the rights of future generations in the legislative process and practice. More far-reaching is the solution adopted in Israel where the Commission on Future Generations forms the part of the Knesset and has the power to review all proposed law from the point of view of future generations. It must be noted, however, that the Commission’s role and functioning is also not without doubts. Therefore, this theory will perhaps remain a noble attempt to accommodate future generations regarding environmental protection and generally to secure the Earth. However, from a legal point of view, doubts remain whether such a theory is a workable and practical proposition.

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12

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Democratization: Supply-Stimulated or Demand-Induced? Rein Müllerson

I.

Introduction

The turn of the Millennium has brought about the acceleration of processes of globalisation that for the first time have covered practically the whole world. Essential parts of these processes have been the spread of principles of market economy (often by means of ‘shock therapy’ and in the form of free markets as expounded by the Chicago School of Milton Friedman) and ideas of democracy for which there has been both demand from the East as well as supply from the West.

II.

Prospects and Limits of the Post-Cold War Western Triumph

The end of the Cold War signified indeed a triumph of the Western style democracy and market economy over the Soviet version of communism. The Western world had shown not only that its values corresponded more to the aspirations of most people than the Soviet imposed value system. It also did prove the much greater effectiveness of the market economy over centrally planned economy. Of course, the more pragmatic Chinese communists had understood it under Deng Xiaoping a decade earlier when they started to reform their economy. Therefore, it may have indeed seemed that at the end of the twentieth century, as Francis Fukuyama then believed, only one of the two major competitors had stayed in the ring.1 It seemed that the world, while naturally remaining heterogeneous in many respects, was becoming in some important ways more and more homogeneous. A liberal-democratic future of the world seemed, for a while and for some, possible. Although new states of the former Soviet Empire were indeed in need of both free markets and democracy, there was a lot of idealism (even naivety) and hypocrisy (even cynicism) both at the export and import ends of the process. The introduction of markets, usually carried out by means of ‘shock therapy’ prescribed by Friedmanite Chicago school freemarketeers, often clashed with principles of democracy and the latter always had to give way. Hard matter prevailed over soft values. The spread of market economy and democracy – the concepts that are considered by many to be something as obvious as god, motherhood and apple-pie – in practice 1

F. Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man (1992).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 231-268, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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often turns out to be a mixed blessing. If planned economy of the Soviet type indeed left everybody and society as a whole poor and market freedoms may indeed be one of the preconditions for political freedoms, shock introduction of unbridled markets makes a few extremely rich while many become even poorer than they were under the old system. As one of the central tenets of democracy, with some important qualifications of course, is that many count more than a few, it should be clear that economic ‘shock therapy’ and democracy are incompatible. Cambridge economist Ha-Joon Chang goes even further writing that ‘[f]ree market and democracy are not natural partners’2, though it has to be emphasised that Professor Chang is not speaking of ‘market economy’, but of ‘free market’ or rather ‘unbridled market’, as advocated by Milton Friedman and his followers. Although nobody should ideally suffer from the spread of democracy, which even more than market economy seems to be a universal value, its promotion in practice does not always bring about general happiness. On the contrary, some societies may greatly suffer not only from inadequate methods of promotion of democracy but also from the failure to understand that a remedy that cures one patient may kill another. Moreover, though only few of those who are involved in the business of exporting democracy are driven primarily by altruistic concerns (still, mixed motives should not necessarily discredit positive achievements, even if they come about as a side-effects), quite a few of exporters of democracy have in mind completely different considerations such as oil, gas, war against terror and strategic advantages and do not give a damn about democracy. In parts of the former Soviet Empire (both the internal empire, i.e. the Union of the Soviet Socialist Republics – USSR, and the external one that included those nations that were de jure independent but de facto tightly controlled by the Kremlin), there was indeed quite a widespread desire to accept many Western values, despite the fact that there was not much understanding what these values exactly meant. Some of the newly born countries had before had a short encounter with these values; they were also seen as being opposite to the imposed and hated Soviet ideals. Yet, soon quite a few started to miss the benefits of the latter (e.g., free health care and education). However, when one changes the whole system one is often forced to accept not only advantageous but also undesirable aspects of the new system; a choose-and-pick approach is not always possible. Other parts of the former Soviet Empire initially also went along with the general trend of democratisation though in many cases there was more hypocrisy or naivety (sometimes a combination of both) than genuine desire or understanding of democratic values and institutions, though it is necessary to admit that in different proportions such a combination has been present in all post-communist countries. A mixture of idealism that often equals to naivety and hypocrisy that may sometimes even have positive consequences (due to the so-called ‘hypocrisy trap’) seems to be present in all societies undergoing radical reforms (so-called ‘transitional societies’). Pressure of various international bodies, Western governments and non-governmental or 2

H.-J. Chang, Bad Samaritans. Rich Nations, Poor Policies & the Threat to the Developing World 18 (2007).

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ganisations (NGOs) often led to formal acceptance of concepts and legally binding obligations that did not correspond to local realities and therefore had few chances of implementation in practice. Processes of globalisation in the post-Cold War World, which were welcomed by most world leaders, interests of Western, especially US-American, capital and the popularity of democratic peace theories led to efforts to spread democracy not only to all fragments of the Soviet Empire, but to other parts of the world as well, including countries such as Afghanistan, Iraq and the Greater Middle East as a whole. Western countries, first of all Washington, but also the European Union, its member-states and other European institutions (OSCE) started to implement various programmes of democracy promotion. It was often done without any serious discussion of the readiness of different societies to accept these concepts; even as if it would have been politically incorrect to question the readiness of some societies for democracy. As with some ‘importers’ of democracy, ‘exporters’ also had mixed motives and sometimes rather naïve understanding of what democracy would mean in specific contexts of these far-away societies. Idealism that often equals to naivety and hypocrisy that sometimes has to pay homage to virtue together with pragmatic approaches are all present in the export-import business of democracy. Naïve and hypocritical approaches to democracy promotion, especially when objectives of a naïve and a hypocrite coincide or when an apparently improbable mixture of naivety and hypocrisy is found in a decision-maker, are no less dangerous than thoughtless experiments with markets and economic ‘shock therapy’. They have not only wreaked havoc in some countries but today they are contributing, as an ideological cocoon of economic and strategic interests, to the emergence of a new great power confrontation where an ‘arc of democracies’3 may face a circle, or some other configuration, of authoritarian powers. Today, it is clear that the end of history is not at the horizon. These are not only so-called new and non-traditional threats such as global warming, religiously inspired terrorism or spread of WMD that are challenging the world community of states. Unfortunately, at the horizon are also already visible the contours of a new great power confrontation. The post-Cold War experience has shown that pushing aggressively for a change in other societies is as dangerous and counterproductive as rejecting necessary changes which are called for by the people at home. Outside pressure for democratisation may indeed effect positive transformations, but usually in small countries, and even then only when there is a confluence of favourable conditions. In their foreign policy such states practice bandwagoning, i.e. they are prone to join stronger and more prosperous actors, accepting to a great extent also their ways of life. Big countries that due to their history, potential and size have great power

3

For example, The Economist notes that the ‘hawkish’ former Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe ‘[…] espoused a sweeping “arc of freedom and prosperity” that was supposed to ancer Japan in a Eurasian community of democratic nations but was in practice a not particularly subtle attempt to throw a cordon around a rising China […]’, ‘The Return of the Fukuda Doctrine’, The Economist, 15-21 December 2007, at 72. Such a theme is a constant topic of American neocons.

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ambitions, on the contrary, resort to balancing, i.e. their response to outside pressure is usually defiance and internal consolidation against external challenges. Conflicts of interests, especially between great powers, are inevitable in a world of limited resources. However, differently from the Cold War confrontation, there is much less ideology in today’s great power disagreements and in order not to aggravate emerging rivalry, it is necessary not to burden real and often inevitable conflicts of interests with ideological motives. What made the Cold War so special and also dangerous was its ideological component. Therefore, while continuing to promote values such as democracy and human rights, it is necessary, first, to avoid as far as possible discrediting these noble aims by using them as a cover for mundane economic, political or strategic interests (i.e. for politicians it is necessary not to be too hypocritical, and for the rest to learn to see behind the words, not to be too naïve); second, not to think that democracy and human rights are like mechanical tools that work everywhere (to be realistic and pragmatic); and third, not to have trust in those dictators and autocrats who either claim that they have already brought a haven of democracy to their people or who refer to historical and religious traditions of their nations in order to delay responses to calls from their people for democracy and human rights. Not every Western politician who speaks of democracy in far-away places is necessarily a hypocrite; not every human right activist who claims to know a remedy for a dire human rights situation in a distant country is inevitably ignorant or naïve; not even every autocrat who claims to have the support of the population is to be automatically considered wrong. However, it is always safer to doubt and double-check; in matters where practical interests and ideology intermingle one can never be sure. A new era of great power confrontation – though quite probable – is neither desirable nor inevitable. To avoid slipping into a new cold war it is necessary to separate the wheat from the chaff. It is necessary to accept differences of domestic arrangements and values that usually result from long historical evolution of societies, levels of their development as well as diversity of pragmatic interests. Here we need not only good faith but also good understanding of inevitability of diversity that, especially for a Western mind, schooled in the Enlightenment’s idea of universality of reason and values, is especially difficult to accept (there are many who think that what works in America should work everywhere and what is good for America should be good for the world). At the same time, let us not forget that naivety and especially hypocrisy are not only the tools of exporters of democracy but also those who are at the importing end of the process. There are populist dictators who suppress popular demands for democracy, thereby destroying their countries. Although there is a lot of truth in the saying that peoples deserve their rulers,4 there are quite a few of them under whom no people should suffer. It is necessary to confront such dictators, though even in such 4

Thomas Friedman once put one of the most pertinent questions concerning democratization of some societies, though he himself either did not know the answer or did not dare to formulate one. He asked: ‘Was Iraq the way Iraq was because Saddam was the way Saddam was, or was Saddam the way Saddam was because Iraq was the way Iraq was?’, T. L. Friedman, ‘The big question’, The International Herald Tribune, 4-5 March 2006, at 6. In some societies, unfortunately, a short, or even middle, term choice would be between a secular dictatorship,

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cases one must not lose sight of the necessity of choosing remedies that do not make the illness worse or even kill the patient. Finally, let us always try to see through the words. Words, be they concepts, doctrines or laws, may indeed reflect values that are universal or that, at least in principle, are universalisable, but they may also be used, either deliberately or mistakenly, to pass parochial ideas for universal values. Already in the 1920s Carl Schmitt incisively wrote: ‘When a state fights its political enemy in the name of humanity, it is not a war for the sake of humanity, but a war wherein a particular state seeks to usurp a universal concept against its military opponent. […] The concept of humanity is an especially useful ideological instrument of imperialist expansion, and in its ethical-humanitarian form it is a specific vehicle of economic imperialism. Here one is reminded of a somewhat modified expression of Proudhon’s: whoever invokes humanity wants to cheat.’5

Schmitt’s controversial political affiliations should not diminish the topicality of his insights. If this all sounds too Machiavellian, it is only due to the subject-matter – politics, especially in its international dimension. In world politics, Machiavellian answers are preferable to Pollyannaish recipes because of the nature of the phenomena we are dealing with. Pragmatism enlightened by idealism (or idealism moderated by pragmatism) that sees through hypocrisy and naivety is the best tool for understanding our imperfect but somewhat perfectible world.

III.

A Family Portrait of Democracy

What is this export-import item that has become such a hot issue since the Cold War and the bi-polar world came to an end? Although politicians, statesmen and academics continue to argue over the meaning, definition and models of democracy, very few of them would today proudly claim that they are not democrats or that they consider democracy unacceptable for their societies not only for the time being but also forever. Of course, there is often a lot of hypocrisy in pro-democratic declarations and statements as well as genuine misunderstanding of what democracy means, though the latter, due to the elusiveness of the subject matter, should not be so surprising. There probably cannot be any definitive answer to the question as to what democracy is since, as the French philosopher Pierre Rosanvallon emphasized, ‘democratic life is not one of distance from some pre-existing ideal model but one of the exploration of a problem to be resolved’.6 religious totalitarianism and anarchy or civil war. In such a case the best scenario may well be an ‘enlightened dictatorship’ (a rare breed indeed) that could gradually open up the way for democracy. 5

C. Schmitt, The Concept of the Political 54 (1995).

6

P. Rosanvallon, Democracy Past and Future 46-47 (2006).

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Be it as it may, today a few would publicly agree with the greatest Greek philosopher who considered democracy as a corrupt and unjust form of government, as a rule of the mob.7 Therefore, today the issue is not so much whether democracy is, in principle, preferable to other forms of government. One of the most serious practical as well as theoretical problems in this field is: how to get there, how to transform a non-democratic society into a democratic one? This problem may be divided into sub-questions such as: are all societies indeed ready for democracy; are those who oppose dictators and therefore use all the correct words when criticizing them, necessarily democrats (as is too often assumed); are not methods to promote democracy sometimes worse than the absence of democracy; and what may happen if democracy is brought, either through an internal popular demand or due to external pressure or by means of a combination of the both, to a society that is not ready for it? In this article I will try to reflect on possible answers to these questions based, to a great extent, on recent developments in the former USSR and specifically in Central Asia, though I am naturally borrowing from the wisdom of other writers as well as drawing parallels with other regions. When we speak of democracy we must try not only to define what we are talking about, i.e. try to explain what we mean by democracy, but we also need to put this phenomenon into its proper context. This, among other things, requires us to compare democracy with other closely related phenomena such as human rights, liberalism, rule of law, good governance and modernisation. In some cases democracy may be part of these phenomena, in other cases it may be a precondition for their development, or vice versa, it may be a result of the advance of these other phenomena. Although it is difficult to give one widely acceptable definition of democracy, this phenomenon can be recognised by using the concept of Wittgensteinian family resemblances. There are some traits that all democracies, though in different degrees, have in common. What are these features that allow us to include some states into the category of democracies, other states into the category of non-democracies, whereas there may be grey zones with some vaguely discernable family features while other features clearly do not fit in? Democracy is such a political system, such an organisation of a society, where those who govern do so for, with the consent of, and with regular consultation of the governed. It is governance by the people and for the people. David Held defines democracy as ‘a form of government in which, in contradistinction to monarchies and aristocracies, the people rule’.8 Charles Tilly considers that ‘a regime is democratic to the degree that political relations between the state and its citizens feature broad, equal, protected and mutually binding consultation’.9 Depending on various characteristics used by different writers, one may distinguish, for example, between direct and representative democracy. The notion of deliberative (or discursive, communicative) democracy is closely associated with works of Jürgen Habermas10 and even its partial implementation presumes 7

Plato, Republic 293-301 (1993).

8

D. Held, Models of Democracy 1 (2006).

9

C. Tilly, Democracy 14 (2007).

10

Jürgen Habermas gives a much fuller definition of the democratic principle when he writes that ‘[…] the principle that all “governmental authority derives from the people” must be specified

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high levels of institutional development of the state, and even more importantly, highly developed political culture of the population that has internalized liberal-democratic values. Today this concept, or rather most of its elements, can be realised in practice only in highly developed societies. Although the term liberal democracy has been already used for long, only recently its logical opposite – illiberal democracy – has been introduced into academic discourse.11 Sometimes democracy is not only understood as liberal democracy only, but it is even equated with liberalism. For example, when Hong Kong – a British colony – in 1997 was handed over to China The Washington Post published an editorial entitled ‘Undoing Hong Kong’s Democracy’.12 However, there had been no democracy in Hong Kong under the British rule, though the population enjoyed considerable economic and even rather wide personal liberties all granted by London. The people of Hong Kong had all the bread and butter but did not have any say (and until facing the hand-over to the PRC did not even actively claim it) in how to arrange their life. This example shows that there may be quite wide liberties, especially economic and civil (personal) liberties, without political freedoms and democracy. As Jürgen Habermas notes, ‘only the rights of political participation ground the citizen’s reflexive, self-referential legal standing. Negative liberties and social entitlements, on the contrary, can be paternalistically bestowed. In principle, the constitutional state and the welfare state can be implemented without democracy’.13 Although democracy and liberalism are not to be mixed (often they may indeed clash) they are nevertheless, using the expression of Immanuel Wallerstein, in the frères – ennemis relationship.14 They usually support each other and create conditions advantageous for each other’s development, but at the same time they also put limits to each other’s flourishing. If we take the famous trinity of the French Revolution: liberté, égalité and fraternité, we may say that liberté is the essence of liberalism and as such it is in a relationship of fraternité with individualism. At the same time, égalité, which is the essence of democracy, comes very often into conflict with liberté. Wallerstein writes ‘that liberals give priority to liberty, meaning individual liberty, and that democrats (or socialists) give priority to equality. […] Liberals do not merely give priority to liberty; they are opposed to equality, because they are strongly opposed to any concept measured by outcome, which is the only way the concept of equality is meaningful’.15 according to circumstances in the form of freedoms of opinion and information; the freedoms of assembly and association; the freedoms of belief, conscience, and religious confession; entitlements to participate in political elections and voting processes; entitlements to work in political parties or citizens […] movements, and so forth […].’, J. Habermas, Between Facts and Norms, Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and Democracy 128 (1996). 11

F. Zakaria, The Future of Freedom. Illiberal Democracy at Home and Abroad (2003).

12

‘Undoing Hong Kong’s Democracy’, The Washington Post, 8 September 1997, at A16.

13

J. Habermas, Between Facts and Norms, Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and Democracy 78 (1996).

14

I. Wallerstein, ‘Liberalism and Democracy: Frères – Ennemis’, http://fbc.binghampton.edu/ iwfrenn.htm.

15

Ibid.

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Jacques Barzun observes that ‘[t]he strong current toward greater equality and the strong desire for greater freedom are more than ever in conflict. Freedom calls for a government that governs least; equality for a government that governs most’.16 At the same time, Robert Dahl observes that ‘one of the most important reasons for preferring democratic government is that it can achieve political equality among citizens to a much greater extent than any feasible alternative’.17 Does this mean that the more democracy there is, the less liberties remain? Not necessarily, of course. Only by absolutizing the importance of equality over liberty or vice versa can one come to the conclusion that one negates the other. The case of Hong Kong is, of course, a bit exceptional but enlightened autocrats like Lee Kwan Yew or Mohamad Mahatir may indeed grant significant economic and personal liberties to their people, while leaders who come to power through more or less free and fair elections sometimes resort to repression against their political opponents and stifle entrepreneurship (e.g., in Belarus under President Lukashenka). However, Zakaria’s use of the term ‘illiberal democracy’ somewhat misses the point since such ‘democracies’ have not only deficit of liberalism, i.e. lack or severe limitation of personal freedoms, but also democracy deficit, though certain formal attributes of democracy such as regular elections are present. It may well be true that some societies may benefit from enlightened authoritarianism; in that respect Singapore and Malaysia may arguably serve as examples, and Kazakhstan in Central Asia has similar claims, though a caveat is necessary – reliance on autocrats, even if enlightened, is a risky business; moreover, for one Lee Kwan Yew or Mahatir there are usually dozens of Mobutus or Mugabes. At the same time, it would be useful to recall that before Athens became democratic, there was enlightened autocrat Solon whose reforms, in a way, paved the way for further reforms that later led to the emergence of Athenian democracy. The point I would like to make is that while one cannot rely on autocrats gradually leading their peoples towards greater freedoms, one cannot either completely reject such possibilities. And this is what some would call a schizophrenic situation, especially for lawyers. Every situation has to be assessed on its own merits and principles and rules can serve, at best, only as flexible guidelines. Often democracy is identified through elections. Some, what I would call, extreme formalistic or superficial approaches to democracy even claim that governments produced by elections may be inefficient, corrupt, shortsighted, irresponsible, dominated by special interest, and incapable of adopting policies necessary for the benefit of the public are nevertheless democracies.18 To equate democracy with one, though important but relatively technical, aspect of it would make a mockery of this noble idea. To call, for example, the current governments of Iraq and Afghanistan democratic means that, for the sake of political expediency, we use words in such a general way that they lose 16

J. Barsun, ‘Is Democratic Theory for Export?’, Sixth Morgenthau Memorial Lecture on Ethics & Foreign Policy 25-26 (1986).

17

R. Dahl, On Democracy 56 (1998).

18

S. Huntington, The Third Wave: Democratization in the Late Twentieth Century (1993); F. Zakaria, ‘The Rise of Illiberal Democracy’, 76 Foreign Affairs (1997).

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any meaning. As these governments were selected through elections that could be held only due to efforts of external forces, they lack internal democratic legitimacy. External legitimization of a government may be often important but without domestic legitimacy it can hardly be called democratic. Does democracy necessarily presume free and fair elections based on the one man, one vote principle? It certainly follows from Article 25 of The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which provides for the right of every citizen ‘to vote and to be elected at genuine periodic elections which shall be by universal and equal suffrage and shall be held by secret ballot, guaranteeing the free expression of the will of the electors’. It seems pretty certain that in today’s world the requirement of free and fair elections is one of the attributes of mature democracy but this does not necessarily mean that it is the sufficient or even absolutely necessary condition. Other forms of consultation may be used to discover the public opinion and the consent of the governed could also be expressed through other means. If the authorities in their policies do not ignore what the public wants and enjoy the consent of the governed, it is difficult to deny that there are elements of democracy in such a society even if their elections do not correspond to the Western standards, though in such cases we could hardly speak of mature or liberal democracy. Such governments are sometimes called populist regimes, but as Lord Dahrendorf has noted, ‘one man’s populism is another’s democracy and vice versa’.19 Populists are democrats whose policies or personality one does not like, and vice versa, populists who are of one’s liking are called democrats. On a more serious note, democrats, i.e. politicians who have come to power through democratic procedures and who are not going to abolish democracy (using, for example, the ‘one-man-one-vote-once’ system), may well use populist policies, like Juan Peron of Argentina or Hugo Chavez of Venezuela. However, as democratically elected leaders have to please their electorate, populism is never completely absent from democratic politics. Although elections, per se, do not make a country democratic and there may be elements of democracy in societies whose practices do not conform with requirements of Article 25 of the ICCPR, it is impossible in the twenty first century to speak of democracy in the country that does not hold regular elections. For example, in an article titled ‘No elections, no democracy’, published in a local Beijing newspaper, Wang Changjiang – a scholar from the Central Party School in Beijing – writes that though we must not take elections as a miraculous cure for solving all problems of political democracy, they are ‘an indispensable part of democracy’.20 General Comments of the Human Rights Committee on Article 25 also emphasize that ‘genuine periodic elections in accordance with paragraph (b) are essential to ensure the accountability of representatives for the exercise of the legislative or executive powers vested in them’.21 Although the General Comment underlines that citizen’s participation in the conduct of public affairs is 19

R. Dahrendorf, ‘Acht Ammerkungen zum Populismus’, 25 Transit-Europäische Revue 156 (2003).

20

W. Changjiang, ‘No elections, no democracy’, China Elections & Governance, http://www. china eletions.org (last visited 10 February 2006).

21

Human Rights Committee, General Comment 25, para 8, http://www.unhchr.ch/tbs/doc.nsf.

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‘supported by ensuring freedom of expression, assembly and association’, it does not require the existence of multi-party system. If we compare democracy with human rights we see that so-called political rights, as they are enshrined, for example, in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights or the International Covenant of Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) are rights close to the essence of democracy. Article 25 of the ICCPR provides that ‘[e]very citizen shall have the right and the opportunity [sic, emphasis added], without any of the distinctions mentioned in article 2 and without unreasonable restrictions: (a) To take part in the conduct of public affairs, directly or through freely chosen representatives; (b) To vote and to be elected at genuine periodic elections which shall be by universal and equal suffrage and shall be held by secret ballot, guaranteeing the free expression of the will of the electors; (c) To have access, on general terms of equality, to public service in his country. Therefore, Professor Thomas Franck was not far from the truth (though this truth is normative, even a bit hypocritical, if there can such a thing in parallel with absolute or relative truths) when in 1990 he wrote of the emergance of the right to democratic governance.22 However, as with some other human rights, this right seems hardly be universal; its content is too general and its practical implementation not general enough. As there are many models or forms of democracy, it is important to somehow limit the use of this term, i.e. it is necessary also to say what democracy certainly is not. That, however, is easier said than done. It is, of course, possible, to use the old method and say that ‘I know it when I see it’. According to this method, say, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) would not be a democracy, however loose definition one may use. But what about the People’s Republic of China or the Russian Federation? Are they democracies? Of course, there are those who have very clear, though obviously radically opposite, answers to these questions, but in an academic discourse that has to be as impartial as possible, I would prefer to follow the formula: the more I know, the less certain I am, and therefore I would not jump to hasty conclusions on such difficult matters. Rather than divide countries into clear categories as democratic and non-democratic (or even, as the Freedom House does, into free, partially free and not free), it is better to see regimes on a scale between the absolute non-democracy (e.g., DPRK) and absolute democracy (only an ideal on which, moreover, there is no consensus).

IV.

On Instrumental and Intrinsic Value of Democracy

There are logical arguments favouring democracy over other forms of governance such as ‘a human being can be fully human only when he or she fully participates in the political life of his or her country’, that democracy is ‘a fundamental mode of selfrealisation’, or even that ‘only democratic governance can put an end to famines’ and 22

T. Franck, ‘The Emerging Right to Democratic Governance’, 86 American Journal of International Law 46 (1992).

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other similar arguments put forward by intellectual giants such as Jürgen Habermas and Amartya Sen23. However, such reasoning cannot persuade those who prefer pragmatic or emotional arguments to logical or rational reasoning, as many people do. One of such arguments in favour of democracy is best expressed by Richard Rorty, the greatest pragmatist philosopher who passed away in 2007: ‘Followers of Dewey like myself would like to praise parliamentary democracy and the welfare state as very good things, but only on the basis of invidious comparison with suggested concrete alternatives, not on the basis of claims that these institutions are truer to human nature, or more rational, or in better accord with the universal moral law, than feudalism or totalitarianism.’24

As Cambridge philosopher Simon Blackburn writes, Rorty ‘opposes the tradition which descends from Locke or Kant to recent writers such as Jürgen Habermas and John Rawls, which seeks to prove that a democratic and liberal state is the only rational mode of social organisation. For such writers, someone who chose to live in an illiberal or undemocratic state would be trampling on his own reason. It is irrational to sell yourself into the mental servitude that a theocratic state demands. But for Rorty, this Enlightenment attitude with its talk of irrationality is useless. The right pragmatist observation is that theocratic states seem not to work very well, by comparison with liberal democracies – it is theocracies who lose refugees to us, and not vice versa. We can cope, and theocracies cannot’.25 Rorty would have probably agreed with Winston Churchill who famously in the House of Commons of the British Parliament declared: ‘Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.’26 There are certainly some strong points in Rorty’s arguments, though what most of those millions who leave their war-torn and poverty-ridden countries behind seek is not democracy in the West. Often they bring their highly undemocratic habits and traditions with them and even try to spread them in countries that have given them refuge. Of course, it is possible to argue that Western societies are prosperous because they are democratic, though it may well be the other way around – it is prosperity that leads to democracy. The truth is, probably, somewhere in between and will depend on the circumstances of the particular case.

23

Nobel economics prize winner Amartya Sen writes that ‘[…] famines are easy to prevent if there is a serious effort to do so, and a democratic government, facing elections and criticisms from opposition parties and independent newspapers, cannot help but make such an effort. Not surprisingly, while India continued to have famines under British rule right up to independence (the last famine, which I witnessed as a child, was in 1943, four years before independence), they disappeared suddenly with the establishment of a multiparty democracy and a free press.’ A. Sen, ‘Democracy as Universal Value’, 10 Journal of Democracy 8 (1999).

24

R. Rorty, Philosophical Papers, Vol. 1, at 211 (2007).

25

S. Blackburn, ‘Portrait. Richard Rorty’, 85 Prospect Magazine (2003).

26

A House of Commons speech, 11 November 1947.

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I enjoy living in a liberal-democratic country and I believe that notwithstanding all its imperfections it is best for me and for my family. However, it would be a mistake to make from this personal observation the following extrapolations. The first such invalid extrapolation would be the belief that everybody is like me. I would call it a ‘Bush fallacy’ since it has been President George W. Bush who has most clearly and quite often expressed the belief that what are self-evident truths for the Americans are true for all and everywhere. The second is that even if democracy, especially liberal democracy, is in principle good for everybody (of which I am not so sure) the problem is when and how to get there. One of the greatest contemporary philosophers Jürgen Habermas insightfully observes that it is necessary to ‘relativize one’s own views to the interpretive perspectives of equally situated and equally entitled others’ and that ‘the “reason” of modern rational law does not consist of universal “values” that one can own like goods, and distribute and export throughout the world. “Values” – including those that have a chance of winning global recognition – don’t come from thin air. They gain their binding force only within normative orders and practices of particular forms of cultural life’.27 American philosopher Daniel Dennett, who believes that his sacred values are obvious and quite ecumenical, enlists them in alphabetical order as ‘democracy, justice, life, love, and truth’.28 Is democracy really ecumenical and sacred? Does it have any intrinsic value at all or is its value wholly instrumental? David Held notes that ‘[w] ithin democratic thinking, a clear divide exists between those who value political participation for its own sake and understand it as a fundamental mode of self-realisation, and those who take a more instrumental view and understand democratic politics as a means of protecting citizens from arbitrary rule and expressing (via mechanisms of aggregation) their preferences. [...] According to this position, democracy is a means not an end’.29 Democracy, in my view, has indeed some intrinsic value, though I would not call it sacred. The gist of this value is that humans, at least most of them, and in principle, I believe, all adult persons, when their immediate needs for survival are met, are not content or happy if it is somebody else who decides what is good and what is bad for them, what they are allowed to do and what should be prohibited to do.30 There have always been those who have not been satisfied with material well-being only. However, Dennett himself observes that ‘[b]iology insists on delving beneath the surface of “intrinsic” values and asking why they exist, and any answer that is supported by the facts has the effect of showing that the value in question is – or once was – really 27

J. Habermas, ‘Interpreting the Fall of the Monument’, in A. Bartholomew (ed.), Empire’s Law. The American Imperial Project and the ‘War to Remake the World 51 (2006).

28

D. Dennett, Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon 23 (2007).

29

D. Held, Models of Democracy 231 (2006).

30

Although one should not underestimate the human desire for emotional comfort that is provided by relieving people from the need to constantly take decisions. Somebody else – the parents, a party, the government, God represented by the clergy – takes over the burden. Many feel themselves comfortable only amongst their co-religionists or in the military. See, e.g., J.-F. Revel, La Tentation Totalitaire (1976).

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instrumental, not intrinsic, even if we don’t see it that way’.31 Although democracy also has this intrinsic value because only under democracy – as if by definition – human beings obtain their adulthood, become citizens instead of subjects, its primary value is instrumental – it has to contribute, and usually it does, to the realisation of other values such as material prosperity, social stability, personal freedoms and security, scientific or artistic creativity. However, this is not what always happens since even the road to hell is also paved with good intentions. Moreover, if we speak of those who are involved in democracy promotion we have to remember that according to the Bible, a Good Samaritan is rather an exception than a rule. When we speak of spread or promotion of democracy we have to put two fundamental questions. The first of these questions is: do all societies, in the process of their evolution, have to go through the same stages; do they all, at the end of the day, evolve towards the same general model – a democratic model, in our case? Karl Marx in one of his most deterministic statements wrote about ‘tendencies working with iron necessity towards inevitable results’ and ‘the country that is more developed industrially only shows, to the less developed, the image of its own future’.32 Even if we discount references to ‘iron necessity’ and ‘inevitable result’, the question that waits for a more or less deterministic answer remains.33 Even if we have sufficient grounds to believe that all or at least most societies indeed follow in some important respects the same historical path and democracy in its various manifestations is one of the features that all societies sooner or later will have (i.e. less democratic or non-democratic societies see in more democratic societies ‘the image of their future’), we still have to ask whether societies ‘less developed’, using Marx’s terminology, can take shortcuts in order to reach the image of their own future that they see in ‘more developed’ countries?

V.

On Absolute and Relative Universality of the Concept of Democracy

In the 1770s, a royal physician Johann Friedrich Struensee, who by a strange and fatal confluence of circumstances became so close to the physically feeble and mentally unstable King Christian VII of Denmark that soon he was the most influential person and de facto prime minister of the country, issuing laws that, among other interesting 31

D. Dennett, Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon 69 (2007).

32

K. Marx, ‘The Process of Capitalist Production (Preface to the First Edition)’, in id., Das Kapital. A Critique of Political Economy, Vol. I, at 3 (1906).

33

Philip Allott has given the best, in my opinion, answer to the dilemma of voluntarism versus determinism: ‘It is as if an ingenious and inquisitive Creator had chosen to conduct an experiment in one small corner of the universe – an experiment in which a piece of matter would be given a certain measure of control over its changing states, a living organism would be given a special kind of choice over its own life. But two possibilities of control and choice would be withheld – the possibility of simply submitting entirely to the necessary order of the physical universe and the possibility of acting entirely independently of the necessary order of the physical universe.’ P. Allott, Eunomia 55 (1990).

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and wonderful things like abolition of serfdom and secession of subsidies to unprofitable industries owned by the nobility, also included unrestricted freedom of expression and religious freedoms.34 Unfortunately, though quite predictably, such laws had little effect in the eighteenth century Danish Kingdom and the only tangible result of the freedom of expression was that shortly everybody started to talk about Struensee’s love affair with the Queen. Soon the man who was well ahead of his time was executed and the Queen was sent into exile.35 As a reaction to Struensee’s reform attempts, Denmark became even less tolerant and free than it had been before the Royal physician had tried to put into practice some radical ideals of the Enlightenment. It took centuries before these noble ideas become the reality in Europe, including the Kingdom of Denmark. Now, let us move more than 200 years and from Scandinavia to the Middle East. In 2003 the Bush Administration, enlightened inter alia by the neo-conservative (neocon) ideology, which also may have some one-sided links with the Enlightenment heritage, undertook an attempt to export democracy to Iraq. Two years earlier, the same export item had been sent to Afghanistan. Of course, neither Afghanistan nor Iraq can be considered as pure testing grounds for the export of democracy, though some neocons probably sincerely believed that by overthrowing the bloody regime of Saddam and democratising Iraq, it would be possible to bring democracy also to the wider Middle East. However, pragmatic reasons were prevalent in both of these cases. Al Qaida terrorists had found refuge in the Taliban’s Afghanistan and Iraq had invaded the oil rich Kuwait and Saddam’s regime was in constant breach of UN Security Council resolutions.36 Both, the Struensee case as well as the current attempts to promote democracy in Afghanistan and Iraq, show that it is not enough to have a burning desire to bring about democracy, be it domestically inspired or exported from outside; quite a lot of more is needed if one were to succeed. At the same time, there are big differences between today’s Iraq and Afghanistan, on the one hand, and the 1770s Denmark, on the other. One of such differences is especially important for our discussion on democracy promotion. 230 years ago Enlightenment ideas concerning personal freedoms and democracy were nowhere realised in practice and therefore may have been considered by many, probably by most people at that time, not only utopian but also simply mad and dangerous.37 Today this cannot be the case. Democracy and freedom of expression

34

See, e.g., P. O. Enquist, The Visit of the Royal Physician (2003); A. Ross, Statsret (State Law) 707 (1980).

35

This case is interesting and topical also because it allows to distinguish between pretexts and reasons. The love affair served as a pretext, while Struensee’s reform attempts were the reason of his downfall. Today’s politics is full of such example (e.g., the attempts of US Republicans to impeach President Clinton over his affair with Monica Lewinsky or the Khodorkovsky case in Russia).

36

A reminder: there is a lot of oil in Iraq and in the Middle East as a whole and whenever somebody talks about democracy and human rights in regions with rich energy and other mineral resources one should be especially on guard when hearing lofty words.

37

The editors of a book on democracy promotion write: ‘Certainly, in most countries, even that celebrated home of constitutional liberty, Great Britain, democracy was not something

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exist in reality in many countries. However, if today these ideas cannot be considered as utopian in an absolute sense, i.e. in the sense that they can never and nowhere be put into practice since they are in contrast with human nature (whatever this may mean), maybe they are nevertheless utopian in relative sense, i.e. in the sense that they are not acceptable in some places and at least for the time being?38 One of the differences between concepts such as communism and democracy is that democracy, even if always far from the ideal (but ideal is always utopian and utopia can exist only as an ideal since in Thomas Moore’s coinage the very term utopia means ‘no place’), does exist in practice. In the case of democracy, we could speak of utopia only in the sense whether it can exist everywhere (whether this is a universal or in principle a universalisable concept); if the answer to the previous question is positive then the question is whether certain economic, social and other preconditions are nevertheless needed for democracy to emerge and take root, and closely related to the last point, whether it can be exported or promoted from outside or whether it always has to be home-grown? It has to be emphasized that an approach expressed in President George W. Bush’s words about freedoms in the United States and the world, that if ‘the self-evident truths of our founding are true for us, they are true for all’,39 is not only simplistic; it is simply wrong and dangerous. There are societies, some of them, say, in Central Asia, that prioritize many things higher than personal freedoms though this does not mean that for them such freedoms do not have any value at all. There are many peoples in the world who put stability first and value strong, even authoritarian-style leadership over individual liberties. These are not always just the leaders of such countries and their closest entourage who directly benefit from authoritarian regimes. Many people who may even suffer from such regimes nevertheless believe that strong, that is to say authoritarian, leadership is preferable to chaos that may (or will) follow if the reigns of power are loosened. Therefore, President George W. Bush is wrong when he believes that everybody in the world cherishes individual liberties to the same extent as most Americans do. People who have gone through wars, be they international or civil, or revolutionary turmoil in which thousands perish, usually value stability and order more highly that individual liberties. Besides, historical traditions often support and magnify value ladders that may significantly differ from Western priorities. Randall Peerenboom, for example, writes that ‘not everyone assigns the same value to civil that gradually evolved and matured some time after the Napoleonic Wars, but was rather a political aspiration that had to be fought for against those who sought to control, manipulate and often retard what they saw as this most dangerous of political deviations. Regarded by its enemies – included most nineteenth-century liberals – as a threat to stable order and the institution of private property, democracy had few friends in high places.’ M. Cox/G. J. Ikenburry/T. Inoguchi (eds.), American Democracy Promotion 1 (2006). 38

Anthony Dworkin, for example, questions: ‘Is it right to see the neoconservative project of exporting democracy as itself utopian, sharing some kind of essential flaw with other utopian projects, despite obvious differences?’ A. Dworkin, ‘The Case for Minor Utopias’, Prospect Magazine, June 2007, at 42.

39

President G. W. Bush, Commencement Address to the United States Coast Guard Academy, 21 May 2003.

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and political freedoms relative to social order. Social order ranks much higher in the normative hierarchy of most Chinese than it does in the normative hierarchy of many Westerners, in part because stability is precarious in China. The consequences of instability for China, the region, and the world would be severe. Adopting this measure virtually assures a wide margin of deference to restrictions in the name of public order’.40 This is not to say that noone in China or in Central Asian societies values individual freedoms highly; this is not even to say that such societies will never start valuing individual freedoms more than an order that denies these freedoms; this is to say that because of different histories, both ancient and recent, as well as differences in their current situations, societies have different value priorities. At the same time, in the world, which is rapidly becoming smaller and smaller as well as more and more ‘networked’, pipelined and criss-crossed by various communication means, twenty first century ideas and practices, including democracy and human rights, are spreading around even without purposeful efforts of governments, intergovernmental bodies or civil society organizations (NGOs). The combination of such ‘automatic’ spread of democracy and focused efforts of various institutions is certainly changing societies much faster than had they evolved in sovereign isolation. Albeit, this role of external examples and efforts, though mostly positive, is not without problems. Of course, this means that it is not necessary for every society to invent their own ‘social wheels’; others show what they have achieved and may even help take over many things. However, this also means that borrowed ideas and practices may either not work everywhere (that they are not universalisable) or need certain important preconditions for their introduction (ideas that are in principle universalisable but not yet universal). As William Easterly, a former World Bank economist, observes, ‘the road to a stable democracy is even more tortuous than that to efficient markets’.41 Any responsible lawyer confirms that. If technical and technological novelties (what Marx called ‘productive forces’) can be relatively easily borrowed or copied, it is much more difficult to plant new economic relations (what Marx called ‘the relations of production’) in societies where they do not exist yet. For the acceptance of democratic institutions and practices that are intimately related not only to technological and economic factors but also to cultural factors many more conducive variables and much more efforts are needed.

VI.

On Idealism, Hypocrisy and Pragmatism in Promotion of Democracy

Hence, we have seen that democracy is indeed a high value good, though not seen as such by everybody and everywhere. Its value is also relative to the time and place. Now, what about motives of those who are involved in the business of its promotion? 40

R. Peerenboom, China Modernises. Threat to the West or Model for the Rest 124-125 (2007).

41

W. Easterly, The White Man’s Murden. Why the West’s Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good 105 (2007).

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The ‘exporters’ of democracy have been led by three categories of motivations that, though in abstracto completely incompatible, in practice may nevertheless become bedfellows, albeit uncomfortable. These motivations are idealism, hypocrisy and pragmatism. Idealists want to improve the world and as democracy, as they know it, notwithstanding all its deficiencies, is preferable to all other existing social and political arrangements, they believe that by helping less fortunate or less developed nations achieve what they habitually enjoy in their home countries they make other peoples happier, the world more prosperous and peaceful and their own societies safer. They often claim that democracies do not fight each other and those who resort to violence or terror do it because of their discontent and frustration caused by oppressive and undemocratic regimes. Hypocrites do not give a damn about democracy, especially in faraway places, but today it is more difficult than ever, politically incorrect and almost suicidal to reveal what the real interests behind lofty words are (remember Ferenc Gyurcsany, the Primer Minister of Hungary, who admitted that his Government had constantly lied; instead of welcoming such frankness most people were appalled, though only the most naïve person does not know that governments are often economical with the truth). Oil, gas, directions of pipelines and safety of tanker navigation are their values, but these interests have to be expressed in terms of democracy, human rights and development. A more general strategic goal, for hypocrites, allowing to reach various more specific known as well as even unknown objectives, is the maintenance and consolidation of existing hegemonic domination, or vice versa, the change of the existing status quo that is unfavourable for them.42 Commenting on the drafting of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in the UN Human Rights Commission, headed at that time by Eleanor Roosevelt, and the Soviet attempts to derail the work on an international bill of human rights, Mary Ann Glendon writes that ‘Washington and London may not have been displeased [though Mrs Eleanor Roosevelt certainly was] at Soviet obstructionism in the Human Rights 42

If the United States today is a status quo power in the sense that it seeks to maintain and consolidate its dominant position in the world (notwithstanding that by exporting ‘democracy’, say, to the Middle East Washington is seeking to change the region), China in that respect maybe indeed seen as a revisionist power. Of interest in that respect is an article by Chinese scholar Feng Yongping entitled ‘The Peaceful Transition of Power from the UK to the US’, 1 The Chinese Journal of International Politics 83 (2006), who ends his historical study with unmistakable conclusion: ‘From the perspective of China, which can be considered in a similar state to the United States at that time [i.e. when Washington peacefully took over from London the reins of world politics], the example of successful transition undoubtedly holds deep implications and provides a source for inspiration.’ One can be sure that such ideas do not inspire people in Washington. That is why, among other issues such as Taiwan, Tibet, Xingjian and the trade imbalance, references to China’s democracy deficit and human rights violations may be used as an instrument to stop or slow down the coming transition of power. Democratic, i.e. peaceful, transfer of power in the balance of power world is somewhat really exceptional. The US national security strategies of 2002 and 2006 are both based on the premise of American economic and military superiority that should help the US shape the world and not to be shaped by it; no strategic competitor is allowed to rise.

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Commission. As historian Brian Simpson has demonstrated, the Foreign Office viewed human rights as basically for export and as a weapon to be used against the Soviet Union’.43 President Woodrow Wilson, whom John Maynard Keynes considered to be ‘the greatest fraud on earth’44, promised to ‘teach the South American republics to elect good men’.45 Unfortunately, things have not changed much since the rise of the human rights movement after World War II. As one of the strongest advocates of promotion of democracy Thomas Carothers correctly writes, ‘where democratic change in a particular country or region aligns with Western economic or security interests, it receives support. In many places, however, the United States and Europe have been and continue to be quite happy to support or get along with autocratic governments for a host of reasons’.46 What he does not mention is the fact that Washington has more than any other state in the world helped overthrow democratically elected governments, such as Mossadeq’s government in Iran 1953, Arbenz’s government in Quatemala in 1954 and Alliende’s in Chile in 1973, when their policies threatened American economic or strategic interests.

43

M. A. Glendon, A World Made New. Eleanor Roosevelt and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights 87 (2001).

44

‘Letter to Duncan Grant’, quoted in N. Frazer, ‘More than Economist’, 2001 Harper’s Magazine 80 (2001).

45

See, M. Macmillan, Paris 1919, at 9 (2003). It is interesting to note that hypocrisy did play a significant role in the birth of the right of peoples to self-determination. The two politicians – Woodrow Wilson and Vlamir Lenin, who after World War I actively promoted the principle that today has become one of the widely recognised principles of international law (Lenin used the term ‘right of nations to self-determination’), had in mind not freedoms for far-away peoples, of whom they knew next to nothing, but much less altruistic and noble purposes. For Lenin, it was necessary to ‘liberate’ the nations enslaved, as he wrote, by the Czarist empire (to blow it up) in order to include them in a new ‘voluntary’ union of socialist republics. It seems that both naivety and hypocricy were present in Lenin’s approach. For President Wilson, liberation of colonial possessions of European powers was free of charge for America but gave it an access to territories that were hitherto beyond the reach of the Americans. Naivety and even ignorance may have played a role also in the case of Woodrow Wilson’s attitude to the issue of self-determination. Wilson’s Secretary of State Robert Lansing who was with him at the Paris Peace Congress wrote: ‘The more I think about the President’s declaration as to the right of “self-determination”, the more convinced I am of the danger of putting such ideas into the minds of certain races. It is bound to be the basis of impossible demands on the Peace Congress and create troubles in many lands […]. The phrase is simply loaded with dynamite. It will raise hopes which can never be realized. It will, I fear, cost thousands of lives.’ R. Lansing, Peace Negotiations. A Personal Narrative 87 (1921). Senator Moynihan quotes Frank P. Walsh to whom President Wilson himself had acknowledged that when he had uttered the words on the right to self-determination he had done so without any knowledge that nationalities existed, which were coming to them day after day. D. P. Moynihan, Pandaemonium. Ethnicity in International Politics 85 (1993). Interestingly, the emergence and development of the right of peoples to self-determination shows that naive and hypocritical initiatives may nevertheless have positive consequences. At the same time, Lansing’s premonition about the destructive potential of the principle has also become true.

46

T. Carothers, ‘The “Sequencing” Fallacy’, 18 Journal of Democracy 21 (2007).

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Then, there are pragmatics who may even be fond of the goals of idealists but who think that these goals are utopian and therefore attempts to put them into practice will be counterproductive or who believe that before entering a brawl one should have a clear exit strategy, i.e. who often concentrate so much on the means that they lose the sight of the ends. Therefore pragmatics are cautious, sometimes overcautious, when facing prospects of radical change (they may be suffering from a Burkean complex). They recognise the importance of oil and gas in the real world and see the inevitability of competition, if not conflicts, over the access to these and other resources. Pragmatics are often cynical when dealing with issues of international politics not necessarily because they are cynical by nature, but because such is the character of the subject matter they are dealing with. As private persons, not as professional statesmen, politicians or diplomats, they may be most moral persons, while you would not invite a good number of professional idealists for dinner. If the hypocritical approach to world politics, which uses lofty words such as democracy and human rights to conceal economic and military-strategic interests, is always to be deplored47, idealism – even if often naïve and sometimes indeed dangerous – may serve as an engine of progress. Anthony Dworkin, in response to John Gray’s attempt to outlaw all utopian projects as dangerous, writes in defence of minor utopias: ‘If realism is a necessary corrective to utopian idealism, it is equally true that unchecked realism is likely to lead to a narrowing political possibility. Without some appeal to universal values, there is no standpoint to challenge unjust practices that are widely taken for granted. To take two examples from the Enlightenment era, the slave trade would not have been abolished when it was, nor the use of torture banned in criminal investigations, if William Wilberforce, Cesare Beccaria and their followers had not clung to grand visions of human advance’.48

Today too, idealism remains a tool of progress. However, in social affairs generally and in international relations specifically idealism has to be tempered by realism. Social experiments are not carried out in laboratories; they directly affect lives of millions. Failures of such experiments may be fatal and their disastrous consequences are usually irreversible. The current process of promotion of democracy has, like its predecessor mission civilicatrice or white man’s burden of the nineteenth century, though in different degrees and forms, two aspects – idealistic humanitarian and hypocritical. Both of these aspects have their roots in the Enlightenment’s dual legacy: desire for freedom and tendency to domination. Within Europe, Enlightenment ideas served, to a great extent, the liberating purpose, while it created conditions, material as well as intellectual and psychological, for the colonial domination outside Europe. Dan Hind observes that ‘we can certainly trace one history of Enlightenment from Bacon to the British Empire and to the modern global administration. The insurgent European 47

Although there is a so-called hypocrisy trap, which means that accepting or recognising hypocritically some obligations or values, one may later be forced to act upon them.

48

A. Dworkin, ‘The Case for Minor Utopias’, Prospect, July 2001 (a review of J. Gray’s Black Mass), at 44.

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powers of the period after 1700 depended heavily on the ‘enlightened’ institutions for a technological base that in turn empowered global domination. The desire for total knowledge, in the service of total power, that we find in the Department of Defence and the Ministry of Defence is an expression of Enlightenment. But this history must ignore the sense of Enlightenment as freedom of inquiry and freedom to publish. For the Enlightenment could not be contained within those institutions and their equivalents in the Soviet Russia and Nazi Germany. Enlightenment informed the movements of national and social liberation within and outside Europe as surely as it informed the colonial powers’ ‘war-making technology’.49 Swedish writer Per Olov Enquist observes that ‘if the Enlightenment has rational a hard face, which is the belief in reason and empiricism within mathematics, physics and astronomy, it has also a soft face, which is the Enlightenment as freedom of thought, tolerance and liberty’.50 This ‘hard face’, which is morally neutral, has been indeed used not only to liberate men and women from oppression but also for the purposes of domination. As one of the profoundest thinkers of the past century John Kenneth Galbraith famously said: ‘Under capitalism man exploits man: under communism, it is just the opposite.’51 John Gray explains that former British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s vision of the world was a simplistic unilinear vision where the world is moving towards a specific final destination since he ‘never doubted that globalisation was creating a worldwide market economy that must eventually be complemented by global democracy’.52 Therefore, he also believed in the power of force to ensure the triumph of good.53 Gray is right when he is warning against the dangers of utopian visionaries who have acquired political power. The Bush-Blair axis did indeed lead to some disasters, among which the Iraqi invasion of 2003 stands out as a warning for future generations. However, Gray, like his predecessor at the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) Karl Popper, who introduced the concept of ‘piecemeal engineering’ into philosophy of politics, is himself too absolutist when he denies any positive role for social utopias and visionary politicians. Gray is also too harsh towards the Enlightenment legacy seeing it as a monolithic whole. So-called ‘war against terror’ is not a war of reason against religiously justified violence. It is rather a war of a faith against a faith. It is the faith in the supremacy of Western values, including free market, globalisation and spread of democracy against the faith in the ability of Islam to bring justice and wellbeing to the whole mankind. It is not by chance that Tony Blair is one of the most, if not the most, religious British Prime Minister for years and President George W. Bush is not only a newly-born Christian but he has also been very close to American religious conservatives many of whom believe in literal interpretation of the Bible. If idealism has to be tempered by pragmatism, faith has to be moderated by doubt, at least in the case of politicans. 49

D. Hind, The Threat to Reason 104 (2007).

50

P. O. Enqwist, The Visit of the Royal Physician 92 (2004).

51

See, e.g., Chang, supra note 2, at 103.

52

J. Gray, Black Mass. Apocalyptic Religion and the Death of Utopia 97 (2007).

53

Ibid., at 97.

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VII. To What Exent Can External Support Compensate for Weaknesses of Domestic Democratic Potential? Academics, who either consciously serve certain political interests or whose views otherwise coincide with those of politicians, often elaborate various doctrines that are called to theoretically explain respective political or economic approaches. During the Cold War, when the Soviet Union tried to extend its sway over so-called Third World countries and prompted them to choose the only true – socialist – way of development, Soviet experts invented a peculiar version of ‘the dictatorship of the proletariat’. In accordance with Marxist orthodoxy, for a society to reach socialism, it was necessary first to pass through a stage of developed capitalism, which would not only generate material preconditions for a socialist revolution but would also create the proletariat, which later – through the exercise of its dictatorship – would lead the society to socialism and communism. According to this theory, countries such as Mongolia or Vietnam, which had not yet in their evolution gone through this stage, could not become socialist without first being capitalist. Of course, such interpretation of Marx was not to the liking of the Soviet leaders since this would have meant, inter alia, that those countries would have fallen into Washington’s and not Moscow’s sphere of influence. To avoid such a conclusion, a theory was invented, which asserted that in the absence of proletariat at home the world socialist system, i.e. first of all the USSR, could play a role of ‘proletariat’s dictatorship’, i.e. the absence of internal conditions for socialism could be compensated by external assistance. Mutatis mutandi, something like that is today happening with the idea of spreading democracy. If there are no internal conditions for the emergence and especially development of sustainable democracy in a country, the European Union, the Organisation on the Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), NATO or Washington can serve the role of ‘the dictatorship of the proletariat’. Of course, I do not want to equate the Soviet attempts to spread its totalitarian ideology and all the efforts, though sometimes misguided and often hypocritical, to widen the camp of democracies. If a society indeed becomes prosperous and democratic due, inter alia, to outside efforts, even if the latter are not wholly motivated by noble and altruistic concerns, so be it. Moreover, there are indeed governments, international organisations and other bodies that carry out rather painstaking and usually not very visible work helping other societies gradually democratise and modernise. My point is about the limits of external efforts in the absence of sufficient internal preconditions for democratisation. It is also about the wishful thinking in the elaboration of theories that correspond to one’s interests, be they altruistic or self-serving. This, however, does not mean that in some specific circumstances external prompting or assistance for democratic reforms can not work. For example, in cases of small countries, especially if they neighbour developed democratic societies, external assistance may indeed compensate for the absence of material preconditions, insufficiency of historical traditions supportive of democracy, or relative lack of experience of domestic actors. We see this trend in the post-Cold War development of the Baltic, Central and Eastern European states. The Bulgarian political scientist Ivan Krastev,

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observing that ‘the liberal era that began in Central Europe in 1989 has come to an end’ and that ‘populism and illiberalism are tearing the region apart’54 (in my view, a slight exaggeration notwithstanding some worrying tendencies, especially in the Kaczynskis’ Poland), however, incisively concludes that ‘in present day Central Europe, unlike in Europe in the 1930s, there is no ideological alternative to democracy. […] The membership of the Central European countries in the EU and NATO provides a safeguard for democracy and liberal institutions’.55 It is not only that today liberal democratic Western Europe with its institutions that have now become extended to the most of the European continent serves as a guarantor of democracy in Central and Eastern Europe. At the end of the 1980s and the beginning of the 1990s the geographic closeness to the liberal democratic Europe of some societies under the Soviet sway, the Western example as well as timely assistance helped newly liberated societies in their efforts of building market economy and democratic institutions. However, one must be cautions in generalizing from this experience. It would be a recipe for disaster if one were to base one’s foreign policy on the ‘analysis’ expressed in the comment made by American diplomat Elisabeth Cheney, a daughter of the US Vice-President, that ‘there was a “direct parallel” between reform movements in the Arab world and Poland’s Solidarity in the 1980s, which lit the “spark of freedom” in the Soviet block’.56 Such a comment is as wide off the mark as possible. The famous Soviet dissident, who later became Israeli Government Minister, Anatoly Sharansky, whose book was allegedly read and admired by President George W. Bush, claims that ‘[w]hen freedom’s sceptics argue today that freedom cannot “imposed” from outside, or that the free world has no role to play in spreading democracy around the world, I cannot but be amazed. Less than one generation has passed since the West found the Achilles heel of the Soviet Union by pursuing an activist policy that linked the rights of the Soviet people to the USSR’s international standing’.57 Sharansky, in my opinion, makes at least two mistakes in this assertion. First, the Western efforts played, if not a minor then at least a secondary role in the collapse of the Soviet Union. Sharansky may understandably exaggerate the effect of the Western pressure on the USSR since he himself was freed from a labour camp and allowed to emigrate to Israel due to such pressure. But for the country as a whole this effect was only cosmetic and only few individuals benefited from it (although for them, the benefit was an absolute one). Internal contradiction and the disastrous economic system were the factors that forced Michael Gorbachev to attempt radical reform of the system that was not, however, amenable to any noteworthy reforms. Secondly, even if external factors would have played a more significant role in the case of the Soviet Union, this does not yet mean that they could necessarily work in the case of different countries, 54

I. Krastev, ‘The Strange Death of Liberal Consensus’, 18 Journal of Democracy 56 (2007).

55

Ibid., at 58.

56

S. Baxter, ‘Cheney daughter leads “cold war” on mullahs’, The Sunday Times, 5 March 2006, at 27.

57

N. Sharansky/R. Dermer, ‘The Case for Democracy, The Power of Freedom to Overcome Tyranny and Terror’, 2004 Public Affairs 145.

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in other parts of the world. What may work well, for instance, for Estonia or Hungary, may be disastrous for Tajikistan or Uzbekistan. Moreover, direct and public attacks on issues of human rights and democracy are usually counterproductive. For example, David McGaffey, who in the 1970 was in charge of the US human rights policy in Iran, writes: ‘The argument that policies and practices [on human rights] are inherently wrong falls into the category of preaching, and while it may be soul-satisfying (as when castigating the USSR’s treatment of its populace), it is unlikely to be effective in changing policy.’58

In that respect, Sharansky is highly critical of two prominent Israeli politicians Simon Peres and Yossi Beilin. Peres had said: ‘I do not believe that democracy can be imposed artificially on another society.’59 Beilin had also stated that ‘if we wait until [the Palestinians] become democratic, then peace will wait for our great-grandchildren, not ourselves […] My first priority is to make peace with the Palestinians, I do not believe that it is up to me to educate them’.60 Sharansky is a hawk and believes in force while Peres and Beilin, as politicians, are more or less dovish. The fact that the hawk seems to care more about democracy than the doves leads me to suspect that not all is so pure in the hawk’s approach to democracy. Is he naïve or is he against any concessions to the Palestinians, since he can hardly be a great believer in a democratic Palestine? I do not know. He may be even a naïve hawk? In any case, the sad situation in Iraq testifies to the effect that democracy cannot be exported to every country and the matter is not only that military means are not appropriate for the export of democracy. If people would find that something is good for them, that their lives improve considerably, they would probably not reject such an export even if brought to them on the bayonets. Germany and Japan were defeated in World War II and became democratic societies to a great extent thanks to long efforts of the occupying Western powers, first of all of the United States. They cannot, however, serve as examples for the Middle East or some other regions. What they may show is that when there are domestic factors conducive to democratization and elements that would support democratic reforms then external efforts may sometimes indeed help those factors prevail; even if in extreme circumstances even military force may be used (though the reason for the use of force should not be the export of democracy). James Kurth, the editor of Orbis seems to be closer to the truth than Natan Sharansky when he writes that ‘it seems clear enough that in the foreseeable future, the choice of many Muslim-majority states and most Arab ones, and our choice for them, will be limited to either an authoritarian state or not much of state at all – whether that condition be called a failed state, a turbulent frontier, civil disorder or simply anarchy’.61 However, 58

D. C. McGaffey, ‘Policy and Practice: Human Rights in the Shah’s Iran’, in D. Newsom (ed.), The Diplomacy of Human Rights 74 (1986).

59

Ibid., at 154.

60

Ibid., at 183.

61

J. Kurth, ‘Coming to Order’, 2 The American Interest 58 (2007).

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Central Asian Muslim states, or at least some of them, have much better chances to move towards democracy, especially if assisted thoughtfully and if by democracy we do not necessarily mean only so-called Western style or liberal democracy. In most cases, Popperian ‘piece-meal engineering’ and not Bolshevik’s grand designs, reformist and not revolutionary approaches to democracy promotion are to be preferred when one becomes involved in the business of effecting changes in other societies. The Economist on the page devoted to the Freedom House report on the status of democracy in the 2007 world also had a few words about the World Bank: ‘Washington’s financial institutions were once notorious for their dogmatic prescriptions. Now they prefer piece-meal reforms and eclectic advise.’62 Not less, maybe even more, such advice, if solicited, has to be given on issues of democracy promotion. Therefore, it is amazing and disturbing how easily some American conservatives, who are cautious about any radical reforms at home, undertake to promote radical changes in places they know very little or nothing about. American neoconservative author Andrew Sullivan, in a self-critical article63, writing about what had gone wrong in Iraq, observes that ‘the final error was not taking culture seriously enough. There is a large discrepancy between neoconservatism’s skepticism of government’s ability to change culture at home and its naivety when it comes to complex, tribal, sectarian cultures abroad’. It is indeed. It has to be emphasised that in the case of Iraq and the wider Middle East, naivety of neocons and hypocrisy of oilmen coincided; naïve hopes to bring democracy to one of the most barren soils64 and realists’ desire to effectively control rich subsoil energy resources and gain strategic advantages in the ‘war against terror’ overlapped and had a synergic effect. William H. Sullivan, the American Ambassador to Teheran in the Carter Administration, well understood the complexities of the democracy promotion minefield when he wrote about the Carter Administration attempts to change some aspects of internal policies of the Shah: ‘[F]rom top to bottom, Iran was and is a far more complex society than many of our policymakers have understood. In the absence of such understanding, simplistic policies, no matter how nobly motivated, may often go awry.’65 He added that to his rather diplomatic comments on democracy in Iran 62

The Economist, 19 January 2008, at 59.

63

A. Sullivan, ‘What I Got Wrong About the War. As conservatives pour their regrets, I have a few of my own to confess’, Time, 13 March 2006, at 60.

64

Speaking of neoconservatives, Jürgen Habermas writes that ‘we should not interpret the neoconservative doctrine as the expression of a normative cynicism. Geostrategic objectives such as securing of influence or access to essential resources, which the doctrine must also meet, may well invite analysis in terms of critique of ideology. But such conventional explanations trivialize what, until 18 months ago, was still an unimaginable break with norms that the US had been committed to. Would we do well, in other words, not to guess at motives, but to take the doctrine at face value. For otherwise we fail to recognise he truly revolutionary character of a political reorientation; a transformation that finds its sources in the historical experiences of the previous century.’ J. Habermas, ‘Interpreting the Fall of the Monument’, in A. Bartholomew (ed.), Empire’s Law. The American Imperial Project and the ‘War to Remake the World 47 (2006).

65

D. Newsom (ed.), The Diplomacy of Human Rights 80 (1986).

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the Shah ‘used to say that he would like to be like the King of Sweden, if only he had a nation full of Swedes’.66 Though the Shah’s comment could well have been self-serving this does not necessarily mean that there is not a grain of truth in it. It is true that some autocratic rulers surrounded by the coterie of sycophants may become completely alienated from the people they rule and lose the touch with reality to such an extent that they indeed believe that they are loved by population. However, many of them nevertheless have better understanding of the mentality, culture and even needs of their people than Western politicians or NGOs. Nursultan Nazarbayev of Kazakhstan, Kurmanbek Bakiyev of Kyrgyzstan and probably even Islom Karimov of Uzbekistan, amongst the Central Asian leaders, belong to this category. Western diplomats and NGO representatives have contacts typically with leaders whom they do not respect, sometimes even hate and despise,67 as well as with those who are radically opposed to the authorities, whom they usually like and even adore. In countries where there is democracy deficit or democracy is completely lacking, these two groups within the population are rarely representative of the majority of the people. Whether and to what extent outside forces can influence democratic processes in a specific country depends on many circumstances including, but not limited to, the relative strength of local pro-democratic forces, the presence and the level of material and cultural preconditions, the presence and the size of the middle class, identity based divisions (ethnic, religious, regional), the size and geographic location of the country (e.g., whether it is next to Finland or Afghanistan) and many other variables. Thomas Carothers does not consider such factors as preconditions but rather as core ‘facilitators or nonfacilitators’ that would make democratisation ‘harder or easier’.68 I would agree that adding some combination of such ‘nonfacilitators’ can make democratisation also impossible, at least for the time being. It is important to note that democratic reforms in societies that have not had any or very little previous experience with democracy are a very serious business that cannot be approached slightly. Democratic institutions, if introduced from outside without being called for domestically, as Jürgen Habermas observes, ‘disintegrate without the initiatives of a population accustomed to freedom’.69 In the business of exporting-importing democracy it is necessary to bear in mind that democratisation has to be demand-induced, not supply-induced. Only if there is a strong desire among a people to build democratic institutions as well as at least a minimum of material and cultural preconditions can the supply side play a positive role. Otherwise its role will be wholly destructive, and in contradistinction to what the economic theory of ‘creative destruction’ developed by Joseph Schumpeter70 may say, there will be nothing creative 66

Ibid.

67

See, e.g., C. Murray, Murder in Samarkand: A British Ambassador’s Controversial Defiance of Tyranny in the War on Terror (2006).

68

T. Carothers, ‘The “Sequence” Fallacy’, 18 Journal of Democracy 24 (2007).

69

J. Habermas, Between Facts and Norms, Contributions to a Discourse Theory of Law and Democracy 130 (1996).

70

J. Schumpeter, Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (1984).

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in such destruction. The fiasco of the Western democracy promotion in Central Asia is best reflected by one of the most critically minded and eloquent journalists of Kyrgyzstan Musurkul Kabylbekov when he writes about the December 2007 Parliamentary elections in his country: ‘There are also objective elements of the successes of the President Bakiyev’s team such as a “metal fatigue” or desire to have at least a bit of rest. Bakiyev, like his colleagues at the CIS [Commonwealth of Independent States], has turned his back to the United States. Mindless adoration of everything said or done by the great power that claimed to have overthrown the Soviet totalitarianism is over. Bakiyev became the head of the State when the sobering period had started and the people had beginning to understand that the West was not in love with us and its cold hand was groping in sensitive places thereby offending honour and self-esteem of our people. Hence, also low efficiency of numerous vocal NGOs, supported by the State Department’. 71

VIII. Russia’s Case: From Yeltsin’s ‘Democracy’ to Putin’s ‘Authoritarianism’? Before its disintegration in 1991, the Soviet Union was a stable totalitarian state with some imperial characteristics. At the end of the 1980s, when Gorbachev reforms had opened the country, both internally as well as externally, many people, in the West as well as in the former USSR, believed (now we may say, rather naively believed) that it would be possible to relatively quickly and painlessly transform this closed totalitarian society into an open, democratic, market oriented country. Unfortunately this was not to be the case. Its disintegration was not only inevitable; for many it was quite a positive development and not at all ‘the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the twentieth century’, as President Putin put it.72 Alas, some states can exist only as autocracies, since when they open up they tend to disintegrate and attempts of the world community or regional alliances to keep them together may only prolong and increase the suffering. The fate of the USSR and maybe also the SFRY testifies to that effect; today Iraq (a multiethnic society held together by a uni-ethnic state73) may well be on its way either to a stable dictatorship or to the disintegration into different entities with equally questionable democratic credentials. So-called ‘nation-states’ in Western Europe did not emerge as democracies. This probably would have been impossible since their ethnic, linguistic and religious homogenization that helped them create national economies and gradually democratize would have been impossible if, say, policies such as ethnic cleansing or forcible assimilation would have been outlawed. The regime in the USSR was not simply authoritarian; it was, using the distinction made by Jean Kirkpatrick between ‘traditional autocracies’ and ‘radical revolutionary’ 71

M. Kabylbekov, ‘The Rubicon has been crossed’, Agym (Kyrgyzstan), 11 January 2008.

72

MSNNews, 25 April 2005, http://msnbc.com/id/7632957 (last visited 16 June 2005).

73

Kurth, supra note 61, at 60.

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or totalitarian regimes,74 totalitarian. Moreover, it was a utopian, artificial totalitarianism. There were two big social experiments in the twentieth century – communist and fascist experimentations, though there have been many smaller ones and today social experiments are continuing, especially when their objects are peoples of other countries. Although these experiments were very different in many important respects, they had also several substantial aspects in common. Unfortunately, these common features were, to some extent, due to some traits of the Enlightenment heritage, especially of its emphasis of the power of reason to foresee and mould the future – a feature that both the Soviet communists and German Nazis distorted and abused to the extreme, while neglecting such important aspects of Enlightenment as democracy and individual liberties. I am saying unfortunately, since due this link between the Enlightenment, on the one hand, and communism and fascism, on the other, the whole Enlightenment heritage has become considered, by quite a few influential authors,75 in a negative light, as something that has to be discarded or overcome. This is a wrong and dangerous tendency. Besides high levels of repression that were common to communism and fascism (how else could one realise utopian projects?76), they were both ideological, experimental or artificial dictatorships. This makes them somewhat different from most other dictatorships that have existed in history in all parts of the world or that even today subsist in various regions. It may be politically incorrect to assert that dictatorships or authoritarian regimes may be natural, but it has certainly been true in most of the periods of human civilisation and it may well be true in some cases even today. Usually it is not by chance or historical accident that some societies have freely and democratically elected leaders while others have authoritarian rulers or outright dictators. Although no nation deserves to be led by such bloody social experimenters as Stalin, Hitler or Pol Pot, there is at least some truth in the saying that ‘people deserve their leaders’. Not only would a Mobutu or a Mugabe have little chances of ever leading, say, a Swedish 74

J. Kirkpatrick, ‘Dictatorships and Double Standards’, Commentary, November 1979.

75

See, e.g., Gray, supra note 52.

76

Many socialist ideas were put into practice in developed Western European societies, especially in Scandinavia. This shows that not everything in Marxist thought was utopian. What, however, is always utopian, is the belief that a grand social theory can ever be realized in practice, as many Marxists thought. Especially disastrous for the peoples of the Russian Empire, and damaging also for Marxist thought, was Lenin’s attempt to put into practice Marx’s theory, which was developed in the context of and for advanced Western societies, in Russia where there were few preconditions for the realization of its non-utopian elements. Instead of creatively developing Marxism, as Soviet Marxists claimed, Lenin rather distorted it. He squeezed it into the Procrustean bed of Russian realities while at the same time ruthlessly chopping off some central ideas of Karl Marx. One of the most important of them was the point that socialism can be built only on the solid foundation of highly developed capitalism. The assertion that such foundations were created, as the Soviet Marxists claimed, in the period between the February 1917 bourgeois revolution that overthrew the Czar and the October 1917 Bolshevik takeover, i.e. within less than nine months period, simply defies common sense. When, as an undergraduate of Moscow University in the 1970s, I humbly expressed my doubts on this matter my mark was lowered for not being politically correct enough.

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government, but any Swedish prime minister would not last long, even if a chance was given, in the highest office either in the Democratic Republic of the Congo or in Zimbabwe. Democratic legitimacy of governments is a relatively new phenomenon in history of humankind. Legitimacy of authoritarian rulers may have been based on historical traditions and religion,; today it may be based on the exploitation of rich natural resources or even on the deliverance of so-called ‘standard public goods’ such as public transportation, primary and secondary education and public health, all that contributes to economic growth.77 Because of such historical baggage, the transformation of the Soviet Union was to be especially difficult and painful since Soviet successor societies had to radically change not only their economic and political systems but also get rid of their ideological basis that left in many cases deep voids that became filled with nationalistic or religious ideas, often in their extreme form. Some parts of the former USSR, for example the Baltic countries – due to a series of factors, among them their past short encounters with democratic ideas and practices, small size and closeness to the EU – have had relatively fast and less painful democratic and market-oriented evolutions. However, if your neighbours are not Finland or Sweden, but, say, states more like Afghanistan, the reform processes – political, economic and social – are much more difficult. These factors, together with their historical heritage – both pre-Soviet and Soviet – have to be 77

An article by two American authors B. Bueno de Mesquita/G. W. Downs, ‘An open economy, a closed society’, The International Herald Tribune, 17 August 2005, probably inadvertently, reveals sensitivity and delicacy of Western human rights diplomacy in non-Western countries, including those in Central Asian region. The authors are right to observe that today there are autocrats who open up economies of their countries, carry out successful market-oriented reforms but suppress civil and political rights. However, there is nothing new in it. Chile under General Pinochet, South Korea under the military rule and Taiwan until rather recently have all been such states. The authors of the article, however, lament that today’s autocrats granting their populations so-called ‘standard public goods’ such as public transportation, primary and secondary education and public health, all that contributes to economic growth, restrict so-called ‘coordination goods’ such as civil and political rights. The reason for such policies is quite obvious. As the authors themselves state, ‘[...] the suppression of coordination goods keeps autocrats in power. An autocrat who permits both freedom of the press and civil liberties reduces the chances that he will survive for another year by about 15 to 20 percent.’ Asking what the West or international bodies have to do about it, the authors answer: ‘[…] the United States, the European Union, aid agencies and other donors must keep exerting pressure to change.’ To put it otherwise, they call for regime change since by opening up their societies to civil and political rights autocrats shorten their life expectancy (at least in political terms), as the authors quite convincingly prove. Does it mean that the West should have pressured Mohamad Mahathir of Malaysia or Lee Kuan Yew of Singapore out of office because they secured to their people only ‘standard public goods?’ I do not think so. Limitation of some civil and political rights, such as the freedom of press or association, though deplorable, should not be a cause for exercising pressure on the leadership with the aim of getting it out of office, especially if the population itself does not actively demand such changes and the leadership indeed secures ‘standard public goods’. The problem is that only very few of such authoritarian rulers secure such ‘standard public goods’, while some dictators, such as General Pinochet of Chile or the military rulers of Argentina, became bloody and started using repression to quell popular discontent. Then even successful market reforms should not save autocrats from pressure that may indeed get then out of office.

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taken into account when one is assessing the process of reforms – their speed, success or failure – in different parts of the former Soviet Union. The democratization and liberalization of societies with strong collectivist traditions, where often subordination to and genuflection before authorities at times turns into violent revolts against them (e.g., remember Russian peasant revolts of Stenka Razin in the seventeenth century and Yemelyan Pugachev in the following one), is like an operation in mine-clearing with many unknowns as to the nature and conditions of the mine (using Donald Rumsfeld’s famous formula, there are even unknown unknowns). The status quo is unacceptable, while the mine-clearing operation, if carried out in a ‘gung-ho’ manner and without the proper expertise can blow up the whole edifice. On the other hand, neither insiders nor outsiders can have enough expertise on such political transformations due to the unique nature of every one of them. Such societies that have to negotiate an itinerary between the Scylla of authoritarian dictatorship and the Charybdis of disorder (or even civil wars) often find themselves in a vicious circle in which these two extremes alternate (unfortunate alterations between weak and corrupt democracy and military dictatorships in Pakistan may serve as an example). Therefore, it is not surprising that authorities, in order to avoid chaos, and not only for the personal quest for power, usually bend over backwards to strengthen authoritarian rule even further. The outside world cannot do much to change the situation. Equally damaging would be outside pressure for rapid democratization and liberalization, on the one hand, and unqualified support for dictatorial regimes and closing eyes to their often appalling human rights records (especially if these regimes are either strategic partners in the war against terrorism or control rich hydrocarbon resources), on the other. For outsiders, it is necessary to try to distinguish between genuine and more or less objective difficulties such as age-old traditions or genuine terrorist threats (and not to diminish the negative impact of these traditions or threats), on the one hand, and man-made, or rather authorities-made, problems and pretexts that serve to prolong the status quo favourable for the authorities, on the other. For such an approach some kinds of principled double standards may be even needed. Those who, from the outside, push for quick democratic reforms in societies that are not able to do that, i.e. in societies which do not have the economic, political and social capacities to rapidly carry out such reforms, whose historical baggage does not contain seeds of liberalism, are either incompetent or they are consciously trying to weaken states whose governments refuse to toe the line. Michael Cox, John Ikenburry and Takashi Inoguchi write that ‘[t]he causes of the failed transition [of Russia to democracy] are many. But the West cannot escape its fair share of the blame. It was especially foolish to demand the impossible and to believe one could construct a viable capitalism and American-style democracy together – the so-called ‘market democracy paradigm’ – on the fragments left behind by the Soviet communism. This was ‘panglossian complacency’ of the highest order and was bound to end in tears. Put bluntly, Russia simply could not bear the weight that the West placed on it’.78

78

M. Cox/G. J. Ikenburry/Takachi Inoguchi (eds.), American Democracy Promotion 15 (2000).

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However, in my view, it was not only ‘panglossian complacency’, though for many in the West as well as in Russia it was. For some it was the desire to enfeeble Russia, to turn it into a state that would toe the line, that would follow Washington’s lead without questioning its wisdom, without pursuing Russia’s own interests, especially if the latter differ from Western interests. For me, who lived, studied and worked for many years in Moscow, it is often amazing how little Westerners, and I mean specialists and not only the man on the Clapham omnibus as they say in London, understand Russia. Their attitude vacillates between admiration and deep suspicion and fear, though the latter usually prevails and the former, if we exclude classical Russian literature, music and ballet, is reserved to Presidents Gorbachev and Yeltsin. Although Gorbachev’s policies unwittingly led to the dismantlement of the Soviet Union, for which the world and peoples of many former Soviet republics should be thankful to him, this is also exactly the main reason of his unpopularity in Russia. Yeltsin, standing firm against the putschists in August 1991 later used all the correct words to be liked by many in the West but it was not so much democracy that emerged under Yeltsin (though elements of democracy were also present) as a process of plundering of Russia’s wealth.79 Anatol Lieven, a long-time Russian watcher from the New America Foundation, who seems to comprehend Russia better than most of his fellow citizens astutely observes, writing about democracy in Russia, that: ‘This is indeed a problematic issue because the Russian president has grown increasingly authoritarian. But U.S. expectations in this area are unrealistic. After all, the ‘democracy’ that Putin has allegedly overthrown was, in fact, not a real democracy at all but a pseudo-democracy ruled over by corrupt and brutal oligarchical clans. During the 1990s, the administration of Boris N. Yeltsin, under the sway of the oligarchs and the liberal elites, rigged elections, repressed the opposition and launched a bloody and unnecessary war in Chechnya – all with the support of Washington.’80

As a result of all these transformations, in which the role of Western advisers was quite significant, Russia became weak, and not many Russians are thankful for that. That is why the current president, Vladimir Putin, a former KGB officer who limits democracy (of course, if there was any democracy to limit, in the first place; or as many Russians think, introduces some order into anarchy and chaos), is genuinely popular in Russia. 79

The process of pillage of Russia has been well documented in Pavel Khlebnikov’s book Godfather of the Kremlin and the History of Pillage of Russia that in English translation carries the title Godfather of the Kremlin: The Decline of Russia in the Age of Gangster Capitalism (2001). Khlebnikov was gunned down in Moscow in July 2004 in what seemed to be a contract killing. In his articles and books he may have offended many influential people, including some oligarchs as well as Chechens. In 2003, he published a book, Conversation with a Barbarian, in which he depicted in the most negative light one of the Chechen field commanders, Hozh-Ahmed Nukhayev, harshly criticized Chechen militants generally and made slighting remarks on Islam. In May 2006, a jury in Moscow acquitted three Chechens who were accused of having murdered Khlebnikov.

80

A. Lieven, ‘Why are we trying to reheat the Cold War?’, The Los Angeles Times, 19 March 2006.

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As two Russians write in the International Herald Tribune: ‘The United States finds many fewer supporters in Russia today than it did 15 years ago. Russian perceptions have changed dramatically, for domestic discourse, political stability and order have greater value than democracy. Democracy is often associated with the chaos, the collapse of the state and the material gains of the very few that occurred in the ‘90s.’81

An old friend of mine from my Moscow days, whom I have not met for at least a decade but who meanwhile has become the Foreign Minister of Russia, Sergei Lavrov, in his two articles that were both published in March 2006, wrote that ‘those who study Russia professionally (and not just Soviet studies), and are working out policy toward it, must understand that it would be naive to expect from us readiness to be content in the world with the role of one being led’,82 and that ‘Russia has acquired freedom to behave in accordance with its historical mission, that is, to be itself, and hence to make its full contribution to the common cause of maintaining international stability and harmony between civilizations at the critical stage of the formation of a new architecture of international relations’.83 All these changes in Russia, in its domestic and foreign policy, which has certainly become more assertive and independent, as well as Western reactions to them, have created a perception in Russia that the West, and especially Washington, indeed prefers to deal with a weak Russia that closely follows Western advice. Inability to understand and accept that Russia has its own interests, which may well differ from those of Washington, is counterproductive to the development of mutually beneficial relations between these countries. For example, one should be indeed naïve, or believe others to be naïve, to expect that Russia would not use its vast energy resources in order to promote its foreign policy aims. It would be like expecting the US to ignore its superior economic and military power in conducting its foreign relations. No state that has such leverages fails to use them for its own advantage. When Boris Yeltsin, advised by the World Bank, IMF, Washington and experts such as Professor Jeffrey Sachs, exercised ‘shock therapy’ on Russia, his anti-democratic behaviour (rule by decree instead of law, declaration of state of emergency, by-passing, dismissal and finally shelling of the Parliament etc.) were welcomed in Washington. Serious people there well understood (as Pinochet’s repression in Chile and other experiences in Latin America had proven84) that ‘shock therapy’ and democracy are 81

I. Zevelev/K. Glebov, ‘If you want democracy, don’t push Putin’, The International Herald Tribune, 13 March 2006, available at http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/03/12/opinion/ edzev.php (last visited 21 April 2008).

82

‘Russia in Global Politics’, Moscow News, 3 March 2006.

83

‘Sixty Years after Fulton: Lessons of the Cold War and Our Time’, Rossiiskaya Gazeta, 6 March 2006.

84

It is important to note that what the Chinese leadership suppressed in Tiananmen Square in 1989 were not exactly the shoots of Chinese democracy. There was a crucial choice between political ‘shock therapy’, which could have indeed ended with the country in turmoil, and the continuation of rapid economic reforms that would have been impossible to carry out using

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opposites. The harshest ‘rebuke’ came from Warren Christopher, the then Secretary of State, who stated: ‘The United States does not easily support the suspension of parliaments. But these are extraordinary times.’85 Indeed, when one deals with hard matters like oil, gas or dismantling of one’s strategic competitor, the ‘evil empire’ (today, terrorism is a must), one cannot be stymied by considerations of ‘soft’ issues like democracy (if I am ironical or cynical here, then only a bit; what I really do not like is hypocrisy since its purpose is to fool everybody, including you). Jeffrey Sachs, has recognised with hindsight, as Naomi Klein writes, that at the beginning of the 1990s, when Russia’s economy was undergoing ‘shock therapy’, ‘many of Washington’s power brokers were still fighting a Cold War. They saw Russia’s economic collapse as geopolitical victory, the decisive one that ensured U.S. supremacy’.86 The sudden and unprepared introduction of liberal reforms in countries such as Russia under Boris Yeltsin indeed led to chaos that has resulted in nostalgia for order (poryadok in Russian and ordnung in German have been the words used to tighten the screws). After the Beslan tragedy, when President Putin introduced a series of anti-democratic and anti-liberal political reforms, which moreover had nothing to do with anti-terrorist measures, critical comments by Russian liberals, including the Russian Human Rights Ombudsman Vladimir Lukin, sounded very much like lone voices crying out into the wilderness. This process can be observed in many, if not in most (the Baltic countries being the only clear exceptions) post-Soviet states. Gorbachev’s reforms were enthusiastically welcomed by many Soviets who were fed up with an order that had its roots in the ideology of Leninism-Stalinism and had brought immense suffering to the people. I remember well how the population of Moscow in March 1989, in the elections for the Congress of Peoples Deputies, voted for Boris Yeltsin (around ninety per cent of the Moscovites cast their vote for him). This amazing result was a protest vote because at that time Yeltsin was being persecuted by Gorbachev and vilified in the mass media. People were fed up with being told who to respect and who to denounce and therefore they voted for Yeltsin. (In the Soviet Mission to the United Nations in New York where, as a then member of the UN Human Rights Committee, I cast my vote the result was ninety-five per cent for Yeltsin; this notwithstanding – or due to – the fact that the diplomats were told in no uncertain terms to guarantee an anti-Yeltsin result.) This was a vote for freedom against order, i.e., against the order that had prevailed for many decades. Today the situation is different. Unprepared, not thought through, and poorly administered liberal economic and political reforms not only destabilized the country but also discredited the very ideas of democracy and human rights. Now people democratic means. One is advised to question why Washington supported the bloody regime of General Pinochet in Chile that overthrew (with the help of the CIA) the democratically elected government of Salvador Aliende thereby opening up the country for economic liberalisation while after the Tiananmen sanctions were applied against China. Isn‘t it because Pinochet Chile became an ally of Washington while China was already then seen as the main strategic competitor that cannot be allowed to become too strong? 85

N. Klein, The Shock Doctrine. The Rise of Disaster Capitalism 229 (2007).

86

Ibid., at 250.

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in Russia support Putin’s reforms of ‘strengthening the vertical of power’, which has thrown back Russia’s feeble democratic achievements. What is described in the West as a backlash against democracy under President Putin has to be seen in the context of what happened in Russia under Yeltsin and not of how many in the West perceived it. Adi Ignatius, the former Wall Street Journal bureau chief in Moscow, at the end of 2007 reminisced about Yeltsin’s Russia of the 1990s: ‘I retain three indelible images from that time. The first: the legions of Ivy League – and other Western – educated “experts” who roamed the halls of the Kremlin and the government, offering advice, all ultimately ineffective on everything from conducting free elections to using “shock therapy” to juice the economy to privatizing state-owned assets.’87

And as Time concludes, it is easy to see why the Russians today are looking for greatness and supporting Vladimir Putin ‘after the humiliations of the 1990s, when Harvard M.B.A.s flooded Russia, preaching Western style democracy, only to let a small cabal of criminals bleed the country dry’.88 Therefore, today Russia is not at all lost for democracy, though the mistakes and purposeful attempts made in the 1990s to weaken Russia and force it to follow Washington’s lead have made Russia’s way to democracy even more tortuous than it would have otherwise been. However, do not expect Russian democracy to be ‘a Western style democracy’. Whether it will be called ‘sovereign’, ‘directed’ or ‘managed’ it would be different from what exists, say, in the Western Europe and it is especially important not to forget that it is for the Russian people to decide. Our influence on these matters, though never great or decisive, will only have some effect if we are not perceived as giving some unsolicited advise. It seems that the objectives of the US policy of advancing democracy and supporting so-called ‘colour revolutions’ in strategically or resourcefully important regions are twofold: if democracy, due to American efforts, takes roots in such a country, this country becomes an ally of Washington; however, if a country fails to build a sustainable democracy it ends up in turmoil and becomes a weak entity that does not threaten American or wider Western interests. Naturally, the first scenario is preferable but the second, from the point of view of US interests, is not a complete failure either, though weak or failed states may become hotspots of terrorism. Anatol Lieven and John Hulsman observe that ‘among neoconservatives and liberal hawks, the desire to spread democracy can also take a form that is explicitly dedicated to the weakening or even destruction of other states, even when these are by no means full-fledged enemies of America’,89 or that ‘too many American Democratists (i.e. those who believe in what the US National Security Strategy of 2002 and 2006 say about the export of democracy) base their approach to the world on the assumption that they

87

A. Ignatius, ‘A Tsar is Born’, Time, 3 December 2007, at 42.

88

Ibid., at 60.

89

A. Lieven/J. Hulsman, Ethical Realism. A Vision for America’s Role in the World 104 (2006).

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know how best to run countries of which they know nothing and whose languages they don’t speak – countries that quite often they have never even visited’.90 Sometimes I indeed have the feeling that the West, especially Washington, prefers to deal with weak and unstable states rather than face stable and strong but uncomfortable powers that pursue their own interests (like the US itself naturally does) and that do not act according to the ‘Washington consensus’ (WC) (not only in a narrow economic-financial sense but also in a wider philosophico-political sense) but prefer to reach, say, the ‘Beijing consensus’ (BC) or have their own parochial (no offence meant) understanding of their national interests. This does not mean that there is nothing good in the WC or that the BC is preferable to the WC; the point is that in today’s globalising world there should be some consensus between the WC and BC and that none of them can be imposed. Nations, like individuals (especially young) tend to reject what they perceive as imposed on them, even if this may indeed be for their own good. The adage that the road to hell is paved with good intentions is truer in international relations more than in any other field of human activity. This is one of the characteristics of the so-called ‘soft power’ that it not only has to be accepted voluntarily but even more importantly it has also to be perceived as accepted voluntarily. One should not let oneself be fooled by claims of governments of mission civilicatrice, as it was in the nineteenth century, or promotion of democracy, as it is called today. Peter Hopkirk writes that, besides military-strategic reasons, the nineteenth-century Great Game ‘for St Petersburg […] turned out to be at the same time the extension to new markets’.91 Some Western scholars have, however, denied that economic considerations were pushing forward Russian expansion in Central Asia, or elsewhere for that matter.92 It is true that Russian and especially Soviet expansionism, differently from, say, British and later American expansionism, was often motivated more by political, military and ideological than economic calculations. Eastern European countries of ‘peoples’ democracy’ and especially so-called ‘countries of socialist orientation’ (Cuba, Angola, Mozambique and Vietnam), with their Soviet imposed artificial, ineffective planned economies, were indeed more a burden on the Soviet economy than a source of any profit. For the Kremlin, not the profit but the spread of socialist ideology and Soviet political and military influence were primary motives of its foreign policy. However, economic factors, especially for the Czarist Russia, though less for the Soviet Union, played a role, too. Seymour Becker is therefore right when he observes that Russia’s aims in Central Asia in the mid-nineteenth century were both political and economic.93 Of course, the same held true for British interests. It was not only that the British were apprehensive lest they lose India to the Russians, who indeed were playing around with the idea of moving much further to the south than the then limits of the Russian

90

Ibid., at 109.

91

P. Hopkirk, The Great Game. On the Secrete Service in High Asia 102 (1990).

92

See, e.g., W. C. Fuller, Strategy and Power in Russia 1600-1914, at 290 (1992).

93

S. Becker, Russia’s Protectorates in Central Asia: Bukhara and Khiva, 1865-1924, at 13 (1968).

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Empire94 (which were finally established by the Anglo-Russian Convention of 1907), but London and Calcutta also tried to expand markets for their goods as far northward as possible, and to restrict the southward penetration of Russian merchants to areas too close to the British Raj. It is of interest to note that even today we see that Russia and Western powers, especially the United States, use economic and political tools differently in their external affairs. Stephen Kinzer observes that ‘spreading democracy, Christianising heathen nations, building a strong navy, establishing military bases around the world, and bringing foreign governments under American control were never ends in themselves. They were ways for the United States to assure itself access to the markets, resources, and investment potential of distant lands’.95 Russia, on the contrary, is often using its economic resources, especially oil and gas, for political ends. Whether it was cutting off gas supplies to Ukraine in the winter of 2005-06 or suddenly finding traces of pesticides in Georgian and Moldavian wines in order to hit traditional export items of these countries, it has all been done for political purposes. It may be said, with some qualifications, of course, that Russia, for the sake of achieving its political aims, is mainly resorting to economic tools, while the United States is using political and military instruments for economic purposes. Such differing attitudes may be explained by different socioeconomic systems – the capitalist, market-oriented one, and the totalitarian, politically oriented one. To simplify a bit, the first uses all available tools, including political ones to make money, the second uses money to gain long-term political and ideological influence (I have also observed that in America one has to be a millionaire to hold a high political office while in the East it is the opposite – a high political post helps one become a millionaire). Both versions have their shortcomings. The capitalist-democratic approach cannot have any long-term vision because of regular elections and pressure from lobbying groups; its attention span is too short. The communist or totalitarian approach fails because long-term planning, based on ideological dogmas, inevitably fails. That is why the USSR for decades supported Cuba and Vietnam without having, at the end of the day, any positive outcomes; that is why the US propped up dictators who were supposed to guarantee the economic interests of American firms (for a while they often did that and for these firms, not for America as a state, that quick buck was what they were looking for), but who often were overthrown and replaced by extreme anti-Western, anti-libertarian regimes. What remains true is that national interests, though often myopic, prevail over claims of bettering the world and bringing happiness to far-away peoples. Although even in that respect one should not be too absolutist. Some nations, especially smaller Western European countries, have come to understand, and act upon this understanding, that their well-being cannot be sustainable when people in other continents continue to suffer. Although their 94

Although today we may conclude that due to impenetrable Afghanistan interposing between the Russians descending from the north and the British advancing from the south neither could the Cossacks wash their boots in the Indian Ocean, nor could Sepoys water their horses in the Siberian rivers.

95

S. Kinzer, Overthrow: America’s Century of Regime Change from Hawaii to Iraq 34 (2006).

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ability to change the world is even more limited than that of great powers, their slow, methodical and piece-meal efforts are in practice more effective than grand designs for the Greater Middle East or for some other region. As the report The World Around Russia: 2017 prepared by Council of Foreign and Defence Policy – a Russian think tank headed by Sergei Karaganov – observes, ‘the U.S. policy of proliferating democracy in the Broader Middle East in practice results in serious and long-term destabilization of states in the region, which may plunge into a cycle of continuous chaos or produce radical Islamic regimes. Neither option meets U.S. political or economic interests. The U.S. policy in the regions of Central Asia and Transcaucasia that border Russia may have a similar effect’.96

IX.

Conclusions

Although critical attitude towards democracy promotion is necessary, one should not also ‘throw the baby out with the bathwater’. Almost every right, almost every good may be open to abuse, but this should not mean that these rights or goods thereby become less valuable. Humans possess intelligence and a flexible mind not only to confuse and mislead others but also in order to differentiate between use and abuse, sincerity and deception.97 For outsiders, to help others promote democracy, it is necessary not only to be sincere but also to have quite a deep knowledge and understanding of other societies as well as enough humility to be aware of limits of any outside interference. In the absence of these conditions any outside meddling does more ill than good. However, when these conditions are met outsiders may contribute to the spread of democracy that indeed has both intrinsic as well as instrumental value. Usually reformist, not revolutionary, methods have to be preferred (especially if ‘democratic revolutions’ are foreign induced, not home-grown). Harvard economist Dani Rodrik, writing about why some developing countries have succeeded in their economic reforms while others have failed (none has succeeded when diligently following IMF and World Bank prescriptions) observes that ‘learning from other countries is always useful – indeed it is indispensable. But straightforward borrowing (or rejection) of policies without full understanding of the context that enabled them to be successful (or led them to be failures) is a recipe for disaster’.98 This insightful observation is as true, or maybe even truer, in the case of democratic reforms and promotion of democracy. Democracy, democratic institutions and values 96

Council of Foreign and Defence Policy, Moscow, Kulturnaya Revolutsiya (Cultural Revolution), The World Around Russia: 2017, at 96 (2007).

97

Nicholas Wade opines that religion coevolved with the emergence of language as a safeguard against deception that came possible through the use of language: ‘With the advent of language, freeloaders gained a great weapon, the power to deceive. Religion could have evolved as a means of defence against freeloading.’, N. Wade, Before the Dawn. Recovering the Lost History of Our Ancestors 165 (2007).

98

D. Rodrik, One Economics, Many Recipes. Globalization, Institutions, and Economic Growth 4-5 (2007).

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are more intimately related to and dependent on history and culture of a society than economic and financial institutions. Learning, not borrowing, but at the same time not discarding the experience of other societies by self-servingly over-emphasizing one’s uniqueness is the best way to proceed. Democratization is more an art than a science, even if we have in mind only social sciences that all contain, in different proportions, a degree of artfulness.

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13

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The Principle of Non-Discrimination in International Economic Law: A Conceptual and Historical Sketch Friedl Weiss ‘It is perfectly legitimate for a Government, in the absence of any special agreement to the contrary, to afford to subjects of any particular Government treatment which is refused to subjects of other Governments. […] Some political motive, some service rendered, some traditional bond of friendship, some reciprocal treatment in the past or in the present, may furnish the ground for discrimination.’1

I.

Non-Discrimination as a Principle of International Economic Law

International economic law, broadly speaking, refers to those rules of public international law which directly concern economic exchanges between the subjects of international law.2 However, as a reflection of present day realities of international life one also needs to embrace and deal with such phenomena as multinational enterprises and contracts, especially state-investor contracts, concluded by states with nationals of other states.3 Therefore, it is imperative to accept both the doctrine according to which individuals may be subjects of international law4 and the existence of sources of international law other than those enumerated in Article 38, paragraph 1, of the Statute of the International Court of Justice (ICJ), or at least the necessity of interpreting their scope.5 While a plethora of academic literature is seeking to define the concept of international economic law, mostly somewhat idiosyncratically and even selectively for limited secto-

1

Eastern Extension, Australasia and China Telegraph Company, Ltd. (Great Britain) v. United States, Award of 9 November 1923, 6 RIIA 112, at 117.

2

D. Carreau/P. Julliard/T. Flory, Droit International Economique 45 (1990).

3

On resulting interpretative problems, see e.g., T. Wälde/G. Ndi, ‘Stabilizing International Investment Commitments: International Law versus Contract Interpretation’, 31 Texas International Law Journal 215 (1996).

4

S. Oda, ‘The Individual in International Law’, in M. Sørensen (ed.), Manual of Public International Law, London 471 (1968).

5

See N. G. Onuf, ‘Further Thoughts on a New Source of International Law: Professor d’Amato’s “Manifest Intent”’, 65 AJIL 778-779 (1971).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 269-286, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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ral perspectives,6 there is, nonetheless, a dearth of ‘comprehensive and internationally accepted theories of “International Economic Law”’.7 At the same time, recent practice of states has somewhat blurred traditional dividing lines between supposedly distinct spheres of private and public law, opening the way for the admission of new bodies of rules into international economic law, such as those of the so called ‘lex mercatoria’. Increasingly, traders worldwide develop and follow uniform principles for carrying on business which are more or less distinct from any national law and are enforceable mainly by arbitration.8 Evidently, a considerable part of the discourses on international economic law is conducted on the basis of broad normative principles. Indeed states make copious use of principles,9 and scholars justify their existence by referring to the need to reconcile norms with ‘extremely divergent economic systems’.10 The principle 6

See G. Schwarzenberger’s definition excluding international labor and social law, G. Schwarzenberger, ‘The Principles and Standards of International Economic Law’, 117 RdC 8 (1966); M. R. Shuster, The Public International Law of Money (1973); Carreau/Julliard/ Flory, supra note 2, include the law of establishment, of investment, of economic relations, economic institutions, and of regional economic integration and recognize though exclude other topics such as economic development and the linkage between economic subjects and human rights. On the latter, see e.g., L. Bartels, Human Rights Conditionality in the EU’s International Agreements (2005).

7

E. U. Petersmann, ‘International Economic Theory and International Economic Law: On the Tasks of a Legal Theory of International Economic Order’, in R. St. J. McDonald/D. Johnston (eds.), The Structure and Process of International Law: Essays on Legal Philosophy and Theory 227, 250-251 (1983). K. W. Abbott, ‘International Economic Law: Implications for scholarship’, 17 University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Economic Law 505 (1996); J. R. Paul, ‘Interdisciplinary Approaches to International Economic Law: The New Movements in International Economic Law’, 10 The American University Journal of International Law and Policy 607 (1995); J. H. Jackson, ‘Interdisciplinary Approaches to International Economic Law: Reflections on the “Boilerroom” of International Relations’, 10 The American University Journal of International Law and Policy 595 (1995); id., ‘Introduction: Reflections on International Economic Law’, 17 University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Economic Law 17 (1996); D. Kennedy, ‘Interdisciplinary Approaches to International Economic Law: The International Style in Post-war Law and Policy: John Jackson and the field of International Economic Law’, 10 The American University Journal of International Law and Policy 671 (1995); E. U. Petersmann, ‘How to reform the United Nations: Lessons from the International Economic Law Revolution’, 2 UCLA Journal of International Law and Foreign Affairs 185 (1998); A.-M. Slaughter/A. S. Tulumello/S. Wood, ‘International Law and International Relations Theory: A New Generation of Interdisciplinary Scholarship’, 92 AJIL 367 (1998).

8

I. Seidl-Hohenveldern, International Economic Law 2 (1992); J. P. Trachtman, ‘The International Economic Law Revolution’, 17 University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Economic Law 33 (1996). See also Regulation of the European Parliament and of the Council on the law applicable to contractual obligations (Rome I), PE-CONS 369/07 of 31 March 2008.

9

F. Roessler, ‘Law, De Facto Agreements and Declarations of Principle in International Economic Relations’, 21 GYBIL 27, 57-59 (1978).

10

P. Verloren van Themaat, The Changing Structure of International Economic Law 22 (1981). See also the discussion of the meaning and application of international legal standards by W. McKean, Equality and Non-discrimination under International Law 264 (1983).

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of non-discrimination too, though featuring in numerous treaties, is not defined by the contracting parties, while authors discussing it either appear to presume its meaning to be known or rarely venture beyond stating that it constitutes the negation of the duty to provide equal treatment.11 Despite the considerable importance of the principle of non-discrimination in the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), the first ever multilateral treaty-based system of international trade relations after the Second World War, only relatively few scholarly studies analysed that principle in a detailed12 rather than in a more cursory manner.13 While some acknowledged that certain international economic agreements, such as the GATT, may ripen into customary law14 there is, nonetheless, a general reluctance to accept that these agreements automatically represent customary law.15 Indeed, an arbitral award of 1923 categorically denied the existence of a general duty of non-discrimination based on customary international law. It rejected the British claim that one of its cable companies, the submarine cables of which had been cut by the US navy during the US-Spanish war, was entitled to receive compensation from the United States Government without discrimination since it had so compensated some other foreign cable company for damage done to its property. The arbitral tribunal, however, found that: ‘It is perfectly legitimate for a Government, in the absence of any special agreement to the contrary, to afford to subjects of any particular Government treatment which is refused to subjects of other Governments, or to reserve to its own subjects treatment which is not afforded to foreigners. Some political motive, some service rendered, some traditional bond of friendship, some reciprocal treatment in the past or in the present, may furnish the ground for discrimination.’16

11

For a survey of definitions by authors see W. Kewenig, Der Grundsatz der Nichtdiskriminierung im Völkerrecht der internationalen Handelsbeziehungen, Vol 1: Der Begriff der Nichtdiskriminierung 24-29 (1972).

12

See T. Flory, Le G.A.T.T., Droit International et Commerce Mondial (1968); H. K. Hyder, Equality of Treatment and Trade Discrimination in International Law (1968); G. Schiavone, Il Principio di Non-Discriminazione nei Rapporti Commerciali Internationali (1966); G. Patterson, Discrimination in International Trade, The Policy Issues 1945-1965 (1966).

13

G. Curzon, Multilateral Economic Policy (1965); K. W. Dam, The GATT Law and International Economic Organisation (1970); J. H. Jackson, World Trade and the Law of GATT. A Legal Analysis of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (1969).

14

G. M. White, Principles of International Economic Law: An Attempt to Map the Territory, in H. Fox (ed.), International Economic Law and Developing States: Some Aspects 1, at 25 (1988), citing the International Law Commission’s (ILC) Draft Articles on MFN clauses as a possible future example of such norms.

15

E.g. G. Schwarzenberger, supra note 6, at 67, referring to the principles and standards as being ‘purely optional’. See also W. J. Aceves, ‘Institutionalist Theory and International Legal Scholarship’, 12 The American University Journal of International Law and Policy 227 (1997).

16

See Eastern Extension v. United States, supra note 1.

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For instance, most favoured nations (MFN) treaty provisions have been deemed to enjoy merely non-customary law status.17 Nevertheless, it can be argued that, through extensive treaty practice, a variety of international economic legal principles have probably evolved into broad norms,18 including, in particular, the ordering principle of formal equality, the essence of non-discrimination.19 Accordingly, each state is entitled to equality before the law since ‘every state is forbidden to deny arbitrarily to another state or to its subjects favours which the first-mentioned state gives to all other states or to all other aliens’.20 However, no substantial proof exists that anything other than logic or the will of states parties to treaties commands equality, thereby establishing mutual rights and favours establishing de facto ‘equality systems’. International law, though, like all positive law,21 must secure a minimum of justice, inherent in the very idea of law, by excluding material arbitrariness (abuse of right) of every kind.22 Furthermore, the content of such systems is clouded with uncertainty due to two underlying conceptions.23 According to one, identical treatment of all subjects is not required, but the will of states or other source of obligation mandates ‘similar treatment for those in similar circumstances’,24 except where differentiations are justified on objective grounds.25 The other conception presupposes ‘an absence of discriminatory

17

A. d’Amato, International Law: Process and Prospects 125-126 (1987).

18

Previous reluctance to accord customary law status to the MFN standard was presumably attributable to an unwillingness to bestow benefits on political and ideological rivals of Western nations in the former socialist bloc, particularly in view of the difficulty of guaranteeing full reciprocity of economic exchanges with nations following central command economic policies.

19

See Petersmann, supra note 7, at 257. The standards discussed are derived from formal equality. The other ordering principles are said to be freedom and solidarity. Alternatively, formal equality has been described as one of the few explanatory principles for the development of international organizations, mainly as a manifestation of economic constitutional law. Formal equality should be distinguished from substantive or material equality, which relates to the issue of justice. The distinction is said to lie in the difference between equality ‘before’ the law and equality ‘in’ the law: E. W. Vierdag, The Concept of Discrimination in Public International Law 3, 7, 17-18 (1973).

20

R. Sundberg-Weitman, Discrimination on the grounds of nationality: Free Movement of Workers and Freedom of Establishment under the EEC Treaty 23 (1977).

21

See e.g. 1999 Swiss Federal Constitution, arts. 8 (Rechtsgleichheit) and 9 (Schutz vor Willkür).

22

See G. Leibholz, Das Verbot der Willkür und des Ermessensmissbrauchs im völkerrechtlichen Verkehr der Staaten 2, 4 (1963).

23

G. Marshall, Notes on the Rule of Equal Law 267 (1965).

24

Ibid.

25

See e.g. Mund & Fester v. Hatrex International Transport, Case C-398/92, 1994 ECR I-467: distinction not justified by objective circumstances; Eckehard Pastoors and Trans-Cap GmbH v. Belgian State, Case C-29/95, 1997 ECR I-285: an objectively justified difference in treatment (between resident and non-resident offenders) may yet be manifestly disproportionate. See also S. Plötscher, Der Begriff der Diskriminierung im Europäischen Gemeinschaftsrecht (2003).

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treatment except for those in different circumstances’.26 This latter proposition involves the negative aspect of equality: the requirement of non-discrimination or an absence of unjustified discrimination.27 Some prescriptions of equality, however, contain both positive and negative elements.28 Regardless of the context or form in which equality is placed, there is also a material element. Only material discrimination is unacceptable.29 In most discussions of the concept of equality it is assumed that the notion of formal equality neither commands actual receipt of a benefit nor an equal distribution of benefits to all beneficiaries. This has been due to: (1) the size of a particular beneficiary;30 (2) the customary omission of certain types of beneficiaries from active protection;31 (3) the limited nature of the base values of any particular system and the distinctions between beneficiaries authorized by those values; and (4) the impact of the element of discretion that any rational system for the allocation of benefits must inevitably entrust to surrogate decision-makers. The principle of non-discrimination also implies that similar cases be treated similarly. Admittedly, this notion does not take us very far since the criteria of similarity are provided by the legal rules themselves and by the principles used to interpret them.32 Nevertheless, the practice that like decisions be given in like cases significantly limits the discretion of judges and others in authority. It compels them to justify distinctions they make between persons by reference to the relevant legal rules and principles. In any particular case in which complicated rules require interpretation, it may be easy to justify an arbitrary decision. But with an increase in the number of cases, plausible justifications for discriminatory judgments become more difficult to construct due to the requirement of consistency of interpretation of all rules and of justifications. Eventually, reasoned arguments supportive of discriminatory judgments become harder to formulate and attempts to do so less persuasive. This holds also true in 26

In the context of older EC case law see e.g. Italy v. Commission of the EEC (Electric Refrigerators Case), Case 13/63 of 17 July 1963, 1963 ECR 337, at 177; Fernanda Micheli and others v. Commission, Case 198-202/81 of 2 December 1982, 1982 ECR 4145, at 4157, para. 5; Costa v. ENEL, Case 6/64, 1964 ECR 585.

27

Sundberg-Weitman, supra note 20, at 21; McKean, supra note 10, at 9. Anglo-American legal language and diplomatic practice during the twentieth century led to the adoption of the expression ‘non-discrimination’. Nonetheless, other expressions, such as ‘distinctions’ (qualified by numerous adjectives) were used well into this century, see Vierdag, supra note 19, at 49-50.

28

Sundberg-Weitman , supra note 20, at 24. The 1947 General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (1947 GATT) provides examples, such as in art. I.

29

See McKean, supra note 10, at 202; K. Lewin, The Free Movement of Workers, 2 Common Market Law Review 300, 311-112 (1963). One should not confuse materiality with substantive or material equality, discussed in Vierdag, supra note 19, at 3.

30

See McKean, supra note 10.

31

This potentially controversial issue, as manifested in US constitutional law by Plessy v. Ferguson, 163 US 537, at 550 (1895), stating that discriminatory regulation can be justified on the basis of ‘established usages, customs and traditions of the people, and with a view to the promotion of their comfort’, is now unfashionable. See Marshall, supra note 23.

32

See J. Rawls, A Theory of Justice 237 (1971).

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cases of equity, that is, when an exception is to be made to the established rule where it would otherwise operate in a manner unexpectedly resulting in hardship. Since there is, however, no clear line separating these exceptional cases, interpretation may reach a point at which nearly any difference will make a difference. In these instances, the principle of authoritative decision applies, and the weight of precedent or of the instant decision suffices.33 These factors might suggest that the principle of equality is potentially insubstantial. Thus, it is necessary to clearly articulate appropriate criteria for making distinctions between states in order to enhance the efficiency of any particular system of equality.34 Such efficiency can only be achieved if those called upon to apply the criteria do so in an objective manner.35 Because so much rests on the decision-makers, one would expect to see articulated parameters consisting of the objectives of these equality systems within the framework of international economic order and international economic law. In this respect, broader discussions of equality have focused on both natural law and the dignity of human beings.36 Particularly, discussions of international economic equality have focused on: (1) the irrationality and injuriousness of discrimination;37 (2) the fairness of treating sovereign nations equally,38 and (3) the peace39 and harmony resulting from the knowledge of national leaders that their states will not be victimized.40 While some states explain non-discrimination as being based on the drive towards growth of world trade,41 socialist states have in the past asserted that MFN treatment is mandatory due

33

See L. Fuller, Anatomy of the Law 182 (1969).

34

For Marshall such criteria require that: (1) some nexus exists between classification and legislative objects; (2) classification must be based on intelligible differentiation; (3) classification must be based on some real and substantial distinction; (4) classification must be relevant to the object of the legislation; (5) classification must be rationally related to the object; (6) classification must be fairly related to the object; (7) classification must not be capricious or invidious; (8) classification must not be arbitrary; (9) classification must be reasonable; and (10) classification must be just; from these criteria he derives three broad ‘standards of criticism’ in ascending order: ‘(1) that which is intelligible, (2) that which is relevant, and (3) that which is just or reasonable.’ He notes that at times when the word ‘arbitrary’ is used, it conceals the difference between tests (2) and (3), supra note 23, at 268-269. See also Vierdag, supra note 19, at 61-65 (discussing the requirement of a ‘sufficient connection’).

35

Vierdag, supra note 19, at 62.

36

See Sundberg-Weitman, supra note 20, at 24-25.

37

Sundberg-Weitman, supra note 20, at 24.

38

See D. K. Tartullo, ‘Logic, Myth, and the International Economic Order’, 26 Harvard International Law Journal 533, 539 (1985).

39

Sundberg-Weitman , supra note 20, at 24.

40

Tartullo, supra note 38, at 539.

41

Other advantages may be the immediate distribution of the benefits of tariff reductions and the reduction of the time and complexity of accomplishing that goal. Tartullo, ibid., and for criticisms of these arguments, at 539-540.

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to the stipulations by the United Nations Charter of sovereign equality and of friendly relations based on respect for human rights.42 In conclusion, it is possible to assert that the principle of non-discrimination aims at ensuring that when governments apply policies to manage their international commercial transactions, these policies will be applied without regard to the origin and, in some instances, the destination of any particular transaction. Typically, this means that non-discrimination is to be accorded regardless of the nationality43 of the products, or of the services and the service suppliers, or of the investors involved.44 It is synonymous with the idea of ‘equal treatment for all’ under a common set of treaty rules. Equal treatment, in the sense of ‘identical’ treatment, may not be practicable or lead to the desired result in all cases. Thus, non-discrimination in commercial treaties is often interpreted operationally as to mean effective equality of opportunity to compete on equivalent terms and conditions, which for instance is the case under Article II of the General Agreement on Trade in Services (GATS). From an economic perspective, several advantages are associated with a general principle of non-discrimination in commercial treaties: In a market economy, it is generally believed that the conclusion of commercial transactions on the basis of price competition, without reference to the origin or destination of products or services, is conducive to an optimal allocation of resources for all parties concerned. It allows a country to benefit from the comparative advantage45 of each of its trading partners, permitting them to benefit from the comparative advantage that they each enjoy. Hayek argues that the formation of market exchange relations are self-generating structures with a tendency toward equilibrium. Markets are thus mechanisms superior to central planning systems because they have in-built discovery procedures through the ability of the pricing system to register preferences.46 There is no systematic gain to be had in economic terms from favouring transactions with one particular trading partner over another simply on the grounds of nationality. As commercial restrictions are liberalized, eliminated or reduced, the benefits are extended automatically to every treaty party. On that basis, the principle of nondiscrimination acts as a multiplier, opening up new market access opportunities to

42

See J. N. Hazard, ‘Editorial Comment: Commercial Discrimination and International Law’, 52 AJIL 495 (1958).

43

For other parameters potentially giving rise to discriminatory treatment such as e.g. religious or political affiliation, cf. the case law of the European Court of Human Rights and some relevant cases such as Tinnelly & Sons Ltd and Others and McElduff and Others v. United Kingdom, Judgment of 10 July 1998, 27 EHRR 249 (1999); 4 BHRC 393; 1998 HRCD 715.

44

Interesting examples can be drawn from the area of investment disputes, especially the application of public policies by arbitral awards of the International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID) established by the 1965 Convention on the Settlement of Investment Disputes between States and Nationals of Other States (the 1965 ICSID Convention), see R. Dolzer/Ch. Schreuer, Principles of International Investment Law (2008).

45

For a detailed explanation of the economics of international trade see P. R. Krugman/M. Obstfeld, International Economics: Theory and Policy, Part I, at 11 (2000).

46

F. Hayek, Law, Legislation and Liberty, Vol. 1, Rules and Order (1973).

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all of a country’s commercial partners and spreading the benefits of liberalization.47 Legal security is enhanced and confidence increased, due to the sharing of the benefits derived from a unified, rules-based commercial treaty, particularly for participants who possess less individual commercial or political influence than others.48 Transaction and administration costs are reduced (at customs, for example), and there is an economy of rule-making, when the same policy measures are applicable to all commercial transactions instead of being differentiated by origin or destination. For the private sector, the guarantee of non-discrimination translates into greater transparency, stability and predictability of government policies, and therefore into lower risk for their commercial activities. Applying the rule of non-discrimination through international treaty law is often perceived by foreigners as offering a better guarantee than applying it solely through national legislation, which can be changed unilaterally.

II.

Brief History of Non-Discrimination

As the Doha Round of multilateral trade negotiations has become deadlocked and economically sub-optimal protectionist, if not mercantilist mood, practices and arrangements resurface – probably contrary to the object and purpose of the treaties constituting the multilateral trading system49 –, it seems imperative and timely to trace and review the history of the still embattled principle of non-discrimination in international economic/trade law. Not, of course, in a most certainly futile attempt to show that the principle has become established in customary law, but rather in an effort to help strengthening resistance against its further erosion and to raise awareness and understanding of its role as well as of that of legitimate discrimination in the interpretation of international legal instruments, such as that of the GATT.

A.

Ancient Classical Period to the 12th Century

In order to trace relevant analogies to the principle of non-discrimination in the ancient world it should be recalled that law is generally thought to reflect the interests of any given ruling class. In international law these are in particular those of the most prominent ‘hegemonial’ powers of the period concerned. The principle of non-discrimination 47

See for an economic analysis of the legal context, J. Dunoff/J. P. Trachtman, ‘Economic Analysis of International Law’, 24 Yale Journal of International Law 1 (1999).

48

See also B. S. Brown, ‘Developing Countries in the International Trade Order’, 14 Northern Illinois University Law Review 347 (1994); Ph. M. Nichols, ‘Participation of Nongovernmental Parties in the World Trade Organization: Extension of Standing in World Trade Organization Disputes to Nongovernmental Parties’, 17 University of Pennsylvania Journal of International Economic Law 295 (1996).

49

F. Weiss, ‘Coalitions of the Willing: The Case for Multi-lateralism vs. Regional and Bi-lateral Arrangements in World Trade’, in Ch. Calliess/G. Nolte/P.-T. Stoll (eds.), Coalitions of the Willing: Avantgarde or Threat ? 51, at 54 (2008).

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made its first appearance during the Athenian League in the 5th century BC. Although primarily a political alliance, it also functioned as a free trade zone in which Athens enjoyed a pre-eminent role as ‘primus inter pares’.50 In reality, Athens imposed its supreme political and military power as well as its trade and monetary rules upon members of the alliance while applying the principle of non-discrimination rather arbitrarily. Similarly, some treaties of the Hellenistic and Roman periods extended trade privileges to the most important political and trade powers from time to time or to particular cities such as Delos or Rhodes.51 However, international commercial exchanges and discriminatory or non-discriminatory treatment were mostly intertwined with cultural, religious and tribal conditions. In fact, it was until the first decades of the twentieth century that preferences based on cultural ties played an important role.52

B.

Twelfth Century to the 1850s

The first known non-discrimination provisions53 appeared in the Middle Ages in various European treaties concluded with the Byzantine and Ottoman empires. These treaties in fact contributed greatly to the initial development of the Italian city states of Venice and Genoa. More elaborate provisions appeared in European commercial treaties of the 17th century.54 By the 18th century, the unconditional form of the MFN clause had become commonplace.55 Thus, MFN treatment, national treatment, identical treatment, reciprocity, preferential treatment, the open door policy, various trade-related freedoms and equitable treatment became the most common non-discrimination standards.56 Of these standards, that of the MFN treatment evolved as the one most often associated with non-discrimination. However, the scope of MFN treatment has

50

M. Villey, La formation de la pensée juridique moderne, Cours d’Histoire de la philosophie du droit 14-61 (1975).

51

See W. Preiser, ‘History of the Law of Nations Ancient Times to 1648’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Vol. VII, 132, at 135 (1982).

52

See A. L.Allen/M. R. Seidl, ‘Interdisciplinary approaches to International Economic Law: Cross-cultural Commerce in Shakespeare’s the merchant of Venice’, 10 The American University Journal of International Law and Policy 837 (1995); see also R. A. Posner, ‘Law and Literature: A Relation Reargued’, 72 Virginia Law Review 1351, 1357 (1986).

53

G. Schwarzenberger, ‘The Most Favored Nation Standard in British State Practice’, 22 BYBIL 96, 97 (1945). These provisions were somewhat analogous to those in modern treaties providing for national treatment for the citizens of parties in matters relating to doing business in the territory of the other parties.

54

Many of these treaties involved the Netherlands, typically including provisions on customs and trade, especially granting MFN status and requiring national treatment.

55

H. O. Davis, America’s Equality Policy 9 (1942).

56

Schwarzenberger, supra note 53, at 96; id., supra note 6, at 67. Schwarzenberger refers to numerous standards that he believes can be ascertained by relatively objective criteria, arguing, logically, that the standard of preferential treatment is not aimed at equality. The standard he discussed probably encompasses non-economic subjects as well.

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remained quite varied and thus somewhat opaque. A leading 1948 study described MFN treatment as embracing ‘all concessions or favors made by each in the past, or which might be made in the future [...] to the articles, agents, or instruments of commerce of any other state in such a way that their mutual trade will never be on a less favorable basis than is enjoyed by that state whose commercial relations with each is on the most favorable basis.’57

MFN clauses, however, have sometimes encompassed other standards as well.58 Depending on the wishes of the parties, all of the non-discrimination standards could be used to confer rights in areas other than trade, including establishment, the rights of aliens and consular agents, and the entry of, and carriage by, ships. Many of the early European MFN clauses were drafted in unconditional form. Accordingly, each party promised to accord another, unconditionally, past and future benefits given to third states without any future requirement of negotiations, bargains, conditions or concessions. After the Napoleonic period, from 1830 until 1860 the conditional form was preferred, especially by the United States.59 This American practice was technically consistent with adherence to the principles of equal access and non-discrimination.60

C.

1860 to World War I

The British-French Cobden-Chevalier Treaty of 1860 ushered in a new era of European treaties based on unconditional MFN which lasted until about 1880. However, the period from 1860 until the beginning of World War I,61 was also characterised by significant deviations from such unconditional MFN, accompanied by de facto liberal economic relations. Even prior to 1860, various imperial or capital-exporting 57

R. C. Snyder, The Most Favoured Nation Clause: An Analysis with Particular Reference to Recent Treaty Practice and Tariffs 10 (1948).

58

Ibid., at 85.

59

A February 1778 treaty with France established this pattern apparently by accident. The pattern served the perceived needs of the US well, as a net importer. See 1942 League of Nations Report, infra note 68, at 33; Davis, supra note 55, at 9-12.

60

See R. N. Gardner, Sterling-Dollar Diplomacy 16 (1956), quoting President Washington’s Farewell Address of 17 September 1796. See also Davis, supra note 55, at 137. The author notes that Washington urged a commercial policy for the United States that included promoting trade by fair and just means and through equality of treatment by not seeking or granting special favors. He likens Washington’s suggested policy to the ‘commendable self-interest’ displayed by the US in the Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act of 1934.

61

H.-U. Scupin, ‘History of the Law of Nations 1815 to World War I’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Vol. VII, 179 (1984). Ch. Rist, ‘Comments on the Past and [sic] Future of the Most Favored Nation Clause in its Limited and Unlimited Forms’, in Joint Committee of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace and the International Chamber of Commerce (eds.), Improvement of Commercial Relations between Nations and the Problems Non-Entry 111, 113-114 (1936); Davis, supra note 55, at 37-39. For some of the deviations see Curzon, supra note 13, at 16-30; Petersmann, supra note 7, at 231.

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parties unilaterally imposed a substantial number of multilateral treaties with nondiscrimination provisions on typically less-developed, weak or ‘new’ states which did not belong to one of the colonial powers but were heavily influenced by them.62 These treaties included a variety of so-called ‘open door’ clauses, whereby the various powers sought to prevent the establishment of spheres of influence by their rivals through mutual guarantees of commercial equality.63 Examples of these kinds of agreements are the railway concessions of the Ottoman empire in the late 19th century granted to German, French and British companies,64 the Anglo-Persian oil company in 1909, the Suez Canal in Egypt or the Shanghai-Nanking railway line. A basic element commonly associated with these agreements was the antagonism between the colonial powers. These agreements exhibit mixed characteristics, containing elements of both public procurement and of concession contracts, and could be considered as early ancestors of modern development procurement. Furthermore, these agreements also shared another basic parameter: very weak governments were obliged to buy certain services and goods and to provide an MFN status to the strongest investor, politically and militarily. To this very day, experience and legacy of this period is still haunting the negotiations for non-discrimination and open public procurement of the developing nations.

D.

World War I to the Present Day

Three positive and lasting developments occurred during the period between the two World Wars, despite, or possibly as a result of, the Depression, the international economic volatility of the times and the absence of a genuine consensus on international

62

See P. J. Cain/A. G. Hopkins, British Imperialism 1688-2000 (2002), especially the chapters on the Ottoman Empire and Persia, at 340-359 and China, at 360-380.

63

See Davis, supra note 55, at 59; Schwarzenberger, supra note 6, at 74-76; Van Themaat, supra note 10, at 20. In the 19th century, the weaker countries included Japan, Tibet, China and several in South America. The open door clause was designed ‘to create equality of opportunity between contracting parties in relation to a territory […] not under the sovereignty of one of the beneficiaries’. Schwarzenberger, supra note 6, at 79. See 1922 Treaty Regarding Principles and Policies to be followed in Matters Concerning China, 38 LNTS 277, art. 5, reprinted in 2 International Legislation 823 (1931). The parties to this treaty, including the United States, Japan and six other Powers, reinforced the principles of commercial equality through the open door and obtained China’s promise not to exercise or permit ‘unfair discrimination’, see ibid., at 826. The China treaty envisaged that the Contracting Powers or their nationals may be ‘in a position to exercise […] control [in China] in virtue of any concession, special agreement or otherwise’, ibid., at 827. The 1906 General Act of Algeciras, relating to the Affairs of Morocco, 34 Stat. 2905, 1 Bev. 464, 754 (1907) and the 1885 General Act of the Conference of Berlin openly bestowed spheres of influence on parties, while making provision for commercial equality, 76 Br. & For. St. Pap. 4, as revised by the 1931 Convention for the Revision of the General Act of Berlin, reprinted in 1 International Legislation 343 (1931). On the General Act of Algeciras, see Oscar Chinn Case (Great Britain v. Belgium), Decision of 12 December 1934, 1934 PCIJ (Ser. A/B) No. 63 (Judge van Eysinga, Seperate Opinion).

64

See O. Okyar, ‘A New Look at the Problem of Economic Growth in the Ottoman Empire (1800-1914)’, 16 Journal of Economic History, at 40-41, 46 (1987).

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economic relations.65 These developments were: (1) the refurbishment of the ideas and concepts of non-discrimination and multilateralism; (2) the honing of commercial treaty language; and (3) the foundation of a ‘bold’ new world order. President Wilson’s Fourteen Points, a by-product of World War I, began the modern movement toward non-discrimination. Point Three envisaged the ‘removal, as far as possible, of all barriers and the establishment of an equality of trade conditions among all the nations consenting to the peace and associating themselves for its maintenance’.66 Wilson’s non-binding statement was notable because the United States had not adopted the principle of MFN in its unconditional form and was highly protectionist67 at the time. Wilson established the movement toward equal access in international trade as an important national goal.68 Admittedly, Wilson’s Fourteen Points had largely inspirational quality. However, one must acknowledge that Article 23 of the Covenant of the League of Nations contained a binding obligation for its members to ‘make provision to secure and maintain freedom of commerce and of transit and equitable treatment for the commerce of all Members of the League’69 Although a leading scholar argued that ‘equitable’ in this case did not necessarily mean ‘equal’,70 others have noted that history supports the proposition that ‘equitable’ did connote non-discrimination.71 The Mandates, another by-product of World War I, and of the League of Nations Covenant, further reinforced the notion of non-discrimination.72 Beneficiaries of Class A Mandates were communities formerly 65

In fact, there was a decline in the use of MFN clauses during 1930 and 1939. Snyder, supra note 57, at 241.

66

President Woodrow Wilson, Fourteen Points of 8 January 1919, in W. Lippman, US War Aims 211-213 (1944).

67

W. A. Brown, The United States and the Restoration of World Trade. An Analysis and Appraisal of the ITO Charter and the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade 30 (1950).

68

In October 1918, Wilson explained that Point Three did not involve any ‘restriction upon the free determination by any nation of its “own” economic policy, but only that whatever tariff any nation might deem necessary for its own economic service, be that tariff high or low, it should apply equally to all foreign nations’. Wilson to Senator Simmons, in 1942 League of Nations Report, Commercial Policy in the Interwar Period – International Proposals and National Policies 24-25 (1942), quoting H. W. V. Temperley, History of the Peace Conference of Paris 61 (1921).

69

1919 League of Nations Covenant, 1 International Legislation 16 (1931), art. 23(e); also in R. B. Russell/J. E. Muther, A History of the United Nations Charter – The Role of the United States 1940-1945, at 979-989 (1958).

70

L. Oppenheim, International Law 971 (1955).

71

At the Barcelona Conference of March 1921, 22 States requested that the League Council and Assembly consider, as soon as possible, the desirability of defining such ‘principles as would assure equitable treatment of commerce’. At the Assembly’s next session, it referred to the League’s Economic Committee. In its March 1922 report, the Committee stated that it saw no reasonable prospect of arriving at a general international convention on the subject as a whole. The report, however, identified four types of practices that violated the principle of equitable treatment, including unjust discrimination against the commerce of any State. See 1942 League of Nations Report, supra note 68.

72

1919 League of Nations Covenant, supra note 69, art. 22(4).

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belonging to the Ottoman Empire that were determined to have ‘reached a stage of development where their existence as independent nations could be provisionally recognized’.73 The Covenant made no provision for economic equality of League Members within such territories. Nevertheless, the actual mandate agreements between the League and the mandatory powers recognized an obligation of non-discrimination toward nationals of League Members. No similar obligation protected nationals of the Mandatory from discrimination.74 For Class B Mandates, League Covenant Article 22(5) provided that when the ‘peoples, especially those of Central Africa [were] at such a stage that the Mandatory must be responsible for the administration of the territory under conditions which will guarantee freedom of conscience and religion. [The Mandatory] will also secure equal opportunities for the trade and commerce of other Members of the League’.75 Pursuant to this requirement, the Mandate Agreements set forth guarantees of ‘freedom of transit and navigation and complete economic and industrial equality’.76 The Mandates system illustrates the unilateral imposition of non-discrimination upon a territory. Similarly, the peace treaties ending World War I imposed on the vanquished states a comparable obligation to accord unconditional MFN treatment to nationals of the victorious powers. This imposition lasted five years for Germany and three years for the other defeated states. The peace accords, especially the Versailles

73

1942 League of Nations Report, supra note 68.

74

1931 Convention for the Revision of the General Act of Berlin, supra note 63, at 99-104 (confirmed 24 July 1922); Mandate for Palestine, art. 18, 1 International Legislation 109 (1931): ‘The Mandatory shall see that there is no discrimination in Palestine against the nationals of any State Member of the League of Nations (including companies incorporated under its laws) as compared with those of the Mandatory or of any foreign State in matters concerning taxation, commerce or navigation, the exercise of industries or professions, or in the treatment of merchant vessels or civil aircraft. Similarly, there shall be no discrimination in Palestine against goods originating in or destined for any of the said States, and there shall be freedom of transit under equitable conditions across the mandated area.’ (confirmed at London, 24 July 1922); Memorandum on the Application of the Mandate for Palestine in Transjordan, 1 International Legislation 120 (1931) (approved at Geneva, 16 September 1922); Declaration of the Council of the League on the Application of the Principles of art. 22 of the Covenant to Iraq, 27 September 1924, 122 (1931).

75

1919 League of Nations Covenant, supra note 69, at 14, art. 22(5). See French Mandate for Togoland, 1 International Legislation 60 (1931), art. 6, (confirmed at London, 20 July 1922). Similar provisions existed for British Togoland, 1 International Legislation 66 (1931); French Cameroon, 1 International Legislation 72 (1931); British Cameroon, 1 International Legislation 81 (1931); British East Africa, 1 International Legislation 84 (1931); Belgian East Africa, 1 International Legislation 92 (1931). No provision was made for German South West Africa, 1 International Legislation 57 (1931). Class A mandates for sparsely-populated, small or remote territories, or for those territories that were contiguous to the territory of the Mandatory, had no equality provisions. See 1942 League of Nations Report, supra note 69, art. 22(5).

76

See Brown, supra note 67, at 30; ILC, First Report on the Most-Favored-Nation Clauses, 1970 YILC, Vol. 24 (Part Two), at 162, UN Doc. A/CN.4/213/1969, at 33; Schwarzenberger, supra note 53, at 100-101.

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Treaty with Germany, also confirmed the principle of non-discrimination in relation to traffic on several international rivers in Europe. During this period, several well-publicized conferences were held on international economic issues.77 Although these conferences failed to produce tangible national commitments to non-discrimination, they demonstrated, nonetheless, the determination of the participants to find solutions to international economic problems within the framework of multilateralism. One of the notable features of modern multilateralism has been its symbiosis with non-discrimination. The preparatory work for these conferences spurred significant research and other technical background work on MFN status.78 Relevant output of work by the Secretariat of the League of Nations included a number of conventions and other legal instruments,79 including some that addressed technical customs matters. Other legal instruments expressed the commitments of the parties to refrain from restrictive trade measures.80 Therefore, the conferences and preparatory work helped establish the 77

The conferences included: the Brussels Financial Conference 1920; the Genoa Conference of May 1922; the Geneva World Economic Conference of May 1927; the Geneva Economic Conference of October 1927; the League’s Tariff Truce Conference of February 1930; and the World Economic Conference of 1933. Brown notes that ‘many of these principles and recommendations have more or less close counterparts in articles in the [1948] Havana Charter […] [for the International Trade Organization].’ Brown, supra note 67, at 32, 38-39, 42. The League of Nations Assembly unanimously adopted the principles of the 1927 Conference, as did twenty-seven governments in separate declarations. Several commercial treaties also included these principles. 1942 League of Nations Report, supra note 68, at 41-42. The League’s report discusses conferences of the American States, including the December 1933 Montevideo Conference, (inter alia affirming adherence to the MFN system), the December 1938 Lima Conference (inter alia endorsing the negotiation of trade agreements embodying the principle of equality of treatment), and the Buenos Aires Conference of 1933. Brown, supra note 67, at 50, 74, 81.

78

Brown, supra note 67, at 34. The 1942 League of Nations Report describes this work and its results, and the work of such non-governmental bodies as the International Chamber of Commerce. 1942 League of Nations Report, supra note 68.

79

Brown, supra note 67. An example is the 1923 Convention on the Simplification of Customs Formalities, 30 LNTS 371; 2 International Legislation 1094 (1931). The Customs Convention, art. 1, repeated the parties’ commitment to Article 23(e) of the 1942 League of Nations Report, supra note 68. The Customs Convention, art. 2, required the parties ‘to observe strictly the principle of equitable treatment in respect of customs,’ and ‘to abstain, in [these] matters from unjust discrimination against the commerce of any Contracting State.’ Thirty states ratified the Customs Convention. 25 states ratified the 1925 International Convention for the Protection of Industrial Property. See also the 1927 Convention on the Abolition of Import and Export Prohibitions and Restrictions (1927 Restrictions Convention, 3 International Legislation 2160 (1931); 97 LNTS 391. Article 1 provided for the abolition of all prohibitions and restrictions imposed on imports and exports within six months of the Convention’s entry into force. 1942 League of Nations Report, supra note 68, at 26, 32-35, 81-82; First Report on the Most-Favored-Nation Clauses, supra note 76, at 163, P 39.

80

Brown, supra note 67, at 44. These measures included domestic systems of special treatment of agriculture, regional and preferential arrangements between smaller European countries,

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principle of non-discrimination multilaterally in which form it became the predominant feature of global economic policy making after 1941. The above-mentioned activities combined with commercial treaty negotiations during the inter-war period and contributed to the strengthening of the principle of non-discrimination. This institutionalization was further fortified by additional attempts to reduce trade barriers,81 including the affirmation by the U.S. of its preference for unconditional MFN treatment through its enactment of the Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act of 1934.82 Later agreements, negotiated pursuant to the 1934 Act and other U.S. agreements, provided treaty texts that subsequently furnished the basis for the general clauses in the Charter of the abortive International Trade Organization (ITO).83 These accords helped develop non-traditional concepts of non-discrimination. In particular, conventions that contained a new concept of ‘fair and equitable’ treatment fostered the development of such non-traditional standards.84 Due to prevailing worldwide economic instability, some forms of restrictive trade conduct seemed necessary to the international community. The restrictive policies foreclosed full application of market-based economic principles. Trading nations realized the importance of accepting the legitimacy of limitations on, or exceptions to, non-discrimination85 and of the formulation of specific provisions embodying such concepts.86 To the extent that the Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act of 1934 sought to enhance the social and economic welfare of the U.S. citizenry through liberalized market access for trade, it was an extension of the New Deal’s policies to foreign trade.87 Seven years later, in the Four Freedoms pronouncement of his January 1941 State of the Union Address, President Roosevelt essentially proposed the globalization of the New Deal.88 the 1932 Ottawa Agreements (establishing British Imperial Preference) and measures fostering the growth of international cartels. Ibid., at 39-44. 81

Ibid., at 37-44.

82

By this time, the United States had become a net importer. Hence, unconditional MFN status for importing states was justified.

83

See Brown, supra note 67, at 20-22, summarizing provisions similar to various GATT provisions, including arts. I, III, IV, V, XI, XII, XIII, XVII, XXII, and XXIII. 1947 GATT, supra note 1. Thirty-two agreements were negotiated under the 1934 Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act, supra note 60. Jackson, supra note 13, at 37.

84

For certain limited purposes, the quoted language was construed to require broad forms of non-discrimination. See Snyder, supra note 57, at 85-95. Snyder notes that even though the phrase ‘seems to dominate clauses dealing with quotas, monopolies and exchange control, it is justifiable to count the latter among the important new developments in most-favored-nation treatment, for if the phrase has any meaning at all, it must mean treatment which will not place one nation at a disadvantage in relation to another. This is never an exact proposition even where equality is specified’.

85

Davis, supra note 55, at 111-14.

86

Snyder, supra note 57, at 156-85; Brown, supra note 67, at 21.

87

Curzon, supra note 13, at 26.

88

This portion of Roosevelt’s speech was designed to ignite US public support for material aid to the anti-Axis democracies. Roosevelt, however, apparently saw basic global social,

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The Atlantic Charter of August 14, 1941, between the United States and the United Kingdom further strengthened this objective of globalization.89 The Atlantic Charter contained commitments for post-war policies in the fields of: (1) civil, political and social human rights; (2) national self-determination; (3) global organization and security; and (4) commitment to international economic cooperation. The last policy was thus expressed in Points Four and Five of the Charter: ‘Fourth, they will endeavor, with due respect for their existing obligations, to further the enjoyment by all States, great or small, victor or vanquished, of access, on equal terms, to the trade and to the raw materials of the world which are needed for their economic prosperity. Fifth, they desire to bring about the fullest collaboration between all nations in the economic field […].’90

Most of the Allies soon subscribed to the Atlantic Charter91. During the remainder of the war, national constitutions, multilateral and bilateral treaties, resolutions of inter-governmental conferences, diplomatic communications, and pronouncements by officials, and other commentators, repeatedly invoked the Charter.92 The most significant treaties to invoke the Atlantic Charter were the ‘Lend-Lease’ treaties93 between the U.S. and its allies, commencing with the U.K.-U.S. treaty of February 1942.94 Article VII of most of the treaties provided that: ‘In the final determination of the benefits to be provided to the [U.S.A.] by the Government of […] in return for aid furnished under the [Lend Lease Act of 1941] between the two countries, the terms and conditions thereof shall be such as not to burden commerce between the two countries, but to promote the betterment of worldwide economic relations. To that end, they shall include provision for agreed action, by the [U.S.A.] and . . . open to participation by all other countries of like mind, directed to the expansion, by appropriate international and domestic measures of production, employment, and the exchange and consumption of goods which are the material foundations of the liberty and welfare of all peoples; to the elimination of all forms of discriminatory treatment in international commerce, and to the reduction of tariffs economic, humanitarian and security improvements as the best way to avert future struggles of the type then engulfing Europe, struggles which would soon involve the Americas. See E. A. Laing, ‘The Contribution of the Atlantic Charter to Human Rights Law and Humanitarian Universalism’, 26 Willamette Law Review 113, 116-118 (1989). 89

1941 Atlantic Charter, US-UK, 55 Stat. 1603; EAS No. 236; 204 LNTS 382 (1941 Atlantic Charter).

90

Ibid.

91

Laing, supra note 88, at 120, 123-124.

92

Ibid.; E. A. Laing, ‘The Norm of Self-Determination 1941-1991’, 22 California Western International Law Journal 209, 256-303 (1992).

93

The ‘Lend-Lease’ treaties were designed by the United States to provide assistance to its war ravaged allies by lending equipment and capital.

94

1942 Agreement Between the Governments of the United States of America and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland respecting the Principles Applying to Mutual Aid in the Prosecution of the War Against Aggression, 56 Stat. 1433.

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and other trade barriers; and, in general, to the attainment of the economic objectives set forth in [the Atlantic Charter].’95

This provision, partly, formed the basis for computing consideration for the Lend-Lease benefits furnished by the United States. Although the text appears to be couched in conditional terms, it clearly reflected the obligation of non-discrimination as one of the commitments of the Atlantic Charter. Article VII provided the basis for Anglo-U.S. negotiations, commencing in 1943, eventually leading to the Bretton Woods Conference of 1944 which culminated in the establishment of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (World Bank). The Bretton Woods Conference also provided a major catalyst for the U.S. Proposals of December 1945, which led to the U.N.-sponsored Conference on Trade and Employment consisting of a series of meetings from October 1946 to March 1948. The Conference prepared the draft Havana Charter for the proposed ITO and, as an appendix, the GATT, 1947.96 Based on a chapter of the ITO Charter,97 the GATT 1947 was designed so as to facilitate the substantive aspects of tariff negotiations required pursuant to the expiring authority of the U.S. Trade Agreements Expansion Act of 1945.98 Interestingly, Point Four of the Atlantic Charter omits reference to non-discrimination, although the U.S.-introduced text appeared in the re-draft of the British text. However, the resulting text of Point Four, with its clear reference to equal access, arguably provides a stronger textual basis for non-discrimination than would a specific reference to non-discrimination eo nomine.99 Therefore, Point Four reflects a clear commitment to non-discrimination. 95

Ibid.

96

1947 GATT, supra note 1; Brown, supra note 67, at 48-63; B. E. Clubb, United States Foreign Trade Law 120 (1991).

97

See 1947 Havanna World Trade Charter, Chapter IV on Commercial Policy. One can trace the origins of most of the key provisions of the 1947 GATT to clauses contained in Agreements negotiated under the 1934 Reciprocal Trade Agreements Act. E.-U. Petersmann, ‘World Trade, Principles’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), 8 Encyclopedia of Public International Law 530, at 537 (1985). Cf. Brown, supra note 66, at n. 53.

98

1945 Trade Agreements Expansion Act, 59 Stat. 410 (1945), replaced by 1962 Trade Expansion Act, Pub. L. No. 87-794, 76 Stat. 872 (1962). See also Brown, supra note 67, at 56, 61.

99

Churchill’s draft provided that ‘they will strive to bring about a fair and equitable distribution of essential produce, not only within their territorial boundaries, but between the nations of the world’. A. P. Dobson, ‘Economic Diplomacy at the Atlantic Conference’, 10 Review of International Studies 143, 150 (1984), quoting W. S. Churchill, The Grand Alliance 386 (1984). As discussed earlier, ‘fair and equitable’ was understood to include a policy of substantive non-discrimination. Sumner Welles’ redraft included the obligation to promote ‘mutually advantageous economic relations […] through the elimination of any discrimination […] against the importation of any product originating in the other country; and they will endeavor to further the enjoyment of access on equal terms to the markets and to the raw materials which are needed for their economic prosperity’. Dobson, ibid., at 150, quoting S. Welles, Where are we heading? (1946). The redraft removed the reference to non-discrimination, at Roosevelt’s behest, due to Churchill’s strong opposition.

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III.

Conclusion

We have come a long way since the 1920s and the rejection by an arbitral tribunal of the principle of non-discrimination as forming part of customary international law in the law of diplomatic protection. As for economic relations regarding which the lessons of history appear to fade, particularly of disastrous trade policies and of their catastrophic political consequences triggering the Second World War, protectionism becomes politically fashionable again, adversely affecting trade, investment and economic migration, regionally and worldwide. The authoritative recent Sutherland Report dedicated an entire chapter to the erosion of the principle of non-discrimination within the world trading system, mainly blaming the ‘spaghetti bowl’ of customs unions, common markets, regional and bilateral free trade areas and other preferences and trade deals, and concluding that fifty years after the founding of GATT, MFN is no longer the rule, but rather the exception.100 Yet the principle of non-discrimination also shows signs of resilience. Thus, particular arbitral tribunals interpreting investment treaty commitments have made use, possibly misuse, of settled case law on the national treatment obligation evolved over decades in the GATT to interpret such norms in the more recent investment treaty practice.101 Conversely, the Appellate Body of the WTO recently cited, apparently for the first time, from an ICSID arbitral tribunal that ‘consistency of jurisprudence is valued also in dispute settlement in other fora’.102 While such cross-fertilizing use of case law may be inspirational and occasionally help to bridge systemic divides, it cannot, of course, make good the fading of certain of our convictions, to wit that non-discriminatory multilateral trade best ensures the ultimate economic goal of welfare maximization. What is needed is a return to the MFN principle, the founding precept of the world trade order.

100

P. D. Sutherland, The Future of the WTO: Addressing Institutional Challenges in the New Millenium. A report to the Director-General by a Consultative Board chaired by P. Sutherland World Trade Organization Secretariat 19 (2005). Similar concerns are expressed in The Multilateral Trade Regime: Which Way Forward. Report of the First Warwick Commission, The University of Warwick (2007).

101

See, e.g., SD Meyers, Inc v. Government of Canada, discussed in Dolzer/Schreuer, supra note 44, at 178 et seq.; F. Weiss, ‘Trade and Investment’, in P. Muchlinski/F. Ortino/C. Schreuer (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of International Investment Law 182, at 213 (2008).

102

AB Report in US-Final Anti-Dumping Measures on Stainless Steel, WTO Doc. WT/DS344/ AB/R (2008), para.160, n. 313, citing from Saipem v. Bangladesh, ICSID Case No. ARB/05/07, para. 67.

14

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The Prohibition to Use Force after Sixty Years of Abuse Karl Zemanek

I.

Introduction

The League of Nations, although it tried, had no lasting success in its endeavour to reform the chaotic and partly contradictory rules, known as jus ad bellum and armed reprisals, which governed the use of armed force in traditional customary international law. Its attempts to limit the freedom to wage war did not survive World War II, and whether they had ever covered armed reprisals was contentious in any case.1 In 1945 the founding members of the United Nations created a new system of collective security in the Charter, which not only proscribed war but prohibited the use of force in general. The new system consisted essentially of two complementary propositions: on the one hand, it limited the legal use of force between member states to self-defence and on the other, charged the Security Council with the responsibility of monitoring the international use of force, to assess its legality, and to take appropriate measures for restoring peace in case it found the use illegal. One can perhaps accuse the founders of too much idealism in creating that system,2 but there is no evidence to suggest that they acted in bad faith and did not expect it to work effectively – as the term is used by Hans Kelsen, meaning that it would work generally though not necessarily in each instance. Empirical evidence suggests that this ambitious proposition did not become reality. For obvious reasons the system did not function properly during the Cold War, but after its end new difficulties arose. Though they are not of a structural nature as were the former, they have nevertheless their origin in the relations between the permanent members of the Security Council, particularly in the relations between the USA, Russia and China. The reaction of these three countries to a specific future situation will presumably be determined by their interests in the matter or in the country concerned and the extent to which their interests coincide, as well as by their relative political, military, and economic strength at that point in time; legal considerations will play only a subordinate role.

1

Cf. A. v. Verdross, Völkerrecht 281 (1937).

2

See E. Suy (a former Under-Secretary General and Legal Counsel of the United Nations), ‘Is the United Nations Security Council still Relevant? And was it Ever?’, 12 Tulane Journal of International and Comparative Law 7, at 10 (2004): ‘When one reads today the provisions of the United Nations Charter, written during the period of euphoria after the Second World War, one sees how naïve the politicians were to entrust the maintenance of international peace and security to an international council.’

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 287-314, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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This is confirmed by the recent practice of the Security Council.3 In most cases of illegal use of force, a permanent member was either actively involved or protected the involved party and prevented the appropriate decision of the Council. Examples include Iran (China, Russia), Israel (USA), Serbia (Russia) and Sudan (China). In a few cases this has led to unauthorized forceful acts by states which justified their action either by massive human rights violations committed by the government against which they were using force, such as in the case of Kosovo or by the overwhelming necessity to eliminate a threat to international security, such as in the case of Iraq. The Security Council’s inaction thus fosters the unauthorized use of individual force. The report of the High Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change: ‘A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility’ from 2 December 2004 expresses this:4 ‘One of the reasons why States may want to bypass the Security Council is a lack of confidence in the quality and objectivity of its decision-making. The Council’s decisions have often been less than consistent, less than persuasive and less than fully responsive to very real State and human security needs.’

However, the inconsistent conduct of the Council is not the only problem which obstructs the proper functioning of collective security. The system must also come to terms with structural changes that have affected some of its essential elements. One concerns the conception of who could commit an armed attack and thus use force illegally first. In the immediate post-war era, states were still regarded as the sole actors in the international arena. It is reasonable to suppose that the founders had governments in mind when visualizing the source of an armed attack, because only governments had organized armed forces at their disposal. Since then, however, all sorts of nongovernmental armed groups have appeared on the international scene: resistance and liberation movements, militias of civil war factions, terrorists, even some elements of organized crime, like the pirates in the Strait of Malacca and, only recently, ‘private military companies(PMC’s)’5. They use arms on a scale that previously only governments could manage however, since states deny them personality in international law and because of the manner of their operations, armed clashes with them are classified as asymmetrical. Nevertheless, the fiction of a government monopoly on the use of armed force is not longer tenable. And yet, no consensus has emerged to answer the question whether that influences the international obligation of states to refrain from the use of force except in self-defence. Is reacting to an attack by non-government forces a case of self-defence or could it be argued that the prohibition to use force does not apply to the case at all? Has new law emerged to meet the situation and if so, has it modified the sense of the old prohibition? 3

For an overview see K. Manusama, The United Nations Security Council in the Post-Cold War Era. Applying the Principle of Legality (2006).

4

Report of the Secretary-General’s High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility, UN Doc. A/59/565 (2004), at 56, para. 97.

5

Cf. D. Thürer/M. Maclaren, ‘Military Outscoring as a Case Study in the Accountability and Responsibility of Power’, in A. Reinisch/U. Kriebaum (eds.), The Law of International Relations. Liber Amicorum Hanspeter Neuhold 374 (2007).

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A second basic element which underwent change is the conception of what may constitute a threat to international peace. The language of the Charter seems to focus on ‘armed’ force, although other acts of aggression are not excluded. But do atrocities which a state commits against its own population, or a massacre in civil war, qualify as threat to international peace? One may suppose that in 1945, after the horrifying experience of the Holocaust, nobody expected the repetition of massacres on a grand scale like they were later perpetrated in Cambodia, Rwanda, Yugoslavia, or Sudan, notwithstanding the Genocide Convention. The tendency to regard such acts as a threat to the peace6 has only recently gained firmer ground but is a mixed blessing. Seen positively, the tendency considerably widens the responsibility of the Security Council, which, however, assumes it only selectively. That, and this is the negative side, may be a temptation for states to act instead of the Council if the latter does not. As in the case of non-governmental forces, a consensus on the legality of such ‘humanitarian intervention’ has not formed yet, and the question of whether the law may have changed therefore remains unanswered.

II.

Prohibiting the First Use of Force: A Changed Immuntable?

A.

How Does Charter-Law Change?

1.

The Relevance of Legal Doctrine

The Charter prescribes in Article 108 the procedure for eventual amendments. Until now, that procedure has not been used to modify the prohibition of the use of force. An extreme view would see no need for modification since it denies that the prohibition expressed in Article 2(4) of the Charter outlaws the use of force in situations of extreme danger, the existence of which the potential user of force is solely competent to determine.7 That view does not doubt the legitimacy of the necessarily subjective unilateral determination nor is it apparently troubled by the possibility of abuse. Dean Acheson, a former Secretary of State addressed the American Society of International Law in 1963 on the Cuban missile crises of the previous year. He remarked boldly that the survival of states was not a matter of law.8 This line of thinking has followers such 6

Cf., e.g., UN Docs. S/RES/794 (1992), S/RES/928 (1994), S/RES/1078 (1996), S/RES/1214 (1998), and S/RES/1296 (1296).

7

This is apparent in 2002 The National Security Strategy of the United States of America, http:// www.whitehouse/gov/nsc/nss/2002 (last visited 27 November 2007), which states in section III: ‘While the United States will constantly strive to enlist the support of the international community, we will not hesitate to act alone, if necessary, to exercise our right of self-defense by acting preemptively against such terrorists [defined ibid. as terrorist organizations of global reach and any terrorist or state sponsor of terrorism which attempts to gain or use weapons of mass destruction (WMD) or their precursors], to prevent them from doing harm against our people and our country.’

8

Cited by O. Schachter, ‘Self-Defense and the Rule of Law’, 83 AJIL 259, at 260 and note 8 (1989). See further N. Kredel, Operation ‘Enduring Freedom’ and the Fragmentation of

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as current writers who differentiate between legality and legitimacy and challenge the view that the latter can only be conferred by the former. They would argue that the legitimacy of U.S. action abroad flows from its leading the free world and being the bulwark of democracy.9 Although this manner of reasoning is very similar to that used by value-based legal theories,10 the latter argue at least from identifiable value systems which in their opinion underlie the international legal order, whereas the opinions under consideration rely simply on political assertions. Koskenniemi11 calls the proponents ‘instrumentalists’, as opposed to ‘legalists’, which suggests that their arguments are metalegal and thus outside the scope of the present inquiry which is concerned with the legality of the use of force under international law. Yet it cannot be denied that the US legal thinking also differs considerably from its European counterpart, especially regarding the construction of international law. Morrison has exposed one aspect of this difference in a witty paper entitled ‘No Left Turn: Two Approaches to International Law’,12 in which he showed that lawyers trained in Europe regard law as an instrument of empowerment while their American counterparts see it as one of prohibition. Hence, what is not expressly forbidden is allowed. In a recent book, Kredel13 refined the inquiry into the difference between the European and American approach to law by focussing especially on the international law regulating the use of force. He concludes, to put it succinctly, that jurists trained in the European ‘civilian’ law culture treat law as a static order that is applied to specific cases through a dogmatically defined (Rechtsdogmatik) interpretation. Should that lead to a disappointing result, it would be up to the legislature eventually to amend the law; judge-made law is (at least theoretically) restricted to exceptional cases such as lacunae or analogy.14 According to him, the attitude of jurists who have grown up in the US common law culture is quite different. They regard law as a dynamic process in which fact determination playss a pivotal role as it leads to the applicability or non-applicability of authoritative precedents or persuasive case law. Legal reasoning is therefore from

International Legal Culture. Comparing US Common Law and Civil Law Perspectives on the International Use of Force, at 90-92 (2006). 9

Cf. the examination of these views by K. Ipsen, ‘Legitime Gewaltanwendung neben dem Völkerrecht?’, in K. Dicke et al. (eds.), Weltinnenrecht. Liber Amicorum Jost Delbrück 371, at 379-380 (2005).

10

See infra, at 291.

11

M. Koskenniemi, ‘Perceptions of Justice: Walls and Bridges Between Europe and the United States’, 64 ZaöRV 305 (2004). Cf. also the contributions of R. Wolfrum, H-P. Neuhold and W. K. Lietzau to this American-European Dialogue: ‘Different Perceptions of International Law’, reported ibid., 255.

12

F. L. Morrison, ‘No Left Turn: Two Approaches to International Law’, in Dicke, supra note 9, at 461.

13

Kredel, supra note 8.

14

Ibid., 32.

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instances to principle.15 In describing the task of a lawyer, Kredel quotes O. W. Holmes16 as stating that the lawyer engages in ‘prophecies of what the courts will do in fact’. Kredel’s comparative analysis goes a long way toward explaining the attitude of what he calls the ‘reality-oriented international theories’ in the United States with regard to the prohibition of the international use of force. One may doubt, however, that this approach, when applied to international law, can clarify the legality of a specific situation or action. The approach requires lawyers, or legal writers describing the law which should apply to a case, to speculate, as O. W. Holmes put it, on what the courts would do in fact, and thus to assume the stance of an advocate trying to convince the hypothetical judge. The existence of that judge becomes thus indispensable for stating the law, because it is he who would weigh the presumably contradictory speculations of the opposing advocates against each other and, in the end, find along the lines of the more authoritative or persuasive argument. Regrettably, however, international law has not yet matured sufficiently to make the judicial resolve of disputes mandatory. Relatively few disputes concerning the international use of force are put before international courts or tribunals.17 In this respect, the international and the American legal system differ fundamentally and a method fitting the latter is not necessarily adequate for the former. In the absence of the judge, writers of that persuasion assume the role of judge in their own case. What conceptually is a dynamic, argumentative method, a contest of arguments, becomes the inscrutable subjective assertion of what the writer considers the law and would have wished to be recognized as such by the judge. The applicable law thus ‘established’ is custom-made rather than customary.18 Another method which leads to unverifiable statements of international law is the use of a value-based legal theory. That method has most of its followers in the ‘civil’ law community but is now also gaining ground in common law culture. Regarding the question of whether the Charter may be modified in other ways then those prescribed in it, advocates of this agenda would probably argue that a change of underlying values or principles modifies the relvant legal rules ipso facto, which makes it unnecessary to prove a formal modification in one of the processes which positive international law provides. These views may presently be popular19 but cannot, because of the subjectivity of the invoked principles or values, be verified in a scholarly acceptable manner: one 15

Ibid., 38.

16

Ibid., 34. Kredel gives as source O. W. Holmes, ‘The Path of the Law’, in id. (ed.), Collected Legal Papers 167 (1920).

17

In 2006, the International Court of Justice disposed of one such case by declining jurisdiction: Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (New Application: 2002) (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Rwanda), Jurisdiction of the Court and Admissibility of the Application, Judgment of 3 February 2006, 2006 ICJ Rep. 6. It had previously decided a similar case: Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Uganda), Judgment of 19 December 2005, 2005 ICJ Rep. 168.

18

As example see F. K. Abiew, The Evolution of the Doctrine and Practice of Humanitarian Intervention, pages 132 and 256 read conjointly (1999).

19

See, e.g., F. R. Tesón, Humanitarian Intervention: An Inquiry into Law and Morality (1988).

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must simply believe them. The defenders axiomatically postulate the values on which they base their reasoning, but nearly always fail to offer proof that these values are universally shared. Values originating in the European enlightment of the 18th century or in the American Revolution may appear self-evident to a Western writer but may not be shared by others, or may not have the same content for those who have a different philosophical or religious heritage. In-depth studies of specific aspects have demonstrated that convincingly.20 Approaches based on a self-determined set of values will thus produce the desired result or justify specific actions, but they offer ideology rather than a scientific inquiry. Italian scholars have proposed a novel value oriented approach intended to avoid this deficiency. In the recently published results of a workshop,21 Cannizzaro22 presented the balancing-of-values approach as a method ‘to expand, or, respectively, curtail the scope of pre-existing (customary) international rules with regard to emerging values’.23 Francioni24 demonstrated this method in balancing the prohibition to use force with the protection of human rights. As a concept, the approach looks promising. The trouble is, however, that it cannot eliminate subjectivity in the assessment of values, even when the choice is limited to values expressed as purposes and principles in the Charter of the United Nations, because the Charter lists those in an unsystematic medley without a hierarchic structure and without indicating a procedure for establishing a preference in case of conflict. Therefore no tool for the objective balancing of the values is provided.25 By remaining silent on the hierarchy of its basic values, the Charter has left its determination to the practice of UN organs and states and thus is exposed to imponderables. One such example is the statement of the International Court of Justice in the Advisory Opinion on Certain Expenses of the United Nations that ‘the primary place ascribed to international peace and security is natural, since the fulfilment of the other purposes will depend upon the attainment of that basic condition’.26 It is the result of a judicial value judgment but its reasoning is not compelling. From the beginning, the UN was not capable of maintaining

20

See, with regard to the use of force, E. Corthay, ‘Le régime juridique du recours à la force tel qu’interpreté par les Etats membres de l’Organisation de la Conférence islamique’, 7 Journal of the History of International Law 211 (2005); and, as regards human rights, M. Hasenkamp, Universalization of Human Rights? The Effectiveness of Western Human Rights Policies towards Developing Countries after the Cold War (2004).

21

E. Cannizzaro/P. Palchetti (eds.), Customary International Law on the Use of Force. A Methodological Approach (2005).

22

E. Cannizzaro, ‘Customary International Law of the Use of Force: Inductive Approach vs. Value-Oriented Approach’, ibid., 245.

23

Ibid., 251.

24

F. Francioni, ‘Balancing the Prohibition of Force with the Need to Protect Human Rights: A Methodological Approach’, in Cannizzaro/Palchetti, supra note 21, 269.

25

Francioni points that out himself, ibid., 270.

26

Certain Expenses of the United Nations (art. 17, para. 2, of the Charter), Advisory Opinion of 20 July 1962, 1962 ICJ Rep. 151, at 168.

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overall peace and security but it has nevertheless fulfilled many of its other purposes. Moreover, the conclusion is probably not shared by all under all circumstances. What the proposed new approach can or cannot achieve is expressed in one of Francioni’s conclusions, when he states: ‘The foregoing analysis shows that, since the prohibition to use force and the protection of human rights are both core values of the international legal system, their mutual reconciliation and balancing can be achieved only by a process of gradual reform that may, under certain conditions, permit an exceptional use of force to stop at least large scale atrocities’.27 While he shows how the law should develop to correspond to the balanced values, Francioni admits that in the real world the balance is not yet achieved: ‘Despite the proclaimed intentions of the intervening governments, recent practice, in particular the Kosovo intervention and the use of force in the context of the Iraqi crisis, does not appear to meet the minimum standards for the starting up of a progressive development of a right to use coercive means to protect human rights. The relationship between the ban on the use of force and the protection of human rights remains lop-sided.’28 The essential difference between these approaches and a positivist civil law approach is the objective of the examination. The latter searches for legality, the former for legitimacy. Civil law positivism sees legitimacy conferred only by legality, while value based legal theories find it in metaphysical values, and the ‘reality-oriented international theories’ of the American school find it in considerations of international public policy. However, a legal method worthy of that name needs, as does, incidentally, any scientific method, premises that can be checked, so that conclusions drawn from them can be verified or falsified. If the object of inquiry is to ascertain what the law is not merely in the eye of the beholder – nor what it ought to be according to the writer’s liking – only a method relying on positive law, which can be checked and from which logical deductions can be drawn, which can be verified, can result in conclusions that come as close to objectivity as is humanly possible. In respect of those parts of international law which are regulated by multilateral treaty or otherwise firmly settled, this normative method will assure the correct interpretation or application. However, relying solely on such a method when dealing with decentralized customary law or with the rules regulating the functioning of the international community as such and not just the relations between two or more states, like the law of the United Nations, carries the risk to show a world full of illegalities that cannot be redressed, a world which, to an uninitiated observer, may look fictitious and unrelated to reality. This can easily lead to the dismissal of international law as an illusion. Even though the strictly legal analysis remains indispensable for recording the true state of the law and its observance and for assessing the latter’s eventual impact on the validity of the norms concerned. But to disprove the accusation of illusionism it must be supplemented by a political analysis of the grounds of non-observance, because in the still decentralized international legal system political and economic interests exercise a stronger influence over the conduct of states than the wish of complying with the law. Nor does a legal 27

Francioni, supra note 24, at 292.

28

Ibid.

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method prevent discussing lines along which the law should develop or indicating instances which suggest that it is doing so. But both the policy oriented and the future oriented considerations should be clearly recognizable as such and not be advertised as existing law. It is hoped that the method applied below will fulfil these conditions.

2.

The Charter as a Treaty

As constituent instrument of the United Nations, the Charter is a multilateral treaty to which the law of treaties, though not the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, applies. That law includes what is known as the clausula rebus sic stantibus, meaning that a fundamental change of circumstances is grounds for suspending or terminating treaty obligations. While the focus will usually be on material ‘circumstances’, it is submitted that in the case of constituent instruments of international organizations other ‘circumstances’ must also be taken into account. The creation of international competences of an organization and the undertaking not to use parallel sovereign powers in the framework of a multilateral institutional treaty is necessarily based on the assumption that the organization will discharge the duties properly and effectively. The proper functioning of the organization in accordance with the constituent treaty thus ‘constitutes an essential basis of the consent’ of the members of the respective organization to be bound by the treaty. This invites a closer examination of the hypothesis that the manner in which the Security Council has performed its functions concerning collective security over the years might have caused a fundamental change of circumstances. It could be argued that the founders of the United Nations expected the system of collective security to work effectively and that this expectation constituted an essential element of their consent in ratifying the Charter. The frequent inability or unwillingness of the Council to carry out its responsibility, especially its repeated failure to react adequately to the unlawful use of force,29 could then be construed as having ‘radically transformed the extent of the members’ obligation’ to refrain from the individual use of force, because they had accepted it on condition that the Council would maintain international peace and security and, if necessary, use collective force on their behalf.30 29

The dictum of the ICJ in the Corfu Channel case that ‘a policy of force, such as has in the past given rise to most serious abuses and such as cannot, whatever be the present defects in international organization, find a place in international law’ (emphasis added), appears in retrospect as overoptimistic value judgment. Corfu Channel (United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland v. Albania), Merits, Judgment of 9 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 4, at 35.

30

This hypothesis was first proposed by J. Stone, Aggression and World Order 96 (1958) by referring to documents of the San Francisco Conference. Evaluating this and similar views, R. St. J. Macdonald, ‘The Nicaragua Case: New Answers to Old Questions?’, 24 Canadian YIL 127, at 135 (1986) concluded: ‘Although these views are those of a minority they are not without merit for they recognize the reality of international relations. In a world where the collective mechanisms of law enforcement do not work, a strict construction of norms prohibiting the use of force can operate to the advantage of the non-law-abiding state and to the disadvantage of

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The past record of the Council in this respect31 makes a defensible case for a fundamental change of circumstances. However, the plea of changed circumstances does not automatically and instantly liberate from the obligation in question. It requires justification in a procedure which is not clearly regulated in customary law and is lengthy and troublesome even in the form codified in the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties. If the plea were to be entered under customary law, as it would have to be in regard to the Charter, the procedure would presumably not only be more complex than prescribed in the VCLT but raise the preliminary question as to the forum where a plea against the United Nations as respondent could be entered. The UN does not have legal standing in contentious proceedings before the International Court of Justice and it may reasonably be doubted that it would agree to have the matter settled by a third party anyway. Thus, even if one considers the plea promising in substance, it is apparently impractical, if not impossible, to follow through.

3.

The Prohibition of the Use of Force in Customary Law

a.

Did Relevant Customary Law Exist Before the Charter?

In the 1984 judgment on jurisdiction and admissibility in the Nicaragua case, the International Court of Justice held that ‘[T]he fact that the above-mentioned principles [concerning the non-use of force] recognized as such, have been codified or embodied in multilateral conventions does not mean that they cease to exist and to apply as principles of customary law’.32 This statement could be interpreted as suggesting that the principles in question had been principles of customary international law before the Charter of the United Nations, an impression that is supported by another passage in the same paragraph.33 In its 1986 judgment on the merits in the Nicaragua case the Court undertook to ‘develop and refine upon these initial remarks’.34 Unfortunately that did not include clarifying the question of whether the Court considered the prohibition as having been a part of customary law before the Charter or as having become so in the wake of the the law-abiding.’ See also S. Murase, ‘The Relationship between the UN Charter and General International Law Relating to Non-Use of Force: The Case of NATO’s Air Campaign in the Kosovo Crisis of 1999’, in N. Ando et al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Judge Shigeru Oda, Vol. II, 1543, at 1547 (2002). 31

It is, however, interesting to note that Manusama, supra note 3, who analyzes the practice of the Security Council with regard to its legality, does not include the Council’s neglect of duties in his examination.

32

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Jurisdiction of the Court and Admissibility of the Application, Judgment of 26 November 1984, 1984 ICJ Rep. 392, at 424, para. 73.

33

Ibid., ‘Principles such as those of the non-use of force, […] continue to be binding as part of customary international law […].’ (Emphasis added).

34

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14, at 93, para. 174.

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Charter. The Court’s words can be read both ways: ‘[T]he Charter gave expression in this field to principles already present in customary international law, and that law has in the subsequent four decades developed under the influence of the Charter, to such an extent that a number of rules contained in the Charter have acquired a status independent of it.’35 The sole rule of customary law which the Court expressly cited as having pre-existed was the obvious one of the ‘inherent’ right of self-defence.36 Since the right is recognized as ‘inherent’, apparently meaning that it is an attribute of the sovereign existence of a state, the reference is not surprising. Though it is surprising that in an era where the law permitted the resort to war, a special and separate legal right to self-defense was considered necessary (opinio necessitatis) and a customary rule was generated. It is more credible that during that stage of the evolution of international law self-defense was considered a reflex rather than a legal right.

b.

The Prohibition as Jus Cogens

However, commenting on the stringency of the Court’s arguments is not the object of this inquiry. What is relevant is the recognition by the Court that the principle of non-use of force is now part of customary international law, irrespective of when and how it entered that body of rules. Being part of customary law makes it subject to the norm-forming process of custom and thus to the possibility of being modified by that process. Modification could affect the substance of the principle, though not the institutional and/or procedural rules attached to it in the Charter.37 Since it is, however, generally accepted that the prohibition to use force is a norm of jus cogens38 its modification would have to satisfy additional requirements. Some authors exclude the possibility altogether.39 They apparently suppose that the condition of universal acceptance set by Article 53 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties is an unsurmountable obstacle for changing jus cogens by custom. That supposition is wrong on two counts.

35

Ibid., 96-97, para. 181.

36

Ibid., 94, para. 176.

37

Cf. ibid., 100, para. 188.

38

In the commentary to art. 50 of its Draft Articles on the Law of Treaties, 1966 YILC, Vol 18 II, at 247, the International Law Commission called it a ‘conspicious example’, and according to J. Sztucki, Jus Cogens and the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties 120 (1974), it was the most frequently cited example of a peremptory norm in statements of the delegations to the Vienna Conference 1969.

39

See, e.g., M. E. O’ Connell, ‘Taking Opinio Juris Seriously. A Classical Approach to International Law on the Use of Force’, in Cannizzaro/Palchetti (eds,), supra note 21, who states at 19: ‘[W]e know that jus cogens norms are not subject to the rules of change and modification of customary international law. Once a principle has become a jus cogens norm, mere violations or denunciations, even widespread, will not alter the norm’ (with further references). However, on page 29, after having identified jus cogens norms as expressions of a moral consensus, she writes: ‘If the community’s moral convictions have changed, international law has methods to modify the rules.’ So, why exclude modification by custom?

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First, the supposition is wrong due to the nature of jus cogens. The purposes and principles enshrined in the UN Charter illustrate that the norms of jus cogens are the legal expression of fundamental values which are shared by the community to which the corresponding peremptory norm applies and meant to guide the interaction of its members. New ideals, new intellectual trends, or grave internal or external incidents may, however, change the meaning of a common value and cause the community to rearrange its social preferences. The norms expressing that value in the legal order must then be adjusted else they will be ignored and become irrelevant. Maintaining international peace at all costs was the basic value which generated the legal rules prohibiting the individual use of force. At present it cannot be stated conclusively to what extent the rapidly shrinking tolerance of world public opinion for massacres or similar large-scale human rights violations has influenced and possibly modified the idea that peace must be preserved at all costs, or will perhaps modify it in the future. If the understanding of the value of peace should be revised in that sense, making room for the protection of human life by force, the legal norms expressing the value of peace in the Charter or in customary law need to be followed or become outdated. Second, because of the manner in which custom is formed. It is inherent in the process of replacing custom by new custom that the first act (Urtat) violate the existing norm. This does, of course, not mean that all violations result in a change of existing customary law. In its second Nicaragua judgment40 the International Court of Justice stated: ‘The significance for the Court of cases of State conduct prima facie inconsistent with the principle of non-intervention lies in the nature of the ground offered as justification. Reliance by a State on a novel right or an unprecedented exception to the principle might, if shared in principle by other States, tend towards a modification of customary international law. In fact, however, the Court finds that States have not justified their conduct by reference to a new right of intervention or a new exception to the principle of its prohibition.’

Two points in that statement invite comment. First, the statement recognizes implicitly that, in principle, violations of a customary rule, even one of jus cogens (nonintervention), may generate a new rule. Second, and in spite of its own declaration that custom consist of opinio juris and confirming state practice, it artificially separates the actual conduct of states, i.e. state practice, from what they profess, i.e. opinio juris, and lays exclusive stress on the latter. The result comes close to the argument that, in accordance with the maxim ex injuria jus non oritur, violations of a rule cannot and do not change it. These arguments are formalistic. Accepting an enduring gulf between norm and reality undermines the credibility of customary law. When violations of a legal norm are the rule rather than the exception and provoke only protestations of opinio juris but no corrective action; when, in other words, the norm is constantly unenforced, it is not effective and its continued validity becomes questionable. Such a chain 40

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 34, at 109, para. 207.

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of events may lead to the paradoxical situation in which the injuria have not yet generated a new norm but, because of the injuria, the old has become obsolete. A change only occurs when other states accept the new conduct as legitimate necessitas and, by and by, consider the conduct as being required by international law (opinio juris). In this, there is no difference between ordinary norms of general customary law or peremptory norms, with the exception of the harder-to-achieve condition in the latter case that the change must be ‘accepted and recognized by the international community as a whole’. But the opposite can also happen when reacting to multiple and severe violations of a specific peremptory norm which do not provoke adequate reactions from the institution set up to enforce it, the ‘international community as a whole’ gradually ceases to ‘accept and recognize’ it as peremptory. When, to put it differently, the opinio juris of its peremptory character withers away.41 For the law to change it is not necessary that a new peremptory norm replace the old.42 Changed circumstances or conditions may transform the former peremptory norm into an ordinary norm of general international law or make it altogether obsolete. Either eventuality, changed rule or vanished opinio, may be difficult to prove but the proof is not as impossible as the above-cited submission wishes us to believe. There is no obstacle on principle to a modification of jus cogens by either changing content or character by custom.43

c.

How Does New Custom Emerge?

In this respect, another passage from the 1986 judgement of the ICJ is of interest. Examining the contention of a fundamental modification of the customary law principle of non-intervention, which is also considered to be of a peremptory nature although the Court did, conspicuously, ignore that particular aspect,44 it simply observed that for a new customary rule to be formed, not only must the acts concerned ‘amount to a settled practice’, but they must be accompanied by the opinio juris sive necessitatis. Either the States taking such action or the other States in a position to react to it must have behaved so that their conduct is ‘evidence of a belief that this practice is rendered obligatory by the existence of a rule of law requiring it’.45 This statement repeats the standard formula of conditions proving the existence of a customary rule found in nearly every textbook of international law. What it does not do, however, 41

See G. P. Buzzini, ‘Les comportements passifs des états et leur incidence sur la réglementation de l’emploi de la force en droit international général’, in Cannizzaro/Palchetti (eds.), supra note 21, at 97.

42

For the oppostite view see O’Connell, supra note 39, at 19.

43

See G. Gaja, ‘Jus Cogens beyond the Vienna Convention’, 172 RCADI 279, at 284 (1981/III).

44

It was only in its judgment on Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo, supra note 17, at para. 64, that the Court expressly acknowledged the existence of jus cogens in international law and addressed the consequences of that character for its jurisdiction.

45

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 34, at 108-109, para. 207. The last part of the phrase is a self-citation by the Court of its judgment in the North Sea Continental Shelf case (Federal Republic of Germany v. Netherlands), Judgment of 20 February 1969, 1969 ICJ Rep. 3, at 44, para.77.

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is explain how opinio juris sive necessitatis may be proven46 when a norm prohibits certain conduct like the use of force. The Court’s answer is that states which use force usually present arguments as to why it was permissible under the circumstances, thereby confirming the rule.47 But what about the opinion of the considerable number of uninvolved states? States do not normally issue official statements of the reason(s) why they abstain from a certain conduct. Legally usable evidence showing that an omission was due to the belief that the abstention was required by a rule of law may therefore be difficult if not impossible to come by. The same sort of difficulty arises when an exception to a prohibition is claimed. Here, the different approaches to law either as an enabling or a prohibiting instrument come into play. A state asserting its right to humanitarian intervention in another state will hardly argue that its conduct was required by a rule of law but rather maintain that it was not prohibited by a rule of law. If law is perceived as a prohibiting order, invoking an exception does rather prove the existence of a corresponding opinio juris (‘is not prohibited’) than express adherence to the rule from which it deviates. In this case the exception does not prove the rule. The classic formula quoted above is thus only a good description, but fails to clarify how the existence of a customary norm requiring abstention or of a customary rule establishing an exception to a prohibitory norm may be proven.

B.

Is the Prohibition to Use Force Still Absolute?

1.

Establishing the Current Customary Law

That makes it all the more necessary to pursue the inquiry into customary law on the use of force which allegedly existed before the Charter came into force and on its possible evolution under the latter’s influence. Article 2 paragraph 4 of the Charter was hardly a mere codification of existing law, as the use of the term ‘force’ instead of war and the outlawing of the ‘threat of force’ testify. As Sir Humphrey Waldock has observed: ‘The illegality of recourse to armed reprisals or other forms of armed intervention not amounting to war was not established beyond all doubt by the law of the League, or by the Nuremberg and Tokyo Trials. That was brought about by the law of the Charter […]’48

The Nicaragua judgment quoted above does not help in ascertaining the substance of the posited customary law since it does not unequivocally indicate whether that law was identical with or different from the wording of Article 2(4) of the Charter. As Judge Sir Robert Jennings rightly remarked in his dissenting opinion, ‘The Court 46

See K. Zemanek, ‘What is “State Practice” and Who Makes It?’, in U. Beyerlin et al. (eds.), Recht zwischen Umbruch und Bewahrung. Festschrift für Rudolf Bernhard 289, at 291-293 (1995).

47

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 34, at 98, para. 186.

48

H. Waldock, ‘General Course on Public International Law’, 106 RCADI 5, at 231 (1962/II).

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has in the event found it impossible to avoid what is in effect a consideration of treaty provisions as such’.49 As it happens, however, the question has recently been the subject of a research project the results of which have now been published.50 While the contributions treat practically every aspect in connection with the customary law on the use of force, they do not address its alleged existence prior to the UN Charter. And proving that seems indeed a hopeless task, the vague references in the Nicaragua judgments51 notwithstanding. There apparently was no customary law prohibiting the use of force other than in war, or the Nuremberg Tribunal would have invoked it. The more plausible hypothesis is therefore to assume that the comprehensive prohibition was introduced into international law by the Charter and in the course of time also became a customary rule. Whether this customary rule has remained identical in substance with its source in Article 2 (4) of the Charter, as judge Jennings seems to have hinted in his dissenting opinion,52 or has been modified, irrespective of its character as jus cogens, needs clarification. The reference in the 1986 Nicaragua judgment leaves the question open53 but in his contribution to the above-mentioned research project, Weisburd54 has come to interesting conclusions. Having analyzed all events since 1945 in which force was used, and the UN’s reactions, he identifies three areas where the empirical material suggests a change of state practice, though not necessarily of opinio juris, which he formulates as follows: (a) Providing assistance to insurgents fighting against European colonialism, and uses of force against European colonies by third world states are lawful, while European colonial powers cannot lawfully use force against the territory of other states supporting anti-colonial insurgencies, even if the use of force is aimed solely at insurgents bases,55 (b) using force to seize all or part of another state’s territory is unlawful, unless the territory in question is a colony of a European state; however, conquest of a former colony is lawful so long as the colony is arguably not a state itself,56 (c) using force to change the government of another state is lawful for a great power acting in its sphere of influence, lawful for any state when the ousted regime was a serious violator of human rights, and otherwise unlawful.57 The first and second propositions are derived from the UN’s practice during the decolonization process. The first part of the third proposition, which categorizes states 49

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 34, at 532 (Judge Jennings, Dissenting Opinion).

50

Cannizzaro/Palchetti, supra note 21.

51

See the citations at notes 32 and 35.

52

See text at note 49.

53

See the citation at note 35.

54

A. M. Weisburd, ‘Consistency, Universality, and the Customary Law of Interstate Force’, in Cannizzaro/Palchetti (eds.), supra note 21, 31.

55

Ibid., 45 and 69.

56

Ibid., 53 and 69-70.

57

Ibid., 69 and 70.

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according to their power and concedes greater freedom to great powers to use force, is based on empirical evidence from the Cold War period, again from the UN. Weisburd supports his conclusion by recalling that the international legal system had at various times dealt with the difference in the military power of states by acknowledging it and conceding greater legal authority to more powerful states, a tendency which Weisburg sees reflected in the position of the permanent members of the Security Council. He regards it as an admission that powerful states could not be controlled anyway and might be induced to use their power, in some cases at least, for other than purely selfish reasons.58 The second part of the third proposition utilizes cases of humanitarian interventions left unsanctioned by the Security Council. Weisburd argues that the reason for the changed conduct is the changing attitude towards peace: while in 1945 states were prepared to consider the maintenance of peace so important a value that the territorial integrity and political independence of every state was sacrosanct, the world’s willingness to ignore massive human rights violations was simply less in 2004 than in was in 1945.59 Surprisingly, however, he includes in his survey the war in Iraq60 which was hardly a case of humanitarian intervention61 but rather one of misconceived pre-emptive self-defence and will be examined in that context infra.

2.

Have ‘Humanitarian Interventions’ Clarified the Issue?

Humanitarian intervention has long been a subject of academic discourse but until NATO’s air campaign against Serbia during the Kosovo crisis, called operation ‘Allied Force’, the proposition of a right to it remained more or less an academic construct.62 Early cases of state practice, like East Pakistan, Cambodia, or Uganda were neither unequivocally presented as humanitarian interventions nor treated as such by other states.63 The Kosovo crisis reanimated the academic discussion64 but produced widely differing comments: From ‘the doctrine is far from firmly established’65 to ‘uses of force 58

Ibid., 71-72.

59

Ibid., 72

60

Ibid., 66-68.

61

Weisburd concedes that ibid., 70.

62

Up to 1985, this discourse has been succinctly summarized by W. D. Verwey, ‘Humanitarian Intervention and International Law’, 32 NILR 357 (1985). For its further development up to 2000, see K. Zemanek, ‘Intervention in the 21st Century’, 5 Cursos Euromediterráneos Bancaja de Derecho Internacional 613 (2001).

63

See H. Duffy, The ‘War on Terror’ and the Framework of International Law 180 (2005); T. M. Franck, Recourse to Force 139-151 (2002); and C. Gray, International Law and the Use of Force 30-33 (2004).

64

See, e.g., the discussion forum in 10 EJIL (1999): B. Simma, ‘NATO, the UN and the Use of Force: Legal Aspects’ and the comment by A. Cassese, ‘Ex iniuria ius oritur: Are we Moving towards International Legitimation of Forcible Humanitarian Countermeasures in the World Community?’.

65

Gray, supra note 63, at 49.

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that are illegal but justifiable’,66 from the pragmatical ‘illegal conduct which is tolerated by the international community in extreme circumstances’67 to the dogmatic ‘when the Security Council is stalled in the resolution of a conflict, and one is faced with a situation where measures ordered by the Security Council have not been fulfilled, the Chapter VII must be deemed ‘inoperative’. As a result, lex specialis ceases to be used and lex generalis comes back into effect. In my view, a shift in the applicable law from the UN Charter to general international law takes place in such a situation.’68 And, finally, as to justifying: ‘However, as long as the Security Council remains ineffective, and only as long as the Security remains ineffective, states have a right to engage in unilateral humanitarian intervention. It is a legal right – perhaps it is even a moral duty.’69 These divergent views confirm the unstable state of opinio juris concerning the use of force for humanitarian purposes.70 They also illustrate the observations made under II/A(1) supra that the choice of method for interpreting the law influences the outcome. The situation changed to some extent in 2001, when the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty, sponsored by the Canadian government, proposed in its Report71 that the Security Council had a ‘responsibility to protect’ populations against genocide or other massive deprivations of human rights by their governments and warned that ‘if the Security Council fails to discharge its responsibility in conscience-shocking situations crying out for action, […] it is unrealistic to expect that concerned states will rule out other means and forms of action to meet the gravity and urgency of these situations (§ 6.39)’. The High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change which the Secretary-General of the United Nations set up in 2004 endorsed the ‘collective international responsibility to protect, exercisable by the Security Council authorizing military interventions as a last resort’ in its Report72 and emphasized that its motive was ‘to minimize the possibility of individual Member States bypassing the Security Council’. In the ensuing academic debate the ‘responsibility to protect’ soon became a ‘duty to protect’.73 Yet, while the aforementioned reports may indeed indicate a trend in 66

Persuasively argued in the American mode by Franck, supra note 63, at 174-191.

67

N. Bhuta in a review essay, quoted by O’Connell, supra note 39, at 27.

68

Murase, supra note 30, at 1545.

69

M. Berenfors/M. Petersen, ‘The Legality of Unilateral Humanitarian Intervention – A Defence’, 69 Nordic JIL 449, at 499 (2000).

70

Cf. H.-P. Neuhold, ‘Human Rights and the Use of Force’, in S. Breitenmoser et al. (eds.), Human Rights, Democracy and the Rule of Law. Liber Amicorum Luzius Wildhaber 479 (2007).

71

The Responsibility to Protect: http://www.iciss.ca/pdf/Commission-Report.pdf (last visited 27 November 2007), on the genesis of the idea cf. I. Winkelmann, ‘“Responsibility to Protect”: Die Verantwortung der Intenationalen Gemeinschaft zur Gewährung von Schutz’, in P.-M. Dupuy et al. (eds.), Völkerrecht als Wertordnung. Festschrift für Christian Tomuschat 449 (2006).

72

Report of the Secretary-General’s High-level Panel on Threats, supra note 4, paras. 203 and 206.

73

See, e.g., P. Hilpold, ‘The Duty to Protect and the Reform of the United Nations – A New Step in the Development of International Law’, 10 Max Planck Yearbook of UN Law 35 (2006).

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public opinion toward upgrading the responsibility to protect to a legal duty, one may with good reason doubt their credibility in expressing the existing opinio juris of governments. The latter’s practice in the UN with regard to the slayings in Darfur suggests otherwise. Prima facie it is difficult to comprehend what establishing a legal ‘duty to protect’ could achieve, if the non-performance of that duty was not sanctioned, which in the case of the Security Council is unrealistic to say the least. Maybe the proposition’s purpose is simply to buttress the argument that individual humanitarian intervention becomes lawful should the Security Council fail in its duty to protect. It is significant that the report of the International Commission (§ 6.39) as well as the report of the High Level Panel (para. 197, 206) content themselves with exhorting the Security Council to mend its ways without clearly pronouncing on the consequences of its failure to do so.

3.

Interim Conclusion

It is practically impossible to draw a definite conclusion from the foregoing. The academic discourse is inconclusive and the practice of states fragmented. Some important states have the tendency to ignore the injunction of Article 2 (4) when they come either under pressure from public opinion in their country or consider their interests affected by a drawn-out human rights disaster which the Security Council cannot or will not stop. Writers who have explored the reactions to the NATO intervention in Kosovo among the UN member states have found a divided house.74 Duffy75 has drawn attention to the fact that only some of the states involved in the Kosovo intervention asserted their right to intervene on humanitarian grounds, while others relied on other justifications, such as Security Council support. A similar pattern emerged at the provisional measures stage of the proceedings before the International Court of Justice on the action which Yugoslavia had brought against ten of the nineteen NATO members, in which only Belgium argued a doctrine of humanitarian intervention.76 It is remarkable, on the other hand, that the party of staunch defenders of Article 2(4) of the Charter included some unconvincing champions. Some had themselves used force in the past without the Security Council’s authorization: Russia (as Soviet Union 1956 in Hungary and 1968 in Czechoslovakia), India (1971 in East Pakistan, now Bangladesh), Tanzania (in Uganda 1967), and Vietnam (1978/79 in Cambodia).77 Others, like China and Russia, face secessionist movements in their own country, which they have suppressed and are still suppressing by force, and are therefore anxious to avoid creating a precedent of legitimate foreign concern. And some supporters of the nonaligned foreign ministers’ rejection of humanitarian intervention,78 like Somalia, Sudan or Zimbabwe, harbour not totally imaginary fears of becoming the object of one. 74

See, e.g., Gray, supra note 63, at 45.

75

Duffy, supra note 63, at 180-181.

76

See Gray, supra note 63, at 42-44.

77

The last three cases are analyzed in detail as instances of humanitarian intervention by Franck, supra note 63, 130-151.

78

Ibid., 170, n. 210.

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These findings show that neither opinio juris nor state practice go only in one direction. Rather opinio juris demonstrates its flexibility under the influence of self-interest. No consensus on an exception from the prohibition to use force for humanitarian purposes is evident. The practice of the Security Council and of important states shows, on the other hand, that under certain circumstances the Council does not react to humanitarian interventions in the manner that one would expect in accordance with the relevant provisions of the Charter. Foremost among these circumstances is the direct or indirect involvement of a permanent member which can prevent an eventual measure by casting a negative vote, a possibility which sometimes induces the Council to forgo putting the matter to the vote at all. But among the circumstances which influence the attitude of the Council is presumably also a demonstrable and convincing cause which world public opinion approves. This second aspect explains the public reaction to NATO’s operation against Serbia, where the cause, the humanitarian crisis in Kosovo, was plausibly documented. The adverse effect of unsubstantiated allegations clearly came out in the war against Iraq which, although it was not a case of humanitarian intervention, also needed a legitimate cause. It did not pass the test of world public opinion: the allegation that the Iraqi government possessed weapons of mass destruction that necessitated urgent elimination was doubtful from the beginning and later proven to be false. Nevertheless, whatever its motive, the practice of the Security Council cannot be ignored, even though its conformity with the Charter is questionable, marked more by failings than achievements. The Council is often either unable or unwilling to put an end to large-scale human rights violations perpetrated by a state against its own citizens, but equally unable or unwilling to take measures against states which use force unilaterally, without the Council’s authorization, for the purpose of ending the violations. It seems that this unsteady practice has softened the initial opinio juris which took the prohibition in Article 2(4) literally and strictly and has turned it from absolute rigidity toward a vaguer state, the complexity of which is reflected in academic writings and in official attitudes. It may continue to weaken if more humanitarian interventions should take place and the Security Council remains a bystander, or it may take a turn toward its stricter form should the Council fulfil its mandate, the first of the two being the more likely course. At present, however, it would be premature to make a definite statement for or against a customary modification of Charter law in this respect. The same conclusion has been reached by Weisburd who relied on an inductive method,79 by Abiew80 who argued from a common law legal background and by Francioni81 who uses the novel ‘balancing-of-values’ approach.

79

Weisburd, supra note 54, at 76: ‘it would be premature to say that a change in customary law has as yet taken place’.

80

See the reference in supra note 18.

81

See the text at supra note 28.

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III.

Has the Law on Self-Defence Changed?

A.

Self-Defence Against the Attack by Another State

305

The foregoing examination concerned the first use of force. It remains to be seen whether developments relating to self-defence which, in principle, is a reactive use of force, show a different result. The method of enquiry will remain the same as above.82

1.

Is Self-Defence a ‘Right’ or a ‘Liberty’?

The UN Charter described the right of self-defence in Article 51 as ‘inherent’. Since then the question of whether such a ‘right’ had customarily existed before the Charter and, if so, what impact the Charter provision has had on that previously existing right, has been on the academic agenda. With the judgment on the merits in the Nicaragua case, the International Court of Justice entered the debate when it held that ‘the Charter gave expression in this field (i.e. the prohibition to use force and its exceptions) to principles already present in customary law’ and exemplified that dictum by the ‘inherent right of self-defence’.83 As has been argued above,84 it is highly unlikely that in an era when international law permitted states to resort to war, the opinio necessitatis for a distinct ‘right’ of self-defence should have existed. Ago is more persuasive85 when he argues that, although the Charter uses the words ‘right of self-defence’, the expression connotes in reality ‘a situation of de facto conditions, not a subjective right. The State finds itself in a position of self-defense when it is confronted with an armed attack against itself in breach of international law. It is by reason of such a state of affairs that, in a particular case, the State is exonerated from the duty to respect vis-à-vis the aggressor, the general obligation to refrain from the use of force.’86

The International Court of Justice confused the issue further when it found, in elaborating on its dictum that a customary right of self-defence existed parallel to Article 51 of the Charter87, that ‘the Charter, having itself recognized the existence of this right, does not go on to regulate all aspects of its content’ and further that ‘[t]he areas covered by the two sources of law [...] do not overlap exactly, and the rules do not have

82

See supra, at 293-294.

83

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 34.

84

See supra, at 296s.

85

Opposite view A. Constantinou, The Right of Self-Defence Under Customary International Law and Article 51 of the UN Charter 51-52 (2000).

86

Addendum to the Eighth Report on State Responsibility, 1980 YILC, Vol. 34 II (Part One), at 53, para. 87 (1980); D. Bowett, Self-defense in International Law (1958) calls it a ‘liberty’ or ‘privilege’.

87

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 32.

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the same content’.88 This can mean two things: Either that customary law implements the Charter provision in more detail by supplying the principles of necessity and proportionality;89 or that the scope of self-defence in customary law is wider than in the Charter provision;90 or both. The correlation between the two sources thus becomes a crucial issue. Corten91 has rightly observed that the choice of method for analysing it determines the result.92 An extensive construction, which corresponds broadly to the ‘American’ approach discussed above,93 interprets the rule in the most flexible manner possible. It is policy oriented, prefers custom over treaty, and puts its emphasis on state practice, particularly the practice of major states. Some proponents will even argue that self-defence cannot be governed or altered by positive law94 since it is inherent in the concept of sovereignty.95 The other approach is restrictive and could be called ‘European’, because it is mostly preferred by those trained in a civil law method. It argues that members of the United Nations are bound to exercise their ‘inherent right’ in the confines of Article 51 of the Charter96 unless it can be shown that this article has been modified by relevant new customary law. In examining the proposition, this approach relies more on opinio juris than on state practice.

2.

The Traditional Understanding of ‘if an armed attack occurs’

The text of Article 51 suggests that self-defence is the reaction to an attack, which ’occurs’, that is, an attack which has taken or is taking place.97 It is generally assumed that defence must be carried out within a reasonable time from the initial attack. Experience 88

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 34, at 94, para. 176.

89

Thus the Court, ibid.

90

This idea has been defended by Bowett, supra note 86, at 192-193.

91

O. Corten, ‘The Controversy Over the Customary Prohibition on the Use of Force. A Methodological Debate’, 16 EJIL 803 (2006). Kredel’s whole book, supra note 8, is devoted to this problem.

92

The two approaches are well illustrated by comparing the books by Franck, supra note 63 and Gray, supra note 63.

93

Supra, at 290-291.

94

Cf. the analysis of these opinions by Schachter, supra note 8, at 260-261.

95

See B.-O. Bryde, ‘Self-defence’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Vol. IV, 361 (1982).

96

See St. A. Alexandrov, Self-Defense Against the Use of Force in International Law 93-95 (1996).

97

R. Kolb, ‘Self-Defense and Preventive War at the Beginning of the Millenium’, 59 ZÖR 111 (2004), at 122: ‘The material nature of an attack is to some extent observable fact of reality.’

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from the comparable case of inter-personal self-defence tells, on the other hand, that it is unrealistic to expect that the target of an impending attack will stay his hand until the attacker strikes, and thus give him the adavantage. Yet, too liberal an attitude toward anticipatory self-defence may foster genuine misjudgements by the victims or, worse, open the way to abuse. The practice of domestic criminal courts demonstrates that a fair balance is difficult to strike, but their jurisprudence leans generally toward construing the legal justification of anticipation narrowly.98 In international law, the situation is even more complex. A court or tribunal will only occasionally be called upon to examine the exercise of self-defence and even then only after the event, nor can one rely on the Security Council to take ‘measures to maintain international peace and security’, except in opportune circumstances. It will therefore be left mainly to the states involved to assess the situation. And this causes a dilemma. While it may be unreasonable to require a state that detects preparations of a large-scale attack on it to remain a sitting duck, it is equally obvious that a state might feign the imminence of an attack on itself to camouflage its own aggressive aims against another. Nor can one exclude a bona fide error of judgment, for example when military movements (mobilization) are mistaken for a threat where none is intended. Nevertheless, the majority opinion accepts that a manifestly imminent armed attack, provided it is objectively verifiable (this raises the question of by whom?) permits interceptive self-defence,99 meaning reaction against an attack in progress,100 which is a form of anticipatory self-defence. This view has lately also been endorsed by the United Nations High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change.101 It is, however, wrong to cite, as some authors do, the Caroline case of 1873 as precedent for establishing, and at the same time limiting, the circumstances in which the use of self-defence in anticipation of an attack might be permissible.102 Although both instances share the limits of necessity and proportionality, the Caroline case is an instance of a state of necessity, which is an exception from the law of state responsibility, more related to self-help than to self-defence. A state of necessity may arise in various circumstances not related to an armed attack and is long-standing custom, whereas the right to self-defence, as has been repeatedly stated in this paper, emerged as rule of positive law presumably only after the resort to war was outlawed. They belong therefore to different contexts.

98

Cf. Duffy, supra note 63, at 194.

99

See H. Waldock, ‘The Regulation of the Use of Force by Individual States in International Law’, 81 RCADI 451, at 497-498 (1952/II). A list of writers for and against is provided by Constantinou, supra note 85, at 112-115; and a review of the most recent writings is supplied by Duffy, supra note 63, at 156, n. 59.

100

Usually the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor is cited as an example. See Y. Dinstein, War, Aggression and Self-Defence 190-192 (1994).

101

Report of the Secretary-General’s High-level Panel on Threats, supra note 4, para. 124: ‘imminent threats are covered by Article 51.’

102

See, e.g., Duffy, supra note 63, at 157 and the authors cited there.

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Pre-emptive and Preventive Self-defence

The proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (WMD), in particular of nuclear weapons, and the apparent existence of a black market for them, which may make it possible for terrorists to gain possession of them,103 has added a new aspect to the problem, because a weapon which will cause major and irreversible harm presents different considerations than one which will not. It is easy to imagine that, should such weapons ever be used in an attack, there might be nothing left to mount a defence. These fears cannot be dispelled, but neither are states willing to agree to a more effective international system that would offer protection. The world is, so to say, of two minds. Even the International Court of Justice would not take a clear stand and took refuge in ambiguous wording when confronted with the possible use of nuclear weapons in defence. In the Advisory Opinion on the Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons it stated:104 ‘[T]he Court cannot lose sight of the fundamental right of every State to survival, and thus its right to resort to self-defence, in accordance with Article 51 of the Charter, when its survival is at stake.’

And further: ‘[I]n view of the present state of international law as a whole […] the Court is led to observe that it cannot reach a definitive conclusion as to the legality of illegality of the use of nuclear weapons by a State in an extreme circumstance of self-defence, in which its very survival would be at stake.’

The potentiality of an attack with WMD suggests that the notion of imminence might need refinement to take the weapons used in an attack into account and adapt the right to self-defence accordingly. That right would become meaningless if a state could not prevent an aggressive first strike which uses WMD. Those who deny the legality of any form of anticipatory self-defence under all circumstances go presumably too far.105 A doctrine of pre-emptive self-defence which is not linked to the imminence but to the threat of only the possibility of an attack at some point in the future, and should therefore more correctly be called a doctrine of preventive self-defence, is however a

103

Cf., e.g., F. Steinhäusler, ‘Risk-based Emergency Preparedness Against Terror Attacks with WMD’, 50 Akademie für Politik und Zeitgeschehen 79 (2006).

104

Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, Advisory Opinion of 8 July 1996, 1996 ICJ Rep. 263, paras. 96-97.

105

See A. Cassese, International Law 361 (2005): ‘Analysis of State and UN practice […] shows that the overwhelming majority of States believe that anticipatory self-defense is not allowed by the UN Charter. However, a number of States […] take the opposite view. Given the importance and the role of these States, one may not conclude that there is universal agreement to the illegality under the Charter of anticipatory self-defense.’ For the opposite view see Gray, supra note 63, at 130-133.

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fairly recent invention.106 It was made public in The National Security Strategy of the United States of 2002107 and was updated in 2006.108 The relevant chapter V, entitled Prevent Our Enemies from Threatening Us, Our Allies, and Our Friends with Weapons of Mass Destruction states in the 2002 version: ‘We must adapt the concept of imminent threat to the capabilities of today’s adversaries […]. The greater the threat, the greater the risk of inaction and the more compelling the case for taking anticipatory action to defend ourselves, even if uncertainty remains as to the time and place of the enemy’s attack. To forestall or prevent such hostile acts by our adversaries, the United States will, if necessary, act preemptively.’

To which the 2006 update adds: ‘When the consequences of an attack with WMD are potentially so devastating, we cannot afford to stand idly by as grave dangers materialize. This is the principle and logic of preemption.’

The ‘adversaries’ are referred to in this text as ‘rogue states’ or ‘terrorists’. The doctrine thus makes no distinction between the attack by a state or an attack by a non-state actor.109 It is an imperial strategy110 which is inconsistent with international law as it now stands, particularly with some fundamental rules that form the legal basis of the international system. According to this strategy, it is the imperial power that decides singlehandedly, not only for itself but also for its allies and friends, that a danger exists, identifies its source and resolves to eliminate it, without having to give account of the accuracy and reliability of its allegations. The claim to exclusive self-assessment makes the discovery, and even more so the proof, of abuse practically impossible. It is, in all but name, a doctrine to legitimize the fist use of force.

B.

Self-Defence Against an Attack by a Non-State Actor

1.

A Different Scenario

The reaction of the United States to the attack of 9/11 and its claim that this reaction was self-defence in accordance with Article 51 of the Charter, a claim accepted by the 106

See the comparative survey by W. M. Reisman/A. Armstrong, ‘The Past and Future of the Claim to Pre-emptive Self-defense’, 100 AJIL 525 (2006).

107

See The National Security Strategy of the United States of America, supra note 7.

108

See 2006 The National Security Strategy of the United States of America, http://www. whitehouse/gov/nsc/nss/2006 (last visited 27 November 2007).

109

Cf. M. Bothe, ‘Terrorism and the Legality of Pre-emptive Force’, 14 EJIL 227, at 232 (2003).

110

Cf. A. Remiro Brotóns, ‘New Imperial Order or (Hegemonic) International Law?’, 8 ARIEL 25 (2003); and A. Pellet, ‘Can International Law Survive US “Leadership”?’, ibid., at 101. Less critical P. Weckel, ‘Nouvelles pratiques américaines en matiere de légitime défense?’, 50 AFDI 128 (2004).

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Security Council,111 are the subject of academic controversy. This type of terrorist attack has indeed two features which distinguish it fundamentally from an attack by a state: the attacker’s lack of international personality and territoriality. The rules of international law are addressed to states and international entities with which these deal on an equal footing. This is not the case with terrorists, whether organized or not, for obvious reasons of policy.112 Yet even if these reasons should dictate the opposite, it is questionable as to whether the international recognition of terrorists would be possible since it requires an identifiable subject. The little that is known of internationally active terrorists suggests that, contrary to the US government’s and the medias’ conjuring up of a firm organization under the name of Al Qaeda, terrorists operate as a loose network of cells with a horizontal rather than a vertical structure.113 Hence, while terrorist acts and responses thereto may become the object of international rules, the terrorist themselves cannot be made the subject of international rights and duties. Not only do terrorists lack international personality, they also have no proper territory in the sense of international law and must therefore use the territory of states for their activities, be it training, preparation, logistics, or operational base. Mindful of the dictum of the International Court of Justice in the Corfu Channel case that it is ‘every State’s obligation not to allow knowingly its territory to be used for acts contrary to the rights of other States’,114 one would suppose that such activities are not tolerated. In reality, however, some states secretly connive at them, others do not wish to confront the terrorist on their territory for political or religious reasons or are lacking the necessary power and, lastly, there are failed states which have no effective government that could discharge the state’s duties under international law. Considered in the context of self-defence these two features raise difficult questions: If self-defence against a non-state actor is, under certain circumstances, considered action in accordance with Article 51 of the Charter, is it permissible on the territory of another state, even though that state has not taken part in the attack? Or must this situation be treated as a case of international responsibility of the terrorists’s ‘host’-state,115 to be settled eventually in legal proceedings rather than by way of self-defence?

111

Cf., Letter dated 7 October 2001 from the Permanent Representative of the United States of America to the United Nations addressed to the President of the Security Council, UN Doc. S/2001/946, 40 ILM 1281 (2001); and UN Security Council Res. 1368, UN Docs. S/ RES/1368 (2001), preamble, and UN Security Council Res. 1373, UN Doc. S/RES/1373 (2001), preamble.

112

See Duffy, supra note 63, at 67-68.

113

Cf. The Economist, 14-20 July 2007, at 25.

114

Corfu Channel Case, supra note 29, at 22. The most recent reiteration by the Court is Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Uganda), supra note 17, para. 162, which confirmed that the 1970 Friendly Relations Declaration was declaratory of customary international law.

115

On the problem in general see L. Condorelli, ‘L’imputation à l’Etat d’un fait internationalement illicite: solutions classiques et nouvelles tendances’, 189 RCDI 9 (1984/IV).

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A further question arises in connection with the objective of self-defence. Article 51 of the Charter describes an ideal sequence: Self-defence is the spontaneous reaction to an attack from abroad, calculated to halt and repulse it if possible and is followed by the appropriate ‘measures’ of the Security Council. Whether this scenario is, or ever was, a realistic proposition is not relevant in the present context. What the article makes clear is that the purpose of self-defence is to fend off the attacker. Even in the context of a conventional inter-state attack some questions resulting from it are unsettled: Is self-defence limited to repelling the attack or is pursuit legal?116 May the attacked state continue its operation until the attacking forces are defeated? In connection with a terrorist attack this translates into the query as to whether the defence is limited to foiling the attack or whether it includes the rooting out of the terrorists, even on the territory of another state, to prevent repetition.

2.

The Proper Response

It is usually assumed that two cardinal principles describe the bounds of self-defence. These principles are necessity and proportionality. Although they do not appear in the text of Article 51, a consensus of opinion accepts them as contributed by custom.117 The International Court of Justice subscribes to that opinion and has confirmed it in judgments and advisory opinions. In the Nicaragua case, it held that ‘self-defense would warrant only measures which are proportional to the armed attack and necessary to respond to it’ which it declared to be ‘a rule well-established in customary international law’.118 In the Oil Platform case, it reiterated that ‘the submission of the exercise of the right of self-defense to the conditions of necessity and proportionality is a rule of customary international law’.119 It also described more precisely the condition of necessity as ‘the requirement of international law that measures taken avowedly in self-defense must have been necessary for that purpose is strict and objective, leaving no room for any ‘measure of discretion’’.120 The conception of the two requirements, at least as expressed by the International Court of Justice is, not surprisingly, shaped by the experience of inter-state armed conflicts. Applied to the unprecedented attack of 9/11 and to potentially similar cases, it offers no ready answers. 116

N. Poulantzas, The Right of Hot Pursuit in International Law 16 (1969), denies ‘hot’ pursuit but allows ‘pursuit’ under the right of self-defence; see Constantinou, supra note 85, at 147.

117

In the commentary to Draft Articles on State Responsibility, Report of the ILC on its 53rd session, UN Doc. A/56/10 (2001), art. 21, para. 6, the Commission considered the two elements to be ‘inherent in the notion of self-defense’.

118

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 34, at 94, para. 176.

119

Case Concerning Oil Platforms (Islamic Republic of Iran v. United States of America), Judgment of 6 November 2003, 2004 ICJ Rep. 161, at 198, para.76. Cf. the further repetition in Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Uganda), supra note 17, at 103, para.194.

120

Supra note 119, at 196, para. 73.

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Proportionality is a rather abstract principle and not easily determined in a specific case, as is well known from the law of countermeasures.121 To require that the reaction of the victim state to the armed attack, in order to be proportionate, must correspond to the objective of self-defence to repel or forestall the armed attack, is not really instructive. The measure of self-defence should be proportionate to what – the gravity of the attack or the seriousness of the injuries inflicted? Should the terrorists attack with WMD, is a response in kind proportionate?122 If 3000 human lives have been lost by the attack, should this be a yardstick for the proportionality of the response? These questions illustrate the fuzziness of the notion of proportionality. The latter is an indispensable theoretical guard against excesses, yet it becomes only practically relevant if the event is afterwards examined in legal proceedings. Its many uncertain aspects make it a poor guide for actual operational decisions. What does necessity mean in this context? A terrorist attack is an end in itself. If it cannot be foiled before it actually takes place, measures of self-defence will only deflect it in lucky circumstances. Once the attack has taken place, self-defence stricto sensu is not longer possible and hence presumably not ‘necessary’. It is, however, unrealistic to suppose that the state which has been attacked will not try to eliminate the perpetrators to avoid repetition. Is that action ‘necessary’? Evidently not in the sense in which the term has hitherto been used. One must therefore conclude that, on the basis of existing law, or more precisely, of its prevailing interpretation, actions with that purpose are not in conformity with international law. States will nevertheless undertake them when they and their citizens fear for the safety of their existence. Should the phenomenon of terrorism develop as the experts believe it will, the test of the relevance of international law for controlling the reactions will be its ability to adjust to reality and take care of the expectations of endangered states.

3.

The Territorial Link

The situation to be addressed under this heading has been roughly described above.123 It results from the fact that terrorists must organize and prepare their attack on the territory of a state. When they operate in loose cells and do their preparatory work on the internet, finding and watching them with the presently available technical means is difficult and discoveries by intelligence or security services are often the result of happenstance. Put differently: Even the most diligent state cannot guarantee that it will actually prevent all activities on its territory which are harmful to other states. There are, however, two scenarios in which the legal situation is different.124 One is the case in which terrorists have an operational base in a state that gives them shelter and supports their recruiting and training of activists, as the Taliban 121

See K. Zemanek, ‘The Unilateral Enforcement of International Obligations’, 47 ZaöRV 32, at 42 (1987).

122

Constantinou, supra note 85, discusses the problem in detail at 164-167.

123

Supra, at 310.

124

Cf. K. N. Knapp, ‘Back to Basics: Necessity, Proportionality, and the Right of Self-Defence Against Non-State Terrorist Actors’, 56 ICLQ 141 (2007).

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regime did for Al Qaeda in Afghanistan. Whether this can be construed in any sense as ‘control’ and amounts to the ‘sending by a State of armed bands to the territory of another State’, which the International Court of Justice found to amount to an ‘armed attack’, entitling to self-defence, in the Nicaragua case,125 is a question of proof. The Court determined that ‘effective control’ of the armed band by the government was required, but the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia disagreed and was satisfied with ‘overall control’.126 No matter which criterion is applied, the intensity of the link between the state/government and the terrorists will be decisive. If a strong link can be proven, measures of self-defence against the terrorists on the territory of their ‘host’ state must be considered legal; should the degree of involvement of the state’s government suggest that the attack can be attributed to the state, the measure may even be aimed at the state itself.127 The second scenario differs from the first inasmuch as the state on whose territory the terrorists have an operational centre is not supporting them, but is either unable or unwilling to expel them or to prevent them from attacking another state. The International Court of Justice still holds the view that Article 51 of the Charter applies only to an attack by another state, although some judges have criticized that view in separate opinions to the Advisory Opinion on Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestine Territory128 and to the Judgment in the Case Concerning Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Uganda).129 And indeed, the Court’s position is not based on a legal interpretation of Article 51 but on a specific conceptual construction of international law which has been overtaken by reality and is outdated. According to the Court, the attack must be attributable to the ‘host’ state through association to permit self-defence. It could be argued that when a state is able but unwilling to act against the terrorists, such association exists. But the prevailing opinion would treat it as a case of state responsibility, not one of self-defence. The remedies available under the law of state responsibility seem, however, inadequate for disposing of the threat. The ‘host’ state may admit to a breach of the law through not fulfilling its duty to prevent the terrorist activity on its territory and it may promise non-repetition, 125

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and Against Nicaragua, supra note 34.

126

See Prosecutor v. Tadic, Judgment of 15 July 1999, Case No. IT-94-1-A, Appeals Chamber, 38 ILM 1518, at 1546 (1999).

127

Opposite view S. Ratner, ‘Jus ad Bellum and Jus in Bello After September 11’, 96 AJIL 905, at 908 (2002). Equivocal Constantinou, supra note 85, at 171-172.

128

Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestine Territory, Advisory Opinion of 9 July 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 136, at 215, para. 33 (Judge Higgins, Separate Opinion): ‘There is, with respect, nothing in the text of Article 51 that thus stipulates that self-defence is available only when an armed attack is made by a State. That qualification is rather the result of the Court so determining in Military and Paramilitary Activities in an against Nicaragua […].’ (Emphasis in original).

129

Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Uganda), supra note 17, Judge Kooijmans, Separate Opinion, paras. 25-26, and Judge Simma, Separate Opinion, paras. 11-12.

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but neither prevents the terrorists to move to another country. This possibility was apparently overlooked by Judge Koroma when he defended, in a declaration attached to the Congo judgment130, the differentiation between situations allowing self-defence and situations giving merely rise to state responsibility. The situation is worse when the ‘host’ state is unable to fulfil its duty under international law because the government machinery has broken down. It may be painful for international lawyers to admit that ‘failed states’ do exist, because the admission calls the whole system of international law, founded on the sovereignty of states and their ability of self-organization, in question. Simply rejecting the idea that the non-existence of a government or its factual inability to play the role assigned to it by international law must have legal consequences does not eliminate the problem. Effective government is one of the characteristics of a state and a necessary condition for the functioning of the international legal system. The inability of a state to establish and maintain an effective government may be a tragedy, but it should not exempt it from suffering the consequences of its inability when private parties threaten or harm other states from its territory. Somalia is presently an example. Only a change in the Court’s interpretation of Article 51, accepting that the article included armed attacks by non-state actors could lead to a more equitable balancing of the respective interests. If a state does not fulfil the international duty which the Court had so clearly set out in the Corfu Channel case and cannot or will not prevent non-state actors from orchestrating attacks on other states from its territory, then the attacked state should be entitled to exercise its right of self-defence on the territory of the ‘host’ state, provided the bounds of necessity and proportionality are respected.

130

Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Uganda), supra note 17, note 17, para. 9 (Judge Koroma, Declaration).

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XX – XXX

CHAPTER III

Sources Including Codification of International Law

316

XX

15

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The Pacta Sunt Servanda Rule in the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties: A Pillar and its Safeguards Christina Binder

I.

Introduction

The principle of pacta sunt servanda is a cardinal rule of international law and international relations. Hans Kelsen views it as the ‘Grundnorm’ of international law, the original hypothesis of international norms on which the whole structure of legal theory is built and without which, according to him, it is impossible to imagine international law.1 According to Hersch Lauterpacht: ‘The rule pacta sunt servanda confronts States as an objective principle independent of their will.’2 Lord McNair, in The Law of Treaties, dedicates an entire Chapter ‘Pacta sunt servanda, and the general presumption against unilateral termination’3 to what he calls the ‘elementary and universally agreed principle’ of international law.4 Ian Sinclair states that ‘pacta sunt servanda’ is the ‘most fundamental principle of treaty law’.5 Moreover, Gerhard Hafner himself has dealt prominently with the question of treaty stability.6 The pacta sunt servanda rule is essential in domestic legal systems due to its function of ensuring stability in legal relations. This is even more crucial in the international legal order: international law as a horizontal system of cooperation, without an obligatory and centralized law enforcement institution, depends on the reliability and constancy of commitments undertaken by states and, therefore, on treaty stability. 1

H. Kelsen, Principles of International Law 28 (1966); see also H. Kelsen, ‘Théorie du droit international public’, 84 RdC 131 (1953-III).

2

H. Lauterpacht, ‘The Nature of International Law and General Jurisprudence’, 1932 Economica 301, at 314.

3

Lord McNair, The Law of Treaties 493 (1961).

4

Ibid.

5

I. Sinclair, The Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties 2 (1984).

6

See, e.g., G. Hafner, ‘“L’obsolescence” de certaines dispositions du Traité d’Etat autrichien de 1955’, 37 AFDI 239 (1992); G. Hafner, ‘Was blieb vom Staatsvertrag?’, in A. Suppan/G. Stourzh/W. Mueller (eds.), Der österreichische Staatsvertrag 1955: internationale Strategie, rechtliche Relevanz, nationale Identität 757 (2005); G. Hafner, ‘Kodifikation und Weiterentwicklung des Völkerrechts’, in F. Cede/L. Sucharipa (eds.), Die Vereinten Nationen: Recht und Praxis 131 (1999). See also G. Hafner’s reference to the work of the Sixth Committee and the opinion of many states that late reservations would undermine the rule of pacta sunt servanda, G. Hafner, ‘Current Development: Certain Issues of the Work of the Sixth Committee at the Fifty-sixth General Assembly’, 97 AJIL 147 (2003).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 317-342, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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Understandably, the 1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT) confers a central place to the rule. The Preamble of the VCLT establishes pacta sunt servanda along with the principles of free consent and good faith (as well as the peaceful settlement of disputes) as a fundamental principle of treaty law.7 Furthermore, Article 26 VCLT (‘Pacta sunt servanda’)8 is prominently placed at the beginning of Part III ‘Observance, Application and Interpretation of Treaties’. The objective of treaty stability as expressed in the pacta sunt servanda rule may thus be viewed as the ‘pillar’ of treaty law. On the other hand, changing circumstances, deficient consent, considerations of justice, the peaceful cooperation of states as well as ordre public considerations can make a strict compliance with treaty obligations unjust or even impossible. Accordingly, limitations of the rule are warranted for the purpose of adding the necessary flexibility to the goal of treaty stability. These are introduced in particular in Part V of the VCLT ‘Invalidity, Termination and Suspension of the Operation of Treaties’. However, the pacta sunt servanda rule also seems to influence Part V. In particular, if one adopts a broader understanding of the rule – namely as expression of treaty stability – a number of provisions in Part V will appear to directly and indirectly uphold treaty stability. These ‘safeguards’ can be detected in the wording of the invalidity and termination provisions, in the modalities and legal consequences of invalidity, termination and suspension as well as in the VCLT’s procedural provisions. The pacta sunt servanda rule – its establishment in Article 26 as well its reflections in Part V – is the focus of this study. A first section, ‘The “Pillar”: Article 26 VCLT and Subsequent Jurisprudence’, examines the central place of Article 26 with reference to the VCLT’s travaux preparatoires and argues that various international courts and tribunals give central importance to the rule. A second section, ‘The Rule’s “Safeguards” in Part V of the VCLT’, discusses the extent to which the goal of treaty stability reflects on Part V of the VCLT: firstly, the wording and content of different provisions of Part V are examined to detect reflections of treaty stability. Then it is asked whether the balance struck by the VCLT between the goal of treaty stability and other considerations is adequate. Finally, a short scrutiny of the state practice and jurisprudence on Part V reveals limited reliance on invalidity and termination grounds and confirms treaty stability also in practice.

II.

The ‘Pillar’: Article 26 VCLT and Subsequent Jurisprudence

A.

Article 26 VCLT

Article 26 establishes the pacta sunt servanda rule in the VCLT: ‘Every treaty in force is binding upon the parties to it and must be performed by them in good faith.’ Article 7

1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT), 8 ILM 679 (1969), preamble, para. 3: ‘Noting that the principles of free consent and of good faith and the pacta sunt servanda rule are universally recognized.’

8

Articles without further indication refer to the 1969 VCLT, supra note 7.

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26 is a, if not the, central Article of the VCLT. Its importance was recognized inter alia during the drafting process when the Israeli government proposed to place the pacta sunt servanda principle at the beginning of the draft articles.9 Although the proposal was not followed for systematic considerations, it demonstrates the significance attributed to the rule. The United States observed that the pacta sunt servanda rule was ‘the keystone that supports the towering arch of confidence among States’.10 In its commentary to the final draft, the International Law Commission (ILC) affirmed: ‘Pacta sunt servanda – the rule that treaties are binding on the parties and must be performed in good faith – is the fundamental principle of the law of treaties.’11 The rule not only requires that treaties must be performed, but they must be performed in good faith. This must correspond to the treaty’s object and purpose and will therefore only be possible if the exact content of the rights and obligations of the treaty is clear.12 In that sense, pacta sunt servanda can be considered as a meta-norm which must be further specified to determine the required performance under a particular treaty. This creates an inseparable link between Article 26 and Articles 31-33 of the VCLT which deal with treaty interpretation. As held by the ILC in its Commentary to the final draft of today’s Articles 31 and 32: ‘the interpretation of treaties in good faith and according to law is essential if the pacta sunt servanda rule is to have any real meaning’.13 The principle of good faith protects the treaty partner(s) as it requires an adequate performance of treaty obligations. On the other hand, the principle of good faith works as corrective factor and prevents an abusive reliance on treaty rights.14

9

‘The Government of Israel […] considers that, having regard to its fundamental character, the pacta sunt servanda principle should be placed at the beginning of the draft articles’; Comments to Waldock Report VI, ‘Art. 55. Pacta sunt servanda’, 1966 YILC, Vol. II, at 298, para. 4.a.

10

Ibid., at 356.

11

ILC Final Draft, Commentary to Article 23. Pacta sunt servanda, para. 1. Draft Articles on the Law of Treaties with Commentaries, adopted by the ILC at its 18th session, UN Conference on the Law of Treaties, Official Records, Documents of the Conference, Vienna 26 March-24 May 1968, 9 April-22 May 1969, at 30; the Draft Articles with Commentaries are also reprinted in the 1966 YILC, Vol. II, at 187 et seq.

12

See M. Lachs, ‘Pacta sunt servanda’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law 847, at 851 (1997).

13

ILC Final Draft, Commentary to Article 27. General Rule of Interpretation, para. 5, Documents of the Conference, supra note 11, at 38.

14

See J. O’Connor, Good faith in International Law 111 (1991). O’Connor refers amongst others to the Fur Seal Arbitration (1893) where the arbitral tribunal pointed out that the malicious exercise of a right was unlawful.

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B.

Pacta Sunt Servanda in International Jurisprudence

1.

Pacta Sunt Servanda as the Pillar of Treaty Law – as Affirmed by Various International Tribunals

Extensive jurisprudence refers to pacta sunt servanda as incorporated in Article 26 and corroborates its fundamental character as pillar of treaty law. International courts, tribunals and institutions which have confirmed the cardinal importance of pacta sunt servanda, sometimes with explicit reference to Article 26, include the Inter-American Commission and Court of Human Rights.15 Likewise, WTO dispute settlement panels and the Appellate Body have referred extensively to the pacta sunt servanda rule and Article 26.16 The same is true for arbitrators and arbitral tribunals in disputes between states and foreign investors in the context of breaches of treaty as well as of breaches of contract.17 Various ICSID tribunals have referred to the pacta sunt servanda rule as well as to Article 26,18 as also the Iran-US Claims Tribunal has occasionally based its judgements on the rule.19 The importance of the rule as enshrined in Article 26 was furthermore upheld in cases where limits to the rule applied and treaties were found to be suspended or terminated, such as in the Racke case.20 15

Marta Colomina and Liliana Velasquez, Inter-American Court of Human Rights, Order of 2 December 2003, Ser. E, 2003, at para. 13; Loayza Tamallo, Inter-American Court of Human Rights, Order of 17 November 1999, Compliance with Judgment, Ser. C, No. 60, 1999, at para. 14 lit. i (citing the Inter-American Commission’s arguments). The little reference to the rule which is made by the European Court of Human Rights was explained by the fact that art. 46 ECHR enshrined a similar rule. See F. Tulkens, ‘Le point de vue des practiciens’, 2 Revue Bèlge de Droit International 432, at 440 (2006).

16

Appellate Report EC — Sardines, 23 October 2002, WT/DS231/AB/R, at para. 278; Appellate Report US — Offset Act (Byrd Amendment), 16 January 2003, WT/DS217/AB/R, WT/DS234/ AB/R, at paras. 296-298.

17

See for instance sole Arbitrator Lagergren, BP v. Libyan Arab Republic, 10 October 1973, 1 August 1974, 53 ILR 297, at 332-333 and 354. The pacta sunt servanda rule as recognized in international law is made applicable to contracts in particular through stabilization clauses. This is of special relevance when the national legal order of the host state establishes far reaching limitations to the rule. See C. Ebenroth, Code of Conduct 453 (1987).

18

Reference to art. 26 is made for instance in Metalclad Corporation v. United Mexican States, ICSID Case No. ARB(AF)/97/15, Award of 30 August 2000, 5 ICSID Reports 209, at 225, para. 70. See also Amco Asia Corp., Pan American Development, Ltd. and PT Amco Indonesia v. Republic of Indonesia, ICSID Case No. ARB/81/1, Decision on Jurisdiction of 25 September 1983, 1 ICSID Reports 377, at 394.

19

See for instance Anaconda-Iran, Inc. v. Iran, Case No. 167, Judgment of 10 December 1986, 13 Iran-US Claims Tribunal Reports 199, at 231-233 (1986-IV); see also United States v. Iran, Case No. 28, Judgment of 19 December 2000, 36 Iran-US Claims Tribunal Reports 5, at 25 (2000-2002); Questech, Inc. v. Iran, Case No. 59, Judgment of 20 September 1985, 9 Iran-US Claims Tribunal Reports 107, at 140 (1985-II).

20

While the ECJ found that the European Council had not committed a manifest error in assessment when suspending the cooperation agreement between the EC and the former Republic of Yugoslavia, it stated nevertheless: ‘The rules invoked by Racke [in particular

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Reference to Article 26 is also made when the VCLT is not directly applicable.21 In fact, the pacta sunt servanda rule is not only established in Article 26: an additional basis was found in other sources, too. Sometimes pacta sunt servanda is considered as a general principle of law in the sense of Article 38(1.c) ICJ Statute, due to the fact that it is recognized in all systems of the world.22 The rule’s source in equity was mentioned by Judge Weeramantry in the Case concerning Maritime Delimitation in the Area between Greenland and Jan Mayen.23 Mostly, however, pacta sunt servanda is recognized as a rule of customary international law.24 The very fact that the cardinal rule of the VCLT finds a legal basis other than treaty law places the VCLT upon the widest and most secure foundations. It also confirms the rule’s central position which is independent from any ratification of the VCLT.25 The frequent reference to Article 26, also in cases where the VCLT is not applicable, however proves the attraction of a written text and reiterates the importance of the rule’s incorporation in the VCLT. The above mentioned cases illustrate the importance of pacta sunt servanda in its meta-function, as the pillar of treaty law. Obviously, the exact scope given to the rule, the obligations which arise from the required treaty performance in good faith, are to be determined with respect to a particular treaty. They therefore depend also on the method of treaty interpretation adopted. The more extensively treaty obligations are interpreted (principle of effectiveness as opposed to restrictive interpretation), the more amplitude is given to the rule. This will be examined in the following section with special reference to the jurisprudence of the ICJ.

rebus sic stantibus] form an exception to the pacta sunt servanda principle, which constitutes a fundamental principle of any legal order and, in particular, the international legal order. Applied to international law, that principle requires that every treaty be binding upon the parties to it and be performed by them in good faith (see Article 26 of the Vienna Convention).’ Racke v. Hauptzollamt Mainz, Case C-162/96, Judgment of 16 June 1998, at para. 49; see also paras. 22, 88. 21

See, e.g., Rainbow Warrior (New Zealand v. France), Judgment of 30 April 1990, 82 ILR 499, at 550, para. 75. The arbitral tribunal views art. 26 as codification of customary law to justify its reference to art. 26 notwithstanding the fact that France is not party to the VCLT. ‘The VCLT applies only to treaties concluded between states in written form which are governed by international law and have been concluded after the entry into force of the VCLT between the respective states (arts. 1, 2(1.a), 4)’.

22

See in this sense Arbitrator Dupuy, Texaco Overseas Petroleum Company, California Asiatic Oil Company v. Libya, Ad hoc Award, 19 January 1977, 17 ILM 3 (1978). See also the Austrian Administrative Court (VerwGH), Interpretation of Customs Valuations Statute Case, 28 February 1962, 40 ILR 1, at 2.

23

Case concerning Maritime Delimitation in the Area between Greenland and Jan Mayen (Denmark v. Norway), Judgment of 14 June 1993, 1993 ICJ Rep. 211, at 217, para. 17 (Judge Weeramantry, Separate Opinion).

24

See Rainbow Warrior case, supra note 21, at 550, para. 75. See also Racke case, supra note 20, at para. 29.

25

108 states had ratified the VCLT as of January 2008, see UN Treaty Collection Data Base, http://www.untreaty.un.org (last visited 5 January 2008).

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Interpretation of Pacta Sunt Servanda by the ICJ

The ICJ confers a central place to the pacta sunt servanda rule by broadly interpreting ‘treaty performance in good faith’ especially when examining whether conduct is inconsistent with a treaty. In the Case concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua case), the ICJ determined an obligation not to defeat the object and purpose of the treaty even if a specific obligation is not stipulated in the treaty itself.26 Nicaragua had argued that the US, by its conduct in relation to Nicaragua (and in particular by its support of the Contras), had deprived the 1956 bilateral Treaty of Friendship, Commerce and Navigation (FCN-Treaty) between Nicaragua and the United States of its object and purpose. The ICJ, seemingly approving, cited Nicaragua’s arguments in favour of the existence of a duty not to impede the due performance of the treaty which arises independently of the treaty and is implicit in the pacta sunt servanda rule.27 The ICJ found that the US were in breach of such a duty: ‘there are certain activities of the United States which are such as to undermine the whole spirit of a bilateral agreement directed to sponsoring friendship between the two states parties to it.’28 Hence, in the interpretation given to the pacta sunt servanda rule in the Nicaragua case, the rule imposes a duty beyond the written text of the treaty, namely a duty not to defeat a treaty’s object and purpose. As stated by Thirlway: ‘This decision shows that the existence of a duty of the kind asserted by Nicaragua is dependent on the existence of a pactum, but the duty is itself not part of the pactum; the argument is that to servare a pactum, the parties to it must do more than merely fulfil its express terms.’29

Such an obligation, as was found by the ICJ, lacks precision and seems to contravene the VCLT’s emphasis on the textual approach to treaty interpretation as expressed in Article 31(1).30 It was criticized in the dissenting opinion of Judge Oda who stated that a violation of the obligation not to defeat the object and purpose of a treaty was not tantamount to a specific breach of treaty obligations: ‘[I]t is noted that the court attributes to Nicaragua an argument to the effect that abstention from conduct likely to defeat the object and purpose of a treaty is an 26

Case concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. USA), Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14, at 135, 138, paras. 270, 275. See for further reference, H. Thirlway, ‘The Law and Procedure of the International Court of Justice 1960-1989’, 63 BYBIL 1, at 48 et seq. (1992).

27

Nicaragua case, supra note 26, at 135, para. 270.

28

The ICJ singled out the following activities: attacks by US financed mercenaries on Nicaraguan ports, oil installations and the mining of ports; and certain acts of economic pressure such as the general trade embargo of 1 May 1985.

29

Thirlway, supra note 26, at 50-51.

30

1969 VCLT, supra note 7, art. 31(1): ‘A treaty shall be interpreted in good faith in accordance with the ordinary meaning to be given to the terms of the treaty in their context and in the light of its object and purpose.’

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obligation implicit in the principle pacta sunt servanda. However, the Judgement does not make it clear whether it is espousing this point of view. In any case, I would like to take this opportunity of indicating my own understanding of this principle which to my mind requires compliance with the letter of obligations subscribed to, and not necessarily the avoidance of conduct not expressly precluded by the terms of the given treaty.’ 31

Judge Oda’s observation is correct. It may give raise to a potentially excessive margin of appreciation if a breach of treaty is established on the basis of an obligation not specified in the treaty itself; this especially given the difficulties inherent in the determination of the object and purpose of a treaty.32 Therefore, Thirlway rightly suggests that such extensive interpretation of the pacta sunt servanda rule as advanced in the Nicaragua case should apply to treaties of friendship, at the most.33 This view is supported by the more restrictive interpretation, which was for instance exercised in an earlier holding of the ICJ: the Appeal Relating to the Jurisdiction of the ICAO Council case.34 When analysing the scope of complaint which can be made to the ICAO Council, the ICJ seemed to accept that one party can cause injustice and hardship to the other (i.e. possibly contravening a treaty’s object and purpose) without acting unlawfully under the treaty. 35 A useful interpretation is then given to ‘treaty performance in good faith’ in the Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case.36 The question was, whether Czechoslovakia, in proceeding to Variant C (a system of hydroelectric works other than those provided for in the 1977 Treaty with Hungary) was already acting unlawfully. Judge Fleischhauer, in his dissenting opinion, favoured the wide interpretation of treaty performance in good faith as had been advanced in the Nicaragua case.37 Fleischhauer invoked Article 18 of the VCLT, which concerned the obligation not to defeat a treaty’s object and purpose during the period between signature and ratification. According to Judge Fleischhauer ‘A fortiori does that obligation apply to a treaty after its entry into force’.38 The ICJ held, however, that as long as Czechoslovakia ‘confined itself to the execution, on its own territory, of the works which were necessary to the implementation of Variant C’39 no breach of the Treaty had taken place. The Treaty was only breached when, in pursuance 31

See Nicaragua case, supra note 26, at 250, para. 81 (Judge Oda, Dissenting Opinion).

32

See for further reference I. Buffard/K. Zemanek, ‘The “Object and Purpose” of a Treaty: an Enigma?’, 3 ARIEL 311 (1998).

33

Thirlway, supra note 26, at 53.

34

Appeal Relating to the Jurisdiction of the ICAO Council (India v. Pakistan), Judgment of 18 August 1972, 1972 ICJ Rep. 46, at 58, para. 20.

35

For details see Thirlway, supra note 26, at 53.

36

Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros Project (Hungary v. Slovakia), Judgment of 25 September 1997, 1997 ICJ Rep. 7. See also H. Thirlway, ‘The Law and Procedure of the International Court of Justice 1960-1989: Supplement, 2005’, 76 BYBIL 1, at 14-15 (2005).

37

Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case, supra note 36, at 204 (Judge Fleischhauer, Dissenting Opinion).

38

Ibid., at 206.

39

Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case, supra note 36, at 54, para. 79.

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of Variant C, Czechoslovakia diverted the waters of the Danube into the bypass canal.40 The ICJ emphasized the necessary stability of treaty relations41 and observed that the principle of good faith ‘oblige[s] […] the parties to apply [the Treaty] in a reasonable way and in such a manner that its purposes can be realized’.42 Accordingly, the Court favours the principle of effectiveness by interpreting the Treaty in the light of its object and purpose. In the ICJ’s interpretation, per se lawful acts (which do not contravene any specific provisions of the treaty) may violate the duty of treaty performance in good faith if they make a future compliance with the treaty impossible.43 Or, put differently, the obligation to ‘perform a treaty in good faith’ is to be interpreted broadly, namely as having certain ‘Vorwirkungen’ in the sense that actions may be considered as unlawful even before the actual breach takes place. On the other hand, in the interpretation given to the pacta sunt servanda rule in the Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case, acts undertaken in bad faith are not per se unlawful, even if they violate the object and purpose of the treaty, as long as later treaty compliance is still possible. This interpretation, rather than conferring a separate meaning to ‘good faith’, rightly associates it with the content of the treaty. In fact, the functioning of international judicial review implies that the extent of expected treaty performance in good faith is most visible when the pacta sunt servanda rule is contrasted, i.e. when breaches of treaty are established. The ICJ will not tell states how to comply with their treaty obligations if various interpretations of the treaty provisions are possible. Instead, the Court exercises a sort of ‘negative control’ and establishes when state action constitutes a breach of treaty obligations. As was observed by Rosenne with reference to the Northern Cameroons case:44 ‘The International Court has frequently stressed that it will not and cannot substitute its decision for the political discretion of the States at bar; […] How to perform a treaty obligation is certainly the outcome of a political decision […]. The International Court is thus constitutionally incapable of laying down positively how a treaty is to be performed. It seems that the most it can do is to state whether the actual or intended conduct of a State or other subject of international law is or is not in conformity with international law, including treaty-law, binding on the States before it.’45

The cardinal importance attributed to the pacta sunt servanda rule has also led to some misguided reference in concurring opinions. Judge Koroma, in a separate opinion to the Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case, suggested for instance that a breach of treaty obligations would not only violate the treaty but also (separately) the pacta sunt servanda rule: ‘When in 1989 Hungary […] abandoned works for which it was responsible under 40

Ibid., at 66, para. 108.

41

Ibid., at 64, para. 104.

42

Ibid., at 79, para. 142.

43

See Thirlway, supra note 36, at 16.

44

Northern Cameroons (Cameroon v. United Kingdom), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 2 December 1963, 1963 ICJ Rep. 15, at 37.

45

S. Rosenne, Developments in the Law of Treaties 1945-1986, at 62 (1989).

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the 1977 Treaty this was tantamount to a violation not only of the Treaty itself but of the principle of pacta sunt servanda.’46 Such separate finding of a violation is to be rejected as unnecessary as it does not offer any ‘added value’ but rather contravenes the VCLT’s character as a framework treaty which provides for meta-rules governing other treaties. Furthermore, erroneous reference has been made to pacta sunt servanda with respect to treaties which are no longer in force. In the Case concerning the Territorial Dispute between Libya and Chad,47 the issue was whether the 1955 Treaty of Friendship and Good Neighbourliness, which had been concluded for a period of 20 years and contained boundary delimitations but had expired, could be resorted to in order to determine the disputed boundary between Libya and Chad. The ICJ answered in the affirmative, without directly referring to pacta sunt servanda.48 Judge Ajibola, in his separate opinion, relied extensively on the principles of good faith and pacta sunt servanda49 though this seems to be mistaken as, according to Article 26, the rule applies only to treaties ‘in force’.50 As will also be shown below,51 no reference to the rule was necessary in the case. The above survey evidences the central place which is conferred to the pacta sunt servanda rule in the jurisprudence. International courts and tribunals emphasize the importance of Article 26 in its meta-function, as pillar of treaty law, and therewith value the objective of treaty stability. Furthermore, the ICJ upholds treaty stability in its wide interpretation of ‘treaty performance in good faith’.

46

Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case, supra note 36, at 142 (Judge Koroma, Separate Opinion). See also the Rainbow Warrior case, where the arbitral tribunal affirmed the fundamental importance of art. 26, suggesting that breaches of a treaty appear to violate not only the treaty itself but also (separately) the pacta sunt servanda rule. In its findings, however, the arbitral tribunal referred merely to a breach of the treaty. Rainbow Warrior case, supra note 21, at 550, 565566, paras. 75 and 101.

47

Case concerning the Territorial Dispute between Libya and Chad (Libyan Arab Jamahiriya v. Chad), Judgment of 3 February 1994, 1994 ICJ Rep. 6.

48

Ibid., at 39, para. 76.

49

Ibid., at 71 (Judge Ajibola, Separate Opinion).

50

This view was shared by Judge Sette-Camara who, in his Dissenting Opinion, rightly questioned reliance on the rule: ‘Nobody would challenge this fundamental rule of international law, what Hans Kelsen established as the Grundnorm of international law. But it obviously applies only to treaties in force, and Article 11 of the 1955 Treaty renders its validity after the 20 years deadline, to say the least, debatable.’ Ibid., at 102 (Judge Sette-Camara, Dissenting Opinion). See also Case concerning the Land and Maritime Boundary between Cameroon and Nigeria (Cameroon v. Nigeria), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 11 June 1998, 1998 ICJ Rep. 275, in which Nigeria relied on the principle of good faith and the pacta sunt servanda rule to justify its argument that an implicit agreement had been reached that not the ICJ, but only the boundary commission would have jurisdiction. The Court rejected the argument, stating that ‘the principle of good faith and the rule pacta sunt servanda […] relate only to the fulfilment of existing obligations.’ Ibid., at 304, para. 59.

51

Section III.C.2.

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III.

The Rule’s ‘Safeguards’ in Part V of the VCLT

The pacta sunt servanda rule’s cardinal importance is affirmed throughout the VCLT. As stated, Part V (Articles 42-72) ‘Invalidity, Termination and Suspension of the Operation of Treaties’ operates as the rule’s principal counterpart, thus as its moderation.52 Accordingly, reliance on pacta sunt servanda is restricted or excluded in cases of deficient consent (certain violations of internal law, error, fraud, corruption (Articles 46-50)), coercion of states (Article 52) and their representatives (Article 51)), in cases of violations of the international ordre public (i.e. violations of peremptory norms of international law, Articles 53 and 64) and in cases where the upholding of treaty relations might affect principles of justice and the peaceful cooperation of the parties (i.e. breaches by the other party, supervening impossibility of performance, fundamental changes of circumstances and (exceptionally) the severance of diplomatic relations (Articles 60-63)). However, as will be shown below, even the provisions of Part V tend to be influenced by the rule. Accordingly, after a discussion of the reflections of treaty stability in Part V and of the balance struck between the goal of treaty stability and other considerations, the state practice and jurisprudence on Part V will be examined. It is argued that states rely scarcely on invalidity and termination grounds and that international courts and tribunals mostly uphold the modalities and consequences of treaty suspension, termination and invalidity as established in Part V in their jurisprudence.

A.

Treaty Stability in Part V of the VCLT

1.

Restrictive Wording of the Invalidity and Termination Provisions

The restrictive wording of the VCLT’s provisions concerning invalidity and termination (Articles 46-53, 60-64) supports the goal of treaty stability by reducing a possible reliance on them. Firstly, various provisions are worded in terms of a double negation.53 Secondly, reliance on the relevant invalidity/termination clauses is subject to strict conditions. For instance, Article 46 requires a manifest violation of internal law, concerning a rule of fundamental importance. Errors (Article 48) may relate only to facts; no errors in law or motivation (Rechts- or Motivirrtum) can be claimed. In addition, the situation giving rise to the error must have formed an essential basis of the state’s consent to be bound by the treaty. Also supervening impossibility of performance is restricted to a very limited range of cases: Article 61 refers to the ‘disappearance of an object indispensable for the execution of the treaty’; legal impossibility is excluded 52

See in this sense also J. Salmon, ‘Article 26’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1075, at 1077-1078 (2006).

53

Art. 46 (provisions of internal law regarding competence to conclude treaties), art. 47 (restrictions on authority to express the consent of a state), art. 62 (fundamental change of circumstances): ‘may not […] unless’; and art. 63: ‘the severance of diplomatic or consular relations […] does not affect […] unless’.

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correspondingly.54 Reliance on Article 62 is only possible if the change was ‘fundamental’ and if the circumstances affected by the change had constituted an essential basis for the consent that had led to the treaty; in addition, the change must not have been foreseen at the time of the conclusion of the treaty and must radically transform the obligations still to be performed under the treaty. Finally, an invocation of Article 60 is only possible in cases of ‘material’ breach, which is in accordance with Article 60(3) either a repudiation of the treaty or the violation of a provision essential for the accomplishment of the object and purpose of the treaty. Thirdly, in some cases, contribution or wrongful conduct exclude a reliance on the provisions by the respective state. Accordingly, an invocation of error will be prohibited if a state has contributed to the error (or if it knew about it) (Article 48(2)). Reliance on supervening impossibility of performance or a fundamental change of circumstances will be excluded if the impossibility or the change is the result of a breach of international law (Articles 61(2), 62(2.b)). Fourthly, some provisions exclude certain categories of treaties altogether. For instance, Article 60(5) specifies that no invocation of breach of treaty is possible in case of human rights or humanitarian treaties. Moreover, according to Article 62(2.a), a fundamental change of circumstances may not be claimed with respect to treaties establishing boundaries. And fifthly, certain provisions refer to cases which are per se extremely rare, namely fraud, corruption, coercion or violations of ius cogens (Articles 49-53, 64).

2.

Modalities Governing a Reliance on Suspension, Termination and Invalidity Grounds

The modalities governing a reliance on suspension, termination and invalidity grounds additionally support the objective of treaty stability. As already is evidenced by the provision’s heading ‘Validity and Continuance in Force of Treaties’, Article 42’s primary purpose is to secure treaty stability by limiting the reasons to impeach the validity or to terminate or withdraw from a treaty to the grounds which are provided in the VCLT. States only have limited options – those outlined in the VCLT – to denunciate or invalidate. As Capotorti states, de jure condito, stability of treaties implies that treaties in force have to be respected; de jure condendo, the need for stability has pushed the ILC to introduce Article 42(2).55 The pacta sunt servanda rule is further strengthened by Article 45 which provides that a state may no longer rely on Articles 46-50, 60 and 62 if it has stated or made manifest by its conduct that it has acquiesced to the treaty’s validity or to the treaty remaining in force. Accordingly, Article 45 protects the treaty partner(s) against the inconsistent behaviour of a state which might have the right to denunciate or invalidate

54

See criticism of Bodeau-Livinec and the wide interpretation the author suggests to give to art. 61, P. Bodeau-Livinec, ‘Article 61’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 2183, at 2194-2195 (2006).

55

French original in F. Capotorti, ‘L’extinction et la suspension des traités’, 134 RdC 419, at 455 (1971-III).

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the treaty.56 It also enables the party which has the right to invoke an invalidity or a denunciation clause to ‘heal’ the treaty by accepting it. Finally, while in principle upholding the integrity of the treaty, Article 44 provides for the necessary separability of treaty provisions in cases of invalidity, termination or suspension under certain (restrictive) conditions.57 This enhances treaty stability, as it allows a party to separate less important parts from the treaty which may be affected by the invalidity or termination ground. In fact, one of the ILC’s motivations to introduce the principle of separability was the stability of treaty relations as a rule.58

3.

Legal Consequences of a Reliance on Suspension, Termination and Invalidity Grounds

The VCLT further fosters treaty stability when establishing the legal consequences of reliance on termination and invalidity grounds; this at first by, in principle, preferring suspension to termination. According to Article 61(1), if the impossibility is temporary, it can only be invoked as a reason to suspend but not to terminate the treaty. In cases of fundamental changes of circumstances, Article 62(3) presents denunciation and suspension as equally viable alternatives, giving the party which has the right to rely on Article 62 the freedom of choice. Suspension is presented as the only alternative in particular when other parties have an interest in the stability of the treaty relations: Only some of the parties to a multilateral treaty can – under certain restrictive conditions – suspend the initial treaty between themselves by concluding inter se agreements (Article 58). They do not have the right to terminate it. Likewise, in cases of a material breach of a multilateral treaty, the affected parties (either the party especially affected (Article 60(2.b)) or a party of an integral/ interdependent treaty (Article 60(2.c)) only have the right to suspend the treaty. Suspension supports treaty stability because it – unlike termination – preserves the legal link/nexus which was created by the treaty. According to Article 72, the suspension of the operation of the treaty releases the parties between which the operation of the treaty is suspended from the obligation to perform the treaty in their mutual relations during the period of the suspension (Article 72(1.a)) but does not otherwise affect the legal relations established by the treaty (Article 72(1.b)). The suspending party retains certain rights under the treaty, such as the right to receive relevant information regarding the treaty (e.g. adhesions, ratifications, denunciations), or the right to react to reservations. Similarly, the suspending party remains bound by financial obligations necessary to finance the organs established by the treaty during suspension.59 Thus, in cases of suspension, 56

See T. O. Elias, ‘Problems concerning the Validity of Treaties’, 134 RdC 333, at 348 (1971III).

57

For details see infra, Section II.B.2.

58

See Waldock Report V, ‘Article 46. Separability of Treaty Provisions’, para. 5, reprinted in R. Wetzel (comp.)/D. Rauschning (ed.), Dokumente. The Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties. Travaux Préparatoires. Die Wiener Vertragsrechtskonvention 321 (1978).

59

See P. Couvreur/C. Espaliu Berdud, ‘Article 72’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 2565, at 2580 (2006).

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the performance of treaty obligations is blocked for a certain period of time only and can therefore be ‘revived’ as soon as desired.60 In fact, some commentators deduce suspension (as opposed to termination) directly from the pacta sunt servanda rule.61 This explains the wide acceptance of Article 72 (consequences of treaty suspension) at the Vienna Conference.62 However, even when treaties are terminated, the objective of treaty stability is not entirely given up. The preservation of acts performed under a treaty to the maximum possible extent – another aspect of treaty stability – seems to motivate the regime governing the termination of treaties as stipulated in Article 70. According to Article 70 the effects of termination operate ex nunc and not ex tunc: the parties are released from any obligation to further perform the treaty (Article 70(1.a)); but the termination does not affect any right, obligation or legal situation of the parties created through the execution of the treaty prior to its termination (Article 70(1.b)).63 In case of multilateral treaties, Article 70(2) limits the effects of a denunciation to the relationship between the withdrawing state and its respective treaty partners. This may be viewed as an application of the separability principle ratione personae. The treaty is split up into a multitude of bilateral relationships: the withdrawing state leaves, whereas the treaty relations between the remaining parties are kept intact. Even treaties which are declared invalid enjoy a certain stability regarding the acts performed on their basis. The VCLT distinguishes between consequences of invalidity as stipulated in Articles 46-52, which are governed by Article 69, and the consequences of the invalidity of a treaty which conflicts with a peremptory norm of international law which are governed by Article 71. According to Article 69(1), a treaty is void when its invalidity has been established under the VCLT: its provisions have no legal force. The 60

See in this sense P. Reuter, Introduction to the Law of Treaties 238 (1995).

61

See Waldock’s observations regarding the link between pacta sunt servanda and suspension: ‘Indeed the Special Rapporteur would prefer to see it [art. 72] moved either to a position close after “pacta sunt servanda” or else to the section dealing with the termination and suspension for the operation of treaties [...].’, Waldock Report VI, ‘Article 54. Legal consequences of the suspension of the operation of a treaty’, at para. 1, reproduced in Wetzel/Rauschning, supra note 58, at 478.

62

See Couvreur/Espaliu Berdud, supra note 59, at 2569.

63

See Capotorti, supra note 55, at 457. The best illustration of the distinction between paragraphs a and b of Art. 70 is offered by Nollkaemper: ‘Termination of a treaty releases parties from obligations to extradite nationals of another state; to grant trade preferences to another state, or to recognize judgments from another state. Such obligations need no longer be performed once the treaty that contains these obligations is terminated. On the other hand, termination does not affect boundaries that have been established pursuant to the treaty, nationality that has been granted and payments that have been made. Once such legal rights or situations have been created, the mere termination of a treaty does not affect them.’ A. Nollkaemper, ‘Some Observations on the Consequences of the Termination of Treaties and the Reach of Article 70 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties’, in I. F. Dekker/H. Post (eds.), On the Foundations and Sources of International Law 187, at 188 (2003). For a divergent view and difficulties in differentiation see B. Vierdag, ‘Some Remarks on the Effect of the Termination of a Treaty under Article 70 of the 1960 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties’, in I. F. Dekker/H. Post (eds.), On the Foundations and Sources of International Law 179 (2003).

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invalidity operates ex tunc, ab initio. However, with respect to acts performed under an invalid treaty Article 69(2.a) adopts a very careful approach. Although each party, as a rule, may request the other party to establish the status quo ante, this is subject to two restrictions: the unwinding of acts can only be requested ‘as far as possible’; and it is furthermore restricted to the mutual relations between the parties.64 The party to which the fraud, act of corruption or the coercion is attributable cannot ask for the re-establishment of the status quo ante (Article 69(3)). The restrictions concerning the unwinding of treaties serve legal certainty, and therefore, treaty stability ex post. They operate in a way as to protect rights acquired by third parties (states and individuals).65 In addition, it may be difficult to unwind treaties which were concluded a long time ago.66 A further safeguard for treaty stability in case of invalid treaties can be found in the fact that even invalid treaties are only voidable but not automatically void. Despite the misleading wording of Articles 51-53 and 64, invalid treaties have a degree of continuing effectiveness until it is demonstrated that the requirements of the relevant invalidity provision(s) have been satisfied. This becomes clear in view of the procedures established in Article 66.67 The strictest obligations to eliminate the consequences of invalid treaties concern those treaties which have been concluded in contravention of a peremptory norm of international law (Article 53). However, even in these cases, moderations apply. While Article 71(1) establishes an obligation of the parties to eliminate the consequences of any act performed in reliance on any provision of a treaty which is void under Article 53, this applies only ‘as far as possible’. In cases of invalidity due to ius cogens superveniens, Article 71(2) provides for ex nunc consequences: the rights, obligations and legal situations created through the execution of the treaty prior to its termination remain principally untouched. This is only subject to the (logical) condition that they do not themselves conflict with the new peremptory norm. On a more critical note, one might observe that Articles 69-72 ensure treaty stability because the limited options offered deter states from using them. Thus, the binary system established by the VCLT enables states only to suspend, terminate or invalidate a treaty, but does not provide for less radical alternatives such as revision. 68

64

Verhoeven criticizes the cautious formulation of art. 69(2.a). J. Verhoeven, ‘Article 69’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 2481, at 2487 (2006).) Contrary to art. 71, the establishment of the status quo ante is no obligation; it merely depends on the party to request it.

65

See in this sense J. Frowein, ‘Zum Begriff und zu den Folgen der Nichtigkeit von Verträgen im Völkerrecht’, in H. Ehmke et al. (eds.), Festschrift für Ulrich Scheuner zum 70. Geburtstag 107, at 118 (1973). See J. Frowein, ‘Nullity’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law 743, at 745 (1997).

66

See Verhoeven, supra note 64.

67

See in this sense D. W. Greig, Invalidity and the Law of Treaties 89 (2006).

68

See also G. Hafner, Introduction to the Panel ‘Große Kodifikationen – Eingefrorenes Recht oder weiterhin tauglich?’, in G. Nolte/P. Hilpold (eds.), Auslandsinvestitionen – Entwicklung großer Kodifikationen – Fragmentierung des Völkerrechts – Status des Kosovo. Beiträge zum 31. Österreichischen Völkerrechtstag 2006 at 94 (2008).

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331

Procedural Safeguards

The procedural provisions of Articles 65-68 are a safeguard against unilateralism on the part of one party and prevent that termination or invalidity is invoked in order to eliminate inconvenient treaty obligations.69 The following modalities especially support treaty stability.70 In the context of treaty termination, Article 65 preserves the treaty in force until the dispute concerning its extinction or termination is resolved.71 Time lines and notification requirements (Article 65(1,2)) as well as the obligation to adopt a certain form (Article 67: notifications have to be ‘in writing’ and must be signed by competent representatives) foster legal certainty; as does the establishment of friendly as well as judicial72 settlement procedures (Articles 65(3) and 66). In short, the ‘termination’ or ‘invalidity’ does not occur automatically but has to be claimed by the parties and is subject to the procedure of the VCLT; this even in cases where the application of a procedure may seem as contradiction. For instance, one might think that a treaty which has become impossible to perform would extinguish automatically. The ILC opted for the procedural solution, however, in order to avoid arbitrary assertions of impossibility (Article 61).73 One purpose of Article 42, which limits the reasons for invalidity, termination or withdrawal from a treaty to those established by the treaty or in the VCLT, is that it obliges states to follow the procedures outlined in Article 65 et seq.74

B.

The Goal of Treaty Stability and Other Considerations

The balance struck in the VCLT between treaty stability and other considerations may, in certain cases, be subject to discussion.

1.

An Exaggerated Emphasis on Treaty Stability?

At times, the VCLT’s emphasis on treaty stability seems to be disproportional or superfluous. Firstly, the limitation of termination clauses in Article 42 appears too restrictive as it excludes certain termination grounds, such as the obsolescence of treaties. While the ILC considered obsolescence (alongside with desuetude) as ‘treaty

69

See A. Aust, Modern Treaty Law and Practice 245 (2007).

70

See M. Cosnard, ‘Article 65’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 2347, at 2350 (2006).

71

See H. Ascensio, ‘Article 70’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 2503, at 2537 (2006). See also Capotorti, supra note 55, at 576.

72

Art. 66 lit. a is applicable when disputes concern ius cogens violations.

73

See ILC Final Draft Commentary to Article 58. Supervening impossibility of performance, at para. 5, Documents of the Conference, supra note 11, at 76.

74

See Capotorti, supra note 55, at 455.

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termination by consent’,75 this does not appear to be entirely appropriate, as it is the complete disappearance of the factual situation which causes the obsolescence of the treaty,76 independent of the will of the parties. A somehow overstated emphasis on treaty stability may also be detected in Article 72(2) which obliges states to refrain from acts which might impede the resumption of the operation of the treaty. Though creditable as to its motivation, paragraph 2 merely reiterates an obligation which is already inherent in the notion of ‘suspension’.77 Finally, Article 70(2) which limits the effects of a denunciation to the relationship between the withdrawing state and its respective treaty partners may appear problematic as it disregards any distinction between different treaty categories. In particular when treaties establish interdependent obligations, such as disarmament treaties, it is questionable whether this is advisable. Special Rapporteur Fitzmaurice, for instance, argued for a distinction.78 This however was abandoned by Special Rapporteur Waldock in the context of the reorientation of the work of the ILC from a guide of usage for states into a binding convention.79 Although in cases of breaches of treaties Article 60(2.c)80 carries a distinction between different treaty categories which could have also been relied upon in the context of Article 70, Article 70(2) generally presumes that the treaty relations between the remaining parties are kept intact: this seems to reflect an exaggerated concern for treaty stability. While certain provisions of the VCLT appear to overstate the objective of treaty stability, treaty stability is not the only goal of the VCLT.81 This will be shown in the following. 75

ILC Final Draft, Commentary to Article 39. Validity and Continuance in Force of Treaties, at para. 5, Documents of the Conference, supra note 11, at 57.

76

See W. Karl, Vertrag und spätere Praxis im Völkerrecht 218 (1983).

77

This opinion is also shared by Reuter: ‘if this [the obligation of the parties to refrain from acts tending to obstruct the resumption of the operation of the treaty] were not so, the term “suspension” would be inaccurate. Intentionally preventing suspension from ending therefore infringes an obligation of good faith.’ Reuter, supra note 60, at 166. The ILC considered the obligation implicit in the concept of good faith and the pacta sunt servanda rule. ILC Final Draft, Commentary to Article 68. Consequences of the suspension of the operation of a treaty, at para. 4, Documents of the Conference, supra note 11, at 87.

78

Fitzmaurice, for instance, made a distinction between interdependent, integral and reciprocal obligations. Treaties containing interdependent obligations (where the treaty compliance by one party depends on the compliance by the other parties, such as in case of disarmament treaties) would be, according to Fitzmaurice, terminated for all parties, at the withdrawal of one party. 1958 YILC, Vol. II, at 46, paras. 19 and 28. For further reference see Ascensio, supra note 71, at 2528.

79

A classification of treaties was considered as too complex to be included in a binding instrument. Ibid.

80

Art. 60(2.c) operates a distinction as it establishes that with respect to certain categories of treaties (i.e. treaties establishing interdependent relations), breaches of one party may radically change the position of every party with respect to further performance.

81

See D. Hollis, ‘Russia suspends CFE Treaty Participation’, ASIL Insight, 23 July 2007, http:// www.asil.org/insights.htm.

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333

Balance Struck between Treaty Stability and Other Considerations

The aim of treaty stability is most disregarded in cases of grave violations of the international ordre public. Article 44(5) prohibits the application of the separability doctrine to cases of coercion of states and their representatives (Articles 52, 51) and violations of ius cogens (Article 53).82 Likewise, in these situations a state cannot consent or acquiesce to maintain the treaty in accordance with Article 45 and moreover, the treaty cannot be upheld in accordance with Article 45 if it violates a new peremptory norm of international law (ius cogens superveniens). Furthermore, the rules regarding the unwinding of treaties (Article 71(1)) are motivated by the general idea of eliminating all consequences of ius cogens violations. It seems understandable that, according to Article 45, states cannot consent or acquiesce to uphold a treaty which contravenes ius cogens: ius cogens is law which per definitionem cannot be derogated from by consent. However, one may criticize the prohibition of separability in cases of ius cogens violations as an unjustifiable restriction of the goal of treaty stability. It is for instance imaginable that only an accessory clause of a treaty violates ius cogens: why should the entire treaty be declared invalid and not only the respective provision? In particular, as separability in case of ius cogens superveniens violations (Article 64) is possible.83 Likewise, by excluding the application of Articles 44 and 45 in cases of coercion of state representatives (Article 51), the VCLT unjustifiably abandons its focus on treaty stability.84 The situations of duress which state representatives may be exposed to (i.e. regarding unjustified money transfers or even threats with respect to personal safety) appear to be relatively minor when compared to ius cogens violations or the coercion of a state, which, according to Article 52, has to take place in violation of the principles of the UN Charter (i.e. usually the threat of the use of force). Hence, ordre public considerations and the desire to prevent the coerced party from further coercion85 seem to be less relevant in cases of Article 51. The exclusion of separability and of treaty acceptance by acquiescence thus appears as disproportional.86

82

In cases of ius cogens superveniens, separability is possible, subject to art. 44(3).

83

For criticism see Rozakis: ‘It seems that the drafters forgot that their task was to prepare law on invalidity of treaties, not penal or torts law; and that one of the basic goals of this law was to preserve, whenever possible, the validity of treaties rather than to destroy it.’ C. Rozakis, ‘The Law on Invalidity of Treaties’, 16 Archiv des Völkerrechts 150, at 172 (1974-1975). See also A. Lagerwall, ‘Article 64’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 2299, at 2341 (2006).

84

The prohibition to apply arts. 44 and 45 to cases of art. 51 is rightly criticised by Greig in particular. Greig proposes an inclusion of art. 51 in art. 44(4). Greig, supra note 67, at 49.

85

See the reasons given in the ILC Final Draft, Commentary to Article 42. Loss of the right to invoke a ground for invalidating, terminating, withdrawing from or suspending the operation of a treaty, at para. 5, Documents of the Conference, supra note 11, at 59.

86

See in this sense Greig, supra note 67, at 131.

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A reasonable balance seems to be struck between the pacta sunt servanda rule and the principle of free consent. This is most evident in Articles 54 and 57 which establish that treaties can be terminated or suspended at any time by consent of the parties: treaty stability should not be the dogma if states decide otherwise. The delicate question in the very heart of the tension between treaty stability and free consent, namely whether also economic or even political force should be included in the concept of coercion against a state and give therefore raise to the invalidity of a treaty, was left open in the VCLT.87 Furthermore, the limitations to the separability doctrine have their basis in the consensual nature of the treaty relationship. It may be the case, for instance, that an invalidity or termination ground affects only a particular part of a treaty which is especially advantageous to one party. When this part was a pre-condition for that party’s consent to be bound by the treaty, its unilateral termination or invalidation by another party may result in a misbalance of treaty obligations still to be performed and be grossly unjust. In order to avoid such kind of situations, Article 44(3) establishes an obligation to invalidate, terminate or suspend parts of the treaty only when the following conditions have cumulatively been fulfilled: the respective clauses have to be separable from the rest of the treaty with respect to their application; the acceptance of the clauses must not have been an essential basis of the consent of the other party/ies to be bound by the treaty and, in addition, the continuous performance of the treaty must not be unjust. Therefore, Article 44(3) mirrors the concern not to upset the material basis of the treaty, which is supposed to consist of fairly balanced obligations of the parties,88 by a unilateral denunciation or invalidation of only a few provisions.89 This balance struck between treaty integrity and treaty stability seems reasonable. Finally, the objective of treaty stability in the VCLT is relativized by efforts of alleviating the position of the ‘victim state’. (This protection also operates as a ‘sanction’ against the defaulting state). The party exposed to corruption or fraud is given the freedom to decide on whether to claim the invalidity of the entire treaty, or – subject to Article 44(3) – only the invalidity of the particular clauses alone (Article 44(4)). In the latter case, rather than favouring treaty stability, the VCLT protects the victim state. An even stronger protection of ‘victim rights’ applies in cases of material breach (Article 60): In accordance with Article 44(2), the party relying on the breach is not restricted by Article 44(3). Accordingly, it has a huge discretionary power when deciding whether to suspend or terminate merely parts of the treaty or the treaty as a whole:90 The suspension/ termination does not even have to relate to the same parts of the treaty; nor does the reaction have to be of the same intensity as the breach. Hence, victim’s 87

O. Corten, ‘Article 52’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1867, at 1878 (2006).

88

See in this sense P. Reuter, ‘Solidarité et divisibilité des engagements conventionnels’ in Y. Dinstein (ed.), International Law at a Time of Perplexity 623, at 624 (1989).

89

As summarized by Capotorti: ‘On peut donc dire que les dispositions d’un traité sont divisibles, pourvu que l’equilibre contractuel ne soit pas gravement trouble.’ Capotorti, supra note 55, at 461.

90

See B. Simma/C. Tams, ‘Article 60’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 2131, at 2166 (2006).

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considerations outweigh the goal of treaty stability in particular in cases where Article 60 applies and may be criticized for abandoning any idea of proportionality.91

C.

State Practice and Jurisprudence Related to Part V

1.

Practice Regarding Treaty Termination and Invalidity

A brief scrutiny of state practice and jurisprudence corroborates the cardinal importance attributed to pacta sunt servanda. The few cases of treaty termination or invalidity evidence treaty stability in practice. The provisions of Part V have rarely been invoked and cases where they were relied upon were hardly ever successful. Moreover, international courts and tribunals have interpreted the invalidity and termination clauses restrictively. The ICJ, for instance, referred to the necessary stability of treaty relations in the Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case in order to explain why reliance on the rebus sic stantibus rule was possible only in exceptional cases.92 With the exception of the Racke case, international tribunals never seem to have accepted treaty denunciation or suspension on the basis of supervening impossibility of performance or the rebus sic stantibus doctrine.93 Likewise, the application of Article 63 is extremely rare in state practice and jurisprudence,94 just as a successful reliance on Article 60 is uncommon.95 The same is true for the invalidity provisions: reference to Articles 46 and 47, itself exceptional, has never been successful.96 The few cases of error ‘pre-VCLT’ mostly concerned error

91

For a criticism regarding art. 60’s absence of reciprocity and the missing element of proportionality see ibid., at 2167. Simma/Tams argue in favour of a quantitative proportionality where the reaction has to be proportional to the intensity of the violation. Regarding qualitative proportionality (i.e. the reaction has to concern the same part of the treaty), Simma/Tams state that it will have to be disregarded. Ibid., at 2170-2171.

92

Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros case, supra note 36, at para. 104.

93

L. Helfer, ‘Exiting Treaties’, 91 Virginia Law Review 1579, Section IV.B (2005). D. Vagts, Book Review, 98 AJIL 614, at 615 (2004): ‘there has never been a successful assertion of [the rebus sic stantibus doctrine] in a court case and […] no clear example of its successful use in diplomatic exchanges’. See furthermore D. Vagts, ‘Essay in Honor of Oscar Schachter: Rebus revisited: Changed Circumstances in Treaty Law’, 43 Columbia Journal of Transnational Law 459 (2005).

94

One of the rare cases where art. 63 was (unsuccessfully) invoked is LAFICO v. Burundi, 4 March 1991, 96 ILR 279.

95

For a general overview see M. Gomaa, Suspension or Termination of Treaties on Grounds of Breach (1996). See furthermore C. Feist, Kündigung, Rücktritt und Suspendierung von multilateralen Verträgen 142-146 (2001).

96

For further reference see M. Bothe, ‘Article 46’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1703, at 1076-1077 (2006). No cases regarding art. 47 are known. See P. Martin-Bidou, ‘Article 47’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1723, at 1737 (2006).

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in maps.97 No ‘post-VCLT’ jurisprudence is known with respect to Article 4898 and furthermore, no clear case of fraud or corruption has ever been cited.99 There are some few examples in state practice regarding coercion against state representatives and states, the most notorious being the pressure exercised in 1939 on the Czechoslovak President Hacha by the Nazi regime in order to force him to sign a treaty which placed Bohemia and Moravia under German protectorate.100 In international jurisprudence, coercion has only been invoked in two cases as obiter dictum.101 Cases of ius cogens and ius cogens superveniens violations have – as to the author’s knowledge – only once been dealt with by an international tribunal. In the Aloeboetoe case the Inter-American Court of Human Rights did not apply a treaty concerning slave trade because the treaty was in contravention of ius cogens superveniens.102 Regarding state practice, the only example of the doctrine is the 1979 claim made by Iran that Article 6 of the 1921 Treaty of Friendship between Iran and the Soviet Union would be void since it violated ius cogens by giving the USSR the right to under certain circumstances intervene militarily in Iran.103 The limited reliance on the VCLT’s termination and invalidity grounds of course must be placed in the broader picture of international treaty law.104 As most treaties contain a denunciation or termination clause – from a survey of treaties and international agreements registered at the UN Secretariat between 1967 and 1971 only around 250 out of some 2400 did not contain a clause relating to termination, duration or denunciation – one might argue that there is actually little need to rely on the invalidity and termination grounds offered by general international law. However, also a more general appraisal suggests that the total number of denunciations is relatively few, in particular

97

Aust, supra note 69, at 315.

98

E. Wyler, ‘Article 48’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1743, at 1749 (2006).

99

Aust, supra note 69, at 316-317; G. Niyungeko, ‘Article 49’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1779, at 1784-1785 (2006); J-P. Cot, ‘Article 50’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1819, at 1823 (2006).

100

G. Distefano, ‘Article 51’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1835, at 1848 (2006).

101

Ibid.; see Dubai-Sharjah Border Arbitration, Decision of 19 October 1981, 91 ILR 543, at 568 et seq; Amoco Iran Oil Company v. Government of Iran et al., Judgment of 15 June 1990, 83 ILR 490, at 534-5. See also Aust, supra note 69, at 317.

102

Aloeboetoe et al., Inter-American Court of Human Rights, Judgment of 10 September 1993, ser. C, No. 15.I/A, at para. 57. For further reference see Lagerwall, supra note 83, at 23112312.

103

Iran unilaterally terminated the two provisions which did not respect the principle of non intervention. For details see M. Reisman, ‘Termination of the USSR’s Treaty Right of Intervention in Iran’, 74 AJIL 144 (1980).

104

Another reason for the rare reliance on the provisions of Part V may be the limited options (i.e. suspension, termination, invalidity) available to the state which relies on invalidity or termination grounds. See supra, Section III.A.3.

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with respect to multilateral treaties:105 Between 1945 and 2004, 1547 withdrawals from all multilateral treaties registered with the UN were counted, whereas 32.021 ratifications had taken place.106 The total number of multilateral agreements which have been denounced at least once amounts to even less: only 3.5 percent or 191 of the 5416 multilateral agreements concluded after 1945.107 This shows that a few multilateral treaties disappointed and resulted in group exits,108 whereas the overwhelming majority (96.5 percent) of multilateral treaties have been upheld.

2.

Jurisprudence Regarding the General Provisions of Part V

Due to the limited reliance on termination and invalidity grounds little judicial practice regarding the general provisions of Part V (Articles 44 and 45) and the legal consequences of suspension, termination and invalidity (Articles 69-72) exists. Notwithstanding this scarce practice, pre- as well as post- VCLT jurisprudence seems to confirm the general acceptance of the regime governing suspension, termination and invalidity as stipulated in the VCLT, however with the exception of the VCLT’s procedural provisions. Thus, the objective of treaty stability (which is reflected in the provisions) appears to be upheld in practice. In the following, we will explore cases where explicit reference to the VCLT’s provisions is made as well as cases which confirm their material content.109 In particular the separability doctrine (Article 44) is rarely discussed.110 The few cases that did, did so in relation to the ‘survival’ of the jurisdictional clauses of a treaty where one party claimed that the treaty had been terminated.111 In these cases, the ICJ has consistently held that the clauses would remain applicable and accordingly has upheld its jurisdiction.112 Likewise, the separability doctrine may prove useful to protect treaty stability in cases where the ground of invalidity or termination affects only ancillary provisions or when the respective treaty consists of many different parts,

105

See Helfer, supra note 93. There seem to be more denunciations of bilateral treaties, although no comprehensive survey has been attempted.

106

Ibid., Section II.D.

107

Ibid.

108

Ibid.

109

Reference to pre-VCLT cases is made when they confirm the provisions’ content.

110

See M. Bedjaoui/T. Leidgens, ‘Article 44’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 1641, at 1649 et seq. (2006). Among the reasons given for the little reference to the doctrine is the scare practice with respect to termination clauses in general. Furthermore, when grounds for termination apply to a non-essential part of the treaty, this is rather treated by revising the relevant party of the treaty (and not by attempting to terminate it).

111

The survival of the jurisdictional clauses can also be explained with reference to art. 70. For details see Ascensio, supra note 71, at 2537.

112

See for instance the ICAO Council case, supra note 34, at 53-54, para. 16 lit. b.

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such as peace treaties.113 In fact, an application of the separability doctrine – though without reference to Article 44 – can be found in the 1990 declaration of ‘obsolescence’ of certain provisions of the 1945 Finnish Peace treaty and of the 1955 Austrian State treaty by the Finnish and the Austrian Governments respectively. Further reference to the separability doctrine was made in the context of unilateral declarations, in particular with respect to reservations. Judge Torres-Bernárdez, in his dissenting opinion to the Fisheries Jurisdiction case, referred explicitly to Article 44 when discussing Spain’s reservation to its acceptance of the jurisdiction of the ICJ under Article 36(2) ICJ Statute.114 While the majority of the judges held that the Court lacked jurisdiction, Torres-Bernárdez favoured an application of the separability doctrine to the different parts of Spain’s declaration and held that the ICJ should thus have confirmed its jurisdiction. The case most frequently referred to in the context of acquiescence – though it was decided before the VCLT was adopted – is the Temple case. The ICJ found that Thailand could not claim an error in the map containing the boundary delimitation due to acquiescence: ‘[T]he circumstances were such as called for some reaction, within a reasonable period, on the part of the Siamese authorities, if they wished to disagree with the map or had any serious question to raise in regard to it. They did not do so, either then or for many years, and thereby must be held to have acquiesced. Qui tacet consentire videtur si loqui debuisset ac potuisset.’115

A recent reference to acquiescence was made in the Territorial and Maritime Dispute case.116 The ICJ held that Nicaragua was precluded from claiming the invalidity of the ‘1928 Treaty concerning Territorial Questions at Issue between Colombia and Nicaragua’ in which Nicaragua recognized Colombia’s sovereignty over disputed islands as ‘for more than 50 years, Nicaragua has treated the 1928 Treaty as valid and never contended that it was not bound by the treaty’.117 Regarding the consequences of a reliance on suspension, termination or invalidity grounds (Articles 69-72), the few cases of judicial practice seem to evidence the provisions’ general acceptance. Even when the VCLT is not applicable to the case reference to the respective provisions is made. For instance, the French Conseil d’Etat referred to

113

See Bedjaoui/Leidgens, supra note 110, at 1641 (2006), with reference to the 1919 Treaty of Versailles.

114

Fisheries Jurisdiction Case (Spain v. Canada), Jurisdiction, Judgment of 4 December 1998, 1998 ICJ Rep. 582, at 637-638 (Judge Torres-Bernárdez, Dissenting Opinion).

115

Case concerning the Temple of Preah Vihear (Cambodia v. Thailand), Merits, Judgment of 15 June 1962, 1962 ICJ Rep. 5, at 23.

116

Territorial and Maritime Dispute (Nicaragua v. Colombia), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 13 December 2007, General List No. 124.

117

Ibid., para. 79.

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Article 72, notwithstanding the fact that France was not party to the VCLT.118 In 1986, following a series of terrorist attacks, France had decided unilaterally to suspend the provisions of numerous agreements with other countries exempting their nationals from visa requirements for visits to France. The Conseil d’Etat confirmed the suspension of the visa requirements in a case brought before it. In its reasoning, the Conseil d’Etat stated that Article 72 codified pre-existent rules and principles of international law and held that, consequently, it did not matter that France was not a party to the VCLT. As to the consequences of the suspension: ‘Suspension in fact constitutes neither the revocation nor the modification of the ratification or approval of a treaty.’119 In the Rainbow Warrior case, the arbitral tribunal referred inter alia to Article 70(1.b) to affirm the continuous existence of New Zealand’s claims against France which were based on previous infringements of a treaty which had since expired.120 Another example which may serve as an illustration of Article 70 (although neither the VCLT was applicable nor was any reference to Article 70 made) are the findings of the ICJ in the Case concerning the Territorial Dispute between Libya and Chad referred to above.121 The ICJ held that, although the 1955 Franco Libyan Treaty had been concluded for twenty years only, the Treaty established a permanent boundary.122 Accordingly, the legal situation created under the treaty, namely the boundary, was upheld by the ICJ, even though the treaty had expired – exactly as stipulated in Article 70(1.b). This also shows that Judge Ajibola, as was noted above, relied unnecessarily on pacta sunt servanda to reason his opinion. Furthermore, the following judgment delivered by the German Federal Administrative Court (Bundesverwaltungsgerichtshof, BVerwG) may serve as an illustration of Article 70(2) and the commitment of courts to upholding treaty stability even if the VCLT is not directly applicable.123 On 8 June 1978 Schleswig Holstein denounced a 1955 agreement between three Länder (constituent states) of the Federal Republic of Germany (Hamburg, Lower Saxony and Schleswig Holstein) which had established the North German Broadcasting Corporation (Norddeutscher Rundfunk, NDR). The arising question was whether this denunciation brought about the dissolution of the corporation or whether it could be interpreted as having the effect of withdrawal and that consequently the 1955 agreement continued in force as between Hamburg and Lower Saxony. The BverwG held that Schleswig Holstein’s denunciation led to its withdrawal from the corporation, rather than to the corporation’s dissolution. A counter-denunciation of Lower Saxony was – according to the BverwG – made too 118

France, Conseil d’Etat, Prefect of la Gironde v. Mahmedi, 18 December 1992, 106 ILR 204, at 206 et seq.

119

Ibid., at 210.

120

See Rainbow Warrior case, supra note 21, at 568, para. 106.

121

See supra Section II.B.2.

122

See Territorial Dispute case, supra note 47, at 37, para. 72.

123

Norddeutscher Rundfunk State Treaty Case, Federal Republic of Germany, Federal Administrative Court (BVerwG), Judgment of 28 May 1980, 90 ILR 365. The VCLT applies only to treaties between states.

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late to take effect at the end of 1980 and thus the corporation remained in force as between Hamburg and Lower Saxony.124 The BverwG held: ‘The complete destruction of the framework established by the Treaty by the denunciation of only one of the treaty partners is thereby avoided.’125 Although there appears to be little practice with respect to invalid treaties in general and Article 69 in particular,126 older examples – prior to the VCLT – shed some light on its content and illustrate the need to protect certain acts which were performed in reliance on invalid treaties. It seems, for instance, that when treaties which alter borders are declared void, the acts of state (Hoheitsakte) performed on the territory nevertheless remain valid.127 The most notorious example of invalidity is perhaps the 1973 treaty between the Federal Republic of Germany and Czechoslovakia, according to which the Munich Agreement was declared void as between the two parties of the treaty. The 1973 treaty provided, however, that all legal effects for natural or legal persons flowing from the law in force between 30 September 1938 and 5 September 1945 were not altered by the 1973 treaty. Excluded from this rule were only those consequences of measures taken which both parties considered to be null and void because of their incompatibility with fundamental notions of justice. The 1973 treaty, therefore, is a good example of the need to restrict the legal consequences of a declaration of nullity because of the dangerous uncertainty which would otherwise arise in many legal relations.128 No actual practice exists with respect to cases which fall under Article 71.129 The details of Articles 65 et seq. are generally not held to be customary international law.130 The ICJ, in the Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case, however emphasized the need to uphold certain procedural minimum requirements.131

124

The treaty provided for a right of denunciation after at least 10 years with a 2 years notification period without any specification with respect to the consequences of the denunciation.

125

Norddeutscher Rundfunk State Treaty Case, supra note 123, at 381.

126

See Verhoeven, supra note 64, at 2482-2483.

127

Frowein, supra note 65, at 116. For further examples see ibid., at 109 et seq.

128

Frowein, ‘Nullity’, supra note 65, at 745. See also other examples given by Frowein, such as the 1946 Treaty Changing the Border between France and Siam (Thailand), which annulled the 1941 Tokyo Convention but did not question the rights acquired under the convention (such as nationality), Frowein, supra note 65, at 112-113.

129

F. Crepeau/R. Cote, ‘Article 71’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les Conventions de Vienne sur le Droit des Traités. Commentaire article par article 2545, at 2550 (2006).

130

See in this sense the ECJ in the Racke case, supra note 20, at para. 96, when dealing with the lack of prior notification by the EC.

131

See Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case, supra note 36, at para. 109. See also D. Reichert-Facilides, ‘Down the Danube: The Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties and the Case concerning the Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros Project’, in S. Davidson (ed.), The Law of Treaties 477 (2004).

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341

Conclusion

One may conclude that the central place which is conferred to the pacta sunt servanda rule in the VCLT is confirmed by the jurisprudence. International courts and tribunals have upheld the rule’s cardinal importance as meta-rule by extensively referring to pacta sunt servanda as incorporated in Article 26. The ICJ in particular values the rule by broadly interpreting the states’ duty of ‘treaty performance in good faith’. The Court held in the Gabčíkovo-Nagymoros case that the obligation to perform treaties in good faith also comprises an obligation not to prevent future compliance with the treaty. For treaties of friendship, in addition to the explicit obligations contained in the treaty, a further duty seems to oblige states not to defeat a treaty’s object and purpose. The goal of treaty stability is also reflected in Part V of the VCLT, which deals with the invalidity, termination and suspension of treaties. The rule’s ‘safeguards’ in Part V find their expression in the limited scope of the invalidity and termination provisions. Regarding the modalities and consequences of suspension, termination and invalidity, state practice and jurisprudence seem to corroborate the material content of the VCLT’s provisions, notwithstanding the scarce practice. While this contribution dealt with the reflections of pacta sunt servanda in Part V, there are several other provisions in the VCLT which support the goal of treaty stability. These include the rules governing the conclusion of treaties, the obligation not to defeat the object and purpose of a treaty prior to its entry into force (Article 18) and Article 27 which stipulates that, in principle,132 a state may not invoke its internal law to justify the non-performance of a treaty. It may furthermore be asked whether the pacta sunt servanda rule applies to the provisional application of treaties (Article 25). In fact, the entire VCLT appears to be directed towards treaty stability. The restraints which are placed on the pacta sunt servanda rule by other considerations and principles (e.g. ius cogens, free consent) do not affect the cardinal importance attributed to the rule. It is their particular interplay – with treaty stability being the founding principle and pillar – which makes the VCLT the complex and nuanced ‘treaty of treaties’ it is. As international law is a system of coordination, treaty stability is an essential element for the international rule of law. In such a system, the acceptance of the ‘rules of the game’ is crucial. Accordingly, it is the balance found by the VCLT between treaty stability and other considerations which fosters the pacta sunt servanda rule most.

132

Subject to art. 46.

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16

16 – VARIATIONS ON THE THEME OF ‘SOFT INTERNATIONAL LAW’

343

Variations on the Theme of ‘Soft International Law’ Hanspeter Neuhold

I.

Introduction

I am delighted to have been invited to contribute to the Festschrift in honour of Gerhard Hafner, whom I have known since the 1960s when we were working as assistants at the Department of International Law and International Relations of the School of Law of the University of Vienna. I remember particularly well our trip to The Hague, where we attended the annual summer course at the Academy of International Law at that time. I have always admired his analytical skills and encyclopedical knowledge of international law, from Soviet legal doctrine to the law of the sea, from state responsibility to international criminal law. His record both as a scholar and practitioner speaks for itself: among other achievements, his membership of the International Law Commission and the Institut de droit international, as well as his function as consultant at the Austrian Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs. Gerhard Hafner has always been interested in new developments and perspectives in our field. This is why I thought that he might appreciate my somewhat unorthodox thoughts on a phenomenon in international law and international relations which has intrigued me for a long time – the discrepancy between ‘legal rank’ and effectiveness in practice.1 In this essay, I intend to go beyond the traditional scope of the debate, which focuses on ‘hard’, in particular treaty law, vs. ‘soft’, at best politically binding rules.2 I would like to include two further areas: the responses to deviant behaviour, i.e. 1

Gerhard Hafner has also contributed to this discussion; see G. Hafner, ‘The Effect of Soft Law on International Economic Relations’, in S. Griller (ed.), International Economic Governance and Non-Economic Concerns 149 (2003).

2

O. Schachter, ‘The Twilight Existence of Nonbinding International Agreements’, 71 AJIL 296 (1977); I. Seidl-Hohenveldern, ‘International Economic “Soft Law”’, 163 Recueil des Cours 173 (1979); M. Bothe, ‘Legal and Non-Legal Norms – a meaningful distinction in international relations?’, 11 Netherlands Yearbook of International Law 65 (1980); J. A. Frowein, ‘The Internal and External Effects of Resolutions by International Organizations’, 49 Zeitschrift für ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht 778 (1989); P.-M. Dupuy, ‘Soft Law and the International Law of the Environment’, 12 Michigan Journal of International Law 420 (1991); W. Heusel, ‘Weiches’ Völkerrecht (1991); M. Reisman, ‘The Concept and Functions of Soft Law in International Politics’, in E. G. Bello/B. A. Ajibola (eds.), Essays in Honour of Judge Taslim Olawale Elias, Vol. I, 135; U. Fastenrath, ‘Relative Normativity in International Law’, 4 EJIL 305 (1993); J. Klabbers, ‘The Redundancy of Soft Law’, 65 Nordic Journal of International Law 167 (1996); Ch. Tomuschat, ‘The Concluding Documents of World Order Conferences’, in J. Makarczyk (ed.), Essays in Honour of Krzysztof Skubiszewski 563 (1996);

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 343-360, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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the distinction between countermeasures, as reprisals are called today, vs. retorsions, and two examples from the field of peaceful dispute settlement, namely mediation vs. adjudication and arbitration, and binding judgments vs. advisory opinions with an emphasis on the ICJ as the most prominent judicial organ. In this short article I cannot provide an in-depth analysis, but only a few, necessarily sketchy remarks.

II.

‘Hard’ vs. ‘Soft’ Sources of International Law: Treaties vs. Non-binding International Agreements and Resolutions of International Organizations

International agreements that do not fall into the category of binding treaties, which are mentioned, above all, among the ‘primary’ sources of international law in Article 38 of the ICJ Statute, may nevertheless offer certain advantages to remedy the deficiencies of treaty law. Moreover, they may carry considerable weight in the eyes of decision makers so that they are likely to be implemented in practice. The same observation applies, albeit to a lesser extent, to non-binding resolutions adopted by the organs of international organizations, first and foremost the UN General Assembly. Indeed, treaties frequently fail to meet five requirements for effective international law-making that are so urgently needed in a rapidly changing and globalised international system: speed, clarity, uniformity, wide participation, and adaptability.3 1) More than ever, rapid solutions to new challenges are also necessary at the normative level before a problem gets out of control. However, already the first step on the road to a binding treaty, the adoption of its text, may take a long time. This problem is particularly acute if negotiations take place in several stages. Further complications may arise if consensus among the negotiating parties is necessary according to the rules of procedure, or if a broad agreement is sought without this requirement in order to make the treaty as widely acceptable as possible, above all to those states without whose participation the goals of the treaty cannot be achieved.

J. Klabbers, ‘The Undesirability of Soft Law’, 67 Nordic Journal of International Law 381 (1998); K. Zemanek, ‘Is the Term “Soft Law” Convenient?’, in G. Hafner et al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Professor Ignaz Seidl-Hohenveldern in Honour of his 80th Birthday 843 (1998); H. Hillgenberg, ‘A Fresh Look at Soft Law’, 10 EJIL 499 (1999); K. W. Abbott/D. Snidal, ‘Hard and Soft Law in International Governance’, 54 International Organization 421 (2000); D. Thürer, ‘Soft Law’, in R. Bernhard (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Vol. IV, 452 (2000); A. Barba, ‘Norme narrative, soft law e teoria delle fonti’, in H.-P. Mansel et al. (eds.), Festschrift für Erik Jayme, Vol. 2, 1027 (2004); J. J. Kirton/M. J. Trebilcock (eds.), Hard Choices, Soft Law: Voluntary Standards in Global Trade, Environment and Social Governance 829 (2004); A. Boyle, Soft Law in International Law-Making, in M. D. Evans (ed.), International Law 141 (2006); D. Shelton, ‘International Law and “Relative Normativity”’, ibid., 159. 3

For a more detailed discussion, see H. Neuhold, ‘The Inadequacy of Law-Making by International Treaties: “Soft Law” as an Alternative?’, in R. Wolfrum/V. Röben (eds.), Developments of International Law in Treaty Making 39 (2005).

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The next impediment could be the approval of the adopted text by parliament which may be needed under the domestic law of a state. Parliamentary consent may also take time and might not be a foregone conclusion, especially if the governing political party or parties do not have a majority in the legislative body. The opposition of the U.S. Senate to the Covenant of the League of Nations comes to mind as a prominent example. This hostile attitude had far-reaching negative effects for the new peace organization whose founding fathers tried to draw some important lessons from World War I. Moreover, in some cases, a referendum on the treaty may be required under the constitution or held for political reasons. It could not only cause further delay, but could also derail the entry into force of the treaty altogether. The rejection of the Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe by the voters in France and the Netherlands in 2005 is a dramatic, if not traumatic,4 case in point with at least temporary negative consequences for European integration. Last but not least, the expression of consent to be bound by a certain number of states stipulated in the adopted text in order to bring the treaty into force may become an obstacle. Again, years if not decades may pass before this condition is met. For instance, the entry into force of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties took eleven years, from 1969, the year of its adoption, to 1980, the entry into force of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea twelve years, from 1982 to 1994. To make matters worse, even a single dissenter could still prevent a treaty from becoming binding at this late stage if the expression of consent of certain states and not a given number of unidentified states is required. The Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty of 1996 provides an example. According to its Article XIV, all states that had nuclear reactors in 1995-1996 and are listed in Annex 2 have to ratify the treaty. Unfortunately for the containment of the nuclear arms race, not only ‘rogue states’ with known or suspected nuclear military ambitions but also the United States are among those whose instruments of ratification are lacking. In contrast, ‘soft-law’ agreements can be reached rather quickly. The negotiating phase may equally last some time, especially if consensus among the parties involved has to be achieved. However, the prospect of not concluding a binding treaty could lead to greater flexibility and readiness to make concessions, thus speeding up the talks. Once negotiations are terminated, no parliamentary approval or referendum will be needed before a state may express its consent to be bound by ratification. No minimum number of expressions of consent is required before ‘soft law’ enters into force. On the contrary, it can be applied immediately after the parties have agreed on the text. 2) A second requirement for effective rules is their clear formulation so that they are not open to doubt or different interpretations when they are applied. Yet, the price which may have to be paid for wide participation, first when adopting the text of a treaty 4

At least for those Europeans who want their continent to play a major role in world affairs. They now hope that the Treaty amending the Treaty on European Union and the Treaty establishing the European Community will obtain the necessary ratification by all 27 member states of the EU. The ‘Reform Treaty’ which preserves the substance of the constitutional treaty without mentioning the symbols of statehood, such as the EU’s anthem and flag, was signed in Lisbon on 13 December 2007.

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and then when consent to be bound is expressed through ratification or another agreed procedure, is the ambiguous wording of controversial provisions. Such ‘agreements not to agree’ postpone disagreement from the negotiation to the implementation phase. Then it becomes obvious that parties act differently, each claiming that they are fulfilling their obligations under the treaty. This problem may be less severe in the case of ‘soft law’ precisely because the parties feel that they are not subscribing to legally binding obligations. Admittedly, this is not always true. For instance, CSCE documents also contained such ambivalent provisions (called ‘dilatorische Formelkompromisse’ in German legal terminology), especially regarding respect for human rights, one of the most controversial issues of the CSCE process. 3) It also stands to reason that the content of norms should be identical for all parties concerned. However, parties which are ready to accept a treaty in principle may still change its substance by making reservations after the adoption of the text. Under Article 19 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties reservations must not be contrary to provisions on the matter in the treaty itself; if the negotiating parties have not dealt with the problem in the text, reservations have to be compatible with the object and purpose of the treaty. This provision does not really solve the problem of the erosion of a treaty after its text has been adopted. The compatibility of a reservation with the object and purpose of the treaty may be a matter of controversy in a concrete case. Moreover, even if there is widespread agreement that the reservation is so sweeping that it reduces the contractual edifice to an empty shell, like the reservations to human rights treaties by Islamic states concerning the primacy of the sharia and/or their domestic legal orders, the legal consequences are still not clear.5 Should the excessive reservation be void, so that the state making it is bound by the treaty without the reservation, or should the state not become a contracting party at all? In other words, should the general intent to be bound by the treaty or the specific intent to only become a party to the treaty subject to the reservation be decisive? At present, the ILC is still dealing with this issue. In contrast, subsequent ‘second thoughts’ leading to reservations do not undermine the integrity of ‘soft law’, which becomes applicable and politically binding upon its acceptance. 4) The adequate solution to a political, economic, environmental and other ‘technical’ problem through norms requires that all parties concerned subscribe to the rule in question. In the case of treaties on global challenges, this means that all states (and other relevant subjects of international law) express their consent to be bound by them. A few but important dissenters who reject the treaty may prevent the achievement of its objectives despite a high number of contracting parties. Disarmament and arms control or environmental regimes are cases in point. Because of the leeway allowed

5

See, for example, L. Sucharipa-Behrmann, ‘The Legal Effects of Reservations to Multilateral Treaties’, 1 ARIEL 67 (1996); I. Buffard/K. Zemanek, ‘The “Object and Purpose” of a Treaty: An Enigma?’, 3 ARIEL 311 (1998); B. Simma, ‘Reservations to Human Rights Treaties – Some Recent Developments’, in G. Hafner et al. (eds.), supra note 2, at 659; R. Baratta, ‘Should Invalid Reservations to Human Rights Treaties be Disregarded?’, 11 EJIL 413 (2000); J. Klabbers, ‘Accepting the Unacceptable? A New Nordic Approach to Reservations to Multilateral Treaties’, 69 Nordic Journal of International Law 179 (2000).

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more states are likely to agree to ‘soft law’ (and comply with it in practice) than accept obligatory contractual ties from the legal point of view. 5) Finally, since circumstances in the various areas governed by treaties change more and more rapidly, swift adaptation of these treaties to new developments may become necessary. If the treaty includes provisions on its amendment or revision, they ought to be applied. Such provisions may not require the consent of all the parties to modify the treaty.6 However, even in this case adjustment to changes may still prove difficult.7 Otherwise the agreement of all contracting parties must be sought. This would mean again starting from scratch, with all the above-mentioned difficulties complicating adjustment of the treaty.8 Parties subscribing to ‘soft law’ may be more flexible and willing to change it precisely because of its non-binding character. One may still argue that ‘hard law’ is more effective than its ‘soft’ version because certain responses by the victim of a violation are only available in the event of a breach of a ‘hard-law’ obligation. One such reaction is the taking of countermeasures; however, as will be pointed out below, they have become an increasingly blunt instrument so that retorsions, which are also at the disposal of the victim of the breach of a ‘soft-law’ commitment, may have a stronger impact on the perpetrator.9 A means of redress, which is only available in the event of a violation of ‘hard law’, are proceedings before an international court or tribunal. It must be kept in mind, however, that the jurisdiction of these judicial institutions is based on the consent of all parties involved, which is often lacking. Moreover, although a judgment or arbitral award is legally binding, it is not a foregone conclusion that it will be complied with. For one of the continuing critical deficiencies of the international legal order is the absence of effective centralized enforcement mechanisms.10 Factors other than legal character seem to determine the effectiveness of international law, both ‘hard’ and ‘soft’. In both cases, reciprocity is decisive; the prospect of similar non-compliance by the victim to the disadvantage of the party that considers a breach tends to dissuade the latter from actually committing a violation. Another reason for observing both types of norms is their publicity and the possibility of ‘mobilization of

6

The problems resulting from successive treaties relating to the same subject matter are dealt with in Articles 30 and 41 of the 1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties.

7

Articles 108 and 109 of the UN Charter may be mentioned as examples. According to these provisions, amendments or revisions of the Charter must only be ratified by two thirds of the member states and not all of them; however, the five permanent members of the Security Council have to be among them. W. Karl/B. Mützelburg/G. Witschel, ‘Article 108’, ‘Article 109’, in B. Simma (ed.), The Charter of the United Nations: A Commentary 1341 (2002).

8

The major stumbling block could be the refusal of parties which benefit from the changes in the non-legal environment to the detriment of others, so that they like the treaty even better than before and refuse to agree to its modification.

9

See infra, at 352.

10

This criticism also applies to the enforcement of judgments of the ICJ by the Security Council under Article 94 of the UN Charter, since measures taken to this end by the Council are subject to the ‘veto’ of its permanent members. H. Mosler/K. Oellers-Frahm, ‘Article 94’, in Simma (ed.), supra note 7, at 1174-1179; see infra, at 357.

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shame’. The line between ‘hard’ and ‘soft law’ is usually blurred by the fact that most people, including opinion leaders such as politicians and journalists, are not aware of the difference. They are impressed by terms like ‘Charter of Paris for a New Europe’ of the CSCE, ‘Founding Act on Mutual Relations, Cooperation and Security’ between NATO and the Russian Federation, or ‘Charter of Economic Rights and Duties’11 and ‘Universal Declaration of Human Rights’ for resolutions of the UN General Assembly. As a result, they tend to assume that these instruments are legally binding. This belief is not shattered by the reaction of the party accused of breaching ‘soft law’. Instead of simply relying on the argument that the commitment in question is not legally binding, the alleged perpetrator usually prefers to deny the violation or relies on a different interpretation, as the East did in the context of the crucial debate on human rights within the framework of the CSCE process during the Cold War. In this ideological confrontation, the political and media pressure generated by CSCE ‘soft law’ proved more effective than treaties, above all the two 1966 UN Covenants, to which the leading Western power, the United States, was not a party at the time. The above examples also demonstrate that ‘soft law’ is not restricted to matters of secondary importance but addresses major political issues as well.12 Compliance with resolutions of international organizations, those of the UN General Assembly in particular, depends on several additional factors. In addition to their more or less categorical wording – there is an obvious difference between ‘affirm’13 and ‘recommend’ – and the title of the resolution already discussed above, the majority by which the resolution is adopted makes a difference. It is not so much the sheer number of favourable votes that counts in this context. What is more important is the question of whether the majority represents the main groups among the member states and includes the major powers and those other states whose participation is essential for achieving the objective of the resolution.14 If a state voting in favour later acts contrary to the resolution, it will be difficult to dismiss the reproach of acting in bad faith. It is also relevant whether only a single resolution is adopted on a subject or members have voted for a series of resolutions, which may be drafted in increasingly demanding terms as in the case of the principle of self-determination of peoples. Reference to a resolution within the organization, 11

J. Castañeda, ‘La Charte des Droits et Devoirs Économiques des États’, 20 AFDI 31 (1974); B. H. Weston, ‘The Charter of Economic Rights and Duties of States and the Deprivation of Foreign-Owned Wealth’, 75 AJIL 437 (1981).

12

Other issue areas where ‘soft law’ has played a major role are the rules governing the protection of the environment, outer space and the sea.

13

For instance, the UN General Assembly affirmed [emphasis added] in Resolution 95 (I) that the Nuremberg principles were part of international law and in Resolution 96 (I) that genocide constituted a crime under international law.

14

For example, only six states voted against the famous Charter of Economic Rights and Duties of States in Resolution 3281 (XXIX), but these dissenters not only included Belgium, Denmark and Luxembourg, but also three economic and political ‘heavyweights’, the Federal Republic of Germany, the United Kingdom and the United States. Their opposition, in addition to the abstention of ten other industrial states, eroded the effectiveness of this resolution from the very beginning.

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by other organs of the organization, and even more so outside its framework, further enhances its ‘compliance pull’.15 The same effect is produced by the establishment of control mechanisms providing for regular reports by member states and review meetings on the implementation of the resolution or monitoring by a special body.16 Apart from publicity, actual compliance by a growing number of states decisively increases the effectiveness of non-binding pronouncements of international organizations. Furthermore, resolutions of international organizations, like other rules of ‘soft law’, may be ‘upgraded’ by arguing that they have become customary law. If sufficient practice in accordance with their terms can be demonstrated, they may, in particular, be relied upon as evidence of the necessary opinio juris, which is often so difficult to prove. Finally, ‘soft law’ may have to be taken into account as amplification or authoritative interpretation of the provisions of a treaty in accordance with Article 31 (3) (a) of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties.17 The Universal Declaration on Human Rights,18 the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples19 and the Friendly Relations Declaration20 are cases in point with regard to the UN Charter. Regarding the codification of international law, its ‘soft-law’ version does not necessarily reduce its practical significance. The articles on the responsibility of states for internationally wrongful acts submitted to the UN General Assembly by the ILC are a case in point. In Resolution 56/63, the Assembly merely took note of the articles, commending them to the attention of Governments without prejudice to the question of their future adoption or other appropriate action. The articles are nevertheless frequently quoted as existing law, without mentioning the fact that they have not (yet) been transformed into a legally binding convention. One advantage of a non-binding text is that it may be easier to claim that it reflects universal international law than a treaty which some states have refused to ratify, implying that they have rejected its contents. To the argument that the convention contains already existing customary law these objectors might reply that the provision in question is the product of progressive development which they do not accept. If only a few states are parties to a codification convention, its ‘legal weight’ is further limited. Another criterion for distinguishing ‘hard’ from ‘less hard’ international law focuses on the stringency of the obligations undertaken by the parties to ‘genuine’ legally binding 15

See Th. M. Franck, ‘Legitimacy in the International System’, 82 AJIL 705 (1988); id., The Power of Legitimacy among Nations (1990); id., ‘The Power of Legitimacy and the Legitimacy of Power: International Law in an Age of Power Disequilibrium’, 100 AJIL 88 (2006).

16

The Special Committee created by Resolution 1654 (XVI) which was charged with supervising the application of another Declaration, that on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples in Resolution 1514 (XV), is a case in point.

17

Boyle, supra note 2, at 146.

18

UN Doc. A/RES/217 (III).

19

Supra note 16.

20

Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Cooperation among States in accordance with the UN Charter, Ann. to General Assembly Resolution 2625 (XXV).

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treaties.21 Important examples of such ‘watered down’ duties include Article 2 of the UN Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights of 1966 (‘Each State Party to the present Covenant undertakes to take steps…to the maximum of its available resources, with a view to achieving progressively the full realisation of the rights recognised in the present Covenant by all appropriate means…’) or Article VI of the 1968 Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (‘Each of the Parties undertakes to pursue negotiations in good faith on effective measures relating to cessation of the arms race at an early date and to nuclear disarmament, and on a treaty on general and complete disarmament under strict and effective international control’).22 Lofty goals are thus not matched by clear-cut obligations. Another variant of ‘soft commitments’ can be observed in the area of security policy.23 The key obligation in Article 5 of the 1949 NATO Treaty is weakened by leaving it to each member of the alliance to ‘take such action as it deems necessary’,24 including the use of ‘armed force’ in the event of an armed attack on another ally.25 The discretion left to the contracting parties to decide how to react if the casus foederis occurs was necessary to obtain the approval of the Washington Treaty by the U.S. Senate. In contrast, under Article V of the 1948 Brussels Treaty establishing the Western European Union (WEU), member states of this European alliance must ‘afford the party so attacked all the military and other aid and assistance in their power’. A comparison of these provisions from the legal point of view could lead to the conclusion that members of the WEU can expect more effective protection than those of the Atlantic Alliance. However, this legal assessment is at variance with political and military realities. The degree of integration developed within NATO and declarations made by the North Atlantic Council guarantee in practice a joint military response in case of armed attack on a member. The membership of the United States above all, but also France and Great Britain, ensures that a potential aggressor must reckon with such a devastating response that he will think twice before launching an armed attack.

21

This distinction is underlined by Prosper Weil who opposes the notion of ‘soft law’ as it is generally understood and also used in this essay. According to him, there is only law or no law at all. P. Weil, ‘Towards Relative Normativity in International Law’, 77 AJIL 413 (1983).

22

Emphasis added.

23

The term ‘soft’ is also used in the field of security. The traditional, narrow definition focused on ‘hard’, i.e. military security. More recently, the comprehensive concept includes ‘soft security’, from ecological degradation to mass migration and refugee movements, from health to energy security. See, for example, the list of threats drawn up by the High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change appointed by UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan in its report entitled A more secure world: Our shared responsibility (2004). For an overview of the conceptual issues in contemporary security studies, see, e.g., A. Hyde-Price, ‘“Beware the Jabberwock!”: Security Studies in the Twenty-First Century’, in H. Gärtner/A. Hyde-Price/E. Reiter (eds.), Europe’s New Security Challenges 27 (2001).

24

Emphasis added.

25

A similarly ‘soft’ mutual assistance obligation is laid down in Article 3 (2) of the 1947 Rio Treaty.

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The WEU, although older than NATO, has always been the ‘kid brother’ of the Atlantic Alliance in terms of its military resources and exists only on paper after the transfer of its assets to the EU in 2000.26 Both kinds of ‘softness’ may be combined. The principle of cooperation as formulated in the 1970 Friendly Relations Declaration27 and the 1975 Helsinki Final Act of the CSCE may be mentioned in this context: ‘States should28 cooperate in the economic, social and cultural fields … in the promotion of economic growth’ and ‘They [the participating States] will endeavour … to promote mutual understanding and confidence ...’, ‘They will equally endeavour … to improve the well-being of peoples …’, ‘They will strive … to develop closer relations …’29 Another variant of ‘less hard law’ are provisions in treaties which are categorically formulated but couched in such general terms that their implementation requires further specification.30 All this is not to say that ‘soft law’ as traditionally defined is invariably more effective than ‘hard law’. However, a conclusion that may be drawn from the aforementioned arguments is that ‘soft law’ is not necessarily inferior to legally binding obligations as a means for solving problems in international relations and that it offers advantages, which in some cases may outweigh its shortcomings.

III.

‘Hard’ vs. ‘Soft’ Sanctions: Countermeasures (Reprisals) vs. Retorsions

The victim of a breach of international law has two responses against the perpetrator of the unlawful act at its disposal.31 It may take countermeasures, the term chosen by

26

Article 42 (7) of the 2007 Lisbon Treaty on European Union contains another ‘hard’, categorical mutual security guarantee: ‘If a Member State is the victim of armed aggression on its territory, the other Member States shall have towards it an obligation of aid and assistance by all means in their power, in accordance with Article 51 of the UN Charter.’ This obligation is watered down, however, by the so-called Irish clause which was already inserted in the 1992 Maastricht Treaty at the insistence of Ireland. According to this provision, the specific character of the security and defence policy of certain Member States shall not be prejudiced – a reference to the neutrality or non-membership of military alliances of Austria, Finland, Ireland and Sweden.

27

1970 Friendly Relations Declaration, supra note 20.

28

And not ‘shall’.

29

Emphasis added. The words ‘endeavour’ and ‘strive’ imply the possibility of not reaching the accepted goal, which would not be a breach of the commitment undertaken.

30

See, for example, Article 87 (2) of the 1982 UN Convention of the Law of the Sea, according to which the freedoms of the high seas ‘[…] shall be exercised by all States with due regard for the interests of other states […].’ The meaning of due regard remains to be defined in light of the circumstances of a given situation. Boyle, supra note 2, at 148.

31

H. Neuhold, ‘The Foreign-Policy “Cost-Benefit-Analysis” Revisited’, 42 GYIL 84, at 9296 (1999).

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the ILC instead of the traditional expression ‘reprisal’. This reaction also consists in a breach of international law, which, however, is justified by the previous illegal act committed by the other party.32 Or the victim may opt for a retorsion, an ‘unfriendly’ act that is not contrary to international law. At first sight, in particular from a legal point of view, countermeasures appear as a more severe and also a more effective sanction. Yet a closer analysis reveals that this is not necessarily the case. On the one hand, the impact of countermeasures against states which refuse to fulfil their obligations resulting from international responsibility, above all to cease the wrongful act and to provide the various forms of reparation,33 has been curtailed by an increasing number of restrictions that the victim of an unlawful act must observe when resorting to them. First, a settlement by diplomatic means has to be attempted as a first step.34 This prerequisite makes sense, since it is designed to avoid the ‘escalation of illegality’ that a countermeasure entails. Second, the threshold of proportionality must not be exceeded. As the ILC explained, countermeasures must be commensurate with the injury suffered, taking into account the gravity of the internationally wrongful act and the rights in question.35 This barrier may make the consequences of the illegal act acceptable to the perpetrator. Third, a countermeasure is neither an end in itself nor a punishment; its purpose is rather to induce the state that committed a wrongful act to comply with its obligations under international law. Consequently, the countermeasure must be terminated once its objective is accomplished and must not inflict irreversible damage. Fourth, the prohibition to infringe on the rights of third parties also stands to reason. Fifth, with the emergence of jus cogens in international law, countermeasures must not contravene these peremptory norms. According to the general view shared by the ILC, these rules not only include the protection of fundamental human rights36 and obligations of a humanitarian character prohibiting reprisals, but also the prohibition of the threat or use of force as enshrined in Article 2 (4) of the UN Charter. As a result, the victims of a breach of international law are not allowed to use the most effective means to make the violator fulfil his obligations. However, this recent restriction is not as far-reaching as it might appear at first sight, since forcible countermeasures would in many cases be prohibited anyway by the principle of proportionality. 32

W. Fiedler/E. Klein/A. K. Schnyder, ‘Gegenmaßnahmen’, 37 Berichte der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht (1998); D. Alland, ‘Countermeasures of General Interest’, 13 EJIL 1221 (2002); J. A. Fernandez, ‘Contre-mesures et règlement des différends’, 108 Revue Générale de Droit International Public 347 (2004).

33

Articles 28-41 of the Articles on the Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, Ann. to UN General Assembly Res. 56/83; see also Ch. J. Tams, ‘All’s Well That Ends Well: Comments on the ILC’s Articles on State Responsibility’, 62 Zeitschrift für ausländisches öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht/Heidelberg Journal of International Law 759 (2002).

34

Article 52 of the Articles on the Responsibility for Internationally Wrongful Acts, supra note 33.

35

Ibid., Article 51.

36

Ibid., Article 50. There is no need in the present context to discuss the line to be drawn between fundamental and other human rights.

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Whether the right of states other than the injured state to invoke, in the case of a violation of a norm with effects erga omnes, the responsibility of the perpetrator and to claim from it cessation of the wrongful act, assurances and guarantees of non-repetition and performance of the obligation of reparation and take lawful measures to this end as stated by the ILC,37 will have an additional dissuasive effect remains to be seen. Moreover, this possibility is limited to only a few rules of international law. In contrast, since retorsions remain within the bounds of international law, they are not subject to these limitations, which make countermeasures an increasingly toothless weapon. The traditional examples of retorsions, the withdrawal of the head of the injured party’s diplomatic mission from the state that has committed the unlawful act or the breaking off of diplomatic relations with it, are to some extent misleading. The victim may also take measures which can really hurt the violator, since they are not affected by the above-mentioned restrictions, above all the proportionality barrier, which must be observed when countermeasures are taken. For instance, if a developing country unlawfully expropriates the nationals of an industrialised state, the latter may withhold development aid badly needed by the former, provided the two states have not concluded a treaty to this effect.38 Moreover, the victim may urge other states and international organizations not to provide financial or other economic assistance to the perpetrator. To make matters worse for the latter, such an unlawful act is likely to dissuade nationals of other states from investing in the country concerned for fear of suffering a similar fate. On balance, the short-term gains resulting from illegal expropriation could therefore be outweighed by the long-term negative consequences. This is why developing countries have had second thoughts about seemingly ‘lucrative’ nationalisations after their enthusiasm about a New International Economic Order in the wake of the use of the oil weapon by Arab countries in the 1970s had waned.

IV.

‘Hard’ vs. ‘Soft’ Dispute Settlement Methods: Mediation vs. Arbitration and Adjudication

Traditionally, a distinction is made between ‘diplomatic’ and judicial methods for the peaceful settlement of disputes.39 The former include direct negotiations between the parties to the conflict as well as the involvement of third parties – good offices, enquiry, mediation and conciliation – which have one important aspect in common: the non-binding results of these procedures for the conflicting parties. In contrast, arbitration and adjudication lead to a third-party decision of an obligatory character. Some lawyers tend to downplay the former methods and see two decisive advantages 37

Ibid., Articles 48, 54.

38

If a contractual obligation to this effect exists, this response would constitute a countermeasure.

39

H. Neuhold, ‘The United Nations System for the Peaceful Settlement of International Disputes’, in F. Cede/L. Sucharipa-Behrmann (eds.), The United Nations: Law and Practice 59 (2001).

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of arbitral awards and judgments: first, their binding nature, and second, the fact that they are based on the law binding on the parties. A closer look again reveals that this dichotomy may be simplistic if the evaluation focuses on the effectiveness of the solution reached by the application of the above methods. Although proposals submitted by a mediator do not entail legal obligations, their actual weight may be considerable for a number of reasons. First, they offer a settlement permitting the conflicting parties to save face. Consent to a solution suggested by a mediator is not, in most situations, regarded as a sign of weakness. In contrast, if exactly the same terms are offered by the adversary, their acceptance could be perceived as giving in to the stronger side. Second, even if a deal proposed by the opponent appears reasonable and fair at first sight, the other party tends to view it with mistrust, suspecting a hidden ploy. Conversely, the contribution of a mediator may be given the benefit of the doubt, since it may be assumed that his/her main objective is to successfully broker a mutually acceptable settlement. To this end, a mediator must be perceived as impartial and objective by all conflicting parties. This may even require proposing less favourable terms to the mediator’s traditional friends and offering additional incentives to the side with which his/her relations are more strained. Third, mediation may make an intellectual contribution. As is known, human beings tend to suffer from misperceptions like tunnel vision or selective perception under stress, and a conflict is such a situation. A more detached outsider may think of attractive solutions that the parties themselves have overlooked. Fourth, especially a powerful mediator could offer a party that accepts his/her proposal material and other incentives, ranging from financial assistance to security guarantees, and threaten negative consequences in case of rejection. As a result, the pressure behind a non-binding proposal may be stronger than the legal obligation to carry out a judgment or arbitral award without an enforcement mechanism to ensure compliance. Furthermore, the fact that the solutions suggested by the mediator need not be based on the law binding on the parties is not necessarily a disadvantage. A mediator may come up with a solution that provides for changes of the law but is attractive for all conflicting parties, thanks, above all, to the ‘enrichment’, i.e. the incentives the third party provides. Moreover, if the parties to the conflict accept the proposals of a mediator, they are likely to include them in a legally binding agreement and thus transform them into ‘hard law’. Complex international disputes like the Middle East or Iraq conflicts may, provided the parties are willing to seek a peaceful settlement, lend themselves better to mediation than to adjudication or arbitration. The latter methods can only deal with what is often the legal tip of a vast political iceberg. Their ‘winner-takes-all’ decisions usually do not offer a solution from which all sides benefit. This result is more easily achieved through mediation leading to a mutually acceptable compromise. Western societies believe in the value of court or arbitration proceedings, and their governments at least pay lip service to the use of these methods in international relations. In contrast, other civilisations in Africa and Asia prefer approaches that eventually show a way out of a conflict welcomed by all parties of their own free will. Reconciliation based on the clarification of facts

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and apologies of the perpetrators of unlawful acts without punishment40 may indeed heal psychic wounds and establish a more durable peace between the parties than a sentence which causes further resentment and results in continued hostility. Moreover, apart from the above-mentioned problem of enforcement and the zerosum game character of adjudication and arbitration, the advantages attributed to these two methods are more apparent than real. It is true that parties are equal before the law and therefore before a court or arbitral tribunal. However, one should bear in mind that international law, even more than domestic law, is shaped according to the interests and demands of the more powerful subjects, be it treaty or customary law. Therefore, the correct application of legal rules does not necessarily produce an outcome also regarded as just and fair by all parties. Furthermore, it is argued that the impartiality of judges and arbitrators is an asset of judicial methods of dispute settlement. Yet, although these persons are expected to strive not to be biased, their personalities are, like those of all human beings, influenced by their dispositions, education, as well as ideological, political, religious and other cultural factors. It is therefore often not too difficult to predict how a ‘conservative’ or ‘progressive’ judge or arbitrator will decide a given case. Moreover, regardless of whether this criticism is true, parties sometimes feel that the side with the financial means to hire the best legal counsel is ultimately going to prevail even if its legal position is weak. Again, this is not to say that mediation is always a superior means for the peaceful settlement of international disputes. It is submitted, however, that it can frequently be at least as effective as adjudication and arbitration, because the non-binding character of proposals made by a mediator is not a decisive shortcoming. The same applies to the fact that mediators are not constrained by the law governing the relations between conflicting parties.

V.

‘Hard’ vs. ‘Soft’ Judicial Pronouncements: Judgments vs. Advisory Opinions

The ICJ and some other international courts41 have two ways of dealing with issues of international law.42 The World Court may hand down legally binding judgments in contentious proceedings, which, according to Article 34 of its Statute, are only open

40

This approach was adopted, for example, by the truth commissions set up in South Africa, Guatemala or Timor Leste. Ch. Tomuschat, ‘Die Wahrheitskommission in Guatemala’, in Th. Marauhn (ed.), Recht, Politik und Rechtspolitik in den internationalen Beziehungen 27 (2005).

41

For instance, the European Court of Human Rights in accordance with Articles 47-49 of the 1950 European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms.

42

H. A. W. Thirlway, ‘Advisory Opinions of International Courts’, in R. Bernhard (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law 38 (1992).

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to states. In addition, (only) members of the UN family – i.e. the General Assembly or the Security Council, as well as other UN organs and specialised agencies authorised by the General Assembly,43 may request the ICJ to give an advisory opinion under Article 96 of the UN Charter and Articles 65-68 of the Statute.44 Therefore, in advisory proceedings states are kept on the sidelines. As its name indicates, an advisory opinion is not binding under international law.45 As the ICJ itself stated in its Advisory Opinion on the Interpretation of the Peace Treaties with Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania in 1950: ‘The Court’s reply is only of an advisory character; as such, it has no binding force.’46 A device for raising an advisory opinion of the World Court to the level of ‘hard law’ is an agreement between states and international organizations that are entitled to ask for an opinion to the effect that the organization will approach the Court and the parties will then recognize the latter’s opinion as binding. Section 30 of the 1946 Convention on the Privileges and Immunities of the United Nations and Article 66 (2) of the 1966 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties between States and International Organizations or between International Organizations are examples.47 However, to relegate an advisory opinion in general to the realm of ‘soft law’, understood as ‘inferior’ to a judgment that provides an obligatory settlement to a concrete dispute, does not do justice to the complexity of the issue. On the one hand, it is not a foregone conclusion that the binding ruling of a court will be implemented by all parties involved. As a matter of fact, judgments of the World Court have been ignored on more than one occasion. The culprits were not only superpowers like the United States in the Nicaragua case48, but also regional powers like Iran in the Hostages case49 and 43

The General Assembly had granted this right rather generously, to all other UN organs except the Secretary-General and to all Specialised Agencies except the Universal Postal Union. However, while this right comprises any legal question for the General Assembly and the Security Council, it is restricted to ‘legal questions arising within the scope of their activities’ in the case of other UN organs and the Specialised Agencies by Article 96 (2) of the UN Charter.

44

H. Mosler/K. Oellers-Frahm, ‘Article 96’, in B. Simma (ed.), supra note 7, at 1179-1190.

45

In contrast, an adverse opinion of the Court of Justice of the EU under Article 300 (6) of the Treaty on the European Community on the compatibility of an agreement envisaged blocks the entry into force of the latter unless the Treaty is amended in accordance with Article 48 of the Treaty on European Union.

46

Interpretation of the Peace Treaties with Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania, Advisory Opinion of 30 March 1950, 1950 ICJ Rep. 65, at 71.

47

See also Article XII of the Statute of the ILO Administrative Tribunal. For a critical analysis, see R. Ago, ‘I pareri consultative “vincolanti” della Corte internazionale di giustizia. Problemi di ieri e di oggi’, 73 Rivista di diritto internazionale 5 (1990); id., ‘“Binding” Advisory Opinons of the International Court of Justice’, 85 AJIL 439 (1991).

48

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 26 November 1984, 1984 ICJ Rep. 293

49

United States Diplomatic and Consular Staff in Tehran (United States of America v. Iran), Judgment of 24 May 1980, 1980 ICJ Rep. 3.

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even weak and small states like Albania in the Corfu Channel case50, the first dispute the ICJ decided in 1949, or Iceland in the Fisheries Jurisdiction cases. Article 94 (2) of the Charter, under which judgments of the ICJ are to be enforced by the Security Council, has remained a dead letter.51 On the other hand, an advisory opinion is an authoritative statement on a legal question by the prestigious judicial organ of the UN.52 It will not be lightly brushed aside, even if those requesting it, in particular the General Assembly and the Security Council, are free to draw from it the consequences they consider appropriate. It would be hard to argue that a state that acts in conformity with an advisory opinion nevertheless commits an unlawful act. The opinion may be invoked as an important clarification of a problem of international law of general significance, whereas according to Article 59 of the Statute, a decision of the Court binds only the parties and only in respect of their particular dispute.53 If the advisory opinion concerns a rule of customary international law, a reference to it implies that the ICJ has established both sufficient practice and the existence of the equally necessary opinio juris sive necessitatis54 – something, however, which the Court rarely does, at least explicitly. Those who disagree with an argument based on an advisory opinion will again not point out that the opinion is not legally binding but rather rely on what they regard as flaws in the Court’s reasoning and/or conclusions. A state taking countermeasures has a stronger case if the claim that its rights have been violated by another state is supported by an advisory opinion. If the ICJ concludes in an advisory opinion that a state has disregarded an obligation erga omnes, as it did in the Wall advisory opinion, the question arises of whether states other than the directly injured party may resort to countermeasures beyond calling on that state to conform with international law, including reparations – a question not clearly answered by the ILC in Article 54 of its Articles on State Responsibility.55 The ICJ, which mainly relies on its previous jurisprudence and that of its de facto predecessor, the PCIJ, does not differentiate in this respect between judgments and advisory opinions but quotes the latter without any qualifications as to their legal character. Moreover, the Court has not only dealt with matters of secondary legal and/ or political importance in its advisory practice. On the contrary, some of its advisory opinions have made major contributions to the development of international law. 50

Corfu Channel (United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland v. Albania), Merits, Judgment of 9 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 4.

51

Mosler/Oellers-Frahm, supra note 10, at 1178.

52

The line between judgments and advisory opinions of the ICJ is further blurred by the fact that the advisory procedure is closely modelled on the contentious procedure. Thirlway, supra note 42, at 40-41.

53

However, this does not prevent states and the ICJ from invoking judgments of the latter in order to support their legal arguments.

54

The same argument can obviously also be advanced with regard to judgments.

55

Tams, supra note 33, at 789-790.; J. A. Frowein/K. Oellers-Frahm, ‛Article 65’, in A. Zimmermann/C. Tomuschat/K. Oellers-Frahm (eds.), The Statute of the International Court of Justice: A Commentary 1401 (2006), at 1418-1419.

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Examples that come to mind include the compatibility with the object and purpose of the treaty as the criterion for the admissibility of reservations56 or resorting to the implied powers of an international organization for an extensive interpretation of the latter’s competences.57 Politically explosive issues were at stake in the opinions on Certain Expenses of the United Nations (Article 17, paragraph 2, of the Charter) in 196258, Legal Consequences for States of the Continued Presence of South Africa in Namibia (South West Africa) notwithstanding Security Council Resolution 276 (1970) in 197159, Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons in 199660 and Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory in 200461. The significance of advisory opinions varies and depends on factors similar to those that determine the impact of resolutions of international organizations and other forms of ‘soft law’. One is clarity of the wording and the strength of the language used by the Court; another is the majority of the judges in favour of a given conclusion. On the one hand, the possibility of expressing disagreement through separate or dissenting opinions enhances the transparency of the proceedings of the ICJ, on the other the authority of its pronouncements may be reduced by a narrow majority. Moreover, the majority view may only have been achieved by settling for a short and generally worded lowest common denominator. As a result, divergent opinions might even be more convincing, since their authors can develop their positions without taking the views of other judges into account in order to agree on common conclusions. An advisory opinion carries more weight if the ICJ reiterates it in later cases and if states, international organizations and scholars quote it outside the court. Its importance will increase even more if it is applied in actual international practice and included in treaties like the criterion of the object and purpose of a treaty in the two Vienna Conventions on the Law of Treaties of 1969 and 1986. Arguably, advisory opinions are more relevant than ever in an age of growing international interdependence and globalisation. A statement by Judge Koroma in his separate opinion in the Wall advisory opinion, which may be significant beyond the case at hand, is worth quoting in this context:62 ‘The Court’s findings are based on authoritative rules of international law and are of an erga omnes character. The Court’s response provides an authoritative answer to the questions submitted to it. Given the fact that all states are bound by those rules and have an interest in their observance, all

56

Reservations to the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, Advisory Opinion of 23 May 1951, 1951 ICJ Rep. 15.

57

Reparation for Injuries Suffered in the Service of the United Nations, Advisory Opinion of 11 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 174.

58

1962 ICJ Rep. 151.

59

1971 ICJ Rep. 3.

60

1996 ICJ Rep. 263.

61

2004 ICJ Rep. 136.

62

See R. A. Falk, ‘Toward Authoritativeness: The ICJ Ruling on Israel’s Security Wall’, 99 AJIL 42, at 49 (2005).

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states are subject to these findings.’63 – A far cry from the ‘classical’ restrictive definition in the Peace Treaties opinion five and a half decades earlier!64

VI.

Conclusions

Given the restricted space available in a Festschrift, this essay cannot deal with all aspects of the topic. They also include the dichotomy between lawfulness and legitimacy,65 in other words between law and justice, as well as between international organizations and international institutions not endowed with legal personality. Examples of the latter phenomenon are not only the OSCE (despite its misleading name)66 but also the EU, a ‘non-IGO’ with a higher degree of integration among its members than any ‘genuine’ intergovernmental organization.67 The common denominator of the above observations is a plea in favour of a more comprehensive and nuanced analysis of international law which also takes non-legal realities into account. One must not throw out the baby with the bathwater by claiming that ‘soft law’ is invariably superior to ‘hard law’. However, the opposite view, according to which ‘non-law’ is best ignored by international lawyers, leads to an overly simplistic perspective. In light of their effectiveness in practice, norms which are solely ‘politically binding’, responses to unlawful acts below the threshold of a ‘counter-violation’ of legal obligations, dispute settlement methods which do not produce a legally binding third-party decision, and pronouncements of courts or tribunals which do not obligate conflicting parties to abide by them, merit more attention than they have hitherto received in the debate on international law. For ‘soft’ manifestations of international law may in fact sometimes solve the underlying problems – the rapid formation of unambiguous, uniform and flexible norms, an effective response to unlawful acts, the 63

Supra note 61, at 73-74, para. 8 (Judge Koroma, Separate Opinion). See also Falk, supra note 62, at 48-49.

64

Another interesting example are the ‘views’ of the Committee created by the Optional Protocol to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. See, e.g., K. Herndl, ‘Zur Frage des rechtlichen Status der Entscheidungen eines Staatengemeinschaftsorgans: die “views” des Menschenrechtsausschusses’, in K. Ginther et al. (eds.), Völkerrecht zwischen normativem Anspruch und politischer Realität: Festschrift für Karl Zemanek zum 65. Geburtstag 203 (1994).

65

R. Wolfrum/V. Röben (eds.), Legitimacy in International Law (2008).

66

The OSCE might be defined as a ‘soft international organization’ producing ‘soft law’ mainly in the area of ‘soft (namely non-military) security’. On the legal status of the OSCE, see Th. Schweisfurth, ‘Die juristische Mutation der KSZE – eine internationale Organisation in statu nascendi’, in U. Beyerlin et al. (eds.), Recht zwischen Umbruch und Bewahrung. Völkerrecht, Europarecht, Staatsrecht. Festschrift für Rudolf Bernhardt 213 (1995); I. Seidl-Hohenveldern, ‘Internationale Organisationen aufgrund von soft law’, in ibid., 229.

67

This legal absurdity ought to be remedied by Article 47 of the new Treaty on European Union, provided the treaty is ratified by all members of the EU and actually enters into force. See Bardo Fassbender, ‘Die Völkerrechtsfähigkeit der Europäischen Union nach dem Entwurf des Verfassungsvertrages’, 42 Archiv des Völkerrechts 26 (2004).

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genuine settlement of international disputes and the clarification of controversial rules of international law – better than their apparently ‘hard’ alternatives.68

68

The increasing importance of ‘soft law’ might even represent a maturing of the international system, since the regulation of relations within a society by legally binding instruments is not necessarily evidence of a high degree of integration. Voluntary compliance with informal rules and principles may be a more relevant indicator in this respect. Cf. Shelton, supra note 2, at 183.

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The Rule of Law, Codification and the Role of Gerhard Hafner Ferdinand Trauttmansdorff

I.

The Rule of Law, Codification and Progressive Development of International Law within the United Nations – An Austrian Approach

Austrian foreign policy has a longstanding tradition of giving very high priority to promoting, developing and strengthening the international rule of law. Given the rather lofty sense attached nowadays to the notion of the rule of law,1 the introductory sentence sounds like hollow diplomatic self-praise. But facts speak a clear language. The Austrian Second Republic was born from the ashes of World War II and gained its freedom and independence after seven years of inhuman Nazi rule and ten years of allied occupation. It found itself, from the moment of its full independence and when declaring its neutrality, embedded at the edge of the two interest zones of the parties to the cold war. Austria thereby learned its lesson: A small and medium sized state’s survival, independence and prosperity largely depends on an international order based on rules abided by all actors on the global scene, including the great powers and superpowers. This is why Austria, during more than half a century of its membership in the United Nations, took the clear choice of investing more resources in the codification and progressive development of international law than most other states. From the beginning of its membership in the United Nations in 1955, the codification of rules based on the work of the International Law Commission (ILC) constituted a clear priority for Austria and its dedicated diplomats and international lawyers. This priority was, furthermore, tied to Austria’s efforts to develop Vienna into a city hosting the third Center of the United Nations. Thus, several important diplomatic conferences codifying and progressively developing basic rules of modern international law were held in Vienna and are visibly marking the path of Austria’s ambition to play a leading role in promoting the international rule of law. The three ‘grand’ Vienna Conventions on Diplomatic Relations

1

See 2005 World Summit Outcome, UN General Assembly Res. 60/1, UN Doc. A/RES/60/1 (24 October 2005), para. 134.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 361-372, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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of 1961,2 on Consular Relations of 19633 and on the Law of Treaties of 19694 are still to be regarded as corner stones of basic rules regulating international relations. Less known but also highly important Vienna Conventions signed during the the 1960s are the Vienna Convention on Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage 1963,5 the Vienna Convention on Road Traffic6 and the Vienna Convention on Road Signs and Signals.7 They were followed by a number of further significant ‘Vienna Conventions’ during the 1970s and 1980s.8 The last ‘Vienna Convention’ that entered into force until today is the Vienna Convention on Succession of States with respect to Treaties of 23 August 1978.9 This Convention has at the same time been the last multilateral treaty based on a draft prepared by the ILC and codifying basic rules of international law that entered into force thus far. The last Diplomatic Conference held in Vienna for the purpose of codifying basic rules of international law resulted in the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties between States and International Organizations or between International Organizations in 1986.10 This Convention, having failed to enter into force until now as it lacks the necessary 35 ratifications, marks a certain decline of UN efforts of codification and progressive development based on the work of the ILC. During two decades following this Convention only two more multilateral treaties have been adopted as a direct result of the work of the ILC. These are the UN Convention on the Law of the Non-Navigational Use of International Watercourses of 199711 and the Convention on Jurisdictional Immunity of States and their Property of 2004,12 both not yet in force. A special case in the history of codification based on the work of the ILC is the adoption of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC) on 17 July 2

Done at Vienna on 18 April 1961, entered into force on 24 April 1964, 500 UNTS 95.

3

Done at Vienna on 24 April 1963, entered into force on 19 March 1967, 596 UNTS 262.

4

Done at Vienna on 23 May 1969, entered into force on 27 January 1980, 1155 UNTS 331.

5

1963 Vienna Convention on Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage, 2 ILM 727 (1963), amended by the 1997 Protocol to Amend the 1963 Vienna Convention on Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage, 36 ILM 1462 (1997).

6

Done at Vienna on 8 November 1968, entered into force on 21 May 1977, 1042 UNTS 17.

7

Done at Vienna on 8 November 1968, entered into force on 6 June 1978.

8

1973 Vienna Convention on Precious Metals Hallmarking; 1980 United Nations (Vienna) Convention on Contracts for the International Sale of Goods, 1489 UNTS 3; 1983 Vienna Convention on Succession of States with respect to Property, Archives and Debts, 22 ILM 306 (1983); 1985 Vienna Convention for the Protection of the Ozone Layer, 26 ILM 1529 (1987); 1986 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties between States and International Organizations or Between International Organizations, 25 ILM 543 (1986); 1988 United Nations Convention Against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances, 28 ILM 493 (1989).

9

1978 Vienna Convention on Succession of States with respect to Treaties, 1946 UNTS 3, entered into force 6 November 1996.

10

Done at Vienna on 21 March 1986.

11

UN Doc. A/RES/51/49, adopted on 21 May 1997.

12

UN Doc. A/RES/59/49, adopted on 2 December 2004.

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1998. This happened only in the 50th year after the General Assembly, when adopting the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide,13 had invited the ILC ‘to study the desirability and possibility of establishing an international judicial organ for the trial of persons charged with genocide’.14 The first draft statute and a revised draft statute for an international court for the trial and punishment of the most serious crimes against humanity had already been prepared by a committee established for that purpose by the General Assembly as early as 1951 and 1953. Their consideration, however, was consistently postponed as a definition of the crime of aggression was still pending. It was not until 1989 that the ILC, upon request by the General Assembly, resumed and finally completed its work on a draft statute for an international criminal court in 1994.15 The tragic events in Yugoslavia and Rwanda and the establishment of the International Criminal Tribunals for the Former Yugoslavia and for Rwanda by the Security Council eventually provided the final impetus speeding up the establishment of the ICC. The work of the Ad Hoc Committee on the Establishment of an ICC in 1995 was taken over in 1996 by the Preparatory Committee that prepared the diplomatic conference that eventually adopted the Statute in Rome.

II.

Is the Codification Process Based on the Work of the ILC in Crisis?

Compared with the success of codifications based on the work of the ILC during the ‘golden age’ of codifying international law during the 1960s and 1970s, there are clear indications that the classical model of codification and progressive development that resulted in widely accepted treaty instruments ceased to be the prevalent pattern of the ongoing activities of the international community in the field of codification. The low rate and slow process of ratification of most of the conventions based on drafts prepared by the ILC leads to a clear conclusion: A convention with a low level of formal acceptance may have, at least for a number of years, less legal authority and regulating force for the international community of states than draft articles prepared by the ILC and acknowledged by a resolution of the General Assembly of the United Nations. This assessment seems to be especially adequate for conventions that may be ratified predominantly by a number of ‘Western’ states, while lacking sufficient signatures and ratifications from states in other regions among countries belonging for instance to the Organisation of the Islamic Conference (IOC), in order to reflect wider global acceptance.16

13

UN Doc. A/RES/260 (1948).

14

Ibid., at B.

15

Report of the ILC on the work of its forty-sixth session, 1994 YILC 1994, Vol. II (Part 2), at 18.

16

Which currently has 57 states and 5 observers (including Northern Cyprus), see http://www. oic-oci.org.

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This is the conclusion reached by Austria which therefore supported for a number of years the ‘resting’ of several sets of draft articles by refraining from taking steps towards formally adopting them in the form of conventions, unless a sufficiently high level of ratifications was to be expected. The Austrian attitude is also based on the fear that sets of draft articles containing basic rules potentially constituting an important contribution to the international rule of law, may be forever spoiled if they are prematurely converted into formal treaties. This may be the case if they are adopted in the form of a convention that awaits a sufficient number of worldwide ratifications enabling them to widely regulate the relevant behaviour of states beyond just merely entering into force, for decades. Such a slow ratification process over a long period of time may for instance be expected even for such basic rules as the Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts.17 A provision like article 31 of the Articles, providing for full reparation for injury caused by a wrongful act, may hardly be fit to meet wide formal acceptance, since governments may be reluctant to take responsibility for all the risk incurred by a breach of law. These Articles nevertheless contain the basic principles on the responsibility of states for wrongful acts, widely anchored in state practice and customary law, so that their regulating force may not necessarily suffer from the fact that they have not been adopted in the form of a multilateral treaty. The present attempt to elaborate Articles on the Responsibility of International Organizations, which prompted the Special Rapporteur Prof. Giorgio Gaja to basically copy the provisions from the Articles on State Responsibility, will constitute an additional test for the viability of the latter. Austria holds the view that similar caution is warranted for instance in the case of the Draft Articles on Diplomatic Protection,18 considered to be part of the work complementing the rules on State Responsibility. So far, the General Assembly only ‘took note’ of the mentioned Articles on State Responsibility, without formally or implicitly endorsing their content. A stronger endorsement by the General Assembly, particularly by consensus, might further support the legal authority of similar attempts to codify and progressively develop international law. The Sixth Committee may more actively try to find ways to achieve such an endorsement for draft articles that codify important areas of international law. The fact that draft articles may lack provisions concerning for instance the settlement of disputes or final clauses19 obviously does not do substantial harm to their legal authority. Their legal quality naturally depends – among other factors – on the extent 17

Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, Adopted by the ILC at its fifty-third session in 2001. The General Assembly took note of the Draft Articles in Res. 56/83, UN Doc. A/RES/56/83 (2001), after 46 years of consideration by the ILC and the General Assembly. In 2007, Austria voted for the postponement of future action in the form of a diplomatic conference for their adoption as a convention.

18

Draft Articles on Diplomatic Protection, adopted by the ILC at its fifty-eighth session in 2006. The General Assembly took note of the Draft Articles in UN General Assembly Res. 61/35, UN Doc. A/RES/61/35 (2006). In 2007, Austria voted for postponement of action.

19

See, for instance, the General commentary to the draft Articles on the Law of Transboundary Aquifers, first reading, in Report of the ILC fifty-eighth session, General Assembly Official Records Supplement 10, UN Doc. A/61/10, at 193.

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to which such provisions incorporate customary international law and/or are consistent with state practice. The acceptability of provisions representing progressive development of international law may only be tested effectively over an extended trial period. Provisions that, without being supported by solid state practice, try to reconcile conflicting state practice or seek to bridge gaps between provisions based on customary law or provisions being otherwise consistent with state practice or just try to offer practicable solutions where such state practice does not exist, will have to pass an extended ‘acceptability test’. In this regard, it might serve the incorporation of such provisions into state practice if draft articles were more widely published with commentaries that indicate which provisions are confirmed by state practice and judicial practice and those which have been drafted on the basis of other considerations. The articles and commentaries should also reflect the different views of the member states as clearly as possible. Such commentaries are usually contained in the Reports of the ILC to the General Assembly in the course of their first and second reading. In a finalized form they should be published by the UN together with the articles in order to increase their ‘visibility’, strengthen their legal authority and facilitate the assessment of the level of their acceptance. To achieve this result, however, an increased readiness by member states to respond to invitations by the ILC and the General Assembly for written comments would indeed be helpful, particularly if they were to indicate which provisions require re-consideration in order to meet wider acceptance. On this basis, draft articles and supporting state practice may also be subject to periodical consideration by the General Assembly, beyond the mere consideration of resolutions on the question of holding diplomatic conferences for their adoption. Such consideration would require a higher level of participation by the legal advisers in the debate of the Sixth Committee in number as well as in substance. The above mentioned decline in codification efforts by the UN is also reflected by the relatively low rate of participation by member delegations, witnessed in recent sessions of the Sixth Committee of the General Assembly. The lacklustre involvement by delegations of member states in the consideration of the annual report of the ILC definitively requires an in-depth examination including the various legal, political, psychological and practical reasons underlying this behaviour. Whatever the reason, the present situation cannot be considered satisfactory. The willingness by the majority of the member states to invest ideas, efforts and preparation more actively in the debate in the Sixth Committee is low and probably in further decline. Efforts by Sweden and Austria in recent years to revitalize the communication between the ILC and the member states by initiating an informal exchange of views between the delegations in the Sixth Committee and participating Special Rapporteurs and other members of the ILC20 on the issues on the agenda, have so far not met with the success hoped for by its initiators. Although these informal debates seemed to add some dynamic to the exchange between the members of the ILC and the legal advisers in the Sixth Committee, only a disappointingly low number of delegations actively participated. The short time 20

At the informal discussions held in the Sixth Committee on 30 October 2007 the discussion was attended by seven members of the ILC.

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usually available and the difficulty to focus on a few well prepared subject-matters decreased the practical impact of this initiative so far. It cannot be left to the ILC alone to make additional efforts to re-accelerate the somewhat stalling engine of the ILC-based codification process. The member states are obviously not providing sufficient input in the course of this process. Members of the ILC rightly complain that calls for state comments to ILC drafts receive substantial and valuable replies only by a low number of member states. The readiness to act upon drafts finally adopted by the ILC is also less than enthusiastic. There may be indications that the offices of the legal advisers are under higher pressure than ever before to provide ready-made solutions for a host of problems arising from highly accelerated global communication. The still existing interest in further developing a rule-based international order by promoting the codification and progressive development of basic norms of international law may thus time and again be placed on the back burner of the legal advisers’ attention. Furthermore, the official gazettes of member states are filled with international instruments regulating all sorts of technical aspects of international relations that keep the legal advisers’ offices busy with day-to-day matters. This may distract their attention from the obviously still existing deficit regarding the codification of basic norms necessary for completing a rule-based international order that would meet the expectations created by the repeated call for strengthening the international rule of law. The present call for the strengthening of the international rule of law is not primarily about creating further and more detailed specific international rules regulating technical matters. It aims at the challenge of further developing basic rules regulating for example the conduct of states and international organizations in their mutual relations. With respect to rules that would correspond to constitutional laws, fundamental rights, civil codes, criminal codes and procedural laws on the domestic level, the international scene abounds in unfinished legal construction sites and in legal ‘buildings’ that have become shabby, if not – at least partly – uninhabitable and unusable. Most of these areas, except human rights law, humanitarian law and environmental law, come within the mandate and the work plan performed hitherto by the ILC. In other areas where codification was booming during the second half of the past century, the engine seems to run out of fuel as well. Thus, in the law of the sea, after the entry into force of the Straddling Fish Stocks Agreement,21 no further broader codification projects, promising early realization, are visible.22 In the field of human rights, the international community faces the challenge of a grossly uneven

21

1995 United Nations Agreement for the Implementation of the Provisions of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea of 10 December 1982 relating to the Conservation and Management of Straddling Fish Stocks and Highly Migratory Fish Stocks, 2167 UNTS 3 (entered into force on 11 December 2001).

22

This impression also seems to be true with regard to efforts of developing the protection of marine biodiversity based on the 1992 UN Convention on Biological Diversity (see, for instance, the World Conference on Marine Biodiversity in Valencia, Spain, November 2008). Detailed technical efforts to regulate and improve maritime security are going on under the responsibility of the International Maritime Organization (IMO).

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practice of implementing existing human rights instruments. Their effect is partly undermined by the difference in legal traditions that are, at least in the eyes of certain groups of states, not sufficiently incorporated in, or reflected by, these instruments. Furthermore, the tendency to politicize issues of human rights protection has rather increased instead of decreased. This situation does not encourage further codification efforts.23 International humanitarian law is defended mainly by the ‘Red Cross movement’ against the challenges of the continuing change in the character of international conflicts and the use of force and violence in international relations. Despite expert talks for instance on the application of humanitarian law to private security companies or on the subject of direct participation of civilians in hostilities, emphasis seems to remain rather on trying to apply existing rules of the Geneva Convention(s) than on venturing into potentially highly controversial codification efforts. International environmental law saw considerable success in codifying important rules during the last quarter of the past century, but today also lacks new initiatives promising successful codification that would meet the challenges of global warming and worldwide pollution in the near future. The issue of conservation of the world’s energy and mining resources does not show any sustainable regulatory attempts on the global level either. In the light of these developments, the ILC remains a crucial player, influencing the future of the international rule of law. It can therefore not be satisfied with the present state of affairs. The fact that the programmatic World Summit Outcome Resolution24 failed to underline the important role of the ILC in promoting the international rule of law does not discharge it from its responsibilities within the UN system. First of all, more basic brain-storming on how to revive the codification work seems to be decisively important and should be shared with the member states. Furthermore, all 34 elected members have to recognize their duty to fully engage in their crucial role and distribute the work among them more even-handedly, without excessively fragmenting the ILC’s work.25 They should be ready to engage more directly with legal advisers and other contacts in the member states, including academic circles, on issues of codification. These contacts should be supported by sufficient means, for instance by travel allowances facilitating participation in the considerations of the Sixth Committee. In so far as they belong to the realm of academic teaching and research, members of the ILC should consciously further develop their contacts and exchange of ideas with practising international lawyers at home and abroad. Such deepened and enlarged cooperation may fertilize the mutual support between the ILC members and legal advisers. This

23

Despite calls by NGOs for an early adoption of an Optional Protocol to the UN Covenant on Economic Social and Cultural Rights allowing individual and group complaints, the ongoing codification efforts in this field seem to be a particularly difficult area given the essentially collective and partially comprehensive character of the rights concerned. Even in case of adoption only limited and late ratification seems to be realistic.

24

See supra note 1.

25

See the criticism by S. Rosenne, ‘Codification Revisited after Fifty Years’, 2 Max Planck Yearbook of United Nations Law 5 (1998).

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should facilitate the identification of subject-matters for future codification projects and at the same time encourage feedback from state practice into their work. On the other hand, legal offices in all foreign ministries around the world will consciously have to recognize the importance of investing more time, resources and expenses into the codification and progressive development of rules that constitute the basic framework for a rules-based international order. If the obvious deficits in the field of codification are to be overcome, the legal advisers’ participation in the work of the Sixth Committee cannot be limited to primarily passive presence and to only one or two speeches of a general nature in the General Assembly. For instance, the problem of increasing fragmentation of international law is not exhaustively addressed merely by a compilation and reminder of formal and basic principles supposed to regulate the relationship between conflicting norms. Of course, this assessment should by no means reduce the value of the Conclusions of the Work of the Study Group on the Fragmentation of International Law.26 Yet the problem is not only the existence of conflicting international norms created under different legal regimes, but increasingly also the issue of different legal traditions feeding an increasingly sceptical attitude towards international norms that have been elaborated under the strong influence of alien, usually ‘western’, legal traditions. This problem becomes particularly visible in the case of customary (domestic) law under the Muslim ‘Sharia’ conflicting with international human rights norms. But even differing attitudes within the same legal tradition may create fundamentally conflicting interpretations for instance of existing human rights and humanitarian law. Thus, attitudes the current United States administration has initially displayed under the impression of the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001 with regard to content and applicability of certain norms of humanitarian and human rights law differ in some important aspects fundamentally from European interpretations. As shown by the dialogue among United States and European legal advisers regarding the application of human rights and humanitarian law in the combat against terrorism,27 intensified and more flexible ways of dialogue among legal advisers and among legal advisers and academics seem of increased importance. New avenues have been opened but will have to be further developed and followed in this regard.

26

See Conclusions of the Work of the Study Group on the Fragmentation of International Law: Difficulties arising from the diversification and expansion of international law accompanied by an analytical study under the Chairmanship of Martti Koskenniemi, contained in UN Doc. A/CN.4/L.682 and Corr.1 (2006), Report of the ILC, in General Assembly Official Records, 61th session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/61/10 (2006), para. 251. The relevant work of the ILC was based on a report by Gerhard Hafner (with the support of Isabelle Buffard, Axel Marschik and Stephan Wittich), see 2000 YILC, Vol. II, at 173.

27

The dialogue between European legal advisers and the US State Department legal adviser John Bellinger III on issues of combating terrorism and human rights and humanitarian law started in January 2006 under Austrian EU Presidency and is still ongoing. It helped to either bridge or better understand some of the fundamental gaps in the assessment of the legal foundations governing the treatment of prisoners in Guantánamo. It also led to an intensified day-to day-contact.

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The Cooperation between the Foreign Ministry and Academics – The Austrian Approach

Austria has a long-standing tradition of close cooperation between the legal advisers’ office and Austrian professors and teachers of international law. A good number of them have served temporarily within the Legal Adviser’s Office (Völkerrechtsbüro) of the Austrian Foreign Ministry and have participated in delegations to international conferences, meetings, committees and groups involved in codification and progressive development of international law.28 This close cooperation is based on the idea of a highly useful cross-fertilization between theory and practice from which both sides no doubt invariably profit to a great extent. For many years, the Foreign Service and Austrian Foreign Policy relied upon the academic advice of the doyen of the living Austrian international lawyers, Professor Karl Zemanek, who also participated in and chaired a number of international codification conferences. In 2004, he was followed by Gerhard Hafner who, among all Austrian academics, was probably the one most closely associated with the Legal Adviser’s Office.29 He has repeatedly served in the Office and has served in, and in seven cases also headed, the Austrian delegation in a great number of codification conferences and preparatory meetings. Even without counting his membership in the ILC (19972001), he was definitely one of the most influential contributors to the codification and progressive development of international law on behalf of Austria.

IV.

Gerhard Hafner – A Role Model

The entire professional life of Gerhard Hafner has thus been and still is inseparably linked to the recent history of codification and progressive development of international law. His professional activities have become the prototype of building a human bridge between legal practice and academia. Gerhard Hafner unites a number of qualities and qualifications that equip him well to assume this role. First of all, his knowledge of international law is clearly multi-disciplinary, which permits him to be a highly flexible partner ready to offer his knowledge and legal assessment according to the needs – also on very short notice. He is a highly critical spirit who leaves no stone unturned when dealing with a legal question. He acquired considerable diplomatic skills and his enthusiasm to participate in multilateral diplomacy in the field of codification 28

Among Austrian academics of international law who have gained experience with, and at the same time greatly contributed to, international legal practice by serving in and for the Austrian Foreign Ministry, but eventually decided not to dedicate their entire professional life to the Foreign Service, the following may be mentioned: Stefan Verosta, Hanspeter Neuhold, Wolfram Karl, Michael Thaler, Günther Handl, Wolfgang Benedek, Gerhard Loibl, Hubert Isak, August Reinisch, Erich Schweighofer, Gudrun Zagel, Ulrike Brandl, Gerhard Oberleitner, Ursula Kriebaum, and Stephan Wittich. Alfred Verdross-Drossberg also has considerably influenced the Austrian international legal practice.

29

See the Bibliographical Summary, xv.

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and progressive development of international law is well known. He has developed a record of leadership in the codification process by providing substance in terms of knowledge, creative ideas and constructive criticism, rather than by striving for honours and formal positions. As already mentioned, Gerhard Hafner has served in the Legal Adviser’s Office of the Austrian Foreign Ministry several times, the first time 1971. In 1993/94 he was finally appointed Head of the Department of International Law and thus this author’s immediate predecessor. It needed a particularly capable multi-tasking-talent to serve in the Foreign Ministry and at the same time maintain and develop a brilliant academic career. In 2004, Gerhard Hafner followed Karl Zemanek as academic legal adviser to the Foreign Ministry, a role which he has performed ever since. Since the beginning of this ‘bi-polar’ professional career, Gerhard Hafner has started to play a crucial role in most of the involvements of Austria in the process of codification. He is one of the few persons who actively participated in the Austrian delegation to practically the entire law of the sea codification process. He became a member of the delegation to the Preparatory Committee30 in 1972 and served through the entire Conference on the Law of the Sea from 1973 until the adoption of the Convention on 10 December 1982.31 In 1972, he also participated in the Conference elaborating and adopting the Convention on the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping of Wastes and Other Matter.32 Later he also participated in the elaboration of the Convention on Conditions for the Registration of Ships, adopted 1986 in Geneva.33 Furthermore, he participated in the work of the OSCE’s legal experts, starting in Montreux 1978, then in Athens in 1984 and eventually in La Valetta, 1991, elaborating the OSCE system of arbitration and settlement of disputes.34 Besides, Gerhard Hafner has participated in all Vienna Codification Conferences mentioned above since the beginning of the 1970s. In the 1990s, Gerhard Hafner became an influential contributor to the elaboration of the Statute of the ICC, starting in 1996. On 17 July 1998, he held the Austrian speech at the occasion of the adoption of the Rome Statute as head of delegation. The role of Gerhard Hafner in the elaboration of the United Nations Convention on the Safety of

30

The Preparatory Committee was created by enlargement of the Committee on the Peaceful Uses of the Sea-bed and the Ocean Floor, UN General Assembly Res. 2750 C (XXV), UN Doc. A/RES/2750 C (XXV).

31

Entered into force on 16 November 1994, 1833 UNTS 3.

32

Adopted on 13 November 1972, entered into force on 30 August 1975, 1046 UNTS 120.

33

26 ILM 1229 (1987).

34

For the history of this process see P. Schneider/T. J. A. Müller-Wolf , The Court of Conciliation and Arbitration within the OSCE, Centre for OSCE Research, Working Paper No. 16 (2007). See also G. Hafner, ‘Das Streitbeilegungsabkommen der KSZE. Cui bono?’, in K. Ginther et al. (ed.), Völkerrecht zwischen normativem Ausgleich und politischer Realität 115 (1994); G. Hafner, ‘Bemühungen um ein gesamteuropäisches Streitbeilegungssystem im Rahmen der KSZE’, in K.-H. Böckstiegel et al. (ed.), Law of Nations, Law of International Organizations, World’s Economic Law 147 (1988).

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United Nations and Associated Personnel, adopted by the General Assembly in 1994,35 was also widely recognized. As a member of the ILC, Gerhard Hafner proved to be instrumental in the drafting of the United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property. In 1999, he was appointed Chairman of the respective Working Group of the ILC, which provided the basis for the final breakthrough in the considerations of the Sixth Committee.36 After the end of his term in the ILC he was appointed Chairman of the Ad Hoc Committee that elaborated the final text of the Convention, adopted by the General Assembly on 2 December 2004,37 55 years after work on the issue of jurisdictional immunities had started within the ILC. Finally, it is to be noted that Gerhard Hafner served in numerous Austrian delegations to the UN General Assembly and other international meetings and conferences. The important contribution he made as an individual to the codification and progressive development of international legal rules forming basic elements of an international rule of law is undisputed.

V.

Concluding Remarks

Given the impressive record of the United Nations in the field of codification of international law during the last six decades,38 a clear picture of a slowing pace of codification based on the work of the ILC is materializing. Apart from the special case of the ICC, only one convention based on draft articles adopted by the ILC during the last thirty years entered into force. Some sets of draft articles were adopted by the Commission and taken note of by the General Assembly, now resting as a valuable reference for further international practice and teaching of international law. Whether or not this development is desirable, the speed and the scope of the production of rules that are likely to meet wide global acceptability has clearly decreased. This phenomenon needs to be addressed by recent calls for the promotion of an international rule of law and the process of developing further basic rules of international law. Among the many steps that could be considered in order to revitalize the development and promotion of such basic rules, the long-standing Austrian practice of combining academic excellence and diplomatic practice still seems a promising approach. Gerhard Hafner’s extraordinary contribution to the codification and progressive development of international law and his highly pro-active role as a member of the ILC39 have highlighted the value of this long-standing Austrian practice. Following from this and other positive experiences, one may conclude that academics, closely 35

UN Doc. A/RES/49/59 (1994).

36

See 1999 YILC, 1999, Vol. II (Part Two), at 128 et seq., and The Work of the International Law Commission, Vol. 1, at 190 et seq. (2007).

37

UN Doc. A/RES/59/38 (2004).

38

For the assessment of the 50 years leading up to 1998, see Rosenne, supra note 25.

39

A glance through the interventions made by Gerhard Hafner and the leading roles he assumed as reflected in the Yearbooks of the ILC for the years 1998-2001, clearly show this role.

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associated with the legal advisers’ offices while fully making use of their academic freedom, creativity and research resources, seem to be the type of persons that can and should continue to fuel the engine of the ILC-related codification process. However, it should not be disregarded that the ‘human element’ is essential. Improvements in procedures and institutional support alone cannot make a difference, unless persons possessing human leadership are involved. The necessary talents and skills, a capacity for multi-disciplinary work, the commitment to foster the development of international law, diplomatic skills and the dedication to multilateral diplomacy seem to be important prerequisites for such leadership. Gerhard Hafner is a shining example of a person possessing such leadership – not by constantly striving for formal positions but through his substantial contributions to the codification process that are marked by academic excellence and practical experience of many years. This has repeatedly been appreciated by his colleagues and surely by all those members of Austrian diplomacy, who – like the present author – were lucky enough to benefit for so many years from Gerhard Hafner’s skills, his extraordinarily resourceful advice and, above all, his loyalty and friendship.

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The General Assembly and the International Law Commission: What Happens to the Commission’s Work and Why? Michael Wood

I.

Introduction

Gerhard Hafner was a member of the International Law Commission from 1997 to 2001, a quinquennium that saw major achievements, in particular the adoption in 2001 of the Articles on State Responsibility. He played a very positive role in the intensive work that led to the adoption of these Articles, a topic at the heart of public international law. And when in 1999 the Commission reconsidered its 1991 Draft Articles on State Immunity, he chaired the working group. This led to Gerhard Hafner’s most significant contribution to the success of the Commission’s work.1 Between 1999 and 2004, he steered the Sixth Committee to a positive outcome on State Immunity. Success was not a foregone conclusion. The eventual outcome – the 2004 United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property – is a major achievement, which owes much to Gerhard Hafner’s diplomatic and legal skills, and to the high respect in which he is held by colleagues in Geneva and New York. A good deal has been written about the International Law Commission and its working methods,2 and how it interacts with the Sixth (Legal) Committee of the United Nations General Assembly.3 The Commission’s sixtieth anniversary session in 2008 is

1

This was not, by any means, Gerhard Hafner’s only significant personal contribution. His was, for example, the original inspiration for the important work that culminated in the 2006 Study on Fragmentation. His synopsis ‘Risks Ensuing from Fragmentation of International Law’ annexed to the Report of the ILC 2000, 2000 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 143-150, led to the inclusion of the topic in the programme of work (ibid., para. 729).

2

See the works listed in the bibliography in M. R. Anderson et al. (eds.), The International Law Commission and the Future of International Law 231-239 (1998). The Select Bibliography annexed to the present article lists writings not included in the BIICL Study. Further bibliographies on individual topics are to be found in A. D. Watts, The International Law Commission 1949-1998 (1999). See also United Nations, The Work of the International Law Commission (2007); and the Commission’s website (in particular, the Analytical Guide).

3

See F. D. Berman, ‘The ILC within the UN’s Legal Framework: Its Relationship with the Sixth Committee’, 49 German Yearbook of International Law 107 (2006); P. S. Rao, ‘International Law Commission’, in R. Wolfrum (ed.), Max Planck Encyclopedia of Public International Law, paras. 29-30 (2008).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 373-388, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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an occasion for further reflection.4 Some attention has also been given to the question of the form to be given to the final results of the Commission’s work.5 At its session in 2007, the General Assembly dealt with three major pieces of work to emerge from the Commission: the Draft Articles on Diplomatic Protection; the Draft Articles on Prevention of Transboundary Harm from Hazardous Activities (together with the Draft Principles on allocation of loss in the case of such harm); and, for the third time, the Articles on State Responsibility. Three years earlier, in 2004, it had dealt with another great ILC project, State immunity. The aim of this contribution is to explore, in the light of these recent examples (and inevitably in a rather impressionistic way), the various considerations that the members of the General Assembly may have in mind when deciding how to proceed with the final output of the Commission’s work on a particular topic. These considerations are similar, if not identical, to those in the minds of members of the Commission when they decide the form of the final output of their work, and what recommendations to make to the General Assembly.

II.

The Respective Roles of the Commission and General Assembly

There are two principal stages leading to the eventual disposition of the Commission’s work. First, as it finalizes its work on a topic or sub-topic, the Commission usually makes a recommendation to the General Assembly, in more or less clear terms, as to the form in which, and sometimes the procedure by which, the text should be adopted.6 Second, the General Assembly, in practice the Sixth Committee, then decides on the eventual form to be taken by the Commission’s output, or postpones a decision (sometime sine die). Both stages may be prolonged. They are – or should be – closely related to the substance of the topic. The Commission’s Statute envisages that progressive development would lead to ‘draft conventions’, whereas codification would lead to ‘the more precise formulation 4

For example, the Meeting with Legal Advisers in Geneva on 19-20 May 2008, under the theme: ‘The International Law Commission: Sixty Years … And Now?’

5

See F. Vallat, ‘The Work of the International Law Commission: The Law of Treaties’, 22 Netherlands International Law Review 327, at 336 (1975); I. M. Sinclair, The International Law Commission 36-39 (1987); D. Caron, ‘The ILC Articles on State Responsibility: The Paradoxical Relationship Between Form and Authority’, 96 AJIL 857 (2002); J. Crawford, The International Law Commission’s Articles on State Responsibility: Introduction, Text and Commentaries 58-60 (2002); Berman, supra note 3, at 123-125; Rao, supra note 3, paras. 21-25.

6

Statute of the International Law Commission, 2187 UNTS 90, art. 23. The Commission does not always made a recommendation; at its first session, when submitting to the General Assembly the draft Declaration on the Rights and Duties of States, the Commission decided ‘to place on record its conclusion that it was for the General Assembly to decide what further course of action should be taken in relation to the draft Declaration and, in particular, whether it should be transmitted to Member Governments for comments’. Report of the ILC 1949, para. 53, 1949 YILC, at 290.

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and systematization of rules’.7 In practice, ‘a strict distinction is neither possible nor necessary’,8 and the Commission’s output usually takes the form of draft articles, with commentaries. These are often, but not invariably, intended to be adopted as conventions. Sometimes however they are seen as ‘framework agreements’ or just a text, the article form being a convenient manner of setting out the law.9 There are no formal limits to the form of the Commission’s output. In some cases, instead of draft articles, the output might take the form of a study, a model law or model rules, guidelines, principles, a declaration, conclusions, suggestions, or some combination thereof.10 The Commission usually has a clear view of the form of its own output at an early stage of its consideration of a topic, even if it may not then have a clear idea as to what its recommendation to the General Assembly will be. It is now standard practice to consider the question of form even before a topic is placed on the agenda, at the stage when a topic is simply being proposed for inclusion on the agenda. And the Special Rapporteur is expected to make timely proposals concerning the form of the final output of his or her topic. The Commission frequently recommends that its draft articles be adopted as a convention. In doing so it may further recommend the procedure to be followed, for example, that the General Assembly convene an international conference. The Assembly has not always followed the Commission’s procedural recommendation, even when it has decided to adopt a convention. Indeed, with hindsight it is perhaps not necessarily always appropriate for the Commission to suggest the procedure to be followed, and it has often not done so or done so only in the most general terms. The Assembly has not in fact paid great attention to such procedural recommendations. It has increasingly preferred to adopt a convention itself, working through the Sixth Committee and sometimes also though an ad hoc intersessional committee.11 This has financial

7

Statute of the International Law Commission, supra note 6, art. 15, based on the report of the Committee for the Progressive Development and Codification of International Law (Committee of Seventeen). For authoritative accounts of the drafting of the Statute and the establishment of the Commission, see Y. Liang, ‘The General Assembly and the Progressive Development and Codification of International Law’, 42 AJIL 66 (1948); Y. Liang, ‘Le développement et la codification du droit international’, 73 Recueil des Cours 407 (1948).

8

Rao, supra note 3, para. 5. But see Berman, supra note 3, at 127.

9

Not unlike that great work on English private international law, Dicey/Morris/Collins, The Conflict of Laws.

10

For example, the Commission adopted ‘Guiding Principles applicable to unilateral declarations of States capable of creating legal obligations’ in 2006 and commended them to the attention of the Assembly, Report of the ILC 2006, para 170. The Assembly took note of the Principles and commended their dissemination, UN General Assembly Res. 61/34, UN Doc. A/RES/61/34 (2006), para. 3.

11

Conventions adopted by the General Assembly on the basis of draft articles prepared by the Commission include the 1969 Convention on Special Missions, the 1973 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of Crimes against Internationally Protected Persons, including Diplomatic Agents, the 1997 Convention on the Law of Non-navigational Uses of International Watercourses, and the 2004 United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property.

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advantages, for the United Nations and for delegations. It may, however, result in the presence of fewer specialists in the subject-matter under negotiation, since delegates to the Sixth Committee will probably be generalist international lawyers – but this is not necessarily a disadvantage. Indeed, the traditional ‘codification conference’ may be a thing of the past; the last took place over 20 years ago.12 When the Commission’s output takes the form of draft articles, the principal distinction is between those that eventually lead to the adoption of a treaty and those where the final draft articles are not taken further, beyond being noted and commended to the attention of governments. Anything short of a convention has sometimes in the past been seen as a failure. Of course, in the context of the Commission’s work, ‘success’ and ‘failure’ are relative concepts. At the risk of falsely suggesting watertight categories, one can say there are broadly speaking four outcomes: successful conventions; successful draft articles; unsuccessful conventions; and unsuccessful draft articles.13 The Commission may make various recommendations to the General Assembly, as is clear from article 23 of its Statute.14 The article sets out the principal options before the Commission, but it is not a precise or exhaustive list. It provides that the Commission may recommend to the General Assembly: (a) To take no action, the report having been already published; (b) To take note of or adopt the report by resolution: (c) To recommend the draft to Members with a view to the conclusion of a convention; (d) To convoke a conference to conclude a convention. In its early years, the Commission was relatively flexible in the recommendations it made. But writing in the mid-1980s, Sinclair noted that over the preceding ten years or so the practice of the Commission had been invariably to recommend the convening of a conference.15 This rigidity was criticized,16 and the Commission now adopts a more differentiated approach. 12

The Vienna Conference on the Law of Treaties between States and International Organizations, held in 1986, was the last such conference. Before 1986, codification conferences had seemed the norm (1958 and 1960 Geneva (Law of the Sea), 1959/1961 Geneva (Statelessness), 1961 Vienna (Diplomatic Relations), 1963 Vienna (Consular Relations), 1968-1969 Vienna (Law of Treaties), 1975 Vienna (Representation of States), 1978 Vienna (Succession of States in respect of Treaties), 1983 Vienna (Succession of States in respect of Property, Archives and Debts)). The Third United Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea (1973-1982) and the 1998 Rome Conference on the International Criminal Court were very special cases, and neither had ILC draft articles as the basic text before the conference.

13

M. R. Anderson et al., supra note 2, paras. 19-33.

14

Statute of the International Law Commission, art. 23 is in the section dealing with codification, but seems equally appropriate for progressive development.

15

Sinclair, supra note 5, at 36.

16

For example, in the 1981 UNITAR Study.

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The General Assembly by no means always follows the recommendations of the Commission. Over the years there have been a significant number of cases where it has not done so. As early as 1953, the Commission recommended that a convention be concluded on the basis of its draft articles on arbitral procedure, but the Assembly referred the draft back to the Commission for reconsideration. In 1958 the Commission recommended that the revised draft (now ‘Model Clauses on Arbitral Procedure’) be adopted by resolution, but the Assembly simply took note and brought them to the attention of Member States for use as appropriate.17 In the case of the topic on most-favoured nation clauses, in 1978 the Commission recommended the adoption of a convention. It took the Assembly until 1991 to decide simply to bring the articles to the attention of States and international organizations for their consideration in such cases and to the extent that they deemed appropriate.18 The draft articles on the status of the diplomatic courier and of diplomatic bags not accompanied by diplomatic courier met a similar fate.19 Such an outcome is sometimes referred to as ‘a decent burial’, though this term is appropriate – if at all – only where a draft is not expected to carry real weight. That is not the case with any of the four cases to which attention now turns.

III.

Action Taken by the General Assembly in 2004 and 2007

In December 2004, the General Assembly adopted, without a vote, the United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property. In December 2007, it decided to postpone action (for three years) on three items: the Articles on Diplomatic Protection; the Articles on Prevention of Transboundary Harm from Hazardous Activities and the Draft Principles on Allocation of Loss in the Case of Such Harm; and (for the third time) the Articles on State Responsibility. These four cases will be reviewed in turn.

A.

State Immunity

The adoption in 2004 of the United Nations Convention on the Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property20 was the outcome of an unusually close and 17

Watts, supra note 2, at 1773-1777.

18

Ibid., at 1793-1916.

19

Ibid., at 1917-1997.

20

For an account of work on the item, see United Nations, supra note 2, at 185-194. See also G. Hafner/U. Köhler, ‘The United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property”, 35 Netherlands Yearbook of International Law 3 (2004); D. Stewart, ‘The UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property’, 99 AJIL 194 (2005); H. Fox, State Immunity (2008); G Hafner, ‘United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property (2004)’, in R. Wolfrum (ed.), Max Planck Encyclopedia of Public International Law (2008).

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extended period of interaction between the Commission and the Sixth Committee. In addition to the formal exchanges between the two organs, three members of the Commission also played a key role in the work of the Sixth Committee: Ambassador Carlos Calero-Rodrigues (Brazil), Professor Chusei Yamada (Japan), and Professor Gerhard Hafner (Austria). The close personal involvement of these individuals in both organs undoubtedly had a beneficial effect on the work on this politically and legally difficult topic.21 The Commission had adopted its final Draft Articles on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property in 1991, and had recommended that the Assembly convene an international conference of plenipotentiaries to examine the draft articles and to conclude a convention on the subject.22 This was the (interim) outcome of a lengthy process within the Commission, under successive Special Rapporteurs (Sompong Sucharitkul, Motoo Ogiso). Work had started in earnest in 1978, with the first reading draft articles having been adopted in 1986. The 1991 recommendation was followed by a long period of reflection (1991-2004), in the course of which the Sixth Committee – somewhat unusually – referred the matter back to the Commission. It was thought that, with great changes occurring in the world (and particularly those associated with the end of the Cold War and globalization), the chances for agreement on the rules of international law governing State immunity would improve with the passage of time. In 1999, the Commission, following a request by the General Assembly,23 formed a working group under Hafner’s chairmanship, with Yamada as rapporteur, which prepared preliminary comments on the five main outstanding substantive issues identified by the chair of the Sixth Committee’s 1994 informal consultations (Calero-Rodrigues).24 Later in 1999, the Sixth Committee formed an open-ended working group, which met again in 2000 (on both occasions chaired by Hafner). Then the Assembly established an intersessional Ad Hoc Committee (both the Committee and its working group were once more chaired by Hafner). The Ad Hoc Committee, which met in 2002, 2003 and 2004, produced the text that – subject to minor linguistic corrections – was finally adopted by the General Assembly as the United Nations Convention on 2 December 2004.

B.

Diplomatic Protection

The Commission recommended to the General Assembly the elaboration of a convention on the basis of its final Draft Articles on Diplomatic Protection, adopted in 2006.25 21

In other circumstances, such ‘double-hatting’ may be more questionable: see Berman, supra note 3, at 110-112.

22

Report of the ILC 1991: 1991 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), paras. 23, 28.

23

1998 Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, UN Doc. A/ RES/53/98 (1998), para. 2.

24

Report of the ILC 1999, annex: 1999 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), 149-173.

25

Report of the ILC 2006, paras. 46, 49.

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Instead, however, the Assembly, taking into account the written and oral comments of Governments,26 annexed the articles to its resolution, commended them to the attention of Governments, and invited any further written comments on the Commission’s recommendation. 27 The Assembly is to revert to the matter in 2010, when there will be a working group to examine ‘the question of a convention on diplomatic protection, or any other appropriate action’. This approach by the General Assembly, which is similar to that now taken on three occasions in relation to State responsibility, represents an obvious compromise between those who favoured an early move towards the adoption of a convention, as recommended by the Commission, and those – more cautious – who considered that a time for reflection was needed before any decision was taken. The United Kingdom, for example, gave three reasons for preferring a period of reflection: the draft articles were relatively new, and governments needed more time to study them; they were, in the words of the Special Rapporteur, closely bound up with the Articles on State Responsibility; and the articles had not been put to the test of practical application.28

C.

Transboundary Harm

A similarly cautious approach was followed in 2007 in the case of the Draft Articles on Prevention of Transboundary Harm from Hazardous Activities and the Draft Principles on Allocation of Loss in the Case of Such Harm. In 2001, the Commission had recommended to the General Assembly the elaboration of a convention on the basis of the draft articles.29 In 2006, the Commission adopted draft principles (with commentaries) on the Allocation of Loss in the Case of Transboundary Harm Arising out of Hazardous Activities, and recommended that the Assembly endorse the draft principles and urge States to take national and international action to implement them.30 Following the debate in the Sixth Committee,31 the Assembly commended both the articles and principles (annexed to the resolution) to the attention of Governments, and sought comments from Governments ‘in particular on the form of the respective articles and principles, bearing in mind the recommendations of the Commission […]

26

Written comments from Governments, Diplomatic Protection: Report of the SecretaryGeneral, UN Doc. A/62/118 and Add.1 (2007); and statements made at the Sixth Committee’s meeting of 19 October 2007, UN Doc. A/C.6/62/SR.10 (2007).

27

Diplomatic Protection: Resolution, UN Doc. A/RES/62/67 (2007).

28

Statement of Mr Chanaka Wickremasinghe (UK) at the meeting of the Sixth Committee on 19 October 2007, UN Doc. A/C.6/62/SR.10, paras. 52-54, verbatim text in United Kingdom Materials in International Law 2007, 78 BYBIL (2007).

29

Report of the ILC 2001, 2001 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), para. 91.

30

Report of the ILC 2006, para. 63.

31

At the Sixth Committee‘s meeting of 23 October 2007, UN Doc. A/C.6/62/SR.12.

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as well as any practice in relation to the application of the articles and principles’.32 The matter is to be included in the Assembly’s provisional agenda in 2010.

D.

State Responsibility

The Commission adopted the Draft Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts on 9 August 2001, after some forty-five years of effort. It recommended to the General Assembly that it take note of the draft articles in a resolution to which they should be annexed, and that it should consider, at a later stage, the possibility of convening a conference to examine the draft articles with a view to concluding a convention on the topic.33 In December 2001, the General Assembly commended the articles (which were annexed to the resolution) to the attention of Governments, without prejudice to the question of their future adoption or other appropriate action. The same was done in 2004 and again in 2007.34 The debate in the Sixth Committee in 2001 had revealed differing views on the question whether a convention should be drawn up on the basis of the Articles. After what may be seen as a three-year period of reflection, in 2004 these differences remained, though support for the early adoption of a convention appeared to be somewhat reduced. In 2004, the Assembly requested the Secretary-General to invite Governments to submit written comments on any future action regarding the Articles; and it further requested him to prepare an initial compilation of decisions of international courts, tribunals and other bodies referring to the articles, and to invite Governments to submit information concerning their practice in that regard. Comments and information were received from only 11 Governments.35 In preparing the requested compilation, the Secretariat 32

Consideration of Prevention of Transboundary Harm from Hazardous Activities and Allocation of Loss in the Case of such Harm: Resolution, UN Doc. A/RES/62/68 (2007).

33

For an insight into this compromise recommendation, see Crawford, supra note 5, at 58-60; J. Crawford, ‘The ILC’s Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts: A Retrospect’, 96 AJIL 874, at 889-890 (2002). The recommendation paralleled an earlier one on State succession with respect to nationality. See also A. Pronto, ‘Some Thoughts on the Making of International Law’, 19 EJIL 601, at 609-15 (2008).

34

UN Doc. A/RES/56/83 (2001); UN Doc. A/RES/59/35 (2004); UN Doc. A/RES/62/61 (2007). For the summary records of the three debates, see UN Doc. A/C.6/56/SR.11-24, 27; UN Doc. A/C.6/59/SR. 15-16; and UN Doc. A/C.6/62/SR.12-13. On each occasion, in its resolution the Assembly referred to ‘the articles on responsibility of States for internationally wrongful acts’ (not ‘draft articles’). It seems more appropriate to use the term ‘Articles’, following the Assembly, as this better reflects their status in practice (though the International Court has not been consistent in how it has referred to them). For further discussion of the Assembly’s action, see S. Rosenne, ‘State Responsibility: Festina Lente’, 75 BYBIL 363 (2004); J. Crawford/S. Olleson, ‘The Continuing Debate on a UN Convention on State Responsibility’, 54 ICLQ 959 (2005).

35

Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts: Comments and Information Received form Governments: Report of the Secretary-General, UN Doc. A/62/63 and Add.1 (2007).

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reviewed the decisions of a large number of international, regional and bilateral courts and tribunals, as well as universal human rights and humanitarian law bodies.36 Three years on, in 2007, with this additional material available, before it, opinions were once again divided in the Sixth Committee between those who wanted to move to the adoption of a convention and those – a majority, at least among those who spoke – who were firmly opposed to this course of action.37 The former group were further subdivided between those who wanted to reopen the text and those who did not, and those who wanted early action and those who were content with further postponement of a decision. What was clear to all, however, was that there was no consensus to move towards the adoption of a convention. The reasons given by those opposed to a convention are interesting. The United Kingdom, for example, gave three reasons for remaining firmly opposed to any move to a convention. First, the text was not wholly satisfactory to any State, but nevertheless States generally had accepted the Articles in their current form. Second, it is difficult to see what would be gained by the adoption of a convention. The Articles were already proving their worth and were entering the fabric of international law through State practice, decisions of courts and tribunals and the writings of publicists. And third, ‘the United Kingdom considers that there is a real risk that in moving toward the adoption of a convention based on the Articles, old issues may be reopened. Our view remains that any move at this point towards the crystallisation of the Articles in a treaty text would raise a significant risk of undermining the carefully constructed balance represented by the scope and content of the Articles. The danger is therefore that if the negotiation of a treaty is forced at this stage, any text emerging is unlikely to enjoy the wide support currently accorded to the Articles. If few States were to ratify a convention, that instrument would have less legal force than the Articles as they now stand, and may stifle the process of development and consolidation of the law that the Articles in their current form have set in train. In fact, there is a significant risk that a convention with a small number of participants may serve to undermine the current status the Articles have achieved, and may be a “limping” convention, with little or no practical effect.’38

36

UN Doc. A/62/62 and Add.1. In parallel, a study was carried out by Simon Olleson for the British Institute of International and Comparative Law (BIICL) on ‘The Impact of the ILC’s Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts’ (2008). This study contains a wider range of materials – though it is confined to materials postdating the adoption of the articles in August 2001. It includes references in separate and dissenting opinions; more context, comment and criticism than was possible in the Secretariat’s compilation; cases where the relevance of the articles was implicit; and the most important cases before domestic courts.

37

See the statements made in the Sixth Committee at its two meetings on 23 October 2007, UN Docs. A/C.6/62/SR.12 and A/C.6/62/SR.13, as well as the comments and information received from Governments, supra note 35.

38

Statement by Mr Chester Brown (UK) at the meeting of the Sixth Committee on 23 October 2007, UN Doc. A/C.6/62/SR.13, para. 16; verbatim text in United Kingdom Materials in International Law 2007, 78 BYBIL (2007).

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The Assembly once again requested the Secretary-General to invite States to submit comments on any future action regarding the Articles, and to update the compilation.39 The item is set down for the Assembly in 2010, when the Assembly will ‘further examine, within the framework of a working group of the Sixth Committee, the question of a convention […] or other appropriate action on the basis of the articles’.40

III.

Considerations as to Form

Before turning to the factors that may influence the General Assembly’s decision on the action to be taken in relation to the final outcome of the Commission’s work on a particular topic, it is necessary to mention the procedures in the Sixth Committee,41 since these are designed to ensure that proper lawyerly consideration is given to the issue, and that the eventual decision takes account of all points of view and reflects a consensus with which all can live. Consensus is the norm, and while often slow and cautious, it is conducive to the taking of good decisions in the making of international law. The procedure for most items follows a well-tried pattern. On each item there is a general debate, in public, in which carefully crafted statements are read out and usually also circulated in writing. This can be somewhat dull, but it has an important function. It makes delegates focus on the issues with care, something they might not otherwise do given the other pressures on their time. And it enables the attentive listener – and there are many of them – to see clearly the range and balance of opinions on the often complex issues before the Committee. The debate is followed by informal consultations among interested delegations on the draft of a resolution (or decision), usually on the basis of a draft prepared by a ‘coordinator’ designated by the Chairman of the Committee, with the assistance of the Secretariat (Codification Division of the Office of Legal Affairs). This is an important stage which, depending on the nature of the subject, may extend over days or weeks. The aim is to agree on a draft that reflects the debate and will achieve a consensus within the Committee. The draft resolution is then introduced by the coordinator at a public meeting of the Committee. It is then adopted, usually without a vote, at a subsequent public meeting, on which occasion some delegations may make statements in explanation of vote. There has sometimes been, at least in the past, an almost knee-jerk reaction in favour of the adoption of a convention on the basis of the Commission’s draft articles. As the Report of the BIICL Study Group said, ‘it does appear that there has been reliance upon the treaty as an outcome even where it is largely superfluous, for example in the cases of State succession and international watercourses’.42 This may have reflected 39

UN Docs. A/C.6/62/SR.12, 13, 27 and 28; UN Doc. A/62/446.

40

Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts: Resolution, UN Doc. A/RES/62/61, para 4.

41

H. Llewellyn, ‘United Nations, Sixth Committee’, in R. Wolfrum (ed.), Max Planck Encyclopedia of International Law (2008).

42

M. R. Anderson et al., supra note 2, para. 18.

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a hangover from the ‘codification movement’ which took off in the late nineteenth century, and to which the Commission is in some sense the heir, a limited view of what ‘codification’ involved, and a particular view of the advantages of treaty law over customary international law. In fact, article 15 of the Commission’s Statute assumes that progressive development will require the preparation of a draft convention, whereas for codification something less formal – the more precise formulation and systematization of rules – may suffice. As with the distinction between progressive development and codification, this distinction has proved to be somewhat crude. As a matter of fact, the choice is rarely a simple one between a treaty and no treaty. A convention may be adopted by the General Assembly or a codification conference, but not enter into force, or enter into force for only a small number of States; a set of draft articles, on the other hand, may be regarded as being, at least in large measure, an authoritative statement of general international law. Indeed, the influence of the Commission’s work is felt in many ways, and often well before the final outcome of its work has emerged. As Watts has written: ‘On particular topics the authority which underlies its work (even on the basis of draft Articles adopted only on first reading) has been influential in consolidating the law: and more generally, its intellectual approach to establishing coherent bodies of rules in different areas has given an overall solidarity to international law which was previously lacking.’43

The Commission, States, and the General Assembly no longer – if they ever did – start from an assumption that a convention is the only or even necessarily the natural outcome of the Commission’s work. The principal consideration is the subject-matter. Is the topic inherently appropriate for embodiment in a treaty, or is it more appropriate in some other form? This in turn depends upon a number of factors. Are the rules sufficiently well established, and expected to be sufficiently stable, for a convention to be appropriate? Are there still major points of controversy, such as could make the process of adopting a convention problematic, possibly involving a divisive vote and the eventual failure of the resulting convention? Will a convention have less influence on the law than the articles had they been left to speak for themselves? Will the adoption of an unsuccessful convention undermine the effect of the draft articles? Are the rules likely to be applied by domestic judges, for whom a convention may be easier to ascertain, and have a clearer standing, than customary law? Is the subject of sufficient importance to make it worth the effort and resources required to enter upon the sometimes heavy procedure necessary for the adoption of a convention? These are all questions that will be in the minds of delegates in the General Assembly (and, in most cases, their capitals) when they come to decide how the General Assembly should take forward – or not – the final product of the ILC on a particular topic. The overarching consideration, for any delegate, even if not articulated as such, will be the national interest. But this tells us very little. The national interest, in matters as complex (not to say esoteric), and as long-term, as are most ILC drafts is itself a complex 43

Watts, supra note 2, at 7.

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and subtle matter. It comprises some or all of the following. First, strengthening the international rule of law will normally be a principal component of the national interest in the field of codification and progressive development of international law. Second, in some cases importance is attached to solidarity within a regional or sub-regional group, or within some wider grouping, such as the G77, the Non-Aligned Movement (NAM), or the Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC). Further, a State may not wish to appear obstructive, and stand in the way of a consensus to proceed in a particular manner, the more so as there is a degree of peer pressure in the Sixth Committee. Again, a State may have direct interests specific to the topic or to a particular aspect thereof, such as the positions of the upper and lower riparian States on the international watercourses draft. The first factor just mentioned – strengthening the international rule of law – comprises a number of considerations. Are treaties generally to be preferred to customary law? Treaties are often clearer and more stable than the rules of customary law, or at least thought to be so. Domestic courts, and domestic authorities generally, may find it easier to handle treaties, which may indeed have a different status in domestic law. Conversely, customary law is often thought of as more flexible, easier to develop or supersede. All these considerations show that the question of form is intimately linked to the substance of the topic. Another factor, often the overriding one in practice, is whether a convention can be negotiated successfully, and whether – if adopted – it will be widely ratified. Or will a carefully considered and balanced text developed by the Commission over many years unravel in the process of negotiation? It has occasionally been argued that the Assembly should not move to the adoption of a convention because parts of the draft are progressive development. This is not in itself a persuasive argument. It rather stands on its head the original idea in the Commission’s Statute that conventions were necessary precisely where there is progressive development. In reality, this line of argument is probably a diplomatic way of saying that as a policy matter the State is content with the customary law or at least does not accept some element of the progressive development and so does not want to see it embodied in a convention. In addition to considerations of substance, procedural issues are also important. The timing of any decision on final form (whether provisional or definitive) can be important. In the case of the Commission, other things being equal, there is much to be said for an early decision. An early decision may be important for the scope and substance of the work. Even more significant is its effect on the whole approach to the exercise on the part of both the members of the Commission and States. The Special Rapporteur’s early decision to work on guidelines on reservations (rather than thinking in terms of a convention) has had an important influence on the treatment and acceptability of the exercise. The Sixth Committee is sometimes criticized for not giving a clear steer in a timely fashion or at all. There may be many reasons for this. It is often no easy matter to get a consensus view on a controversial matter out of so large a body, consisting now of 192 States. This is especially so at an early stage (since as a rule Governments do not

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wish to commit themselves until they have to). Experience shows that anything much short of a consensus is unlikely to mean a great deal in the field of codification and progressive development of international law. But eventually the Sixth Committee does have to take a position. It can be assisted in doing so by prior work within regional groupings, such as the European Union (COJUR), the Council of Europe (Committee of Legal Advisers on Public International Law (CAHDI) and its predecessors), the Southern African Development Community (SADC), or the Asian-African Legal Consultative Organization (AALCO). Sometimes informal bilateral contacts may be influential. The United Kingdom, which had long favoured a ‘Model Law’ approach to the State Immunity draft was influenced at a crucial point by contacts with Norway and France, each of which stressed the importance of a convention for the application of the law of immunities by their domestic courts. This enabled a common position to be adopted within the European Union, which in turn facilitated broad agreement among Council of Europe countries, and on into the Sixth Committee. Many of these factors had a bearing on the very different treatment of the Commission’s Articles on State Responsibility and those on State Immunity. Both sets of draft articles were broadly acceptable to most States. That on State immunity, while important, was limited in scope, and eminently suitable for a convention, especially because the rules will usually be applied by domestic courts, which may have difficulty in handling the more subtle processes of customary international law. And it was clear, by the end of the lengthy consultations conducted by Gerhard Hafner, that the draft which had emerged in the Ad Hoc Committee could be adopted in the General Assembly by consensus without being reopened. What was less clear, and what is still not clear, is how soon States will ratify. The number of ratifications so far has been somewhat disappointing, though this is perhaps understandable since the subject-matter requires careful consideration in capitals, across a wide range of ministries and other interest groups, and may often need implementing legislation. The situation is very different in the case of the Articles on State Responsibility. The Articles cover a vast expanse of international law, being potentially applicable across the board (except where there are special rules on responsibility). They have ‘wide-ranging and diffuse implications’.44 The area is eminently suitable for continued development and clarification through the processes of customary law. And while the Articles are a major achievement, there remain a few important issues raised by the text on which very different views are held by States. The text has carefully papered over some of the most difficult problems. The negotiation of a convention would thus be fraught with grave risk. Disagreements could resurface, and a useful text would likely be destroyed. This is a case where the interests of the international rule of law point against attempting to negotiate a convention. Summing up the position in 2002, James Crawford wrote: ‘If governments do not proceed with a diplomatic conference, it may well be for a similar combination of reasons that led a majority of the ILC to suggest that the adoption of the text by a General Assembly resolution would be sufficient. Some governments 44

Crawford, supra note 5, at 59.

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might perhaps have difficulties with this or that article because of its implications for some substantive issue in which they were interested. But for the most part

a diplomatic conference would require governments to take firm positions on abstract and difficult issues. It may be doubted whether the appetite for such an exercise exists.’45

IV.

Conclusions

The General Assembly has recently emphasised ‘the continuing importance of the codification and progressive development of international law, as referred to in Article 13, paragraph 1 (a), of the Charter of the United Nations’.46 In 1998, Watts wrote that the ‘body of work completed by the Commission over the past half-century has been both far-reaching in its scope and authoritative in its content’.47 Since he wrote these words, the Commission has achieved much more, in particular it has completed the Articles on State Responsibility, and the United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property has been adopted. From time to time, it is suggested that the International Law Commission is less relevant than in the past. It is said that the Commission has no major projects. It is hard to think of outstanding matters of major importance that are suitable for the kind of treatment that the Commission gave to the law of treaties, State responsibility, and State immunity. It has largely exhausted the list of topics it drew up in its early years. In a sense, it is the victim of its own success. Those expressing these views are lawyers – indeed, the Commission’s profile is such that it is scarcely known outside the world of public international law specialists. Sometimes even its members (or former members) have been critical, for the best of motives.48 Some, more radical, have suggested that international society needs a very different international law commission.49 Yet the work of the Commission, which celebrates its sixtieth anniversary in 2008, remains central to the discipline of international law. Without its painstaking efforts there would have been no Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, no Vienna 45

Crawford, supra note 33, at 889.

46

Diplomatic Protection: Resolution, UN Doc. A/RES62/67 (2007).

47

Watts, supra note 2, at 6.

48

For a variety of assessments of the Commission, see D. McRae, ‘The International Law Commission: Codification and progressive development after forty years’, 25 Canadian YBIL 355 (1987); F. Paolillo, ‘An Overview of the International Law-Making Process and the Role of the International Law Commission’, in Making Better International Law: The International law Commission (1998); M. Koskenniemi, ‘International Legislation Today: Limits and Possibilities’, 23 Wisconsin International Law Journal 61 (2005); C. Tomuschat, ‘The International Law Commission – An Outdated Institution?’, 49 German Yearbook of International Law 77 (2006).

49

P. Allott, ‘State Responsibility and the Unmaking of International Law’, 29 Harvard Journal of International Law 1 (1988); reproduced in P. Allott, Towards the International Rule of Law: Essays in Integrated Constitutional Theory (2005).

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Convention on the Law of Treaties, no Articles on the Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, and no United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property, to mention just some of the major achievements. Were it not for the careful working methods of the Commission any instruments on these subjects would surely not have been technically so sound and achieved such widespread acceptance. If it is indeed the case that there are no major codification projects ahead, that does not mean there is nothing for the Commission to do. What it does mean is that attention will need increasingly to be paid to the form of the Commission’s output, and ways in which the General Assembly deals with its output. The topics it will be dealing with are less likely that in the past to be suitable for incorporation into a convention, but that does not make them any less significant. International law develops in many ways, not just through treaty making. Ian Sinclair wrote some 20 years ago that ‘[t]he progressive development and codification of international law is […] a slow and painstaking process requiring patience, determination and an ability to reconcile varying viewpoints’.50

These are qualities that Gerhard Hafner embodies to a high degree, as was exemplified by his role in the adoption of the 2004 United Nations Convention on the Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property. The International Law Commission, the Sixth Committee and the other bodies concerned need persons with Gerhard Hafner’s talents to ensure that steady and sound progress is made in the progressive development and codification of international law.

Select Bibliography (materials not included in the BIICL Study’s bibliography) M. R. Anderson et al. (eds.), The International Law Commission and the Future of International Law (1998), with bibliography F. Vallat/C. Lerche, ‘International Law Commission’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law, Vol. II 1208-1216 (1986, addendum 1991) P. Allott, ‘State Responsibility and the Unmaking of International Law’, 29 Harvard Journal of International Law 1 (1988); reproduced in P. Allott (ed.), Towards the International Rule of Law: Essays in Integrated Constitutional Theory (2005) S. Rosenne, ‘Codification Revisited after 50 Years’, 2 Max Planck Year Book of United Nations Law 1 (1998) United Nations (ed), Making Better International Law: The International Law Commission at 50: Proceedings of the United Nations Colloquium on Progressive Development and Codification of International Law (1998) 50

Sinclair, supra note 5, at 32.

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A. D. Watts, The International Law Commission 1949-1998 (1999), with bibliographies J. S. Morton, The International Law Commission of the United Nations (2000) United Nations (ed.), The International Law Commission Fifty Years After: An Evaluation; Proceedings of the Seminar held to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the International Law Commission, 21-22 April 1998 (2000) D. Caron, ‘The ILC Articles on State Responsibility: The Paradoxical Relationship Between Form and Authority’, 96 AJIL 857 (2002) J. Crawford, ‘The ILC’s Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts: A Retrospect’, 96 AJIL 874 (2002) C.-A. Fleischhauer, ‘Commentary on Article 13’, in B. Simma, The Charter of the United Nations: A Commentary 298 (2002) S. Rosenne, ‘State Responsibility: Festina Lente’, 75 BYBIL 363 (2004) A.-T. Norodom, ‘Commentary on Article 13.1 (a)’, in J.-P. Cot/A. Pellet/M. Forteau (eds.), La Charte des Nations Unies: Commentaire article par article 699 (2005) M. Koskenniemi, ‘International Legislation Today: Limits and Possibilities’, 23 Wisconsin International Law Journal 61 (2005) J. Crawford/S. Olleson, ‘The Continuing Debate on a UN Convention on State Responsibility’, 54 ICLQ 959 (2005) C. Tomuschat, ‘The International Law Commission – An Outdated Institution?’, 49 German Yearbook of International Law 77 (2006) F. D. Berman, ‘The ILC within the UN’s Legal Framework: Its Relationship with the Sixth Committee’, 49 German Yearbook of International Law 107 (2006) O. Dörr, ‘Codifying and Developing Meta-Rules: The ILC and the Law of Treaties’, 49 German Yearbook of International Law 129 (2006) H. P. Aust, ‘Through the Prism of Diversity – The Articles on State Responsibility in the Light of the ILC Fragmentation Report’, 49 German Yearbook of International Law 165 (2006) R. O’Keefe, ‘The ILC’s Contribution to International Criminal Law’, 49 German Yearbook of International Law 201 (2006) A. Boyle/C. Chinkin, The Making of International Law 171-204 (2007) P. S. Rao, ‘International Law Commission’, in R. Wolfrum (ed.), Max Planck Encyclopedia of International Law (2008) A. Pronto, ‘Some Thoughts on the Making of International Law’, 19 EJIL 601, at 609-15 (2008)

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CHAPTER IV

Subjects of International Law and Immunities

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Implications of the Independence of Kosovo for International Law Wolfgang Benedek

I.

Introduction and Focus

The Declaration of Independence of Kosovo and its recognition by a growing number of states has been criticized as a violation of international law with detrimental precedential effects. Besides Serbia, which definitely lost part of its territory, it has been mainly Russia that argued that a breach of international law had occurred and, as a member of the Security Council, has prevented a positive decision of the Security Council based on the Ahtisaari plan. Austria has been among the states favouring the independence of Kosovo and, on 28 February, eleven days after the Declaration of Independence of Kosovo, recognized the new state as the 21st country, thereby adding its voice to a state practice, that has been very controversial both among states and international lawyers. The following reflections are devoted to Gerhard Hafner, who, as the most renowned Austrian international law expert on Russia, is presumed to have a particular interest in the international legal issues raised by this new state practice. As the long-standing author and spiritus rector of the ‘Austrian Diplomatic and Parliamentary Practice in International Law’, which today regularly appears in the Austrian Review of International and European Law, he will also have a particular interest in an assessment of the international legal effects of the Austrian position vis-à-vis Kosovo. Like any new state practice, the case of Kosovo contributes to the development of international law. Some see this as a negative development, while this author will argue that although there is room for different legal opinions including critical ones on the process of Kosovo’s independence, the positive effects for the evolution of international law prevail. In doing so, the author is under the impression of discussions held during his many visits to Kosovo but also to Serbia and other countries of the region of South-Eastern Europe, which formerly belonged to the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. The case of Kosovo raises a large number of different legal issues, which cannot all be explored in depth within this short analysis. The present contribution will therefore focus mainly on the international legal aspects of the secession of Kosovo and the role of the international community, in particular the United Nations, the United States and the European Union in it. This includes the procedure by which the issue of ‘status’, i.e. the exercise of the right to self-determination, has been determined and the question as to the precedential effect of the whole process on pending cases and on international law

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 391-412, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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in general. As indicated by a first legal analysis after the declaration of independence, the justification of secession under international law is ‘not a clear case’.1 Other issues, which also merit closer attention, are constitutional issues like the legality of the withdrawal of the autonomy of Kosovo in 1990 or of the adoption of the Serbian Constitution in 2006 by a referendum which excluded the Kosovo-Albanians, European law questions, such as the establishment of a rule of law mission under the Common Foreign and Security Policy of the EU, and international legal questions related to the UN administration of Kosovo and state succession.2 In view of wide spread fears of the negative effects of turning Kosovo into a precedent for secession attempts worldwide, one major aim of this contribution is to show that there are numerous factors which make Kosovo a rather unique case, not easily to be used as a template for any other situation in which people aspire to secede. At the same time, it will be shown that Kosovo is the first case, where gross and serious human rights violations have become a decisive factor for a multilateral process finally leading to external self-determination outside of a colonial context. This development has the potential to strengthen the relevance of human rights for international law and thus further humanize the international legal system.

II.

Historical Background and the Involvement of the International Community

A.

Historical Aspects

‘There is too much history in the Balkans’, goes a common saying. This is not the place to go into historical aspects in any detail. But it needs to be remembered that the Kosovo issue does have an important history, dating back to 1878, when Serbia was allowed to keep part of the Albanian populated territory in South Serbia after practices of ethnic cleansing, and to 1913, when Kosovo, by decision of the London Conference, became a part of Serbia against the will of the Albanian part of the population or the Serb colonization programme after 1918.3 It is also necessary to recall the constitutional amendment of 1974, when Kosovo obtained the status of an autonomous province within the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, which had nearly the same standing as the six republics with its own parliament, a constitution as well as a constitutional

1

See Ch. J. Borgen, ‘Kosovo’s Declaration of Independence: Self-Determination, Secession and Recognition’, 12 ASIL Insight, 29 February 2008.

2

See G. Hafner/E. Kornfeind, ‘The Recent Austrian Practice of State Succession: Does the Clean State Rule Still Exist?’, 1 Austrian Review of International and European Law 1-49 (1996); and E. Hasani, ‘The Evolution of the Succession Process in Former Yugoslavia’, 29 Thomas Jefferson Law Review 111-150 (2006).

3

See N. Malcolm, Kosovo: A Short History 264 et seq. (1998); and W. Petritsch/K. Kaser/R. Pichler, Kosovo/Kosova. Mythen, Daten, Fakten (1999).

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court and equal membership in all bodies including the Federal Presidency, which was the highest body in former Yugoslavia.4 After his famous speech at Kosovo Polje in 1987, Milosevic, based on his new nationalist approach between 1989 and 1991, caused the downgrading of the autonomous status of Kosovo in Serbia, which was very close to that of the republics, by abolishing the constitutional court and disempowering and finally dissolving the Kosovo parliament, eliminating the Kosova seat in the State Presidency, and opening a phase of systematic repression of Kosovo-Albanians5 and their exclusion from all state institutions, including the state-run system of education.6 The Serbian repression of Kosovo accelerated the dissolution of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.7 It is an interesting historical coincidence that the Slovenian secession in 19918 was also motivated by the treatment of Kosovo by Yugoslavia and that it was under the Slovenian presidency of the European Union that Kosovo, on 17 February 2008, declared its independence. It should further be remembered that under the leadership of Ibrahim Rugova, Kosovo-Albanians first tried a way of peaceful resistance, setting up parallel institutions like a president (an office held by Rugova himself)9 and a parliament – both of which were legitimized by elections organized by Kosovars and tolerated by Serbian forces –, a government-in-exile and a university, which all, at least partly, operated underground. Only after the Kosovo issue was totally ignored by the international community in the Dayton negotiations in 1995 and peaceful resistance did not generate any results, the Kosovo Liberation Army (KLA), and with it the violence against the Serb oppression, developed. The evolving resistance movement was met by Serbian forces with increasingly forceful acts of repression, like the massacre in Racak of 15 January 1999, in spite of several Security Council resolutions demanding Serbia to refrain from excessive violence.10 In spring 1998, the KLA started to openly confront Serbian military and

4

See J. Marko, ‘Die staatsrechtliche Entwicklung des Kosovo/a von 1913-1995’, in J. Marko (ed.), Gordischer Knoten Kosovo/a: Durchschlagen oder entwirren? 15 (1999); J. Marko, ‘Kosovo/a – A Gordian Knot?’, in ibid., 261-280. On 27 April 1992 the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) was proclaimed, replacing the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.

5

See, e.g., Human Rights Watch, Open Wounds: Human Rights Abuses in Kosovo (1993).

6

See H. Kuci, ‘The Legal and Political Grounds for, and the Influence of the Actual Situation on the Demand of the Albanians of Kosovo for Independence’, 80 Chicago-Kent Law Review 331 et seq (2005); and J. Marko, ‘Die staatsrechtliche Entwicklung’, supra note 4.

7

See Opinion No. 8 of the Arbitration Commission of the International Conference on Yugoslavia (Badinter Commission), on the completion of the process of dissolution, reproduced in 4 EJIL 74 et seq. (1993).

8

See the Declaration of Independence of Slovenia of 15 June 1991.

9

See Former President of Kosovo, Dr. Ibrahim Rugova, http://www.president-ksgov. net/?id=3,101,101,101,e (last visited 16 April 2008).

10

UN Security Council Resolutions 1160, 1199 and 1203, UN Doc. S/RES/1160 (1998); and UN Doc. S/RES/1199 (1998); and UN Doc. S/RES/1203 (1998). See also Petritsch/Kaser/Pichler, supra note 3, at 240, 262.

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special police forces, which escalated the confrontation and resulted in large numbers of refugees and displacements.

B.

The Reaction of the International Community

The international community first tried to mediate, and OSCE sent monitors as part of a Verification Mission, which later had to be withdrawn. The international community then established a troika of US, Russian and EU representatives – the latter being Wolfgang Petritsch, the former Austrian Ambassador in Belgrade and later High Representative in Bosnia and Herzegovina – to negotiate a solution at the Rambouillet Conference.11 After Milosevic refused to sign the Rambouillet accords in 1999,12 the conflict culminated in the NATO intervention,13 which resulted in the withdrawal of all Serb forces from Kosovo and the establishment of the interim administration by the United Nations in Kosovo (UNMIK) based on Security Council Resolution 1244 of 10 June 1999. Similar to the Declaration of Independence of Kosovo and its recognition, the NATO intervention was the subject of a controversial debate among international lawyers, mainly because of the absence of an explicit authorization by the Security Council. Some argued in favour of intervention, primarily because of its humanitarian character, ending a period of massive human rights violations; others claimed that it was a clear-cut breach of the UN Charter and international law.14 According to Resolution 1244, the main task of UNMIK, which had to take over a Kosovo deserted by Serb administrators who often took with them the files of their institutions, was to prepare Kosovo for the final status and to ‘facilitate a political process designed to determine Kosovo’s future status, taking into account the Rambouillet accords’.15 Accordingly, the final status was not pre-determined in any way. In particular, Resolution 1244 did not say that Kosovo had to remain under Serb sovereignty. The reference to the Rambouillet Accords is significant, as this clarifies one major issue, namely that the final status had to respect the will of the people.16

11

See W. Petritsch/R. Pichler, Kosovo/Kosova. Der lange Weg zum Frieden (2004).

12

1999 Interim Agreement for Peace and Self-Government in Kosovo (‘1999 Rambouillet Accords’), http://www.kosovo.mod.uk/rambouillet_text.htm (last visited 16 April 2008).

13

See Ph. E. Auerswald/D. P. Auerswald (eds.), The Kosovo Conflict. A Diplomatic History Through Documents (2000).

14

See B. Simma, ‘NATO, the UN and the Use of Force: Legal Aspects’, 10 EJIL 1, at 5 (1999); L. Henkin, ‘Kosovo and the Law of “Humanitarian Intervention”’, 93 AJIL 824 et seq. (1999); P. Hilpold, ‘Humanitarian Intervention: Is there a Need for a Legal Reappraisal?’, 12 EJIL 437 (2001); and N. J. Wheeler, ‘Decision-Making Rules and Procedures for Humanitarian Intervention’, 6 International Journal of Human Rights 127 (2002).

15

UN Security Council Resolution 1244, UN Doc. S/RES/1244 (1999), para. 11 (e).

16

See 1999 Rambouillet Accords, supra note 12, Chapter 8, art. I on Amendment and Comprehensive Assessment, para. 3: ‘Three years after the entry into force of this Agreement, an international meeting shall be convened to determine a mechanism for a final settlement

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In view of the fact that Kosovo-Albanians account for 90 percent of Kosovo’s population, with a tendency to increase, the negotiators had limited options, especially after the ‘Contact Group’, which had overseen the whole process since the beginning and in which Russia was also a member, reiterated the principle that the settlement needed ‘to be acceptable to the people of Kosovo’.17 Originally, the expectation was that a decision on status would come within about three years after the establishment of UNMIK, which proved not to be realistic. In its efforts to improve standards in Kosovo, UNMIK engaged in far-reaching legal reforms, thus separating Kosovo from Serbia with regard to the legal system, with the notable exception of the area of Northern Mitrovica, where the majority of the Serbs, who had remained in Kosovo, live and where Serbian law continued to apply with the toleration of UNMIK, all this leading to a kind of de facto separation.18 The slow progress towards a status solution contributed to the eruption of the violence against Serbs in Kosovo on 11 March 2004. UNMIK responded by its ‘standards before status’-programme, which foresaw an overambitious ‘Standards Implementation Plan’,19 the goals of which were hardly achievable in a foreseeable future. In view of increasing tensions, UNMIK changed its strategy to ‘standards and status’.20 Before the process towards political negotiations was started, the Norwegian diplomat Kai Eide was appointed Special Envoy of the UN Secretary-General with the task to undertake a comprehensive review of the situation in Kosovo (Serbia and Montenegro) and to assess whether the conditions were in place to enter into the political process needed to define the final status of Kosovo. Kai Eide confirmed this while at the same time making some critical remarks on shortcomings regarding the standards achieved.21 Consequently, the UN Secretary-General appointed the former Finnish President, Martti Ahtisaari, who had ample experience of negotiations in the Balkans and elsewhere, as his Special Envoy for the Future Status Process for Kosovo and the Austrian former Secretary-General of the Ministry for European and International Affairs, Albert

for Kosovo, on the basis of the will of the people, opinions of relevant authorities […].’ (Emphasis added). 17

Statement by the Contact Group on the Future of Kosovo, Washington DC, 31 January 2006, http://www.state.gov/p/eur/rls/or/62459.htm (last visited 16 April 2008). See also Woodrow Wilson Center for International Scholars, ‘Kosovo: A Status Report’, 22 February 2006, http:// www.wilsoncenter.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=events.event_summary&event_id=161801 (last visited 16 April 2008).

18

See B. Reka, UNMIK as an International Governance in Post-War Kosova: NATO’s Intervention, UN Administration and Kosovar Aspirations (2003).

19

See with regard to its human rights aspects W. Benedek, ‘Final Status of Kosovo: The Role of Human Rights and Minority Rights’, 80 Chicago-Kent Law Review 215 (2005).

20

See J. Marko, ‘Independence without Standards? Kosovo’s Interethnic Relations after 1999’, 5 European Yearbook of Minority Issues 219 (2007); and W. Benedek, ‘Final Status of Kosovo: The Role of Human Rights and Minority Rights’, 80 Chicago-Kent Law Review 215 (2005).

21

See K. Eide, A comprehensive review of the situation in Kosovo, Annex to UN Doc. S/2005/ 635 (2005).

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Rohan, as his deputy.22 While the negotiations lasted for more than a year, the team soon recognized that there was no way to bridge the diametrically opposed positions of the two parties and therefore focussed on practical solutions for a peaceful co-existence in the future. As a result, the ‘Comprehensive Proposal for a Kosovo Status Settlement’ (the so-called ‘Ahtisaari Plan’) contains a highly developed minority protection system, starting from religious monuments like monasteries to changing municipal borders or creating new municipalities in order to take Serb interests into account. In view of the irreconcilable position of the parties, Ahtisaari recommended ‘supervised independence’ of a multi-ethnic Kosovo.23 For a transitional period, the task of ‘supervision’ should be entrusted to an International Civilian Representative, appointed by the Contact Group and the European Union, with security provided by NATO forces and European police. After presenting his 61-page proposal in Belgrade and Prishtina on 2 February 2007, he forwarded the proposal to the UN Secretariat, together with a four-page report defining Kosovo’s political status.24 Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon forwarded these to the Security Council on 26 March, expressing his full support for both documents. The Security Council heard Ahtisaari’s presentation on 3 April and dispatched a fact-finding mission to Serbia and Kosovo on 25-28 April.25 Although UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon pledged his full support for the proposal,26 which was also endorsed by the United States, Russia insisted on a renewed round of negotiations towards a compromise. In order to get Russia on board another ‘troika’ – composed of members from Russia and the US as well as the German Ambassador Ischinger on behalf of the EU – was formed and held further meetings with both sides from August until 10 December 2007, when it declared that no agreement could be reached.27 This did not, however, change the Russian resistance. Because of the presidential elections in Serbia, which had the final status of Kosovo high on its agenda, Kosovo authorities delayed its independence until 17 February 2008, when the new government and the new Parliament, elected in November 2007, formally adopted Kosovo’s Declaration of Independence.

22

See UN Doc. SG/A/955 (2005).

23

Report of the Special Envoy of the Secretary-General on Kosovo’s future status and Main Provisions of the Comprehensive Proposal for the Kosovo Status Settlement, UN Doc. S/2007/168 (2007).

24

See ibid., and Comprehensive Proposal for the Kosovo Status Settlement, UN Doc. S/2007/168/Add.1 (2007). The basic idea can already be found in the follow-up report of the Independent International Commission on Kosovo, Why Conditional Independence (2001), http://www.kosovocommission.org/reports/followup.pdf (last visited 16 April 2008).

25

International Crisis Group, ‘Conflict History: Kosovo’, http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/ index.cfm?action=conflict_search&l=1&t=1&c_country=58 (last visited 16 April 2008).

26

See J. Preston, ‘UN Urges Independence for Kosovo’, International Herald Tribune, 26 March 2007.

27

See Report of the EU/US/Russia Troika on Kosovo, 4 December 2007, http://www.ico-kos. org (last visited 16 April 2008).

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C.

397

Analysis of the Declaration of Independence and its Recognition

The text of this declaration is worth analyzing as it responds to a number of concerns expressed by states and international observers.28 Already in its sixth preambular paragraph it claims that ‘Kosovo is a special case arising from Yugoslavia’s non-consensual break-up and is not a precedent for any other situation’. In several paragraphs it refers to the Ahtisaari recommendations, which it considers as providing Kosovo with a comprehensive framework for its future development, in line with highest European standards of human rights and good governance, and accepts all the obligations contained in the Ahtisaari Plan. The relevant principles of the Ahtisaari Plan are also to be incorporated into the constitution to be adopted, which was to enshrine the human rights and fundamental freedoms as defined in the European Convention on Human Rights.29 It invites an international civilian presence to supervise the implementation of the Ahtisaari Plan, a European Union-led Rule of Law mission and the continuation of NATO leadership of the international military presence in Kosovo, and pledges full cooperation. The Declaration also welcomes the continuation of the international presence established on the basis of UN Security Council Resolution 1244 (1999).30 As a future perspective, the Declaration sees full membership of Kosovo in the European Union as well as further Euro-Atlantic integration.31 All international obligations are accepted as well as the borders as defined in the Ahtisaari Plan.32 It expresses respect for the sovereignty and territorial integrity of all neighbours and a commitment to establishing good relations with all of them, in particular the Republic of Serbia, with which reconciliation should be promoted. This remarkable declaration, in the drafting of which several governments, in particular the United States, and the European Union might have had their hand, was quickly accepted by other states through a significant number of declarations of recognition of the independence of Kosovo with the commitments undertaken. By 30 March 2008, this number had reached 36, including 3 permanent and four non-permanent members of the Security Council, 18 of the 27 member states of the European Union and, among the states of the region, Albania, Bulgaria, Croatia, Hungary and Slovenia. Macedonia expressed its support for the Athisaari Plan and is expected to recognize Kosovo in due course.33 The letter by US President George W. Bush to the President of Kosovo, Fatmir Sejdiu, of 18 February 2008, not only recognizes Kosovo as an independent and sovereign state, but also refers to the commitment of Kosovo to multi-ethnicity 28

See Kosovo Declaration of Independence, 17 February 2008, http://www.assembly-kosova. org/?krye=news&newsid=1635&lang=en (last visited 16 April 2008).

29

Ibid., art. 4.

30

Ibid., art. 5.

31

Ibid., art. 6.

32

Ibid., art. 8 and Annex VIII of the Ahtisaari Plan, supra note 24.

33

See, for a list of recognitions, http://www.kosovothanksyou.com (last visited 16 April 2008).

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as a principle of good governance and of assuming the responsibilities assigned to it under the Ahtisaari Plan. ‘On the basis of these assurances from the Government of Kosovo’, President Bush wrote, ‘I am pleased to accept your request that our two countries establish diplomatic relations’.34 In her letter of recognition, the Austrian Minister for European and International Affairs, Ursula Plassnik, emphasized the principles of democracy, rule of law and human rights, including the rights of minorities and their equal participation in the political decision-making process and that all questions related to the independence of Kosovo will be resolved in a peaceful way. In a press statement she also explained that in view of the history of the conflict, unilateral independence was the only realistic and possible way. The status quo was not tenable any more, but rather a source of permanent instability. The stabilization of the Balkans and European integration remained the overriding goal.35 This process raises several legal issues. In particular it may be asked whether Kosovo could legitimately exercise a right to self-determination by way of secession, whether other states violated international law by recognizing Kosovo as a new state and whether, even if the recognition was lawful in principle, it was perhaps premature, because Kosovo did not fullfil all elements required by legal doctrine for a state as it did not have effective control over its territory. Finally, this contribution will focus on elucidating the innovative elements of the Kosovo case which may influence the further development of international law.

III.

Kosovo and the Right to Self-Determination

A.

The Relevance of Human Rights and Representative Government

The most authoritative description of the right to self-determination can be found in General Assembly Resolution 2625 of 1970, the so-called ‘Friendly Relations Declaration’ (FRD).36 Of particular relevance for the case of Kosovo is paragraph 7 according to which the right to self-determination shall not be construed so as to impair the territorial integrity of states ‘conducting themselves in compliance with the principle of equal rights and self-determination of peoples as described above and thus possessed

34

Letter from the President [of the United States of America] to the President of Kosovo, 18 February 2008, http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2008/02/20080218-3.htm (last visited 16 April 2008).

35

Austrian Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs, Press Release, 28 February 2008, http://www.bmeia.gv.at/aussenministerium/aktuelles/presseaussendungen/2008/ plassnik-schreiben-ueber-anerkennung-des-kosovo-unterzeichnet.html (last visited 16 April 2008).

36

See 1970 Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Cooperations among States in Accordance with the Charter of the United Nations, UN Doc. A/RES/2625 (XXV).

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of a government representing the whole people belonging to the territory without distinction as to race, creed or culture’. While this provision was mainly meant to limit the right to self-determination by preventing abuse, it also sets out the precondition for this limitation, namely the existence of a representative government. As the drafting history shows, this has been also understood as to include the treatment of the people in accordance with basic human rights obligations. As expressed by the representative of the Netherlands in the drafting committee for the Friendly Relations Declaration: ‘If, for example – in the opinion of the world community – basic human rights and fundamental freedoms […] were not respected by a certain state vis-à-vis one of the peoples living within its territory, would one in such an instance – whatever the human implications – wish to prevent the people that was being fundamentally discriminated against from invoking its right to self-determination?’37

The principle contained in paragraph 7 of the FRD is echoed by paragraph 2 of the Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action, adopted by the UN World Conference on Human Rights on 25 June 1993, which declared the denial of the right to selfdetermination as a violation of human rights.38 Certainly, the kind of situations the authors of these declarations had in mind were colonial or other forms of alien domination, but the suffering of the Kosovo-Albanians under Serb repression can easily be subsumed under it.39 The repression by the Milosevic regime, which has been historically substantiated in a number of cases before the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY),40 finally led to the first military humanitarian intervention carried out by NATO forces in Europe, one of the unique elements of this case.41 The Independent International Commission on Kosovo, chaired by Richard Goldstone, came to the conclusion that the intervention had been ‘illegal, but legitimate’.42 By the end of this intervention – which only took place by air forces and thus allowed Serb military and police to increase their repression of Kosovo-Albanians on the ground, who were subjected to an attempt of ethnic cleansing – there were more than 800,000

37

See Statement of the Netherlands, UN Doc. A/AC.125/SR.107 (1969), at 85.

38

United Nations World Conference on Human Rights, Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action, UN Doc. A/CONF.157/23 (1993), para. 2.

39

See D. Kumbaro, ‘The Kosovo Crises in International Law Perspective: Self-Determination, Territorial Integrity and NATO Intervention’, Final Report, prepared for NATO (2001), at 39 et seq., http://www.nato.int/acad/fellow/99-01/kumbaro.pdf (last visited 16 April 2008).

40

See, e.g., Prosecutor v. Milosevic, Milutinovic, Sainovic et al., Amended Indictment, Case No. IT-99-37-I, charging them with crimes against humanity and violations of the laws or customs of war.

41

Cf. A. Schnabel/R. Thakur (eds.), Kosovo and the Challenge of Humanitarian Intervention. Selective Indignation, Collective Action and International Citizenship (2000).

42

Independent International Commission on Kosovo (Chair: R. Goldstone), The Kosovo Report (2000), http://www.kosovocommission.org/reports (last visited 16 April 2008).

400

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people who had fled the country. Altogether, about 1.3-1.5 million people were displaced out of a population of about two million.43 This shows the dimension of the Serb repression, which eventually took the life of more than 10,000 Kosovo-Albanians, the majority of which were civilians, and hardly left any family unaffected. There are reports about the atrocities committed by the Serb side, but there were also serious human rights violations against Serbs by Kosovo-Albanians.44 All this happened after the Milosevic regime had destroyed Vukovar, attacked Dubrovnik, besieged and shelled the Olympic City of Sarajevo for three years and allowed a genocide to be committed in Srebrenica in July 2005 – the first on European soil since the holocaust – concerning which the International Court of Justice held Serbia responsible for failure to prevent it.45 Serbia’s destructive role in the wars on the territory of the former Yugoslavia, coupled with the fact that the US and especially Europe were blamed for having done too little too late to prevent ethnic cleansing and other crimes in Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, goes a long way of explaining why NATO’s intervention finally took place. It also explains why, after the end of the NATO bombing against Serbian targets in Serbia, Montenegro and Kosovo, Serb rule was not allowed to be re-established in Kosovo. Instead, Serb authorities were replaced by UNMIK with the task described above, in particular the task of developing provisional institutions for democratic and autonomous self-government and a political process to determine Kosovo’s future status. Certainly, there have also been atrocities against Serbs, as many of them were attacked when the Kosovars returned after the NATO intervention, forcing them to relocate to the North of Kosovo or to their homeland for fears of reprisals as the UN forces failed to fully protect them. Generally, the fact that the UN took over full responsibility for Kosovo forming de jure still part of a sovereign and independent state as a result of a humanitarian intervention is another unique element of the case of Kosovo. It is also of importance that the Serb minority population under the political control and with massive financial support from Belgrade never fully cooperated with the international administration and only to a very limited extent with the provisional government led by Kosovo-Albanians. Elections were boycotted although the 2001 Constitutional Framework of Provisional Self-Government46 gave the Serb minority a very favourable treatment. The judicial and educational system in Northern Mitro43

Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC), ‘Kosovo: NRC Country Programmes’, Press Release, 20 January 2003, http://www.nrc.no (last visited 16 April 2008). US State Department, Ethnic Cleansing in Kosovo: An Accounting (1999), http://www.state.gov/www/global/ human_rights/kosovoii/homepage.html (last visited 16 April 2008).

44

Cf. Transnational Foundation for Peace and Future Research, ‘Human Rights in Kosovo/a Not So Simple’, Press Release, 27 August 1998, http://www.transnational.org/SAJT/pressinf/ pf45.html (last visited 16 April 2008).

45

Case concerning the Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro), Judgment of 26 February 2007, General List No. 91.

46

See UNMIK Regulation 2001/9, http://www.unmikonline.org/regulations/2001/reg09-01. htm (last visited 16 April 2008).

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vica and most other institutions in Mitrovica did not participate in the UNMIK-led process, but de facto maintained the Serbian laws and institutions. The bridge over the Ibar separated both communities and no Albanian dared to continue living in the Northern part of Mitrovica. The use of the new Kosovo license plates was not enforced in this region. This was tolerated by UNMIK, which resulted in an increasing de facto partitioning of Kosovo.47 Also other Serb communities in the South and other parts of Kosovo did not accept the rule of the institutions of provisional self-government, but especially Serbs in the North and in certain enclaves like Gračanica either boycotted or ignored it, because of their loyalty to Serbia. This explains why no reconciliation or building of mutual confidence and trust took place even when democratic governments were ruling in Serbia after Milosevic. After the Serbian Prime Minister Zoran Dzindzic, who had delivered Milosevic to the ICTY and held a more open attitude towards Kosovar ambitions for independence, had been killed, nationalist forces returned to power, and made the reintegration of ‘Kosovo and Metohija’ as the territory is called by Serbia, a primary concern of their political agenda. In 2006, Montenegro, which has a large percentage of Serb citizens of more than 32%,48 was finally allowed to leave the common state of Serbia and Montenegro after a three-year waiting period and a referendum with an unusually high majority requirement requested by the European Union, and a new constitution was drafted in Serbia in 2006 and narrowly adopted in a referendum without any public or parliamentary discussion, which emphasized that Kosovo and Metohija were an inseparable part of Serbia. Neither had Kosovo-Albanian representatives been invited to the drafting of the constitution nor had Kosovo-Albanians a chance to express themselves on it, because only the Serb-Kosovars were allowed to participate in the referendum. The referendum showed a support for the constitution of only 51.4%, with 50% having been the necessary limit. If Kosovo-Albanians had had a chance to vote against or simply boycott it, the new constitution would not have been adopted.49 Accordingly, the principle of representative government has not been respected and there was a lack of bona fide efforts from the Serbian state institutions in this respect.50 This clearly shows that Serbia was not prepared to allow for proper democratic representation of the whole people belonging to the territory (according to Serb claims) without distinctions as to race, creed or colour also after the end of the Milosevic rule. Arguments that Kosovo had a right to secession only in 1999, as a reaction to the discriminatory and repressive Milosevic regime, but not in 2008, after several years

47

See B. Reka, supra note 18; and H. Kramer/V. Dzihic, Die Kosovo Bilanz. Scheitert die internationale Gemeinschaft? (2005).

48

CIA World Fact Book, ‘Montenegro’, https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-worldfactbook/geos/mj.html#People (last visited 16 April 2008).

49

The participation in Serbia had been 54.1%, while among the Serbs in Kosovo it was 90%.

50

See International Crisis Group, ‘Serbia’s New Constitution: Democracy Going Backwords’, Policy Briefing No. 44, 8 November 2006, http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/index. cfm?action=login&ref_id=4494 (last visited 16 April 2008).

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of democratic government in Serbia therefore appear to be unfounded, let alone the fact that Kosovo in 1999 was not functional as a state.51 In addition, Kosovo-Albanians, who are fully united on that issue, never left any doubt regarding their aspiration for independence. On 2 July 1990, the parliament of Kosovo met to declare the independence of Kosovo and its status as a republic in the Yugoslav federation in reaction to the removal of most of its powers. The Milosevic government responded with the dissolution of the Kosova parliament by a special statute. The Kosovo-Albanians organized a Kosovo-wide referendum in 1991 which gave nearly 100% support to the proposal.52 This was not recognized at the time by any state because the international community rather tried to negotiate with Milosevic and nobody assisted the Kosovo-Albanians in their peaceful resistance. The dissolution of the Former Yugoslavia has been confirmed by the so-called Badinter Commission, which was established as a consultative body by a declaration of the European Communities of 27 August 1991 to deliver opinions on the disintegration of Yugoslavia. It based its opinion mainly on the principle of uti possidetis,53 as the international law on self determination was considered not clear enough and stability was a major consideration. Accordingly, the Serb population in Bosnia and Herzegovina was found not to have a right to external self-determination. Changes of the borders were only to be accepted if based on agreement.54 For the autonomous province of Kosovo, whose borders with Serbia were mainly administrative, this meant that the principle of uti possidetis prevented the recognition of a right to self-determination different from the case of the former Yugoslav republics. However, Kosovo itself was never a direct subject of an opinion.55 In 1999, Kosovo was not given a chance to realize its independence either. Rather, something like a ‘UN protectorate’ was installed and the future status was only to be clarified after building standards, which the international administration did not direct towards Serbia, but towards European standards with accession to the EU as the ultimate objective, thus effectively disintegrating Kosovo from Serbia. It was only in 2008, after the UN process described above and further careful preparations, that Kosovo was allowed to formally declare its independence. This, too, can be considered a unique element of the Kosovo case. 51

See, for a different point of view, C. Rath, Interview with M. Bothe, ‘Es gibt kein Recht auf Abspaltung’, Die Tageszeitung, 17 February 2008, http://www.taz.de/1/politik/europa/ artikel/1/es-gibt-kein-recht-auf-abspaltung/?src=MT&cHash=3ef51877c9.

52

See Petritsch/Kaser/Pichler, supra note 3, at 189 et seq.

53

See, on the uti possidetis-principle, E. McWhinney, Self-Determination of Peoples and Plural-Ethnic States in Contemporary International Law 53 et seq. (2007); and, critically, E. Hasani, ‘Uti possidetis juris: From Rome to Kosovo, 27 Fletcher Forum on World Affairs 85-97 (2003); and S. R. Ratner, ‘Drawing a Better Line: Uti Possidetis and the Borders of New States’, 90 AJIL 59 et seq. (1996).

54

See J. Summers, Peoples and International Law. How Nationalism and Self-Determination Shape a Contemporary Law of Nations 267 et seq. (2007); and P. Radan, The Break-Up of Yugoslavia and International Law (2002).

55

See McWhinney, supra note 53, at 54 et seq.

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Both General Assembly Resolution 2625 (XXV) as well as the Charta of Helsinki, which also spells out the principle of self-determination, contain conflicting elements by expressing the right to self-determination on the one hand and the principles of sovereignty and territorial integrity on the other hand. Accordingly, both sides in a conflict can use parts of the text of these declarations to support their positions. Any interpretation, however, has to be an act of balancing.56

B.

The Interpretation of Security Council Resolution 1244 and the Role of UNMIK

The same is true for Security Council Resolution 1244 (1999). On the one hand, it refers to the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia and establishes an interim administration for Kosovo under which the people of Kosovo can enjoy substantial autonomy within the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. On the other hand, it provides for an open political process to determine Kosovo’s future status. It is not untypical that UN resolutions contain contradictory wording and textual compromises, the real meaning of which is only revealed by court decisions or subsequent practice. In the case of UNMIK, this subsequent practice has transformed or concretized Security Council Resolution 1244 in a way which actually prepared Kosovo for independence and not a return to Serb rule, also because Kosovo-Albanians refused to work on the basis of Serb laws adopted since 1989. Further, the UN-led process of determination of the future status of Kosovo has resulted in a clear recommendation: ‘supervised independence’. Therefore, to go back to the original text of Resolution 1244 to prove that Kosovo could only realize its right to self-determination in the form of internal self-determination as part of Serbia, neglects the entire status process, conducted under the aegis of the UN and the Contact Group. This is not to say that UNMIK deliberately prepared Kosovo for separation from Serbia, but rather that fulfilling its mandate, including legal and institutional reforms as well as providing for a democratic process,57 eventually had this effect. However, UNMIK did nothing to prevent the Declaration of Independence by the ‘Republic of Kosovo’ and its recognition by the United States, a majority of EU members and some other states. The Special Representative of the Secretary-General did not use his powers to declare the Declaration of Independence null and void, which can only be interpreted as acquiescence in or tacit consent given to the declaration. Again, legally relevant practice has to be taken into account in a current interpretation of international instruments. The absence of any decision or statement, neither by the Security Council nor by the Secretary-General of the United Nations, is interpreted by some as a major legitimacy gap. According to Serbia, Russia, and some international lawyers, the negotiations 56

See Summers, supra note 54, at 221.

57

See the five phases indicated for the work of UNMIK in the Report of the Secretary General on the United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo, UN Doc. S/1999/779 (1999), paras. 110-116.

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should have been continued and the secession should not have been recognized, because of the lack of consent by Serbia, which as the successor state to the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) formally still held de jure sovereignty over Kosovo.58 However, this sovereignty was confirmed by Security Council Resolution 1244 only until a political solution would be found. The sovereignty had de facto eroded, both by the active attitude of the Kosovo Albanian-led provisional institutions of Kosovo’s self-government set up under UNMIK rule and by UNMIK itself, which, for example, did not allow for the return of some Serb military and police personnel as foreseen in the same resolution59 and also accepted that the Euro became the quasi-official currency of Kosovo, similar to Montenegro. It was expected that the Security Council would adopt a new resolution, which should have formed the basis for the future status of Kosovo including the international civilian presence led by the European Union and the Rule of Law-mission of the EU, EULEX. The fact that – for political and economic reasons – Russia ultimately decided to support the Serb position and to threaten to use its veto power in the Security Council to block the UN process, while, as a member of the Contact Group, it had previously participated in the UNMIK process without ever demonstrating any opposition to it, shows that Russia did not act in good faith. What can be done if the Security Council is blocked and cannot meet its responsibilities to take decisions to preserve or establish peace and security? If a particular situation or process should not be held hostage to an opposing member of the Security Council a possible way out is to go ahead without the Security Council. This is obviously the last resort to which states may only return if there has been a misuse of the position of permanent membership in the Security Council, similar to a denial of justice in the field of the judiciary. If due process has been obstructed, in the interest of peace and security it might be necessary – in exceptional cases or as an ultima ratio – to move on without the blessing of the blocked body. This argument is not without historical precedent. Almost sixty years ago, in a different era of world politics, but faced with a similar situation – a Security Council blocked by Soviet (threats of) vetoes – the General Assembly passed Resolution 377 (‘Uniting For Peace’)60 foreseeing action by the General Assembly when the Security Council fails to exercise its primary responsibility for the maintenance of international peace and security. This raises the question whether the General Assembly should have been seized of the matter. However, GA Res. 377 has not become standard practice 58

See Russian News and Information Agency Novosti, ‘Russia says independence for Kosovo undermines international law’, 19 February 2008, http://en.rian.ru/russia/20080219/99597524print.html (last visited 16 April 2008). See also the position of N. Paech, ‘Resolution des Sicherheitsrates 1244 (1999) und eine eventuelle Unabhängigkeitserklärung des Kosovo. Eine Gegenstellungnahme zur Position des Auswärtigen Amtes’, http://www.uni-kassel. de/fb5/frieden/regionen/Serbien/kosovo-aa-paech.html (last visited 16 April 2008); Bothe, supra note 51; and G. Nolte, ‘Kein Recht auf Abspaltung’, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 13 February 2008.

59

UN Security Council Res. 1244, UN Doc. S/RES/1244 (1999), para. 4.

60

UN General Assembly Res. 377, UN Doc. A/RES/377 (V).

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and to opt for this approach again could have produced unforeseeable results, which could have further weakened the UN system of peace and security. Among the reasons, why the Russian request for further negotiations had to be considered unreasonable are the two completed negotiation processes and the increasing danger of new violence in Kosovo, because of frustration about the lack of results of the UN process. In February 2007, demonstrations for independence took place in front of the UN headquarters in Prishtina. Two men died after suffering headshots from rubber bullets fired by Romanian members of the UN police force. The Romanians were repatriated without being brought to justice.61 Such incidents, among others, seriously damaged the reputation of UNMIK. Since the presentation of the Ahtisaari Plan UNMIK prepared its withdrawal in order to hand administration over to a much smaller EU-led civilian mission. It has been argued that, in the absence of both a Security Council decision and a decision by the UN Secretary-General – who as the head of the mission could have taken action, but in light of the divided Security Council refrained from doing so – Resolution 1244 could be used as a legal basis for EU presence, because it speaks in a general way of ‘establish[ing] an international presence in Kosovo’. However, this approach is not convincing. In that case, the UN Secretary-General would have to take the respective decisions while the main responsibilities of the international civil presence as defined in Security Council Resolution 1244 have largely been completed, which is why a new mandate was considered necessary in the first place. The joint action by the Council of the European Union on the establishment of an EU Planning Team for Kosovo is based on the assumption expressed therein that the United Nations will remain in Kosovo until Security Council Resolution 1244 is being repealed or replaced, but that it ‘has indicated that it will no longer take the lead in a post-status presence’.62 The joint action of the Council on the rule of law mission, EULEX, does refer to Security Council Resolution 1244 without using it as a legal basis. It rather refers to humanitarian reasons and the prevention of violence as alluded to in Security Council Resolution 1674 of 28 April 2006 and the readiness of the European Union to play a leading role in the stabilization of the region in conformity with a European perspective.63 As explained in the first report of the Secretary-General on the United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo, the fifth and last phase of the role of UNMIK

61

See Ombudsperson Institution in Kosovo, Report No. 008/2007 of 21 March 2008 regarding the incidents that occurred during the ‘Veterendosje’ protest on 10 February 2007 to the Special Representative of the Secretary-General of United Nations, http://www. ombudspersonkosovo.org/repository/docs/ex%20off%20008-07%20Vetevendosje%20 report-EnLG%20-%20final%2021-03-08.pdf (last visited 16 April 2008).

62

See Council of the European Union, Council Joint Action on the establishment of an EU Planning Team (EU PT) regarding a possible crises management operation in the field of rule of law and possible other areas in Kosovo, 5 April 2006.

63

See Council Joint Action 2008/124/CFSP of 4 February 2008 on the European Union Rule of Law Mission in Kosovo, EULEX Kosovo, OJL 42/92 of 16 February 2008.

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will depend on a final settlement and the dispositions made therein.64 In accordance with paragraph 11 (f) of Security Council Resolution 1244, UNMIK should, in the final stage, oversee the transfer of authority from Kosovo’s provisional institutions to institutions established under a political settlement. Therefore, the appropriate legal basis for the new mission, led by the EU, is the invitation expressed by the Republic of Kosovo in its Declaration of Independence, which, through the recognition of a number of important states, has gained legal relevance. Arrangements which should have been part of a new Security Council Resolution will have to be provided for in agreements made with the Kosovo government. The installation of an International Civilian Representative in Kosovo, who, according to the Ahtisaari Plan, will have far-reaching powers that should be used only as a last resort, is legally based on the consent of the Kosovo government, expressed in its Declaration of Independence. As an international basis, the first decision of the newly formed International Steering Group (ISG) for Kosovo, in its first meeting in Vienna, on 28 February 2008, was to appoint the European Union Special Representative in Kosovo to be the International Civil Representative (ICR) for Kosovo as foreseen in the Ahtisaari Plan.65 Already before the Declaration of Independence, the European Union Special Representative in Kosovo had been appointed by the European Council.66 The International Steering Group did not replace the contact group. It has presently 15 members which however no longer include Russia but 12 EU states, Switzerland, Turkey and the US, and may be enlarged by interested countries having recognized the Republic of Kosovo.

C.

Legal Implications

These developments have various legal implications. One of them concerns the statehood of Kosovo. The argument that Kosovo lacks one major element of a full state, namely effective control, because an international civilian and military presence is still in place, is not correct. As already stated in the dissenting opinion by judge Anzilotti to the advisory opinion of the Permanent Court of International Justice on the GermanAustrian Customs Union dispute in 1922, restrictions of the sovereignty ‘arising out of ordinary international law or contractual engagements, do not as such in the least affect its independence [… ] however extensive and burdensome those obligations may be’.67 In the case of Kosovo, the Comprehensive Proposal for the Kosovo Status Settlement

64

See Report of the Secretary-General on the United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo, UN Doc. S/1999/799 (12 July 1999).

65

See Press Statement of the International Steering Group for Kosovo of 28 February 2008, http://www.ico-kos.org/pdf/presseng28/pdf (last visited 16 April 2008).

66

Council Joint Action 2008/123/CFSP of 4 February 2008 appointing a European Union Special Representative in Kosovo, OJL 42/88 of 16 February 2008.

67

Customs Regime between Germany and Austria, Advisory Opinion of 5 September 1931, 1931 PCIJ (Ser. A/B) No. 41 (Judge Anzilotti, Dissenting Opinion); 1931-1932 Annual Digest 29.

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and the International Military Presence have even been included into the Constitution of the Republic of Kosovo, adopted by the Kosovar parliament, the Assembly.68 Consequently, the argument that recognition was premature because Kosovo failed to fulfil all elements of a proper state cannot prevail either. At this point, Kosovo has a permanent population, a defined territory and a government which has been democratically elected and has shown its ability to rule the country (with the exception of the Northern part, which counts about 60,000 Serbs). The fact that the Republic of Kosovo does not have sovereignty over its full territory because in the area of Northern Mitrovica live less than half of the Serbs in Kosovo, who, with the support of Serbia, so far refuse to accept both the Kosovo government and the EU mission, does not mean that Kosovo cannot be perceived as an independent ‘state’. There are several cases in which a state does not have full sovereignty over its whole territory, like the case of Nagorno-Karabakh in Azerbaijan, an Armenian enclave, over which Azerbaijan has no effective control, which does not mean that Azerbaijan would not be considered to possess all elements of a sovereign state. The principle of effectiveness in international law in the given context is satisfied by the fact that Kosovo’s independence is supported by more than 90% of the population, that Kosovo’s government does have effective control over most of its territory and that it has been recognized by most states that matter to Kosovo, including states of the region. Kosovo also has the capacity to enter into international relations as required by the well-known formula of the Panamerican Convention on the Rights and Duties of States of 1933 (‘Montevideo Convention’). It will be able to join most international organizations, with the possible exception of the United Nations itself, which according to Article 4 of the UN Charter requires a recommendation by the Security Council, which again could be blocked by Russia. More important is Kosovo’s membership in the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank.69

IV.

Conclusion: Implications of Kosovo’s Independence for the Evolution of International Law

A.

Humanizing Self-Determination

The case of the process of independence of the Republic of Kosovo can be taken as an example for the development of international law towards a more people-oriented and less state-oriented approach. A tendency of ‘humanizing international law’ has also been observed for other areas.70 The 1990s have been characterized by an increasing awareness of the human dimension in international law. For example, in 1993 the United Nations 68

See 2008 Constitution of the Republic of Kosovo, arts. 143, 153.

69

See Articles of Agreement of the International Monetary Fund, 2 UNTS 39; and the Articles of Agreement of the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development, 2 UNTS 134 and pertinent provisions in the bylaws on membership.

70

See, generally, T. Meron, The Humanization of International Law (2006).

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Development Programme (UNDP) inaugurated its annual report on ‘human development’. In 1997, the Secretary-General of the United Nations, Kofi Annan, initiated the mainstreaming of human rights throughout the UN system as part of a general reform of the United Nations71 and in 1999, 12 UN member states formed the Human Security Network, which introduced a new approach into international law, focussing on the security of the human person.72 The 2001 report of the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty on ‘The Responsibility to Protect’, solicited by Canada, a major member of the Human Security Network,73 has also been a reaction to the first humanitarian intervention in Europe after the creation of the United Nations, the intervention against Serbia, undertaken by NATO in order to liberate Kosovo from Serb oppression and the massive human rights violations connected to it. The right to self-determination, which – since its inclusion in common Articles 1 of the 1966 international human rights Covenants – has been explicitly situated in the human rights context, could not remain unaffected by this general development.74 A state insisting on its de jure sovereignty over a people without respecting their basic human rights and exerting control by force and violating the obligations to representative government by removing the representatives of the people from the governmental institutions of the country, looses the legitimacy to govern that territory against the will of the vast majority of the people concerned. The 1990s also brought an empowerment of non-state actors in the international community, i.e. NGOs, in various fields, including the arena of international politics. In the case of Kosovo, as before in the case of Bosnia and Herzegowina, NGO activism was inspired by the values of human rights and democracy. It is worth noting that in the case of Kosovo, NGOs like the International Crisis Group (ICG) or the European Stability Initiative (ESI), by way of a number of well researched reports, were very influential in shaping the views of Western states and the European Union. An analysis of some of the reports of the ICG in particular, which is based in Brussels with offices in Washington, New York, London and Moscow, shows that Western governments by

71

See Report of the Secretary-General, Renewing the United Nations: A Programme for Reform, UN Doc. A/51/950 (1997); and G. Oberleitner, Global Human Rights Institutions 103 et seq. (2007).

72

See Human Security Network, http://www.humansecuritynetwork.org (last visited 16 April 2008); and G. Oberleitner, ‘Human Security – A Challenge to International Law?’, 11 Global Governance 185 (2005); as well as W. Benedek, ‘Der Beitrag des Konzepts der menschlichen Sicherheit zur Friedenssicherung’, in K. Dicke et al. (eds.), Weltinnenrecht, Liber amicorum Jost Delbrück 25 (2005).

73

Report by the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignity, The Responsibility to Protect (2001), http://www.iciss.ca (last visited 16 April 2008).

74

See E. Hasani, Self-Determination, Territorial Integrity and International Stability: The Case of Yugoslavia (2003); G. Seidl, ‘A New Dimension of the Right to Self-Determination in Kosovo?’, in Ch. Tomuschat (ed.), Kosovo and the International Community. A Legal Assessment 203 (2002); D. Thürer, ‘Self-Determination’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Publication International Law 370 et seq. (1998), and addendum thereto (2000); and W. Benedek, ‘Selbstbestimmung’, in I. Seidl-Hohenveldern (ed.), Völkerrecht 365 (2001).

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and large followed the proposals persuasively made in those strategy papers.75 ICG and ESI are also closely monitoring the situation after independence.76 This can be taken as another qualitative development of international law, namely an increasing role of international civil society in matters touching on the heart of the formally state-centred international law focussing on sovereignty and statehood. The rise of (new) international concepts like accountability and legitimacy in the context of government is significant in this regard.77 This had its effect also on the interpretation of the right to self-determination, which also gained new importance in Europe since 1989 and the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.78 The human rights components of the right to selfdetermination having existed since the American revolution79 were strengthened, for instance by the criteria developed by the European Communities for the recognition of new states, including prominently the rule of law, democracy and human rights as well as minority protection.80 The comments by Russian, Serb and some other officials and authors seem to neglect this development as they are still referring to a concept of Westphalian international law which belongs to the Cold War era, when the internal situation of human rights was not considered a legitimate concern of other states or the international community. And indeed, their motivation seems at least partly to be inspired by their claim that the international community should not interfere with major human rights problems existing for example in Russia with regard to Chechnya or in China with regard to Tibet. However, as the Vienna World Conference on Human Rights of 1993 has clearly stated, human rights have become a legitimate concern of the international community.81 On the contrary, states who do not act in conformity with their international human rights obligations may loose their legitimacy. In other words, a right to selfdetermination can evolve in situations of major human rights violations, if, as expressed

75

See, e.g., International Crisis Group, ‘Kosovo: Towards Final Status’, Europe Report No. 161, 24 January 2005; International Crisis Group, ‘Kosovo: The Challenge of Transition’, Europe Report No. 170, 17 February 2006; and International Crisis Group, ‘Kosovo Countdown: A Blueprint for Transition’, Europe Report No. 188, 6 December 2007, all at http://www. crisisgroup.org/home/index.cfm?l=1&id=1243 (last visited 16 April 2008); see also European Stability Initiative (ESI), ‘Utopian Visions, Governance Failures in Kosovo’s Capital’, Discussion paper of 8 June 2006, http://www.esiweb.org/pdf/esi_document_id_78.pdf (last visited 16 April 2008).

76

See International Crisis Group, ‘Kosovo’s First Month’, Policy Briefing No. 47, 18 March 2008; and ‘ESI: Post-status Kosovo Will not Be Independent’, New Kosova Report, 14 February 2008, http://www.newkosovareport.com (last visited 16 April 2008).

77

See R. Wolfrum/V. Röben (eds.), Legitimacy in International Law (2008).

78

See K. Ginther/H. Isak (eds.), Self-Determination in Europe (1991); and Tomuschat, supra note 74.

79

See M. Bothe, ‘Summary of the Colloquium’, in Ginther/Isak (eds.), supra note 78, at 156.

80

Declaration on the Guidelines on the Recognition of New States in Eastern Europe and in the Soviet Union, 31 ILM 1486 (1992).

81

See 2003 Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action, supra note 38, para. 4.

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in paragraph 7 of General Assembly Resolution 2625 (XXV), a state government does not represent all of its people any longer. A right to secession may be the consequence, although only as a last resort.82 By recognizing a new state coming into existence in such a situation, the international community shows a higher concern for human rights and representative government than for state sovereignty and territorial integrity, which are not to be maintained at any cost. In the necessary balancing of the right to self-determination against territorial integrity, the performance of the government needs to be taken into account. The responsibility to protect, which as a principle has also been recognized in the outcome document of the UN World Summit of 200583 can, in extreme cases, lead to a new state. The will of the people needs to be respected. If more than 90% of the Kosovo Albanian population cannot imagine any other solution than independence, then the learned comments of academics on various forms of administration, which could better respond to balancing Serb sovereignty and Kosovan autonomy, are without basis.84 Accordingly, different from N. Paech, who sees the recognition of the independence of Kosovo as a violation of international law,85 the recognition has rather to be considered as a matter of discretion of each state.86 There is also the argument of a ‘remedial secession’ as a delayed remedy;87 however, as shown above, the situation in Serbia with regard to the ‘representativeness’ of its government has never truly improved. Others speak of ‘earned sovereignty’, which focuses more on the efforts by the Kosovo Albanians to meet the expectations of the international community.88

B.

The Precedential Effect

This raises the question what could be the precedential effect of the declaration and the recognition of the independence of Kosovo in Europe and for the world at 82

See D. Murswiek, ‘The Issue of a Right to Secession – Reconsidered’, in Ch. Tomuschat (ed.), Modern Law of Self-Determination 21 (1993); S. Macado/A. Buchanan (eds.), Secession and Self-Determination (2003); R. McCorquodale, ‘Self-Determination: A Human Rights Approach’, 43 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 857 (1994); and P. Hilpold, ‘Die Sezession – zum Versuch der Verrechtlichung eines faktischen Phänomens’, 63 Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht 117-141 (2008).

83

2005 World Summit Outcome Document, UN Doc. A/RES/60/1 (2005), paras. 138-140.

84

See V. M. Yakushik, ‘Searching for Constructive and Realistic Solutions of Kosovo Status – Theoretical Aspects’, 20 March 2008, http://www.ifimes.org/default.cfm?Jezik=En&Kat= 09&ID=350 (last visited 16 April 2008).

85

See Paech, supra note 58.

86

See A. Peters, ‘Die Anerkennung Kosovos als Ermessensfrage’, Neue Zürcher Zeitung Nr. 26, 1 February 2008, at 7.

87

See Ch. Pippan, ‘Kosovo, Die Statusfrage und die Ethik “externer Selbstbestimmung”. Anmerkungen aus völkerrechtlicher Sicht’, in H. Hösele et al. (eds.), Steirisches Jahrbuch für Politik 2006, at 165 (2007).

88

See, P. R. Williams, ‘Earned Sovereignty: The Road to Resolving the Conflict of Kosovo’s Final Status’, 31 Denver Journal of International Law and Policy 387 et seq. (2003).

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large. The cases which have been mentioned by Russia and some scholars, namely Northern Cyprus, Nagorno-Karabakh, South Ossetia, Abkhazia or Transnistria89 are fundamentally different from the Kosovo case, because the attempted secessions are not a result of the denial of representative government combined with major human rights violations. There has been no comparable involvement of the international community and, in particular, no multilateral process of defining a future political status. Although it cannot be excluded that some separatists, with the assistance of states with a majority population that corresponds to the separatist group or with the assistance of other interested states, will draw inspiration from the Kosovo experience and try to use it for their own purposes, there is hardly any situation in Europe and the world at large which can be compared to Kosovo. Accordingly, Kosovo has rightly been called ‘the unprecedented state’.90 Therefore, the claim that Kosovo’s independence will have a destabilizing effect by creating a precedent for other similar situations is largely unfounded although effects in this direction cannot be excluded. Admittedly, there is no international legal practice without a precedential effect. The case of Kosovo can indeed be taken as a precedent for the relevance of human rights and representative government in the context of self-determination. A state which does not meet certain minimum standards and tries to control a distinct people on its territory by force and repression looses the legitimacy to govern that people. Similar reasons may provide the foundation for an increased recognition of a responsibility to protect by the international community. In practice, the international community cannot be expected to react in a consistent manner, dealing with all situations equally. This can be seen from the tragic genocide in Rwanda in 1994, one year after the Vienna World Conference on Human Rights, from the hesitant reaction of the international community to the situation in Darfur, Sudan, as well as from the way the international community deals with the events in Chechnya or Tibet. Austria has recognized thousands of Chechens as legitimate refugees, which means that in each individual case it was determined that the person was subject to persecution and lacked protection in his or her home country. But there are no prospects that the international community or parts of it would militarily intervene in such cases. Kosovo is unique or sui generis also in this regard, because the intervention of the international community has been a result of a particular historic constellation unlikely to be repeated. The different views on a possible precedential effect can also be seen from the recognitions of the independence of Kosovo. It has been expected that countries with larger minorities will not recognize Kosovo for fear of the effect this may have on their own situation. However, while Spain indeed followed this pattern, Turkey was one of the first states to recognize Kosovo, although – with its problematic policy towards 89

For a legal assessment of Transnistrian efforts of secession for Moldova see Ch. J. Borgen, ‘Thawing a Frozen Conflict: Legal Aspects of the Frozen Conflict: Legal Aspects of the Separatist Crises in Moldova’, 2006 Legal Studies Research Paper Series, St. John’s University School of Law 06-0045, http://ssvn.com/abstract=920151 (last visited 16 April 2008).

90

See Kosovar Institute for Policy Research and Development, ‘Kosovo: The Unprecedented State’, Policy Brief No. 6, 2007, http://www.kipred.net (last visited 16 April 2008).

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the Kurds who have hardly any autonomy – the case of Kosovo could actually be of some relevance to Turkey. Has the independence of Kosovo and its recognition decreased the stability of SouthEastern Europe as has been claimed by Serbia and its supporters, in particular Russia? The general perception is that it has the potential to increase the region’s stability91 because the frustration of the Kosovo-Albanians with the international community and with Serbia for withholding independence, which has been the main cause of violence in the past, has been replaced by a new enthusiasm of finally being able to run their own state. With regard to the minorities living in Kosovo, the Ahtisaari Plan contains the most far-reaching standards of protection currently existing in Europe. And the European Union has decided to deploy a comprehensive Rule of Law mission (EULEX) to assist the new state in strengthening its judicial and police institutions,92 while the US provide military assistance. The only instability in form of violence so far came from the Serb side, which opposes the process by all available means, especially by attacking border posts and UN police as well as by refusing to accommodate any EULEX members in Northern Mitrovica.93 However, there is reasonable hope that the common prospect of European integration will eventually become more important than nationalist concerns.94 As the example of South Tyrol shows, such processes may take time, but arrangements can be found, which, through creating economic prosperity, can help mitigating divisions. In the particular case of Kosovo, the fact that the European Union has taken on such a large responsibility and offers the perspective of admitting both Serbia and Kosovo to follow the accessions of other post-Yugoslav countries should help to overcome the tensions linked to the independence of Kosovo. However, this prospect is another unique feature of the Kosovo case, which therefore can hardly be used as a template for any secessionist movement elsewhere. What remains is that Kosovo gives an example of a more human rights-oriented interpretation of the right to selfdetermination and thus may contribute to the evolution of an international law that is characterized by a stronger focus on the concerns of peoples versus those of states.

91

See H. Kuci, Independence of Kosovo/a, Stabilizing or Destabilizing factor in the Balkans? (2005).

92

See Council Joint Action 2008/124/CFSP of 4 February 2008, supra note 63.

93

See, e.g., B92, EC chief defends mission; EULEX withdraws from North, 23 February 2008, http://www.b92.net/eng/news/politics-article.php?yyyy=2008&mm=02&dd=23&nav_ id=47920 (last visited 16 April 2008).

94

See A. Hajrullahu, Langfristiger Friede am Westbalkan durch EU-Integration. Der EUIntegrationsprozess als Chance für die Überwindung des serbisch-kosovarischen Konflikts (2007).

20

20 – THE MERITS AND DEFECTS OF THE 2004 UN CONVENTION ON STATE IMMUNITY

413

The Merits and Defects of the 2004 UN Convention on State Immunity: Gerhard Hafner’s Contribution to its Adoption by the United Nations Hazel Fox

When Professor Hafner was appointed in 1999 by the UN Sixth Committee to chair the ad hoc committee on the Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, the whole topic of State immunity and of the outcome of the International Law Commission’s 1991 Draft Articles on the subject was in the doldrums. First undertaken by the ILC in 1977, the work was the subject of eight reports by the first Special Rapporteur Professor Sompomg Sucharikul, and three by the second Special Rapporteur Professor Motoo Ogiso of Japan, appointed in 1988, with the UNGA Sixth Committee reviewing each year, often critically, the ILC’s proposals. The first draft adopted in 1986 was circulated to governments and amended in the light of the views of the 23 States who made comments. The revised draft of the Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, described by Ogiso as a fair compromise between countries favouring a restrictive theory and those supporting ‘the so-called absolute theory’, was adopted by the ILC and submitted to the UN General Assembly in July 1991. In the Sixth Committee of the UN General Assembly the 1991 Draft Articles had a mixed reception. Given a further opportunity to comment, some nineteen States responded and their critical views were referred to an open-ended Working Group set up by the Sixth Committee to consider outstanding substantive issues and the question of convening a conference. In 1994 the Sixth Committee approved in principle the recommendation of the ILC to convene an international conference to adopt a convention on jurisdictional immunities of States, but in the meanwhile continued to refer the matter to the consideration of ad-hoc working groups. The first chaired over the period 1992 to 1998 by Mr Carlo CaleroRodrigues (Brazil) identified five outstanding issues on which States were divided and exhaustively discussed the possible solutions; the five issues were the concept of the State, the criteria for the commercial nature of a non-immune transaction, the relevance of a State enterprise, the extent of the employment contracts of the State which should continue immune and the restriction, if any, of the immunity of State property from measures of enforcement.1 In 1994 the Sixth Committee was sufficiently optimistic to 1

Official Records of the General Assembly, Fourty-eighth Session, Sixth Committee, Report of the Working Group, UN Doc. A/C.6/48/L.4, agenda item 152, Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 413-420, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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envisage the convening of a conference of plenipotentiaries to conclude a convention on the subject in 1995 or 1996 but the five issues proved so intransigent that in 1998 the Sixth Committee was obliged to set up a new open-ended working group under a new Chairman, Professor Hafner, with revised terms of reference and a further reference back of the outstanding issues to the ILC itself. Consequently, following the first meeting under his chairmanship in 1999, Professor Gerhard Hafner identified in his first report of 1998, in addition to the five unsolved problems, three further issues: the possible form which the outcome of the work should take, the existence or non-existence of immunity in the case of a violation of jus cogens norms and the future course of action to be taken.2 In the next five year period of Hafner’s Chairmanship, these seven areas of contention were sufficiently resolved so as to make possible the approval of a final text of a treaty by the Sixth Committee in October 2004 and the adoption by Resolution 59/38 on 2 December 2004 by the General Assembly of the United Nations of an international convention on the jurisdictional immunities of States and their property. How did this come about? How did Hafner persuade governments to resolve the points of contention and accept the text of the Convention? Let us take first the decision to embody the ILC Draft Articles in the form of an international convention. Throughout its long incubation period the ILC and the relevant UN bodies had given consistent support in favour of a convention. China in its 1991 comments had already stated its view that ‘it is imperative that a uniform rule be adopted’.3 A model law or the elaboration of guidelines were discussed in the 1999 and 2000 meetings of the working group as alternative forms to an international convention; they might serve as a compromise. But it was admitted that a model law might not carry sufficient legal weight and presented uncertainties as to its legal nature as well as potential inconsistencies in its application by States. There were further practical difficulties as to the preparation of a model law – how, by whom and the time it would take for the conversion of the draft articles into a model law. Hafner allied himself with the governments who pressed for the incorporation of the draft articles into an international convention. ‘Such a convention would make it possible to limit the proliferation of different national laws on the topic and would introduce the necessary elements of uniformity, legal certainty, consistency and clarity of relevant rules.’ There was need for an international rule to deter individual States applying or withdrawing immunity according to their own political interest. Such a reduction of immunity to a privilege was already particularly evident in the United States 1996 legislative amendment of the Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act of 1976 by the Anti-Terrorism and Death Penalty Act which removed immunity in respect of claims for money damages against a foreign government for personal injury or death caused by an act of torture, extrajudicial killing, hostage taking or the provision of material support or resources to terrorists, but – and this was the political discretionary 2

Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-fourth Session, Sixth Committee, Report of the Chairman of the Working Group, UN Doc. A/C.6/54/L.4 (1999), agenda item 152, Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property.

3

UN Secretary General’s Report, UN Doc. A/56/291 (2001), at 2.

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element – only in respect of claims made by US nationals against a foreign government designated as a State sponsor of terrorism pursuant to statutory powers given to the federal government. As the application of this Act with regard to Iraq demonstrated, the designation of a State as a sponsor of terrorism could both be imposed and withdrawn to suit the requirements of the forum State’s political interests. Hafner moved cautiously in his working group towards obtaining participating governments’ recognition of the advantages of a convention. In discussing the outstanding problem areas he promoted alternative drafts – four alternatives were initially discussed in respect of the appropriate criteria for the nature of a commercial transaction, two for the treatment of a State enterprise in article 10, and four for measures of constraint against State property. In 2002 the working group was moved forward by having before it a complete revision of the whole draft articles – thus the governments were reminded of the possible shape of a convention in its entirety – but the controversial points were softened by suggested alternatives. There were still two with a Chairman’s compromise for article 2.2 on the criterion for commerciality, two for the State enterprise in article 10, two for the extent to which diplomatic staff retained immunity in respect of employment contracts in article 11, but the provisions on measures of constraint had now settled into a firm distinction between pre-judgment and post-judgment measures, with the exception for attachment of property in use or intended use for governmental non-commercial purposes confined to the latter, but still with an unresolved requirement of connection to either the object of the proceeding or the agency against which the proceeding was directed. The next stage in 2003 was the elimination of the alternatives and this was achieved by the drafting of an annex of understandings in respect of controversial issues in articles 10, 11, 13, 14, 17 and 18 and an important statement that the draft articles did not cover criminal proceedings Finally in March 2004, prior to the adoption of the text of the final convention in October 2004 the draft was converted into treaty form with a preamble, final clauses and, made by article 15 an integral part of the Treaty, the Annex of Understandings for the interpretation of specified articles. Here again, despite the rigidity of the adopted treaty form, flexibility was preserved in the Final Clauses and the Annex. Reservations were not excluded and denunciation permitted under article 31, but as with the 1982 UN Law of the Sea Convention article 317, a paragraph was included providing that ‘denunciation shall not in any way affect the duty of any State Party to fulfill any obligation embodied in the Convention to which it would be subject under international law independently of the present Convention’. Read with the fifth paragraph of the preamble to the Convention which affirms that ‘the rules of customary international law continue to govern matters not regulated by the provision of the present Convention’, with article 5 which states a general rule of immunity subject to exceptions and article 6 which imposes an obligation on States party to give effect to that rule, this article 31 establishes the Convention as a regime for

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State immunity but not an exclusive one, nor one that prohibits clearly stated and agreed alternatives.4 Hafner’s role in bringing the negotiations in the working group to a successful conclusion is undoubted. It is less easy and would be an over-simplification to attribute responsibility to him for the result of those negotiations, but he undoubtedly played an important part in their outcome. The process of steady advance to a complete text of a treaty represents a considerable diplomatic achievement, one which resulted in the expression of almost universal support for the UN General Assembly’s adoption of the Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property; it was welcomed by the members of the European Union, of EFTA and EEC countries, Brazil (on behalf of the Rio Group), China, Cuba, India, Iran, Japan, Libya, Malaysia, Morocco, Nepal, Norway, the Russian Federation, Sierra Leone, Switzerland,Tanzania,Turkey,Venezuela,Vietnam ,the United States of America, Ukraine,Vietnam.5 The Convention also constitutes an advance in international law. The adoption as a convention of the draft on State immunity establishes it as a rule of law, of international law, and not a variable standard dependent on the decision of any particular forum State or its national court. Further its adoption establishes that a restrictive rule of State immunity, a rule with exceptions now prevails. This is no mere matter of doctrine solely of interest to legal pedants but a triumph of the rule of law over the manner in which States conduct their commercial affairs. The Convention sets out clear provisions on the definition of the concept of a State for the purposes of State immunity, on waiver and the exceptions to immunity from adjudication and a regime for immunity from enforcement measures against State property. A glance at the indices of the decisions of national courts exercising civil jurisdiction or at the International Law Reports reveals that by far the most prolific source of litigation relating to State immunity is to be found in proceedings relating to disputes arising from employment contracts between the foreign missions of States and their local employees. Employment contracts was one of the five problem areas which Chairman Carlo Calero-Rodrigues had identified. That issue is now covered in the exception for employment disputes in article 11 of the Convention which provides the structure for a workable compromise between the maintenance of the efficiency and security requirements of the foreign mission and fair conditions of work in conformity with local labour laws for employees. It represents a considerable advance on previous legislation and State practice in that it permits proceedings by employees in respect of contracts for work to be performed in whole or in part in the forum State whatever their nationality; leaving aside the special case of members of the diplomatic mission of the foreign State only nationals of the foreign State who are not permanent residents 4

A possibility thus exists, as Norway had done, for a State to file a declaration on ratification clarifying any ambiguity in the scope or application of the Convention.

5

Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-ninth Session, Sixth Committee, 13th meeting, UN Doc. A/C.6/59/SR.13 (2004), agenda item 142, ‘The Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property’.

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in the forum State at the time of institution of the proceedings are excluded. The previous discriminatory denial of a remedy to third State nationals has been removed. On the assumption that the Convention’s article 11 is applied in conformity with the growing State practice, which assumes jurisdiction over the financial consequences of dismissal but denies it as regards examination of the State’s reasons for such dismissal, local State employees will now be enabled to achieve an adjudication in national courts of their financial entitlement. Recruitment, renewal of employment or reinstatement remain reserved by article 11.2(d) being still generally recognised, as the decision of the European Court of Human Rights in Fogarty v. USA6 establishes, as a matter solely for the decision of the employer State and not open to review by the national court of the forum State. The other exceptions to State immunity from adjudication relating to commercial activities of the State contained in the Convention broadly follow the shape of similar exceptions in the 1972 European Convention, the US and UK legislation and the rulings of civil law courts in respect of such activities. But another advance, somewhat overlooked by some who criticize the Convention, is the extension of the restrictive rule to proceedings of a non-commercial nature in respect of personal injuries or tangible loss occurring in the forum State, regardless of whether such injuries or loss arises out of public acts de jure imperii or acts of a private nature de jure gestionis. Originally designed to rectify the injustice by which no liability accrued to the State for the negligent driving of its diplomats, this provision in article 12 ensures not only that any business conducted by the State within the territory of the receiving State will be conducted in accordance with the standards of health and safety which apply to private concerns, but also removes the bar on proceedings in respect of political assassination or violations of international law causing physical injury which take place within the territory of the forum State. These then are the major gains, the favourable aspects of the Convention and of its adoption by the United Nations. But what of the downside? What of the problem issues, other than employment contracts and the choice of form already discussed? Has a solution been achieved for the remaining problem issues identified by Hafner? On one view it can be said that, while a text has been adopted with regard to them all, no real solution has been achieved. Here one might note with regret that the final text was not submitted to a formal drafting reading; variations in the wording –‘government non-commercial’ in articles 16 and 19 and ‘commercial’ in articles 2 and 10 – and the superfluous limitation in articles 10 and 17 to ‘a foreign’ natural or juridical person as regards the individual party to a proceeding might have been addressed and the clarity of the Convention improved. As regards the contentious issue of the definition of commerciality, Article 2.2 provides that in the determination of whether a transaction comes within the exception to immunity in article 10 as a ‘commercial transaction’, reference should be made ‘primarily’ to the nature of the transaction, but also to its purpose if the parties to the transaction have so agreed or ‘if in the practice of the State of the forum, that purpose is relevant to determining the non-commercial character of

6

Fogarty v. UK, Merits of 21 November 2001, 34 EHRR 302 (2001), 123 ILR 53.

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the […] transaction’. Pingel notes in a note in Clunet that ‘de longues discussions au sein du comité spécial n’ont pas permis de venir à bout de la difficulté’ and comments ‘[l]a nouvelle redaction de l’article 2, paragraphe 2, porte la marque de ces oppositions irréductibles’. Whilst she finds no problem with the parties to the transaction themselves agreeing to purpose being the relevant criterion, she queries whether the law of the State party to the transaction might have been more appropriate than to the law of the forum State as paragraph 2 requires.7 This criticism overlooks the effect of the paragraph in article 2 .1 (c) which precedes the definition paragraph and sets out two straight forward categories of commercial transaction – ‘sale of goods or supply of services’ and ‘loan or other transaction of a financial nature’; only the third category ‘any other transaction of a commercial, industrial, trading or professional nature’ may be open-ended, though the list of adjectives surely makes plain the intended scope. If one stands back to take a general view of this issue the opinion of the 1999 ILC Working group is helpful; in its report it stated: ‘It was felt that the distinction between the so-called nature and purpose tests might be less significant in practice than the long debate about it might imply’ (paragraph 60).8 In sum, the much revised definition of commercial transaction in article 2.2 may largely be treated as window-dressing to mollify the objectors; properly constituted courts are capable of distinguishing a commercial transaction from a political deal – see for instance the Australian New South Wales Court case of Victoria Aircraft Leasing Ltd v. United States9 which refused to classify as commercial a bank loan offered in exchange for arranging the defection of a North Korean scientist. Arbitrary classification by a national court of business deals as acts of sovereign authority is more likely to condemn the whole judicial system as lacking independence than to disprove the workability of the public/private law distinction. The other outstanding issues have been dealt with by revised wording and accompanying understandings in the Annex. Thus the definition in article 2 of the meaning of the State with regard to constituent units and political subdivision, paragraph 1 (b) (ii), and agencies and instrumentalities, paragraph 1 (b) (iii), qualifies both these categories by the words ‘entitled to perform and are actually performing acts in the exercise of sovereign authority of the State’. The scope of the provision relating to a State enterprise in article 10.3 is confined to its effect on immunity by an Understanding so as not ‘to prejudge the question of piercing the veil’, or situations of misrepresentation of financial position or reduction of assets. The exception for arbitration agreements in article 17 is enlarged by another Understanding to include investment matters, thus removing immunity in respect of proceedings relating to arbitration agreements in bilateral investment treaties, regardless of whether these may cover matters of sovereign authority or of a private law nature. 7

I. Pingel, ‘Observations sur la Convention du 17 janvier 2005 sur les immunités juridictionelles des Etats et de leur biens’, 132 Journal du droit international 1045, at 1050 (2005).

8

ILC Report of Working Group on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, UN Doc. A/CN.4/L576 (1999).

9

Victoria Aircraft Leasing Ltd v. United States, Australian New South Wales Court, 218 ALR 640 (2005), paras. 34-35.

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The solution relating to immunity of State property from execution in Part IV is more wide-ranging but remains open to criticism. Given that at one stage in the negotiations it was thought progress might only be made by deleting all provisions relating to enforcement, the inclusion of articles 18 to 21 and some limitation on the absolute nature of immunity from execution should be seen as a gain. The separation of post-judgment from pre-judgment proceedings relating to enforcement is welcome. The rationale for this distinction of post-judgment from pre-judgment measures of execution rests on the prior determination of the absence of immunity from adjudication where a judgment is sought to be executed; with pre-judgment measures of execution there is no such safeguard and in consequence, as in the US and English legislation, the immunity from execution in the Convention as regards pre-judgment proceedings as provided for in article 18 remains absolute. As regards post-judgment measures of constraint in article 19, although the requirement of a connection of the State property with the subject-matter of the proceeding has been replaced by the requirement that such property has a connection with the entity against which the property was directed, the conditions in article 19.3 to permit enforcement against State property in satisfaction of a judgment rendered against a State remain restrictive, more so than the rules currently applicable in Western industrialised States. The severest criticism of the Convention lies in the failure to state clearly in its provisions the matters covered and those which are excluded. By reason of differences of view no agreement could be reached as to any exclusion in the Convention as regards criminal proceedings and it was left to the Resolution of the General Assembly adopting the Convention to state in paragraph 2 that it ‘agrees with the general understanding reached in the Ad Hoc Committee that the United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property does not cover criminal proceedings’. Even less satisfactory is the position as to visiting forces and proceedings arising from armed conflict. Only the Statement of Professor Hafner introducing the Convention recorded in an official UN document covers this point. In paragraph 36 of that Statement he said: ‘One of the issues that had been raised was whether military activities were covered by the Convention. The general understanding had always prevailed that they were not’ (paragraph 36). He referred to the ILC’s commentary on the exception for personal injuries, article 12, and reminded UN members that, as stated in the preamble, rules of customary law continued to govern matters not regulated by the provisions of the Convention.10 The exclusion of these matters thus becomes a question of the interpretation of the meaning of the Convention and will depend on construing the UNGA Resolution and the Chairman’s Statement as within the context of the treaty as defined in article 31.2 of the 1969 Vienna Convention on Treaties. The exclusion of any provision in the Convention with regard to acts in violation of international law is regarded by some, particularly human rights activists, as a serious omission and indeed as a ground for not ratifying the Convention. This issue was raised by the ILC in an annex when the matter was referred back to its working group in 1999. 10

Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-ninth Session, Sixth Committee, 13th meeting, UN Doc. A/C.6/59/SR.13 (2004), agenda item 142.

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The omission of any exception in the Convention for such violations was explained by Hafner that, in the absence of established State practice on the matter, the inclusion of any such provision was recognized as jeopardizing the acceptance of the whole convention. This omission in effect does no more than reflect the present uncertainty in State practice as how best to regulate the issue. There is now widespread acceptance that a rule of law applies to the regulation of commercial disputes between States and private persons; international law recognises the propriety of national courts’ adjudication of such issues and municipal law’s rules are accepted as governing these issues. The present position of the UN Convention and State practice submits commercial disputes to the adjudication of national courts because general commercial and business standards are now largely accepted throughout the world. The risks involved in matters of commerce and business are well known and insurable and consequently generate sufficient certainty and common recognition as to permit their adjudication and enforcement by municipal courts. The position as to violations of international law is very different. Many of such violations of international law arise by changes in policy or in the political or economic strength of the players and in the worst cases by resort to force. The consequences of such a violation remain largely uninsurable; such schemes as there are, as for instance the UN Compensation Claims Commission in respect of claims arising from the seizure of the US Embassy and staff in Tehran in 1979 and from Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in 1990, depend on the availability of a fund and a scheme of partial compensation with ceilings. Measures of rehabilitation and loans to the defeated State are frequently seen as securing a speedier return to peaceful relations and rehabilitation of the injured and the victims of the violation of international law than any court system of compensation for individual victims. The law of State immunity reflects these differences in the treatment of breaches of commercial law and violations of international law; if such differences can be reduced, and compensation accepted as the way forward to limit resort to use of force there is little doubt that, as with the adoption of the restrictive doctrine for commercial activities, the rules of State immunity will also be adapted to such a change. At the present time, however, the general conclusion must be that, as set out in the UN Convention, the present international law retains State immunity in national courts in respect of claims alleging a violation of international law. The above account has endeavoured to describe the part played by Professor Hafner in bringing about the transformation of the ILC draft articles on State immunity into a UN Convention. As at April 2006 there were 28 signatures, including those of China, India and Japan and ratifications deposited by four States. That is no mean achievement, having regard to the wide differences of opinion that surfaced throughout the negotiations. Only the passage of time and the extent to which the Convention attracts sufficient ratifications to come into force will enable a full assessment of its legal force in international law.

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The International Customary Law Nature of Immunity from Measures of Constraint for State Cultural Property on Loan Andrea Gattini

I.

Introduction

In the recent magnificent exhibition of the late Titian held in Vienna and Venice,1 the Viennese public could admire two stunning paintings lent by the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, a Saint Magdalene and a Saint Sebastian. Not so the Venetian public. Why? Conservation grounds for the one painting and ensuing excessive transportation costs for the other were the reasons officially stated. On the quiet, rumours were heard that fear of lack of legal security, i.e., the lack of guarantees from arrest or other judicial constraint measures in Italy might have contributed to the Museum’s decision. As is well known, after the startling NOGA case in November 2005, when a Swiss court ordered the arrest of 54 impressionist paintings lent by the Pushkin Museum in Moscow to the Gianadda Foundation in Martigny,2 Russian museums have drastically reconsidered their loan policy and are now unwilling to lend any object in the absence of an anti-seizure statute in the borrowing state, or at least of binding and unequivocal statements by the competent state authorities. Austria has such an anti-seizure statute, Italy does not.3 The uncompromising Russian position may be critized as unduly pressure on states to amend their legislation, but it is true that the issue of protection from seizure of works of art on loan has become an urgent one in the last ten years. The risk of seizure may be prompted by the most different backgrounds. In the already mentioned NOGA case, a trading firm sought the enforcement of an award of the Stockholm Court of Arbitration rendered in 1997 and concerning a non-related

1

Cf. S. Ferino-Pagden (ed.), Der späte Tizian. Die Sinnlichkeit der Malerei, Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, 18 October 2007 – 6 January 2008, Galleria dell’Accademia Venezia, 26 January – 20 April 2008.

2

Cf. ‘Swiss seize Russian-owned art to settle a debt’, International Herald Tribune, 16 November 2005.

3

Cf. Bundesgesetz über die vorübergehende sachliche Immunität von Leihgaben zu Ausstellungen der Bundesmuseen, 30 December 2003, Federal Legal Gazette (BGBl) 2003, I, 133. The statute applies to Austria’s nine federal museums only. As for Italy, in the absence of statutory law, administrative practice with regard to Russian lenders is that local public authorities under their own responsibility and in agreement with the local subdivision of the Ministry for Cultural Heritage issue a ‘return guarantee’.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 421-440, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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commercial debt owed to it by the Russian Government4. The claim of Prince HansAdam II of Liechtenstein, which entertained not less than four judicial instances in Germany,5 and was later brought before the European Court of Human Rights6 and

4

In 1991, the Geneva based trading firm NOGA had negotiated several contracts with the then Soviet Government, providing consumer goods and fertilizers in exchange of petroleum products. In 1993, after Russia’s delays in payments and eventually termination of contracts, the firm refused an out-of-court settlement and filed a lawsuit against the new Russian Government for arrear payments and damages, claiming compensation for about $ 680 million. In the meanwhile the firm had gone bankrupt and ceded its financial claims toward Russia to a consortium of four Swiss banks. In 1997, the Stockholm Arbitration Court awarded $ 63 million to NOGA. Since then the firm has been trying to enforce the award, attempting to arrest Russian property in France, the US and Switzerland. The arrest of the impressionist collection of the Pushkin Museum in November 2005 was just the last of a series of spectacular moves by NOGA, which had previously sought the arrest in France of Russian state aircraft at the Le Bourget Air Show, of the Russian presidential jet during a state visit of President Putin to France, of the accounts of Russia’s embassy in Paris and of the Russian delegation to UNESCO. Before a New York court the firm had unsuccessfully asked for the seizure of Russian uranium stored in the US under an intergovernmental agreement. There is no indication that NOGA would end its policy of harassment of the Russian Government. In January 2008, NOGA obtained a new arrest order against bank accounts of the Russian Central Bank in France, the news agency RIA Novosti and other bodies related to the Russian Government, cf. International Herald Tribune, 15 January 2008. Two months later, the Tribunal de Grande instance of Paris ordered the unfreezing of most bank accounts, cf. Moscow News No. 10/2008, 14 March 2008.

5

Landesgericht Köln (Regional Court), Judgment of 10 October 1995, reproduced in 6 IPrax 419 (1995); Oberlandesgericht Köln (Court of Appeal), Judgment of 9 July 1996, reproduced in OLGR Köln 1998, Zeitschrift für Vermögen und Immobilienrecht 213 (1998); Bundesgerichtshof (Federal Supreme Court), Judgment of 25 September 1997, II ZR 213/96, unpublished; Bundesverfassungsgericht (Federal Constitutional Court), Judgment of 28 January 1998, reproduced in 9 IPrax 482 (1998). The judgments of the courts of merits rejected the Prince’s claim because of lack of jurisdiction, the Supreme Court rejected the appeal for lack of general relevance of the legal issues and for lack of prospects of success, the Federal Constitutional Court declared the claim inadmissible. The judgments were critically commented by B. Fassbender, ‘Klageausschluss bei Enteignungen zu Reparationszwecken – Das Gemälde des Fürsten von Liechtenstein’, 52 Neue juristische Wochenschrift 1445 (1999); I. Seidl-Hohenveldern, ‘Völkerrechtswidrigkeit der Konfiskation eines Gemäldes aus der Sammlung des Fürsten von Liechtenstein als angeblich “deutsches” Eigentum’, 7 IPRax 410 (1996); K. Doehring, ‘Völkerrechtswidrige Konfiskation eines Gemäldes des Fürsten von Liechtenstein als “deutsches” Eigentum: Ein unrühmlicher Schlusspunkt’, 9 IPrax 465 (1998); B. Fassbender, ‘Der Fürst, ein Bild und die deutsche Geschichte. Zur Entscheidung des Europäischen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte im Fall Fürst Hans-Adam II. von und zu Liechtenstein gegen Deutschland’, 28 Europäische Grundrechtezeitschrift 459 (2001); Weber, ‘ Anmerkung zur “Liechtenstein-Entscheidung” des Bundesverfassungsgerichts vom 28. Januar 1998’, 36 Archiv des Völkerrechts 188 (1998).

6

Prince Hans-Adam II of Liechtenstein v. Germany, European Court of Human Rights (Great Chamber), Judgment of 21 July 2001, 2001-VII, 1.

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then, albeit in a different context, before the International Court of Justice,7 formally dealt with the ownership of a painting by Peter von Laer, which had been confiscatedtogether with other property of the Prince’s father by the Czechoslovakian Government after the Second World War, and which had been lent by a Czech institution to the Walraff Museum in Cologne in 1991.8 Nazi spoliation was at the core of the ‘Portrait of Wally’ case concerning a Schiele painting lent in 1998 by the privately owned Leopold Museum in Vienna to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and since then arrested by the Federal Public Prosecutor on behalf of the asserted heir of the original and dispossessed Jewish owner.9 A different historical setting (Stalinist abhorrence of abstract art) and complicated legal issues (acquisition by a purported owner) are the ingredients of the Malewicz v. The City of Amsterdam case. In this case, the heirs of the Russian suprematist painter, who had deceased more than seventy years ago, brought a civil action for replevin before the District Court of the District of Columbia against the City of Amsterdam, which had lent fourteen paintings of its Malewicz Collection to two exhibitions in New York and Houston.10 The plaintiffs had filed their action only two days before the closing of the exhibition in Houston, and the paintings were returned to Amsterdam as scheduled. However, the District Court twice rejected the motion by the defendant to dismiss the plaintiff’s complaint,11 and the case is still pending. In 2004, the quest for the return of indigenous cultural heritage moved the Aboriginal community of Victoria to seek an order for the permanent preservation in Australia of certain aboriginal bark etchings, which had been loaned by the British Museum and the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew as part of an exhibition at the Museum Victoria in Melbourne. The Museum Board of Victoria successfully opposed the emergency seizure

7

Certain Property (Liechtenstein v. Germany), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 10 February 2005, 2005 ICJ Rep. 123.

8

For an appraisal of the case in a broader context see A. Gattini, ‘A Trojan Horse for Sudeten Claims?’, 13 European Journal of International Law 513 (2002).

9

Cf. infra text at notes 58-62.

10

At the close of an exhibition at the ‘Berliner Kunstaustellung’ in 1927, Malewicz, who could not take back his artworks with him to Leningrad and expected to return to Germany soon, entrusted them for safekeeping to some friends in Germany. In the thirties, Malewicz fell in disgrace with the Stalin Government which was fiercely opposed to abstract art, and a return of the artworks to Russia was judged inopportune because it was very likely that the works would be confiscated and possibly destroyed. During the war, the paintings were entrusted to a certain Mr. Häring who kept them in custody at his home in Germany until 1956, when he finally agreed to lend them to the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam. Although he had never asserted any property right over them, the loan agreement contained an option to purchase the Malewicz Collection, and in 1958 the City of Amsterdam exercised that option. The plaintiffs allege that the documents purportedly asserting Häring’s ownership were ‘obvious frauds’ and that the City of Amsterdam purchased the collection in full knowledge of that fact.

11

Malewicz et al. v. City of Amsterdam, US District Court for the District of Columbia, 30 March 2005, 362 F. Supp. 2d 298; Malewicz et al. v. City of Amsterdam, US District Court for the District of Columbia, 27 June 2007, 517 F. Supp. 2d 322.

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orders made by governmental authorities, and the artefacts were eventually returned to England one year later.12 These exemplary cases make clear that the question of the legality of seizure of artworks on loan lays open a wide array of conflicting interests and legal issues, which cannot be disposed of by a single all-embracing formula. With specific regard to the cultural dimension of the issue, the weighing-up of the interests involved would clearly lead to opposing such measures of constraint. Despite some problems of coordination due to apparently conflicting international norms, such as the UNIDROIT Convention of 199513 and the EC Directive 93/7,14 to which we will come back later,15 there is nowadays a well-established and universally shared interest to protect and enhance the international cooperation of museums and other cultural institutions. Besides their obvious relevance for cultural purposes, international loans are increasingly understood by the states as an important tool of ‘diplomacy of good-will’. One could even advance a ’collective human right to culture’, which would necessarily favour a smooth and unimpeded international exchange of art. However, if one takes a broader view on this issue, the interests at stake become more nuanced. Whereas the interests of international cultural cooperation would easily prevail over unrelated contractual claims, it is far from sure that the same would prove true when the human rights of the dispossessed or their heirs, i.e., the right of property and the right of access to justice, are taken into consideration, and even more so with regard to the specific right to memory in the case of claims by the heirs of Holocaust victims.16 12

Cf. Museum Board of Victoria v. Carter, 2005 Federal Court of Australia 645; Carter v. Minister for Aboriginal Affairs, 2005 Federal Court of Australia 667. Pending the proceedings the lender and the borrower had agreed to extend the period of the loan, which expired in June 2004, for one more year, cf. Palmer, ‘Adrift a Sea of Troubles: Cross-Border Art Loans and the Specter of Ulterior Title’, 38 Vanderbildt Journal of Transnational Law 949, at 981 (2005).

13

1995 UNIDROIT Convention on the International Return of Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects, 34 International Legal Materials 1322 (1995).

14

EU Directive 93/7 on the Return of Cultural Objects Illegally Removed from the Territory of a Member State, 15 March 1993, EEC OJ No. L 74/74 (27 March 1993).

15

Cf. infra section V.

16

Since the Washington Conference on Holocaust-Era Assets co-hosted by the US Department of State and the US Holocaust Memorial Museum from 30 November to 3 December 1998, which ended with the adoption of a (non-binding) set of Principles on Nazi-Confiscated Art that are aimed i.a. at facilitating ‘alternative dispute resolution mechanisms for resolving ownership issues’ (Principle XI, cf. text in 8 International Journal of Cultural Property 338 (1999)), doctrine has been looking for innovative paths to anchor such a ‘right to memory’ not only on ethical grounds but on positive law, cf. Y. Z. Blum, ‘Restitution of Jewish Cultural Property Looted in World War II: To Whom?’, 11 Leiden Journal of International Law 257 (1998); M. J. Bazyler/R. P. Alford (eds.), Holocaust Restitution (2005), especially the contribution by Dugot (ibid., at 271), Spiegler (ibid., at 280), Schoenberg (ibid., at 288); Raue, ‘Summum ius summa iniuria: Stolen Jewish Cultural Assets under Legal Examination’, in B. T. Hoffmann (ed.), Art and Cultural Heritage 185 (2006); Palmer, ‘Spoliation and Holocaust-Related Cultural Objects. Legal and Ethical Models for the Resolution of Claims’, XII Art, Antiquity and Law 1 (2007).

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If focused only on the opposition of ‘collective cultural rights v. other (mainly) individual human rights’, the discourse seems condemned to remain trapped in inextricable contradictions. What is striking in the present debate is that the references to the actual state of international law on state immunity are only too rare. However, it is only by focussing on this pivotal issue, which owes some fundamental clarifications to the academic and diplomatic efforts of Professor Hafner, that a balanced solution to the thorny issue of seizure of artworks on loan can be found.

II.

Domestic Anti-Seizure Statutes

Until now, a considerable number of states have adopted anti-seizure statutes specifically tailored to cultural property on loan. Such statutes were adopted by Austria,17 the United States, which already introduced immunity from seizure in 196518 as well as some

17

Cf. supra note 3.

18

Immunity from Seizure under Judicial Process of Cultural Objects Imported for Temporary Exhibition or Display, US Federal Act 22 USC 2459, 19 October 1965. Subpara. (a) of the statute reads: ‘Whenever any work of art or other object of cultural significance is imported into the United States from any foreign country, pursuant to an agreement entered into between the foreign owner or custodian thereof and the United States or one or more cultural or educational institutions within the United States providing for the temporary exhibition or display thereof within the United States at any cultural exhibition, assembly, activity, or festival administered, operated, or sponsored, without profit, by any such cultural or educational institution, no court of the United States, any State, the District of Columbia, or any territory or possession of the United States may issue or enforce any judicial process, or enter any judgment, decree, or order, for the purpose or having the effect of depriving such institution, or any carrier engaged in transporting such work or object within the United States, of custody or control of such object if before the importation of such object the President or his designee has determined that such object is of cultural significance and that the temporary exhibition or display thereof within the United States is in the national interest, and a notice to that effect has been published in the Federal Register’. It is interesting to note that the Statute was enacted in order to counter the effect of the Second Hickenlooper Amendment of 1964, which, as is well known, aimed at restricting the application of the Act of State doctrine as a bar to jurisdiction over claims to property allegedly taken in violation of international law, cf. R. M. Zerbe, ‘Immunity from Seizure for Artworks on Loan to United States Museums’, 6 Northwestern Journal of International Law & Business 1121 (1985).

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of its states,19 some provinces of Canada,20 Australia,21 France,22 Ireland,23 Germany,24 Belgium,25 Switzerland,26 Israel27 and quite recently the United Kingdom.28 Some of these statutes were enacted in the aftermath of a judicial case. The French statute, for instance, was adopted after the attempt of Mrs. Shchukina to obtain an arrest order by the Tribunal de première instance de Paris29 of 21 Matisse paintings borrowed by the Centre Pompidou in Paris from the Pushkin and Hermitage Museums. The paintings had belonged to her father, the Matisse patron and collector Sergei Shchukin, and had been confiscated by the Russian Government in 1918. Similarly in Germany, the ‘binding pledge to return’ (rechtsverbindliche Rückgabezusage) was inserted in the German Act

19

New York State (1968), Texas (1999), Rhode Island (2000).

20

Alberta (1985 Foreign Cultural Property Immunity Act, RSA 2000, Ch. F-17); British Columbia (1996 Law and Equity Act, 253 RSBC 55); Manitoba (1976 Foreign Cultural Property Immunity from Seizure Act, RSM 1987, Ch. F-140); Ontario (1978 Foreign Cultural Objects Immunity from Seizure Act, RSO 1990, Ch. F-23); Québec (Exemptions from Seizure, RSQ 2005, Ch. C-25).

21

Protection of Movable Cultural Heritage Act, Act. No. 11/1986, as amended by Act No. 8/2005, sect. 14 (3).

22

Loi no. 94-679 portant diverses dispositions d’ ordre économique et financier, 8 August 1994, art. 61: ‘Les biens culturels prêtés par une puissance étrangère, une collectivité publique ou une institution culturelle étrangères, destinées à être exposés au public en France, sont insaisissables pour la période de leur prêt à l’ Etat français ou à toute personne morale désignée par lui. Un arrêt conjoint du ministre de la culture et du ministre des affaires étrangères fixe, pour chaque exposition, la liste des biens culturels, détermine la durée du prêt et désigne les organisateurs de l’ exposition.’

23

National Monuments Amendment Act 17/1994, sect. 5 (12) (referring only to archaeological objects).

24

Gesetz zum Schutz deutschen Kulturgutes gegen Abwanderung, art. 20, Federal Official Gazette (BGBl.) 1999 I, 1754: ‘Soll ausländisches Kulturgut vorübergehend zu einer Ausstellung im Bundesgebiet ausgeliehen werden, so kann die zuständige oberste Landesbehörde im Einvernehmen mit der Zentralstelle des Bundes dem Verleiher die Rückgabe zum festgesetzten Zeitpunkt rechtsverbindlich zusagen. Bei Ausstellungen, die vom Bund oder einer bundesunmittelbaren juristischen Person getragen werden, entscheidet die zuständige Behörde über die Erteilung der Zusage.’

25

Loi du 14 Juin 2004 modifiant le Code judiciaire en vue d’ instituer une immunité d’ exécution à l’ égard des biens culturels étrangers exposés publiquement en Belgique. Code Judiciaire, art. 1412 ter, par. 1 reads as follows: ‘Sous réserve de l’ application des dispositions impératives d’ un instrument supranational, les biens culturels qui sont la propriété de puissances étrangères sont insaisissables lorsque ces biens se trouvent sur le territoire du Royaume en vue d’ être exposés publiquement et temporairement.’

26

Bundesgesetz über den internationalen Kulturgütertransfer, 20 June 2005, arts. 10-13.

27

Law on Lending of Cultural Objects (Restriction of Jurisdiction), 21 February 2007, non official English translation in XII Art, Antiquity and Law 132 (2007).

28

UK Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act, 31 December 2007, Part VI ‘Protection of Cultural Objects on Loan’, sect. 134-138.

29

R. Redmond-Cooper, ‘Disputed Title to Loaned Works of Art: The Shchukin Litigation’, I Art, Antiquity and the Law 73 (1996).

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on Cultural Property Protection in 1999 after the saga of the claim by Liechtenstein’s Prince Hans-Adam II. Some other states, such as Belgium, Austria and the United Kingdom, have handled in a preventive manner, pushed by the respective national cultural authorities, which feared to see their museums in Brussels, Vienna or London increasingly cut off from the circuit of major international exhibitions. The English press did not fail to point to the fact that the parliamentarian rush to approve the UK Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act of 31 December 2007 was not wholly unrelated to the urgent need to permit the regular opening of the much advertised exhibition of French impressionists at the Royal Academy of Arts in London on January 26, 2008, that included major loans from the Pushkin and the Hermitage Museums. If all the statutes under consideration are led by the common idea of granting some immunity to artworks on loan, they do not follow a single model, and significantly differ from each other in substantial aspects. A first major difference concerns the direct applicability of the statutes. Only few statutes grant an automatic immunity,30 while others make immunity dependent on prior application and delegate the decision to the competent administrative authorities. In spite of the complexity and costs inherent in a discretionary system, the latter approach entails the advantage that, by requiring an adequate publicity, interested parties could be allowed to raise objections to the grant of protection, so as to help the competent authorities to obtain more information and reach a better decision.31 Another significant difference concerns the scope of application of the antiseizure statutes. Whereas all statutes clarify that they apply to both civil and criminal proceedings,32 or have been so interpreted by the judiciary,33 only some of them specify

30

New York State, Texas, Rhode Island, British Columbia, Belgium, United Kingdom. Sect. 134 (9) of the UK Act enables the Secretary of State to ‘[…] make regulations requiring a museum or gallery to provide persons with specified information about an object in specified circumstances (which may include in particular compliance with conditions imposed by or under the regulations).’

31

Swiss Statute, art. 11 provides that the request for loan, accompanied by a precise description of the cultural property and its origin, be published in the Federal Bulletin. Persons claiming ownership to the cultural property may file an objection within 30 days, which, if upheld by the competent authority, impedes the issuance of a return guarantee. The failure to file the objection precludes the party from further action. For the procedural rights granted to the opponents under the Israeli statute see infra note 64.

32

Cf., e.g., Section 135(3) of the UK Act: ‘In this section, references to seizure or forfeiture in relation to an object include references to […] (d) seizure, confiscation or forfeiture, or any other measure relating to the custody or control of the object, in the course of a criminal investigation or criminal proceedings (against the owner, the museum or gallery or any other person).’ A notable exception is the Texas statute (Civil Practice & Remedies Code, Title III, Chapt. 61), which at sect. 61.082 (d) expressly provides: ‘Subsection (a) does not apply if theft of the work of art from its owner is alleged and found proven by the court.’

33

Cf. the decision of 31 May 1998 by the Supreme Court of New York in the Portrait of Wally case, infra text to note 58.

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that they exclude any kind of court proceedings for whatever claim.34 Malewicz v. the City of Amsterdam is particularly instructive in this regard. The case was brought pursuant to the ‘taking exception’ of the US Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act which provides that a foreign state (or, for that matter, governmental or other public agencies or instrumentalities like a city government) shall not be immune in a case ‘in which rights in property taken in violation of international law are in issue and that property or any property exchanged for such property is present in the United States in connection with a commercial activity carried on in the United States by the foreign State’.35 In its motion to dismiss, the City of Amsterdam had argued inter alia that the paintings were not ‘present in the United States’ as a matter of law because they had been previously immunized under the Immunity from Seizure Act. In spite of a formal statement of interest submitted to the Court by the US Government supporting the defendant’s position, the District Judge rejected this argument, noting that at the time of the filing of the suit, the paintings were physically present on US territory and that the Immunity from Seizure Act only deprives US courts from taking any action which would interfere with the physical custody or control of the artworks by the receiving institution, which however was not the case 36. Incidentally, even a statute formulated in more general terms than the US act could still leave some interpretative loopholes to resourceful plaintiffs. NOGA’s request of arrest of the impressionist collection of the Pushkin Museum is such a case in point. Article 13 of the Swiss statute expressly states that the effect of a return guarantee is to prevent private parties or authorities from making ‘legal claims to the cultural property as long as that property is located in Switzerland’. The language seems to point more to claims in title than to claims for the enforcement of a judgment debt, as was the case with NOGA. While the ambiguity of the Swiss formulation could have been inadvertent, one may well presume that statutes limiting domestic jurisdiction are cautiously drafted, as the debates which preceded the adoption of the UK Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act clearly demonstrate. In defending the draft in the House of Lords against the critique that the Act would deprive dispossessed owners of any judicial redress, the then Secretary of State for Constitutional Affairs and Lord Chancellor relied upon the argument that the envisaged immunity would provide protection only from the material seizure of the object, but would not cover a claim in conversion or a claim for damages.37

34

Cf., e.g., German Statute, art. 20(4): ‘Bis zur Rückgabe an den Verleiher sind gerichtliche Klagen auf Herausgabe, Arrestverfügungen, Pfandungen und Beschlagnahmen unzulässig.’ Cf. also art. 13 of the Swiss Statute. On the contrary art. 61 of the French Statute only says that the cultural property on loan may not be subject to seizure.

35

Cf. US Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act, 28 USC § 1605 (a)(3).

36

362 F.Supp. 2d 298, at 311 (per Judge Rosemary Collyer).

37

Cf. the statement by Lord Falconer of Thoroton, reproduced in XI Art, Antiquity and Law 389 (2006).

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A further difference is that only few statutes specify that the guarantee is excluded for artworks which are lent on a commercial basis.38 Lastly, whereas some statutes specifically restrict immunity to loaned objects in public ownership,39 most statutes extend immunity to both state and private property. That much said, it seems too optimistic to affirm, as is sometimes done, that the mere existence of such statutes presupposes the existence of an analogous international customary rule of immunity of state owned cultural property on loan.40 Rather, most domestic anti-seizure statutes seem to be inspired by both an underlying opinio iuris of immunity and a considerable uncertainty about its limits. Malewicz v. the City of Amsterdam is an exemplary case illustrating the confusion to which too strict an adherence to the letter of domestic anti-seizure and state immunity statutes can give rise in some judges.41 Our issue offers a fascinating example of the complexity concerning the emergence and assessment of an international customary rule, which in this author’s opinion can be best captured only by using both an inductive and a deductive approach. In other words, while the recent burgeoning of domestic statutes undoubtedly signals a general tendency towards the recognition of immunity from seizure of cultural property, it seems that an at least equally relevant argument could be drawn from the nature itself of the property in question, which is increasingly understood by most states as a constitutive part of their identity.42 This is the reason why it is advisable to distinguish between state owned and privately owned cultural property. Whereas the idea of a general immunity for all artworks on 38

Cf. Belgian Code judiciaire, art. 1412 ter, para. 2, subpara. 2: ‘Les biens culturels qui sont affectés à une activité économique ou commerciale de droit privé ne bénéficient pas de l’ immunité visée au 1er.’ Cf. also 22 USC 2459: ‘temporary exhibition […] without profit’.

39

Cf. the French, Belgian and Swiss Statutes.

40

Cf. M. Weller, ‘Immunity for Artworks on Loan? A Review of International Customary Law and Municipal Anti-seizure Statutes in Light of the Liechtenstein Litigation’, 38 Vanderbildt Journal of Transnational Law 997, at 1008 (2005).

41

Cf. the District Court’ s reasoning in the Malewicz decision of 30 March 2005, 362 F. Supp. 2d 298, at 311: ‘The US Statement presents the Court with something of a dilemma. […] However, the Court concludes that § 2459 granting immunity and § 1605 (a) (3) establishing jurisdiction for certain claims against a foreign sovereign are both clear and not inconsistent. The Court is bound to the plain meaning of these statutes.’ Cf. supra note 11.

42

This is not the place to deepen the notion of ‘national cultural identity’ of states (on which cf. E. Jayme, Nationales Kunstwerk und internationals Privatrecht: Vorträge, Aufsätze, Gutachten (1999)), nor to participate in the lively academic debate which opposes a ‘liberal’ to a ‘protectionist’, or, as it is sometimes polemically labelled by its opponents, a ‘retentionist’ view of the proper role of international law on cultural property (cf. on the one side J. H. Merryman, ‘A Licit International Trade in Cultural Objects’, 4 International Journal of Cultural Property 13 (1995); on the other side L. V. Prott, ‘Cultural Heritage Law: The Perspective of the Source Nations’, V Art, Antiquity and the Law 333 (2000); and on the whole E. Jayme, ‘Globalization in Art Law: Clash of Interests and International Tendencies’, 38 Vanderbildt Journal of Transnational Law 928 (2005)). The point here simply is that, as a matter of fact, and in spite of different cultural traditions or economic policy, every state by now accords utmost importance to the preservation and protection of its cultural heritage (or at least it is keen to make believe it).

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loan is grounded in the public interest in promoting international exhibitions or in the somewhat vague notion of artworks as ‘peace envoys’,43, immunity from seizure of cultural property belonging to a foreign state is based on the respect due to the international legal personality of the latter, and it is only an aspect of its sovereign jurisdictional immunities. Viewed from this perspective, the question could even be raised whether in some instances the enactment of a domestic anti-seizure statute should not be better interpreted as giving expression to the will of the enacting state to bridle such immunity rather than simply reaffirming it.

III.

The UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property

The starting point of our research on the customary law status of the immunity for state owned artworks on loan is Article 21(1) of the UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property of 2 December 2004.44 This article lists specific categories of state property which are immune from measures of constraint because they are de iure not to be considered as ‘property specifically in use or intended for use by the State for other than government non commercial purposes under Article 19, subparagraph (c)’. In unmistakable words, subparagraph (e) mentions ‘property forming part of an exhibition of objects of scientific, cultural or historical interest and not placed or intended to be placed on sale’. The drafting history of this subparagraph is quite curious. In the draft Article 24 originally presented by Special Rapporteur Sucharitkul in 1985 there was no trace of it. In reviewing possible types of unattachable state property, the Special Rapporteur obviously considered Articles 24 and 30 of the 1961 Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations (VCDR), dealing with the inviolability of the archives and documents of the mission and of the private residence of a diplomatic agent, and Article 236 of the 1982 UN Convention on the Law of the Sea as well as previous conventions granting immunity from seizure for warships and other ships employed in governmental non-commercial service. The Special Rapporteur also drew attention to national legislation as well as to a well-known judicial practice which grants immunity to property of central banks or other state monetary authorities that is not specifically earmarked for payments of judgments or any other debt. In his proposed Article 24, however, he had inserted, subparagraph (e), which excluded from attachment and execution also ‘property forming part of the national archives of a state or of its distinct national cultural heritage’, yet failed to provide any explanation for this insertion. One can only muse on the reasons which led the Special Rapporteur to add this subparagraph. Whereas the mention of national archives could be understood as an extension of the terms of Article 24 of the 43

The expression was coined by Prof. Jayme, quoted in Weller, supra note 40, at 998.

44

Adopted by the General Assembly of the United Nations on 2 December 2004. Not yet in force. See General Assembly Res. 59/38, annex, Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-ninth Session, Supplement No. 49, UN Doc. A/59/49.

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VCDR, neither international conventions nor domestic legislations had − and indeed could have − been referred to in order to explain the immunity of ‘distinct national cultural heritage’, whatever that notion might mean. Be that as it may, the subparagraph met with much sympathy from some members of the ILC, who considered it ’essential and particularly important to the developing countries and to their efforts to protect their national heritage’,45 even if some reservations were also expressed regarding the scope of the subparagraph. Thus it was not clear whether private property too would fall under the same protection.46 It is interesting to note that only one member, Paul Reuter, had observed that the paragraph, as formulated, did not respond to the real practical problems that would arise when the cultural property of a state would temporarily be taken to another state for an exhibition47 The text was subsequently redrafted and in 1986, when the draft articles were adopted in first reading, it was renumbered to Article 23(1)(d) and read: ‘property forming part of the cultural heritage of the state or part of its archives and not placed or intended to be placed on sale’. A new subparagraph (e) followed in which, for the first time, ‘property forming part of an exhibition of objects of scientific or historical interest’ was also considered immune per se. What is striking about this subparagraph (and the precedent subparagraph (d) as well) is that the commentary neither gave any explanation of its insertion nor provided any footnote referring to state practice confirming its nature of customary law.48 It moreover seems that in the second reading the ILC did not feel the need to turn its attention to the rules of subparagraphs (d) and (e). In his third Report in 1990, the new Special Rapporteur Ogiso had left the article unchanged. It was finally adopted a year later as Article 19, with a slight, but significant insertion in subparagraph (e), which now mentioned ‘property forming part of an exhibition of objects of scientific, cultural or historical interest’ (emphasis added). The commentary to the articles adopted in 1991 limits itself to a short periphrasis of the two norms included in Article 19 and to a footnote for each of them.49 The references concern a case decided by the Swiss Federal Court in 1985, upholding an appeal from Italy against a previous Swiss judgment, which had not recognized its immunity with regard to a claim for the return

45

Cf. Report of the ILC on the Work of its Thirty-seventh Session, 1985 YILC, Vol. II (Part One), at 57, para. 246.

46

Ibid. From the Summary Records of the Thirty-seven Session, it appears that Mahiou (1922nd Meeting, 1985 YILC, Vol. I, at 266, para. 4) and Sinclair (ibid., at 271, para. 41) raised the question.

47

Cf. Summary Records of the Meetings of the Thirty-seven Session, 1985 YILC, Vol. I, at 253, para. 20.

48

Cf. Report of the ILC on the Work of its Thirty-eight Session, 1986 YILC, Vol. II (Part One), at 30.

49

Cf. Report of the ILC on the Work of its Forty-third Session, 1991 YILC, Vol. II (Part One), at 59.

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by Italy of a set of historic stone tablets,50 and a verbal note by the Directorate of Public International Law of the Swiss Federal Department of Foreign Affairs in 1984, which, albeit cautiously, considered the promotion of cultural relations as appertaining to the public power of the state.51 The spare attention accorded to the provisions of then Article 19(d) and (e) in the ILC codification effort must not necessarily be understood as a sign of neglect or uncertainty. Quite on the contrary, it could or even ought to be seen as a logical consequence of the choice of principle expressed in Article 18 (now Articles 18 and 19 of the Convention) to exclude immunity from execution only with regard to that property for which the state had expressly consented to the taking of constraint measures (subpara. a), or which either had been allocated for the satisfaction of the claim (subpara. b), or was specifically in use or intended for use for commercial purposes (subpara. c). Once this choice of principle was made, it became obvious to the ILC to engage in both an inductive and a deductive search for categories of property to be generally excluded from execution. Among the classical categories of state property used for governmental or public purposes, it unsurprisingly also identified cultural property. Despite doubts on the appropriateness of the list subsequently expressed by some members of the Working Group of the Sixth Committee established by the General Assembly in 199152 and in the comments submitted by some Governments,53 the choice of the ILC went substantially unchallenged, and Article 19 of the ILC Draft became, with some slight linguistic adaptations, Article 21 of the Convention.

IV.

Some Interpretative Problems of the UN Convention

In reality, the solutions adopted by both the ILC and by the Convention are not free from problems. In the following, three issues shall be illustrated. They concern the coordination between subparagraphs (d) and (e), the non-commercial nature of cultural property on loan, and, lastly, the exclusion of criminal proceedings from the scope of the Convention, and hence from the scope of immunity for cultural property on loan. 50

Italian State v. X and Court of Appeal of the Canton of the City of Basel, Switzerland, Federal Tribunal, 6 February 1985, 82 International Legal Reports 24.

51

The Swiss note of 26 October 1984 is reproduced in 41 Annuaire suisse de droit international 178 (1985). An important qualification, however, concerned the power of the judge to order an arrest, as distinct from execution: ‘Vu l’ absence de précédents véritables dans le domaine des activités culturelles, il reste à souligner qu’ on ne pourra guère empêcher le juge compétent ratione loci en matière de poursuite pour dettes de séquestrer les objets d’ art en cause, de sorte que, suivant les circonstances, le séquestre ne pourrait être levé qu’ après épuisement de tous les recours.’, ibid., at 180.

52

The Working Group had been established under Assembly Res. 46/55 and re-established by its Decision 47/414. Cf. the debate of the Working Group on Article 19 in 1992, UN Doc. A/C.6/47/L.10, Annex I, 3rd Meeting; and in 1993, UN Doc. A/C.6/48/L.4, paras. 81-82.

53

Cf. comment by France on 26 November 1997, UN Doc. A/53/274, para. 14 (danger that categories of property not listed be subjected to negative presumption).

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First, in view of the wording of subparagraph (e), one could question whether the reference to ‘property forming part of the cultural heritage of the State’ in subparagraph d) has become redundant. A contrary view could be taken by understanding the latter to include also private property. However, this would be a wholly unwarranted conclusion. An equivalence of private property with state property for the sake of immunity would be a very innovative step indeed, on which the ILC would have much pondered if it had had the intention to insert such a rule. Furthermore, an affirmative answer to this question would raise thorny questions of conflict of laws, which the ILC certainly would not have had the competence to address.54 Having said that, it is unclear what the purpose of the norm granting immunity to the ‘cultural heritage of the State’ should be, once it is distinguished from state cultural property on loan. The 1985 decision of the Swiss Federal Court , referred to in the ILC commentary, does not seem to shoulder a formulation as broad as that of subparagraph (d). The subject matter of the claim was quite exceptional: Italy had been sued for the return of a set of historic stone tablets, which had been handed over to it by the Swiss authorities to serve as evidence in criminal proceedings, and which Italy refused to return, on the ground of their previous illegal export. The Swiss Federal Court held that in this particular case it could not apply the distinction between acts jure imperii and jure gestionis without taking account of the foreign public law. Quite obviously, the decision dealt with immunity from jurisdiction in civil proceedings in the first place, and not with immunity from measures of constraint. One could even wonder that the reason for the retention of subparagraph (d) is due to a poor coordination in the final drafting phase. As we have seen, in the first reading subparagraph (e) only mentioned ‘property forming part of an exhibition of objects of scientific or historical interests in the territory of another state’ and without the insertion ‘not placed or intended to be placed on sale’, exactly in order to avoid duplication with the preceding subparagraph, and that formulation was retained until the very end. Secondly, unlike in case of property used or intended for use in the performance of the functions of diplomatic missions of the state or its consular posts (subpara. a) or of property of a military character or used in the performance of military functions (subpara. b), it cannot definitely be said that the loan of cultural property for an exhibition is ‘by its very nature […] removed from any commercial considerations’, as the ILC put it.55 On the contrary, it is not so rare that the loan of cultural property for exhibition purposes would produce some income for the lending institution, in terms of copyrights, if not in terms of outright ‘loan fees’.56 Rather, the exemption from execution of cultural 54

First of all the well-known question of the obligation, or rather faculty, of a court to apply the mandatory rules of another State see 1980 Rome Convention on the Law Applicable to Contractual Obligations, 80/934/EEC, EC OJ L 266 of 9 October 1980, art. 7, para. 1. This provision now conforms to Article 9(3) of the EU Regulation 593/2008 (EU O.J. L 177, 4 July 2008).

55

Cf. Report of the ILC on the Work of its Forty-third Session, supra note 49, at 59.

56

The tendency to abuse copyright costs as a form of income for the lending institution and the increasing practice of charging loan fees, sometimes masked as costs incurred in order to make the loaned object available and fit for travel, are envisaged as two of the main obstacles

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property on loan will be guaranteed only by stressing the fact that such property will not be considered as property ‘specifically’ in use for commercial purposes, as required by article 19. For all its imprecision, the ‘specifical use for commercial/non-commercial purpose’ divide avoids the pitfalls of solutions such as that envisaged in section 1610 (a) (2) of the 1976 US Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act, which restricts the principal exception to immunity from execution to cases in which ‘the property is or was used for the commercial activity upon which the claim is based’. If such a scenario were not barred by the US Anti-seizure Statute of 1965, one would not need the inventiveness of a US lawyer to imagine a case in which the claimant would first seek to base the court’s jurisdiction on the ‘commercial activity’ of a foreign state, such as copyright royalties for the reproduction of the paintings loaned for an exhibition, and then seek to enforce a money judgment against those same paintings. Thirdly, according to Part IV of the Convention, immunity extends to both pre- and post-judgment measures of constraint ‘in connection with proceedings before a court’, whereas immunity form pre-judgment measures (Article 18) is broader than that from post-judgment measures (Article 19). The generic language of the title of Part IV was aptly adopted in order to make sure that immunity applies to any kind of claims. However, it does not seem that the immunity guaranteed by the Convention extends to criminal proceedings, having regard to operative paragraph 2 of Resolution 59/38 of the General Assembly, by which the GA ‘agree[d] with the general understanding reached in the Ad Hoc Committee that the UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property does not cover criminal proceedings’. This is not the place to investigate the complex and fascinating issue of the exact legal weight to be given to the general understandings reached by the Ad Hoc Committee, which were not annexed to the Convention, and of the reference to them in a General Assembly resolution,57 to collection mobility in a report issued by an independent group of experts set up by EU Council Resolution 13839/04, under the chairmanship of Mr de Leeuw, Director General of the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, cf. Lending to Europe – Recommendations on collection mobility for European museums, April 2005, at 12. 57

On this subject see the contribution of T. Treves, ‘Some Peculiarities of the UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property: A Footnote on Codification Technique’, in the present Festschrift. It is interesting to note the debate which arose on this point in the Sixth Committee in March 2004. The honouree of the present contribution, as Chairman of the Ad Hoc Committee on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property, introducing at the 13rd Meeting the report of the Ad Hoc Commission, stated that ‘the Commission’s commentary, the reports of the Ad Hoc Committee and the General Assembly resolution adopting the Convention would form an important part of the travaux préparatoires of the Convention.’ UN Doc. A/C.6/59/SR.13, at 6, para. 35. His view was expressly shared by some other members (ibid., paras. 40), but was sharply rejected by the representative of Guatemala, Mr Lavalle, with regard to the proposed recommendation to the General Assembly to include in its resolution adopting the Convention the general understanding that the Convention does not cover criminal proceedings (ibid., paras. 67 et seq.). Mr Lavalle observed that in view of the clear language of art. 2 (‘Use of terms’) and art. 3 (‘Privileges and immunities not affected by the present Convention’), it would be difficult to have recourse to the travaux préparatoires in the conditions provided for in art. 32 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of the Treaties. Mr. Lavalle added that the General Assembly resolution would enjoy an increased relevance, for the purposes of interpretation,

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but it is impossible not to take into due account the (at least) political endorsement of the General Assembly. The lack of immunity from criminal proceedings with regard to state-owned cultural property on loan raises some problems. Unlike in case of state property of military character or property used in the performance of the functions of diplomatic missions, it is not far-fetched to envisage cases in which cultural property on loan could become the subject of criminal proceedings. Even if it related to a loan from a privately owned museum, the Portrait of Wally saga is an exemplary case of the risks which inevitably arise once a criminal law perspective is allowed to flow in. On request of the heirs of the original owner Mrs. Lea Bondi, the New York County District Attorney had issued a Grand Jury subpoena duces tecum for the surrender of the painting from the MOMA, but the defence of the Museum succeeded in demonstrating that the language of the New York Law, barring ‘any kind of seizure’, applied to both civil and criminal proceedings.58 The decision was appealed, but New York’s highest court confirmed the previous quashing.59 The matter, however, was not yet settled because one day after the Court of Appeal’s decision the US Government seized the painting and initiated a separate civil action to forfeit the painting as stolen property illegally imported into the United States in violation of the 1994 National Stolen Property Act.60 In a first decision rendered on 19 July 2000, the District Court for the Southern District of New York conceded that the painting had been illegally acquired in Austria in 1938 by a certain Mr. Welz in connection with the process of ‘Aryanization’ of Jewish property, but that it had ceased to be ‘stolen’ when it had been recovered by US forces in Austria after the war, even if it had erroneously been returned to the wrong parties.61 The US Government appealed the decision, alleging that under the pertinent military decrees

only if it could be subsumed under art. 31(2)(a) or (b) of the Vienna Convention, i.e., as a means of interpretation, but he doubted the feasibility of such an argument. The challenge was taken up by the honouree, who later endeavoured to make exactly such an argument, cf. G. Hafner, ‘La Convention des Nations Unies sur les immunités juridictionnelles des Etats et de leurs biens’, 49 Annuaire français de droit international 45, at 75 (2004). 58

Application to Quash Grand Jury Subpoena Duces Tecum Served on the Museum of Modern Art, 177 Misc. 2d 985 (NY Sup. Ct. NY Co., 31 May 1998). See the commentary by D. Bender in 31 New York University Journal of International Law and Politics 109 (1998); M. Weller, ‘International Ownership Disputes over Stolen Artworks in New York: Litigation about Jurisdiction on the Civil-Criminal Line’, 10 IPrax 212 (1999).

59

In the Matter of the Grand Jury Subpoena Duces Tecum Served on the Museum of Modern Art, 93 NY2d 538, 719 NE2d 897 (1999). See M. Lufkin, ‘The Subpoena heard Round the World. The Schiele Case and other Legal Immunities for Art Loaned into the US’, IV Art, Antiquity and Law 363 (1999).

60

18 USC sec. 2314: ‘Whoever transports, transmits, or transfers in interstate or foreign commerce any goods, wares, merchandise or money of the value of $ 5,000 or more, knowing the same to have been stolen, converted or taken by fraud [shall be guilty of a crime].’

61

United States v. Portrait of Wally, a painting by Egon Schiele, defendant in rem, 105 F. Suppl. 2d (SDNY 19 July 2000). See M. Lufkin, ‘Why Nazi Loot Ceased Being “Stolen” when US Forces Seized it in Austria: The Federal “Schiele” Case’, V Art, Antiquity and Law 305 (2000).

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in effect at that time in Austria, the US forces could not be deemed to have technically ‘recovered’ the painting on behalf of the original owner, but rather had seized all the property of suspected war criminals. In April 2002, the District Court reversed its previous findings, characterised the purchase by the collector Dr. Rudolf Leopold in 1954 as an act of criminal conversion, admitted the Government’s civil forfeiture claim and ordered the case to proceed to trial.62 Since then the painting has been held in storage by the Museum of Modern Art. As one major international expert on art loans vividly said, ‘the spectre of criminal law’ is ‘lurking’ at the horizon of civil litigation for restitution of cultural property.63 Domestic criminal legislation might generally prosecute anybody handling stolen goods, or more specifically target anybody dealing in a tainted cultural object, had it been stolen or otherwise unlawfully removed. The risks of criminal law instruments would be even more enhanced should the view of a recent decision by a US District Court impose itself, according to which all art sales made by Jewish owners between 1933 and 1945 are not only presumed to have been done under threats or duress, hence invalid, but are to be considered as outright ‘theft’.64 On this basis, all cultural property purchased by a state or bequeathed to it and which presents a ‘gap of provenance’ between 1933 and 1945 will be at risk to be entangled in criminal proceedings in the borrowing state. One may or not welcome such a development, and in the case of Holocaust spoliation claims much can be said in favour of such arguments,65 but one must also be aware of the fact that, depending on the development of criminal law categories in each state, a lending national museum could find itself ‘trapped’ in a criminal case in the most different situations and for the most different reasons. Should a cultural item belonging to a lending state be seized abroad in connection to criminal proceedings, that state could submit a claim for damages against the borrower 62

United States of America v. Portrait of Wally, a Painting by Egon Schiele, defendant in rem, 2002 US Dist. LEXIS 6445. See M. Lufkin, ‘Whistling Past the Graveyard Isn’t Enough’, VII Art, Antiquity and the Law 202 (2002).

63

See Palmer, supra note 16, at 12.

64

On 27 December 2007, a District Court in Providence (Rhode Island) ordered the Baroness Maria-Louise Bissonette to return a 19th-century painting by Winterhalter to the estate of Max Stern. The Dusseldorf family gallery of Mr Stern was liquidated through a Nazi-approved dealer in 1937, when Bissonette’s stepfather, a high-ranking member of the Nazi party, had purchased the painting. Mr Stern, who later fled to Canada, never received the proceeds of the sale. When he died in 1987 he left his estate to Concordia and Mc Gill Universities in Montreal and to the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. The Winterhalter painting was the fourth recovery for the Canadian universities, and the first for which the estate had to resort to court. Cf. The Providence Journal, 29 December 2007.

65

Noteworthy is the solution given by the recent Israeli Law on Lending of Cultural Objects, see supra note 27. The Law, whose aim is ‘to enable lending of cultural objects which are of significance to the public in Israel, without affecting the claims of the Jewish People to their rights in property looted during the Holocaust’ (sec. 1), provides in sec. 5 that the ‘Minister of Justice shall not issue an order restricting jurisdiction unless satisfied that there is an adequate alternative judicial or quasi-judicial instance, to apply to, having jurisdiction and competent to resolve lawsuits in relation to the said cultural object.’

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for the failure to return the object as agreed. However, such a course of conduct is not free from other inconveniences and dangers. According to Article 9(1) of the UN Convention on State Immunities, the lending state as claimant cannot invoke immunity from the jurisdiction of the court in respect of any counterclaim ‘arising out of the same legal relationship or facts as the principal claim’. The lending state would therefore expose itself to the risk of a counterclaim from the borrowing institution that it be liable for breach of its warranty of quiet possession and for ensuing damage.66

V.

Concluding Remarks: The Customary Law Nature of Immunity for Cultural State Property as an Interpretative Tool

The characterization of the immunity of state artworks on loan as part and parcel of the customary international law rules on state immunity should also be the decisive criterion when dealing with the possible conflict of anti-seizure statutes with some conventional norms and EC rules. With regard to the former, mention has to be made to the UNIDROIT Convention on the International Return of Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects, signed in Rome on 24 June 1995.67 Chapter II of the Convention grants a direct right of action to victims of theft of cultural objects for their restitution, Chapter III reserves to states a similar right of action for the return of unlawfully exported cultural objects. The Convention recognizes such rights without exception, subject only to terms of prescription and laches.68 The fact that the Convention does not enjoy universal application and that it has so far been ratified by the not very impressive number of 29 states does not prevent it from possibly having an impact also on third states. This would evidently be the case whenever a cultural item loaned by a non-party state to a party state would be claimed by another party state. In legal literature an effort has been made to interpret the UNIDROIT Convention so as to exclude at the outset a possible conflict with the immunity rule for artworks on loan. In particular Jayme69 emphasized article 5(2), which also qualifies as ‘illegally exported’, and hence subject to the obligation of return, the cultural item which has been exported for exhibition purposes and which, once the export permission has elapsed, is not returned to the territorial state. Even if the Convention does not regulate the issue of competing claims, Jayme is of the opinion that the obligation to return under 66

Cf. Palmer, supra note 12, at 959.

67

Cf. UNIDROIT Convention on the International Return of Stolen or Illegally Exported Cultural Objects, supra note 13.

68

Cf. ibid., art. 3(3) (for the restitution of stolen cultural objects); and ibid., art. 5(5) (for the return of illegally exported cultural objects): the claim must be brought within a period of three years from the time when the claimant knew the location of the cultural property and the identity of its possessor, and in any case within a period of fifty years from the time of the theft or the illicit exportation. In case of theft, however, any Contracting Party may indicate a time limitation of 75 years or longer as it is provided in its law.

69

Cf. E. Jayme, ‘Das freie Geleit für Kunstwerke’, in G. Reichelt (ed.), Vorlesungen und Vorträge des Ludwig Boltzmann Institutes für Europarecht, issue 11, at 17 (2001).

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article 5 prevails over any other possible claim, even more when it was on the territory of the lending state where the property was at last located. Admittedly, this solution will not be reached easily when the competing claim concerns a cultural object which has been stolen and with regard to which the Convention prescribes an unconditional obligation of restitution. Whatever the inner coherence of the Convention, there is no doubt that, while in view of article 27 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties it would be difficult for domestic anti-seizure statutes to prevail over the obligations set up by the UNIDROIT Convention, the same would not apply if one were to regard the immunity of state cultural property on loan as a customary lex specialis. Even more difficult is the solution of a possible conflict with EC Directive 7/93.70 Article 8 of the Directive obliges the courts of member states to comply with the request made by another member state for the return of an unlawfully removed cultural object. The Directive does not contain any qualification that would justify an exception for cultural objects on loan, whether from another member state or a third state.71 Yet, Jayme made the convincing argument that the scope of the Directive is to guarantee member states some enforcement rights with regard to their national cultural heritage in the framework of the post-1992 internal market, and not to grant them absolute rights in any possible scenario of conflicting state claims. The wording of article 151(2) of the EC Treaty, which provides that the action of the EC in the field of culture is aimed at ‘encouraging cooperation between Member States and, if necessary, supporting and supplementing their action in non-commercial cultural exchange’, would wholly justify a teleological reduction of the scope of the Directive.72 The position of member states seem to differ on this issue. Whereas France, Germany and Austria have adopted anti-seizure statutes without making any reference to EC legislation, Belgium and, to a greater degree, the United Kingdom have subordinated their anti-seizure laws to the respect of relevant EC obligations73. Here again, the customary law nature of the rule granting immunity to state cultural property on loan should serve as a guide for an interpretation of Directive 7/93 that

70

Cf. EU Directive 93/7 on the Return of Cultural Objects Illegally Removed from the Territory of a Member State, supra note 14.

71

Cf. Palmer, supra note 12, at 985.

72

Cf. Jayme, supra note 69, at 17; Jayme/Geckler, ‘Internationale Kunstausstellungen: “Freies Geleit” für Leihgaben’, 11 IPrax 156, at 157 (2000); Weller, supra note 40, at 1018. For a contrary view in German literature cf. Fuchs, ‘Kulturgüterschutz und Kultursicherungsgesetz’, 11 IPrax 281 (2000); S. Boos, Kulturgut als Gegenstand des grenzüberschreitenden Leihverkehrs 272 (2006).

73

Cf. Belgian Code judiciaire, art. 1412 ter, para. 1: ‘Sous réserve de l’ application des dispositions impératives d’ un instrument international, les biens culturels qui sont la propriété de puissances étrangères sont insaisissables […].’ 2007 UK Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act, sec. 135, para. 1: ‘While an object is protected under this section it may not be seized or forfeited under any enactment or rule of law, unless (a) it is seized r forfeited under or by virtue of an order made by a court in the United Kingdom, and (b) the court is required to make the order under, or under provision giving effect to, a Community obligation or any international treaty.’

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conforms to international law, pending the desirable adoption of a European regulation on immunity from seizure.74

74

Interestingly, immunity from seizure was the only topic for which the Group of experts set up by the EU Council recommended the EU to take legislative steps as the preferred solution, cf. Lending to Europe, supra note 56, at 11.

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La création de l’Etat d’Israël à la lumière du droit international Marcelo G. Kohen

J’ai eu le grand plaisir de travailler avec Gerhard Hafner au sein du Comité sur la succession d’Etats de l’International Law Association, ainsi que d’élaborer avec lui le rapport sur la pratique européenne en matière d’immunité des Etats pour le Conseil de l’Europe. Cette expérience m’a permis de profiter de l’énorme expertise de Gerhard dans ces deux domaines, mais aussi de ses qualités humaines. J’aurai le grand plaisir de poursuivre cette collaboration dans le cadre de la commission sur la succession d’Etats en matière de responsabilité internationale de l’Institut de droit international. Pour m’associer à cet ouvrage publié en son hommage, j’ai naturellement choisi un thème qui relève de la problématique de la relation entre l’Etat et le droit international, à savoir la création de l’Etat d’Israël il y a soixante ans. La création d’Etats en général, et tout particulièrement celui d’Israël, est un sujet qui soulève des controverses, tant sur le plan de la théorie que sur celui de la pratique. Pour un nombre considérable de juristes, la création d’Etats est toujours perçue comme une question de fait, dont le droit international ne fait que prendre acte. Ainsi, la Commission d’arbitrage de la Conférence pour la paix en Yougoslavie (« Commission Badinter »), dans son premier avis du 29 novembre 1991, même après avoir considéré que les principes de droit international « permettent de définir à quelles conditions une entité constitue un Etat », persistait à affirmer « qu’à cet égard, l’existence ou la disparition de l’Etat est une question de fait »1. Les principes fondamentaux de droit international tels que ceux du droit des peuples à disposer d’eux-mêmes, de l’interdiction du recours à la force, de non-intervention et du respect de l’intégrité territoriale jouent cependant un rôle fondamental en la matière, soit pour permettre la création d’Etats, soit pour l’empêcher2. Ce qui permet d’affirmer que la création d’Etats est à la fois une question de fait et de droit. Le débat relatif au conflit israélo-palestinien est souvent passionné et l’élément juridique est parfois laissé de côté. Je me propose d’examiner la question de la conformité au droit international de la création de l’Etat d’Israël. Selon la première règle du droit inter-temporel, cette analyse doit être faite en tenant compte des règles en vigueur

1

Commission d’arbitrage de la Conférence pour la paix en Yougoslavie (« Commission Badinter »), premier avis du 29 novembre 1991, 96 RGDIP (1992), p. 264.

2

Cf. J. Crawford, The Creation of States in International Law, 2006, pp. 96-173 ; M. Kohen, « Création d’Etats en droit international contemporain », 6 Cours euro-méditerranéens Bancaja de droit international (2002), pp. 546-635.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 441-454, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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durant le processus de cette création, c’est-à-dire, entre la conclusion de l’accord de Mandat sur la Palestine en 1922 et la proclamation de l’Etat d’Israël en 19483.

I.

La situation juridique antérieure au régime des Mandats

Comme point de départ, il convient de rappeler la situation juridique qui a précédé la création de l’Etat d’Israël dans une partie du territoire de la Palestine qui se trouvait alors sous mandat britannique. Le territoire palestinien relevait de la souveraineté de l’Empire ottoman jusqu’à la fin de la Première Guerre mondiale, comme toute la région du Proche-Orient. En qualité de puissances victorieuses, la Grande-Bretagne et la France s’y établirent, et procédèrent à un nouveau découpage territorial, sans toutefois recourir à l’annexion de cette région. De nouvelles entités territoriales, inexistantes comme telles sous l’Empire ottoman, furent ainsi créées: le Liban, la Syrie, l’Irak, la Palestine et la Transjordanie, toutes soumises à un régime international, celui des Mandats, établi dans le Pacte de la Société des Nations (SdN). La Grande-Bretagne et la France s’assurèrent le droit de devenir les puissances mandataires chargées de leur administration. Le territoire, devenu le Mandat de Palestine, était horizontalement partagé en trois Sandjaks. Cette division administrative ne survécut pas cependant à la fin de la souveraineté ottomane. La région fut occupée par les Britanniques dès 1916. Londres avait, dans un premier temps, prévu de constituer un mandat pour l’ensemble des territoires devenus par la suite la Palestine et la Transjordanie. Or, le 16 septembre 1922, le Conseil de la SdN décida d’une administration distincte pour la Transjordanie. Cet évènement est souvent présenté comme le premier partage de la Palestine, partage selon lequel la « petite » Palestine aurait été la terre pour l’établissement du Foyer national juif, et la Transjordanie celle du futur Etat arabe. Cet argument ne repose sur aucun fondement, et ceci à plus d’un titre. D’abord, les territoires devenus la Transjordanie étaient compris dans le vilayet de Damas à la fin de la domination ottomane, ceux-ci ne dépendant donc pas des autorités ottomanes existantes dans ce qui devint la Palestine par la suite. Ensuite, la création du Foyer national juif sur le territoire du seul Mandat de la Palestine dans sa configuration définitive fut juridiquement décidée au moment de l’entrée en vigueur de l’accord de Mandat entre la SdN et la Grande-Bretagne, soit le 29 septembre 1922. Ainsi, le premier élément d’analyse déterminant à retenir est bien la nature juridique du territoire sous Mandat, ainsi que les droits et obligations que les parties au conflit purent et peuvent encore revendiquer à la lumière du Pacte de la SdN et de l’Accord de Mandat de 1922.

3

Pour la célèbre définition de Max Huber sur le droit inter-temporel, voir l’île de Palmas, sentence arbitrale du 4 avril 1928, RSA, Vol. II, p. 845. Cf. la Résolution de l’Institut de droit international sur « le problème intertemporel en droit international public » du 11 août 1975 à Wiesbaden, 56 Annuaire IDI (1975), pp. 536-541.

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II.

443

Le statut juridique des territoires sous Mandat

Conformément à l’article 22 du Pacte de la SdN, les territoires qui « ont cessé d’être sous la souveraineté des Etats qui les gouvernaient précédemment » sont confiés à des Etats qui exerceront une tutelle « en qualité de Mandataires et au nom de la Société ». La SdN choisit d’en distinguer trois catégories, « suivant le degré de développement du peuple, la situation géographique du territoire, ses conditions économiques et toutes autres circonstances analogues »4. La première catégorie comprenait ainsi les territoires pour lesquels l’on envisageait une indépendance plus ou moins proche; la seconde, les territoires auxquels l’on donnait simplement une série de conseils quant à la façon de les administrer; et, enfin, la troisième, les territoires pour lesquels on avait confié au Mandataire la faculté de leur administration selon ses lois et « comme une partie intégrante de son territoire »5. Malgré ces différents degrés permettant des variations de pouvoir et d’implication des Puissances mandataires, les trois régimes de Mandats étaient caractérisés par le fait qu’ils constituaient un régime international, dans lequel un ou plusieurs Etats détenaient l’administration du territoire sans pour autant devenir leur souverain. Ce régime ainsi établi existait indépendamment de l’existence même de la SdN. Comme la Cour internationale de Justice eut l’occasion de le dire : « En instituant [le système de Mandats], les rédacteurs du Pacte ont eu la pensée que, pour assurer effectivement l’accomplissement de la mission sacrée de civilisation confiée à la Puissance mandataire, il importait de soumettre à une surveillance internationale l’administration des territoires sous Mandat. (...) La nécessité d’une telle surveillance subsiste en dépit de la disparition de l’organe de contrôle prévu pour les Mandats. »6

Nous nous trouvons donc en dehors du simple cadre institutionnel. Le statut juridique de ces territoires est de nature objective; il est opposable à tous les membres de la communauté internationale, y compris - et en premier lieu - à celui à qui l’on confia la tâche de Mandataire7. Le contenu des prérogatives était aussi sui generis, dans le sens où il ne s’agissait pas du pur exercice des compétences étatiques sur un territoire, comme dans le cas 4

Article 22 § 3 du Pacte de la Société des Nations.

5

Article 22, respectivement §§ 4, 5 et 6. Les mandats « A » furent établis pour le Liban et la Syrie, sous mandat français, l’Iraq, la Palestine et la Transjordanie, sous mandat britannique. Sous mandat « B » furent placés le Cameroun et le Togoland - divisés chacun en deux zones sous administration française et britannique -, le Tanganyka sous administration britannique et le Rwanda-Urundi mis sous le mandat de la Belgique. Enfin les mandats « C » comprenaient le Sud-Ouest africain - sous mandat de l’Afrique du Sud -, les îles Mariannes, Carolines et Marshall assignées au Japon, la Nouvelle-Guinée et Nauru sous administration australienne et le Samoa occidental sous l’administration de la Nouvelle-Zélande.

6

Statut international du Sud-Ouest africain, avis consultatif, CIJ, Recueil 1950, p. 136.

7

En effet, un Etat n’aurait pas pu se délier de ses obligations en tant que mandataire et procéder par la suite à l’annexion du territoire sous mandat en quittant l’organisation, par exemple. Cf. ibid., pp. 131-133.

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d’une simple administration. Ici l’administration avait un but précis, des limitations diverses existaient relativement aux compétences du Mandataire, et celui-ci était, en outre, soumis à la supervision du Conseil de la SdN et de la Commission permanente des mandats, désignés comme organes de contrôle.

III.

La portée juridique de la Déclaration Balfour

Le 2 novembre 1917, Sir Arthur Balfour, Secrétaire britannique aux affaires étrangères, adressa une lettre à Lord Rothschild, contenant une déclaration du gouvernement britannique dans laquelle celui-ci « envisage favorablement l’établissement en Palestine d’un foyer national pour le peuple juif et fera tous ses efforts pour faciliter la réalisation de cet objectif, étant bien entendu que rien ne sera fait qui puisse porter préjudice aux droits civils et religieux des collectivités non juives existant en Palestine ». En tant que telle, la Déclaration Balfour n’exprimait que l’engagement politique du gouvernement britannique envers l’Organisation sioniste de soutenir l’idée de l’établissement d’un Foyer national juif en Palestine. Il a été prétendu que la Déclaration Balfour contredisait les promesses faites par le Gouvernement britannique aux dirigeants arabes au cours de la Première Guerre mondiale. Celles-ci s’étaient présentées sous forme d’échanges de lettres entre le Haut Commissaire britannique en Egypte Sir Henry MacMahon et l’Emir de la Mecque, Chérif Hussein, par lesquelles la Grande-Bretagne se déclarait disposée à reconnaître et à favoriser l’indépendance des pays arabes sous domination ottomane. Les promesses formulées aux uns et aux autres pouvaient être jugées politiquement contradictoires, bien qu’elles eussent sans doute été conciliables en dernier ressort. Au fond, un Etat arabe en Palestine (ou une Palestine faisant partie d’un ensemble arabe indépendant plus vaste) et un Foyer national juif en Palestine ne constituaient pas deux propositions par essence contradictoires. Quelque soit la valeur de ces promesses au niveau politique, elles ne peuvent être considérées comme pertinentes sur le plan du droit international pour la définition du statut territorial. Elles n’engageaient en réalité que la position politique d’un Etat à l’égard d’un territoire sur lequel ce dernier ne détenait aucune souveraineté. Ce n’est qu’une fois incorporée dans l’Accord de Mandat entre le Gouvernement britannique et la Société des Nations en 1922 que la Déclaration Balfour prit la forme d’un engagement conventionnel, par lequel la communauté internationale d’alors se fixait comme l’un des buts du Mandat sur la Palestine, avant que le territoire ne devînt indépendant, la création en son sein du Foyer national juif. C’est par l’inclusion de la Déclaration Balfour dans l’Accord de Mandat que s’opéra donc la transformation de sa nature juridique. Désormais, la création du Foyer national juif en Palestine possède un fondement juridique clair et dépourvu d’ambiguïté. Ceci implique la conformité au droit international de la politique sioniste d’immigration juive vers la Palestine durant la période considérée. Il a toutefois été avancé, que du fait de l’incorporation de la Déclaration Balfour, l’Accord de Mandat conclu en 1922 par la Société des Nations avec la Grande-Bretagne comme puissance mandataire de la Palestine entrait en contradiction avec l’article 22

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du Pacte de la SdN. Cet article fixait, en effet, le cadre dans lequel l’administration des territoires sous Mandat devait s’exercer. Par conséquent, les accords de Mandat étaient subordonnés au Pacte, qui en constituait le fondement. Aucun organe de la SdN, ni aucun Etat membre, n’invoqua une éventuelle incompatibilité entre l’Accord de Mandat de 1922 et l’article 22 du Pacte. Il convient de souligner que la Société des Nations elle-même constituait l’une des parties à cet accord international, à travers son Conseil. Même si du point de vue juridique ces constats suffisent à écarter une éventuelle nullité de l’Accord de Mandat, l’examen de l’accord de Mandat montre qu’il était en conformité avec l’article 22 du Pacte. L’article 22 du Pacte de la Société des Nations se réfère aux territoires à placer sous mandat comme « habités par des peuples non encore capables de se diriger eux-mêmes », tout en affirmant que « le bien-être et le développement de ces peuples forment une mission sacrée de civilisation ». Les Mandats « A », quant à eux, se voyaient définis de la manière suivante par cet article: « Certaines communautés, qui appartenaient autrefois à l’Empire ottoman, ont atteint un degré de développement tel que leur existence comme nations indépendantes peut être reconnue provisoirement, à la condition que les conseils et l’aide du Mandataire guident leur administration jusqu’au moment où elles seront capables de se conduire seules. Les vœux de ces communautés doivent être pris d’abord en considération pour le choix du Mandataire ». L’article 22 comporte la reconnaissance de l’existence en Palestine d’un peuple dont l’indépendance peut être envisagée à court terme. Son point de vue devait être pris en considération pour la désignation de la puissance mandataire, mais le choix final relevait des Puissances alliées ainsi que de la Société des Nations. Il a été affirmé que le bien-être et la « mission sacrée de civilisation » en faveur du peuple du territoire sous mandat n’étaient pas conciliables avec la création d’un foyer national juif, celui-ci impliquant de disposer du territoire en portant atteinte à la souveraineté du peuple palestinien sur ce dernier8. Comme il a été relevé ci-dessus, le régime des Mandats durant la période de l’entre-deux-guerres était fondé sur la prééminence de la Société des Nations quant à la capacité de décision sur lesdits territoires. Il a fallu attendre la Charte des Nations Unies et le développement ultérieur du droit international pour assister à la consécration juridique du principe d’autodétermination des peuples. Même le régime de tutelle des Nations Unies permettait certains aménagements territoriaux, dans la mesure où ceux-ci étaient approuvés par l’organe compétent des Nations Unies. Par ailleurs, la création d’un Foyer national juif n’impliquait pas la disposition du territoire de la Palestine. Au moment de la création du Mandat, une communauté juive existait déjà en Palestine. Ce que l’Accord de Mandat de 1922 prévoyait en outre, était la facilitation de l’immigration juive. Si un tel changement dans la composition démographique du territoire pourrait aujourd’hui être perçu comme affectant le droit d’un peuple à son autodétermination, il ne l’était pas à l’époque9. L’Accord de Mandat

8

Cf. Nations Unies, Origines et évolution du problème palestinien 1917-1988, 1990, pp. 33-35.

9

Sur la question du changement de la composition démographique dans le contexte de la situation actuelle, cf. Conséquences juridiques de l’édification d’un mur dans le territoire

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garantissait la sauvegarde des droits de l’ensemble de la population palestinienne « à quelque race ou religion qu’ils appartiennent », ainsi que l’intégrité territoriale de la Palestine10.

IV.

La notion de « Foyer national juif »

L’expression « Foyer national juif » est ambiguë. Elle laisse certainement entendre l’établissement d’un domaine territorial dans lequel les Juifs pourraient se sentir chez eux comme une Nation. A l’époque où cette formule fut créée, tout comme aujourd’hui d’ailleurs, l’existence d’une Nation n’impliquait pas automatiquement l’existence d’un Etat indépendant. Le principe des nationalités, tout en ayant été un puissant facteur politique de création de nouveaux Etats en Europe depuis la Révolution française jusqu’à la fin de la Première Guerre mondiale, ne fut jamais élevé au rang de principe de droit international, comme le fut plus tard le droit des peuples à disposer d’eux-mêmes. Si l’établissement d’un Foyer national juif en Palestine n’impliquait pas la perspective automatique d’un Etat juif indépendant, il ne le rejetait pas non plus. Il est à relever que le plan de Théodore Herzl, à la base du mouvement sioniste prévoyait la souveraineté juive sur une portion de territoire cédé, alors que la Déclaration de Bâle de 1897, pierre fondatrice du mouvement sioniste, affirmait que «le sionisme vise à l’établissement en Palestine d’un Foyer national pour le peuple juif, garanti par le droit public ». Il ne s’agissait pas là de droit international. Le droit public dont il est question ne pouvait être que le droit public ottoman. Autrement dit, le Premier Congrès sioniste n’excluait pas la création d’un Etat juif jouissant d’une large autonomie, mais au sein de l’Empire ottoman et non comme Etat indépendant. La situation changea radicalement après la Première Guerre mondiale, avec la fin de la souveraineté ottomane et l’émergence du système des Mandats. Désormais, le projet sioniste ne dépendait pas de la volonté d’un Etat souverain, mais de l’organisation internationale ayant assumé les fonctions suprêmes à l’égard des territoires détachés de l’Empire ottoman : la Société des Nations. Le premier « Livre Blanc » publié par le Gouvernement britannique en 1922 formulait une interprétation qui mérite d’être rappelée, celle-ci provenant du même gouvernement auteur de la Déclaration Balfour, par la suite mandataire du territoire : « Des déclarations non autorisées ont été faites dans ce sens que le but en vue est la création d’une Palestine totalement juive. Des phrases telles que la Palestine deviendra aussi juive ‘que l’Angleterre est anglaise’ ont été employées. Le Gouvernement de Sa Majesté considère de telles attentes comme impraticables et n’a pas un tel objectif en vue. Il n’a pas envisagé non plus, comme semble craindre la délégation arabe, la disparition ou la subordination de la population, de la langue ou de la culture arabes en Palestine. Il attire l’attention sur le fait que les termes de la Déclaration palestinien occupé, avis consultatif, CIJ, Recueil 2004, pp. 184 et 191-192, §§ 122, 133 et 134. 10

Voir Articles 2, 5 et 6 de l’Accord de Mandat de 1922.

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mentionnée [la Déclaration Balfour] n’envisagent pas que l’ensemble de la Palestine devrait être convertie en un Foyer national juif, mais qu’un tel Foyer devait être créé ‘en Palestine’. A ce propos, il a été constaté avec satisfaction que dans une réunion du Congrès sioniste, l’organe suprême de l’Organisation sioniste, tenue a Carlsbad en septembre 1921, une résolution fut adoptée dans laquelle sont exprimées de manière officielle comme objectifs sionistes « la détermination du peuple juif de vivre dans des termes d’unité et de respect mutuel avec le peuple arabe, de faire avec lui de la maison commune une communauté florissante, dont sa construction puisse assurer à chacun des peuples un développement national sans entraves. »11

La forme que le Foyer national juif devait adopter n’était pas une question que l’accord de Mandat tranchait. Elle ne fut pas résolue non plus durant la période d’existence de la Société des Nations, malgré l’examen de plusieurs projets liés à la détermination du statut final de la Palestine une fois le Mandat terminé. Comme on le sait, deux Mandats seulement ne trouvèrent pas une fin régulière, autrement dit, au regard du Pacte de la SdN ou de la Charte des Nations Unies : le Sud-ouest africain (devenu plus tard la Namibie) et la Palestine. Tous les autres devinrent soit indépendants, soit furent placés sous le nouveau régime de tutelle instauré par la Charte de l’ONU.

V.

Les Nations Unies et la fin du Mandat

L’étape qui s’ouvre avec la création des Nations Unies et la dissolution de la Société des Nations revêt une importance cruciale. Outre la fin irrégulière du Mandat décidée unilatéralement par le gouvernement britannique, l’on assiste à la prise en main de la question par l’Assemblée générale des Nations Unies. Celle-ci décide ainsi du partage du territoire de la Palestine mandataire en vue de la création de deux Etats, l’un Arabe, l’autre Juif, ainsi que de l’établissement d’un statut particulier pour Jérusalem et une vaste région avoisinante12. La validité juridique de ce plan de partage fut l’objet de vives controverses et eut pour conséquence le fait que seul l’un des deux Etats prévus par l’Assemblée générale de l’ONU vit le jour. Comme réaction à la création de l’Etat d’Israël, les Etats arabes voisins envahirent le territoire de la Palestine. Suite aux hostilités de 1948-1949, des accords d’armistice définirent des lignes de démarcation, sans préjuger des frontières ou du sort final du territoire. Cette situation fut maintenue jusqu’à la Guerre des Six-Jours de 1967. Il convient d’analyser séparément les implications juridiques de la fin unilatérale du Mandat par le Royaume-Uni et la portée de la Résolution 181 (II) de l’Assemblée générale.

11

Statement of British Policy in Palestine from Mr. Churchill to the Zionist Organisation, 3 juin 1922, reproduit in J. N. Moore (dir.), The Arab-Israeli Conflict, vol. III: Documents (1974), p. 66 (traduction de l’auteur).

12

Assemblée générale des Nations Unies, Résolution 181 (II) du 29 novembre 1947.

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VI.

L’abandon de ses responsabilités par le Royaume-Uni

Le Royaume-Uni porte une lourde responsabilité en sa qualité de puissance mandataire. Le Gouvernement britannique s’est montré incapable de conduire la Palestine à l’indépendance, par la prise en compte des intérêts des deux peuples existant sur le territoire, tel que l’exigeaient le Pacte de la SdN et de l’accord de Mandat. Il n’a pas non plus placé formellement la Palestine sous le nouveau régime de Tutelle, comme prévu par l’article 77 de la Charte de l’ONU. Il saisit l’Assemblée générale des Nations Unies de la question à la place, et décida de mettre fin unilatéralement au Mandat en annonçant la date du retrait de son administration, prétendant ainsi se libérer arbitrairement des engagements qu’il avait contractés dans les différents instruments conventionnels. La question qui se pose est de savoir si cet abandon de responsabilités par la puissance mandataire signifie l’existence d’un vide juridique à l’égard de la Palestine, qui aurait ainsi été abandonnée à son sort, constituant une sorte de terra nullius. La réponse est négative. Comme il a été indiqué ci-dessus, le Mandat constituait un régime international ne pouvant être modifié que par un organe international compétent. Comme la Cour internationale de Justice l’a relevé à l’égard du Mandat sur le Sudouest africain, la disparition de la Société des Nations n’impliquait pas la disparition du régime. Compte tenu de ce que la dernière séance de l’Assemblée de la SdN avait décidé dans sa résolution du 18 avril 1946 relative aux Mandats, et des compétences que détient l’Assemblée générale des Nations Unies en vertu de l’article 10 de la Charte, « la Cour arrive à la conclusion que l’Assemblée générale des Nations Unies est fondée en droit à exercer les fonctions de surveillance qu’exerçait précédemment la Société des Nations en ce qui concerne l’administration du Territoire »13. Cet avis de la Cour est aussi bien applicable au Sud-ouest africain qu’à la Palestine, vu qu’il s’agit de la même situation juridique.

VII. La prise en main de la question par l’Assemblée générale de l’ONU L’Assemblée générale se saisit ainsi de la question en février 1947. La Première session extraordinaire de cet organe de l’ONU s’ouvrit le 2 avril 1947 et fut consacrée à la question de la Palestine. Depuis lors et ce jusqu’à aujourd’hui, plusieurs sessions extraordinaires ont été convoquées pour connaître de la question. L’Assemblée créa un organe subsidiaire, la Commission spéciale de l’Organisation des Nations Unies pour la Palestine, chargée d’étudier la situation et de faire des propositions. Elle se constitua elle-même en Commission ad hoc afin de déterminer le statut du territoire. Deux options furent considérées : la création d’un Etat fédéral sur l’ensemble de la Palestine ou le partage de celle-ci en deux Etats, un Arabe et un Juif, avec la région de Jérusalem soumise à un régime international et une union économique entre les

13

Statut international du Sud-Ouest africain, avis consultatif, CIJ, Recueil 1950, p. 137.

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deux Etats. Comme on le sait, par sa Résolution 181 (II), l’Assemblée choisit la seconde option14. Les Etats arabes rejetèrent la Résolution 181 (II). Ces derniers justifièrent cette prise de position en argumentant que l’Assemblée générale n’avait pas compétence pour procéder au partage de la Palestine au nom des principes d’intégrité territoriale et du droit des peuples à disposer d’eux-mêmes. Ils avancèrent également que cette résolution n’était qu’une simple recommandation et, que par conséquent, elle était dépourvue d’effets juridiques obligatoires. Les deux fondements juridiques du plan de partage peuvent être résumés comme suit : premièrement, la compétence de l’Assemblée générale à exercer la fonction de contrôle international sur les territoires sous Mandat n’ayant pas encore acquis leur indépendance ou ne bénéficiant pas du nouveau régime de tutelle des Nations Unies ; deuxièmement, la reconnaissance de l’existence de deux peuples au sein du territoire sous Mandat. Ce second aspect est capital pour la compréhension de la question. C’est le rejet de l’existence de l’autre peuple qui a mené les parties à prendre les positions extrêmes qui ont mené aux résultats que l’on connaît. La reconnaissance de l’existence de deux peuples ne date pas du plan de partage. Comme il a été mentionné plus haut, celle-ci remonte à la période du Mandat. L’article 22 du Pacte de la SdN reconnaît l’existence des peuples dont l’indépendance est envisageable pour les Mandats de type « A ». Les habitants de la Palestine étaient, par conséquent, considérés comme un peuple en 1919, même si cette qualification n’apparut pas de manière explicite dans l’Accord de Mandat de 192215. Ce dernier pour sa part reconnut manifestement l’existence d’un peuple juif. C’est peut-être le premier antécédent de la reconnaissance des peuples comme sujets de droit international, avant même l’intégration du principe d’autodétermination des peuples comme un principe ayant force juridique. En ce qui concerne l’argument de l’intégrité territoriale, il convient de formuler deux remarques. La première est que le respect du principe de l’intégrité territoriale est aussi applicable aux territoires soumis à un régime international comme celui des Mandats. Cela sous-entend l’impossibilité de transférer une partie du territoire à un autre Etat, y compris à la puissance mandataire, qui ne pouvait prétendre annexer tout ou une partie du territoire dont elle avait le Mandat. Toutefois, la possibilité d’ajustement des frontières des territoires sous Mandat, soit avec d’autres territoires soumis au même régime, soit avec des Etats indépendants voisins, n’était pas exclue. Cela exigeait l’approbation de l’organe de surveillance, le Conseil de la SdN. La seconde remarque consiste à rappeler que tant la SdN que l’ONU avaient reconnu l’existence de deux peuples à l’intérieur de la Palestine. Par conséquent, le principe du respect de l’intégrité territoriale ne fut pas enfreint par la distribution du territoire entre ses deux titulaires. 14

Adoptée par 33 voix contre 13, avec 10 abstentions.

15

Contrairement à ce qu’affirme Paul Giniewski, qui considère que seul le peuple juif était reconnu comme tel durant la période du Mandat « Sionisme et arabisme, hier et aujourd’ hui », in S. Tigano (dir.), Le sionisme face à ses détracteurs (2003), p. 51. De manière encore plus exacerbée, F. Encel, « Légitimité du sionisme en droit international », in ibid., p. 41.

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La Palestine n’est pas le seul territoire, soumis à un régime colonial ou d’administration internationale, à avoir été partagé. Plusieurs autres exemples peuvent en effet être mentionnés à titre d’illustration. L’ancien dominion de l’Inde donna naissance à deux Etats, l’Inde et le Pakistan, ce dernier constitué de deux unités territoriales séparées16. Il s’agit d’un exemple contemporain à l’adoption du plan de partage de la Palestine en 1947. Le Mandat, devenu par la suite territoire sous tutelle, de Ruanda-Urundi fut finalement scindé en deux Etats indépendants, le Rwanda et le Burundi. Le territoire du Cameroun, sous mandat d’abord, puis sous tutelle, fut divisé par la puissance administrante, le Royaume-Uni, en une partie septentrionale et une partie méridionale. Cette dernière fut incorporée au Cameroun, alors que l’autre intégra le Nigéria. Ce cas est d’autant plus remarquable que ce partage n’obéissait même pas à l’existence de deux peuples distincts au sein du territoire, mais à de pures raisons de convenance de la puissance administrante. En 1961, le Cameroun déposa une requête introductive d’instance contre le Royaume-Uni devant la Cour internationale de Justice, priant la Cour de déclarer ce dernier en violation des obligations résultant de l’accord de tutelle relatif à l’administration britannique sur le Cameroun. La Cour constata que l’Assemblée générale avait rejeté les griefs camerounais et que l’Assemblée elle-même avait mis fin au régime de tutelle sur ledit territoire et non pas le Royaume-Uni17. Ainsi, la Palestine n’est pas un cas unique de partage d’un territoire soumis à un régime colonial, de mandat ou de tutelle. En outre, le plan de partage de la Palestine se trouvait en pleine conformité avec la Charte des Nations Unies et le droit international général. Il fut adopté par un organe compétent qui ne dépassa pas ses prérogatives en la matière. Si la résolution utilisa une fois le verbe « recommander » pour se référer à l’action de l’Assemblée générale, il n’en demeure pas moins que l’Assemblée générale était le seul organe compétent pour décider du sort du territoire sous Mandat. S’adressant au Conseil de sécurité, elle lui demanda de prendre les mesures nécessaires pour sa mise en œuvre et le pria de considérer toute action contraire au plan de partage comme une menace contre la paix, une rupture de la paix ou un acte d’agression. Le contenu très détaillé de la Résolution 181 (II) allait bien au-delà d’une simple proposition formulée à la puissance mandataire ou aux parties. Elle expliquait même aux parties la procédure à suivre en vue de la création de leur Etat et de la définition des frontières, définissait les garanties que les deux Etats devaient respecter à l’égard de leurs citoyens, etc. Même si les parties étaient parvenues à un accord négocié bilatéralement, il leur aurait fallu l’approbation de l’Assemblée générale. L’éclatement des hostilités empêcha l’application de la Résolution 181 (II), sans néanmoins lui ôter sa portée juridique et sa signification, à savoir la création de deux Etats comme moyen pour mettre fin au Mandat et aboutir à l’indépendance de la Palestine.

16

La partie orientale fit sécession en 1971 pour constituer l’Etat du Bangladesh.

17

Affaire du Cameroun septentrional, exceptions préliminaires, arrêt du 2 décembre 1963, CIJ, Recueil 1963, p. 32.

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VIII. La proclamation de l’Etat d’Israël et la guerre de 1948-1949 Le 14 mai 1948, quelques heures avant le retrait de l’administration britannique, l’Etat d’Israël fut proclamé à Tel-Aviv, avec effet dès la fin du Mandat, c’est-à-dire le retrait de l’administration britannique à minuit. La proclamation rappelait les droits historiques du peuple juif sur le territoire, la Déclaration Balfour, le Mandat de la SdN et la Résolution 181 (II) de l’Assemblée générale. Le nouvel Etat s’engageait à appliquer cette Résolution, y compris à prendre les mesures nécessaires à la mise en œuvre de l’union économique proposée par la résolution18. L’autre Etat prévu par le plan de partage ne vit pas le jour. Les représentants du peuple arabe de Palestine rejetèrent la Résolution 181 (II). Le lendemain de la proclamation de l’Etat d’Israël, les forces armées de l’Egypte, de la Syrie, de la Transjordanie, du Liban et de l’Iraq entrèrent en territoire palestinien. L’argument invoqué fut le besoin de protéger la population arabe de Palestine. Il s’agissait en fait d’une violation de l’obligation de s’abstenir du recours à la force dans les relations internationales. Comme on le sait, les seules exceptions à cette règle sont la légitime défense en cas d’agression armée ou une décision de recourir à la force de la part du Conseil de sécurité. Cet organe, dans ce qui fut sans doute son premier échec dans l’accomplissement de sa fonction principale du maintien de la paix et de la sécurité internationales, « n’a pas pris » les mesures adéquates pour faire face à l’agression des Etats arabes.

IX.

Les lignes d’armistice et l’absence de création d’un Etat arabe

Les hostilités entre les Etats arabes et Israël ne prirent fin que par la conclusion des accords d’armistice de 1949, suite à l’adoption par le Conseil de sécurité de la Résolution 62 (1948). Le résultat de ce conflit armé fut l’établissement de lignes d’armistice allant au-delà des lignes territoriales initialement prévues à l’égard de l’Etat juif dans la résolution 181 (II). Parmi les conséquences du conflit, environ quatre cent mille arabes palestiniens furent déplacés, parfois expulsés par les forces israéliennes, parfois fuyant les hostilités ou les massacres commis par des organisations terroristes, parfois suivant les conseils des dirigeants arabes. De même, bien qu’incomparablement moins nombreux, les habitants juifs établis sur les territoires occupés par les forces armées arabes furent expulsés. L’Etat d’Israël, pour lequel le plan de partage prévoyait une population d’environ 60% de Juifs et 40% d’Arabes, se vit ainsi constitué d’une majorité juive bien plus étendue. Les conséquences du déplacement d’une large partie de la population palestinienne, interdite de retour et pour laquelle aucune compensation

18

« L’État d’lsraël est prêt à coopérer avec les organismes et les représentants des Nations Unies pour l’application de la résolution adoptée par l Assemblée générale le 29 novembre 1947 et à prendre toutes les mesures nécessaires pour la mise en place de l’Union économique sur l’ensemble de la Palestine », http//www.mfa.gov.il.

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ne fut payée, constituent encore aujourd’hui l’un des problèmes les plus délicats du règlement du conflit19. Les parties du territoire palestinien attribuées à l’Etat arabe et maintenues sous contrôle des Etats arabes après la conclusion des armistices ne furent pas placées sous l’autorité d’un Etat palestinien indépendant. L’Egypte administra le territoire de Gaza et la Transjordanie (appelé ensuite Jordanie) et annexa la Cisjordanie, y compris Jérusalem-Est, en 1950. Cette annexion ne fut pas reconnue sur le plan international. Il s’agissait dans le deux cas d’une situation d’occupation militaire. Les lignes d’armistice établies en 1949 ne constituaient pas des frontières. Il convient de rappeler que les Etats arabes refusaient de reconnaître l’existence de l’Etat d’Israël et par conséquent n’auraient pas accepté de conclure avec lui des traités d’établissement de frontières. Les frontières internationales définissent l’étendue de la souveraineté territoriale de deux Etats limitrophes ou des territoires ayant un statut particulier, comme c’était le cas des territoires sous Mandat ou Tutelle. Une ligne d’armistice n’a pas le caractère stable d’une frontière. Il n’en demeure pas moins qu’une ligne d’armistice délimite l’étendue du contrôle territorial des parties et ne peut être modifiée unilatéralement. La Résolution 62 (1948) du Conseil de sécurité, à la base des accords d’armistice de 1949, précisait que ceux-ci devaient stipuler « le tracé des lignes de démarcation permanentes que les forces armées des parties en présence ne devront pas franchir »20. La non application du plan de partage relève en d’autres termes de la responsabilité des Etats arabes, qui rejetèrent le plan dans un premier temps, recoururent illicitement à la force ensuite, et enfin administrèrent (l’Egypte par rapport à la bande de Gaza) ou annexèrent (la Transjordanie par rapport à la Cisjordanie) la partie du territoire accordé à l’Etat arabe de Palestine sous leur contrôle. Cette situation dura jusqu’en juin 1967. Rien n’empêchait la création d’un Etat palestinien dans ces territoires. La volonté des Etats arabes fît obstacle à la création de l’Etat palestinien, du fait même de leur souhait de ne pas reconnaître l’existence de l’Etat d’Israël. Il faut ajouter que l’acceptation du plan de partage aurait signifié non seulement un Etat arabe palestinien beaucoup plus étendu que celui qui est envisageable aujourd’hui, mais aurait sans doute aussi permis d’éviter un grand nombre des tragédies qui se sont succédées dans cette région.

19

La résolution 194 (III) de l’Assemblée générale, adoptée le 11 décembre 1948, décide « qu’il y a lieu de permettre aux réfugiés qui le désirent de rentrer dans leurs foyers le plus tôt possible et de vivre en paix avec leurs voisins, et que des indemnités doivent être payées à titre de compensation pour les biens de ceux qui décident de ne pas rentrer dans leurs foyers et pour tout bien perdu ou endommagé lorsque, en vertu des principes du droit international ou en équité, cette perte ou ce dommage doit être réparé par les gouvernements ou autorités responsables ».

20

Conseil de sécurité, Résolution 62 (1948), adoptée le 16 novembre 1948. Italiques ajoutés.

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La création de l’Etat d’Israël : une évaluation juridique

Il est certain que l’abandon par le Royaume-Uni de ses responsabilités comme mandataire n’a pas mené à la transformation du territoire en une terra nullius. La puissance mandataire n’avait pas la capacité de disposer du territoire, lequel restait soumis à un statut international. De manière semblable, le retrait de l’Espagne du Sahara occidental en 1975 ou celui du Portugal du Timor oriental la même année – dans des conditions certes différentes -, n’a pas impliqué que ces territoires soient devenus à la disposition du premier occupant. Le Sahara occidental et Timor oriental sont demeurés des territoires non autonomes au sens de l’article 73 de la Charte, soumis au processus de décolonisation. Dans le cas de la Palestine, tout comme dans ceux du Sahara occidental et de Timor oriental, il appartenait à l’Assemblée générale de déterminer la manière de mettre un terme au statut international. Le plan de partage a ainsi été décidé par le seul organe ayant capacité de décision en la matière. La Résolution 181 (II) a été adoptée en toute conformité avec le droit international. Partant de la reconnaissance de l’existence de deux peuples au sein du territoire de la Palestine, la création de deux Etats était une forme d’application du principe du droit des peuples à disposer d’eux-mêmes, déjà consacré dans la Charte des Nations Unies21. De ce fait, l’intégrité territoriale de la Palestine n’était pas en cause. De la sorte, la proclamation de l’Etat d’Israël et sa création effective n’a pas été une pure question de fait. Elle ne pouvait d’ailleurs l’être. S’agissant d’un territoire soumis à un régime international, aucune création étatique n’aurait pu être valablement accomplie sans un fondement juridique. Pour cette même raison, l’invocation d’une sécession triomphante ne peut être avancée non plus22. L’existence de l’Etat d’Israël et la question de l’étendue territoriale du nouvel Etat sont deux choses différentes. Clairement, l’étendue territoriale du nouvel Etat découlant des accords d’armistice de 1949 avec l’Egypte et la Transjordanie allait au-delà de ce qui était prévu par la Résolution 181 (II). Cette situation territoriale se maintint jusqu’à la Guerre des Six-Jours en 1967, avec un bref contrôle israélien de la bande de Gaza durant la Crise de Suez de 1956. Ce fut en effet la Guerre de 1967 qui bouleversa profondément le statu quo de 1949. En occupant durablement le reste du territoire de la Palestine mandataire, Israël empêche l’autre peuple d’exercer son droit à l’autodétermination et de créer son propre Etat. La politique de colonisation de ces territoires n’a aucun fondement juridique, et ceci ni au regard du droit des conflits armés, ni au nom d’une prétendue extension de l’application de l’accord de Mandat à ce qui restait du territoire de la Palestine mandataire après la création de l’Etat d’Israël23. Toutes considérations sur l’extinction du Mandat de la Palestine après le 15 mai 1949 mises à part, cette création a marqué l’aboutissement de l’idée du Foyer national juif. Par conséquent, le gouvernement israélien ne peut installer l’immigration juive que sur son propre territoire. L’implantation de sa population dans le territoire reconnu comme unité 21

Articles 1 § 2 et 55.

22

Pour cette position, voir Crawford, supra note 2, pp. 433-434.

23

CIJ, Recueil 2004, p. 184, § 120.

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destinée à l’exercice du droit du peuple palestinien à son autodétermination constitue aujourd’hui une modification de la composition démographique du territoire contraire au droit international. La communauté internationale a reconnu la Cisjordanie (y compris Jérusalem-Est) et la bande de Gaza comme domaine de validité spatiale pour l’exercice du droit du peuple palestinien à l’autodétermination. La délimitation des frontières entre l’Etat d’Israël et le futur Etat de Palestine demeure une question à régler définitivement, même si, à défaut d’accord, les lignes d’armistice et les frontières externes pertinentes de la Palestine mandataire peuvent être considérées comme devenant les frontières de l’Etat que le peuple palestinien a le droit de créer. En dressant l’histoire juridique de la création de l’Etat d’Israël, l’intention n’était pas de juger si les décisions fondamentales des organisations internationales ont été ou non les plus appropriées. Il s’agirait d’un jugement de valeur et chacun trouvera des arguments en faveur ou contre ces décisions. Au fond, cette question ne revêt aujourd’hui qu’un intérêt historico-politique. Ce qui est ici déterminant, c’est le fait que les résolutions et accords clés ont été adoptés et conclus de manière licite, selon la volonté des organes chargés de prendre les décisions respectives. Qu’on le veuille ou non, ces résolutions et accords s’imposent aux parties. Elles seules, en sus bien entendu des règles de droit international général applicables, permettront d’affirmer jusqu’où peuvent aller les revendications des parties. Ce sont les rejets successifs de ces résolutions par les parties concernées qui sont à la base d’un conflit qui a déjà coûté la vie à des milliers de personnes, causé des souffrances à des centaines de milliers d’autres et plongé une région dans l’instabilité et la crise depuis soixante ans.

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Legal Personality or not – The Recent Attempts to Improve the Status of the OSCE Helmut Tichy & Ulrike Köhler*

I.

Introduction

The Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (CSCE), renamed Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) by its Budapest Summit Declaration of 6 December 1994,1 has always been characteristically different from mainstream international organizations. Originally called a conference, not an organization, based on a series of politically, not legally binding documents, and in particular not on a founding treaty, it has made an important contribution to the end of the pre-1989 division of Europe, but it also offers a number of puzzling questions for international lawyers. In the course of its development and notwithstanding the intentions of its founders, the CSCE/OSCE did not manage to remain in the sphere of the merely politically binding; as its activities were gaining importance, permanent offices were opened, field missions were sent to difficult areas, it was confronted with legal questions and had to clarify its position vis-à-vis subjects of international law and even subjects of the national laws of the states participating in the OSCE. The result of this is a complicated but fascinating mixture of the non-legal and the legal, centring round the issue of the legal personality of the OSCE. This article focuses on the question of the international legal personality of the OSCE, in particular the attempts made since 2000 to give the OSCE a clear international status. In the course of these efforts, the issue of the international legal personality has been discussed together with the issue of the privileges and immunities of the *

The authors are actively involved as Co-Chair and Austrian delegate, respectively, in the informal Working Group at expert level on the international legal personality, legal capacity and privileges and immunities of the OSCE. Helmut Tichy was also chairman of the openended working group in 2000 and 2001 following the Istanbul Summit Declaration (1999) and participated in that capacity between 2002 and 2006 in occasional consultations and presentations of the problem of the legal personality of the OSCE in OSCE meetings. In 2006, he chaired the group of legal experts tasked with reviewing the implications of the lack of international legal status and uniform privileges and immunities of the OSCE.

1

See the Budapest Summit Declaration – Towards a Genuine Partnership in a New Era, para. 3: ‘The CSCE is the security structure embracing States from Vancouver to Vladivostok. We are determined to give a new political impetus to the CSCE, thus enabling it to play a cardinal role in meeting the challenges of the twenty-first century. To reflect this determination, the CSCE will henceforth be known as the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE).’ The change of name became effective on 1 January 1995, see Budapest Decision I – Strengthening the CSCE, para. 1.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 455-478, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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OSCE in the context of a draft convention. Our focus in this article will be on the status issue; privileges and immunities will only occasionally be referred to so as to complete the picture. What we find most interesting in this discussion is the unique attempt which has been made to confer international legal personality by a convention dealing mainly with privileges and immunities to an international organization not based on a founding treaty. We also try to show that the non-legally binding OSCE commitments are only part of an extensive practice of non-legally binding obligations in international relations. Our distinguished teacher and friend Gerhard Hafner has participated in many conferences and meetings of the CSCE/OSCE and witnessed the establishment of CSCE institutions in Vienna. 2 He was an Alternate Member of the Bureau and continues to be a Conciliator at the Court of Conciliation and Arbitration of the CSCE/OSCE in Geneva3. Writing about the current negotiations aimed at improving the status of the OSCE by granting it international legal personality, in which we have the pleasure to participate, we trust to deal with a subject which is closely related to Gerhard Hafner’s main interests as international lawyer.4

II.

Political Obligations vs. Legal Obligations

When dealing with the OSCE, one encounters very soon the expression ‘OSCE commitment’, and it is explained that ‘OSCE commitments’ are politically, not legally binding obligations. As political obligations they belong to the non-legal branch of international relations, and although they are ‘obligations’ in a broad sense, they differ from legal 2

The first unit of the CSCE to be permanently based in Vienna was the Conflict Prevention Centre, established by the Paris Summit of Heads of State or Government of the CSCE on 21 November 1990 and opened on 18 March 1991. It is now a department of the OSCE Secretariat, which was moved to Vienna on 1 January 1994 in accordance with the decision of the Committee of Senior Officials of the CSCE of 29 November 1993. Today also the Permanent Council of the OSCE has its regular meetings in Vienna and Vienna is the seat of the Forum for Security Co-operation and the OSCE Representative on Freedom of the Media.

3

This court is based on the Convention on Conciliation and Arbitration within the CSCE of 15 December 1992, in OSCE circles referred to as the ‘Stockholm Convention’. Austria is one of the thirty-three parties to this convention, see Austrian Federal Law Gazette (BGBl.) No. 127/1996. The convention, a proper international treaty, is an example for an area where the CSCE/OSCE had to transcend the non-legal world, less because of objective needs but rather because of the urge of two of its most prominent participating states. For the genesis of the convention, see G. Hafner, ‘Das Streitbeilegungsübereinkommen der KSZE: Cui bono?’, in K. Ginther et al. (eds.), Völkerrecht zwischen normativem Anspruch und politischer Realität, Festschrift für Karl Zemanek zum 65. Geburtstag 115, at 116 et seq. (1994). Unfortunately, the convention, which was drafted with the active participation of Gerhard Hafner, does not figure on the list of OSCE success stories, notwithstanding the efforts of the Court to demonstrate its availability and cost-effectiveness.

4

Cf. G. Hafner, ‘Did the FR Yugoslavia make the OSCE an International Organization?’, in W. Benedek/H. Isak/R. Kicker (eds.), Developing International and European Law. Essays in Honour of Konrad Ginther on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday 35 (1999).

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obligations because they were not intended to have the same consequences as legal obligations, and therefore do not have them. A breach of a political obligation does not per se constitute a breach of the law. A part (if not the entire) area of political obligations is sometimes referred to as ‘soft law’,5 an expression which is not helpful for the practitioner in need to find a yes or no-answer to the question as to whether or not a certain behaviour is in conformity with international law. In the practice of states and international organizations a clear distinction is made more often than one would expect between the legally binding and the non-legally binding – a distinction which only gets blurred by describing, for example, non-legally binding recommendations as ‘soft law’.6 It is a fact that the international community has developed a parallel system, outside the realm of international law, which is intentionally non-legal. Practitioners are normally well aware whether they move in one or the other system. In order to distinguish the two systems, a language code is used, which, in the English language, centres around the words ‘shall’ and ‘will’, establishing a clear borderline between legal and political obligations. The careful use of these words is the most important, but not the only device for drafters of political documents for ensuring the non-legal character of such documents. Sometimes, in particular if ‘shall’ (or its equivalent in another language) seems to be unavoidable or if a language is used which does not make the same distinction, an explicit clause may state that nothing in the text concerned is intended to create legal obligations. Whereas treaties have ‘parties’, political documents rather refer to ‘sides’, ‘partners’,7 ‘participants’ or, as in the case of the OSCE, ‘participating states’. ‘Agree’ and ‘agreement’ is as clear a sign of a treaty as is ‘shall’, while in political documents partners have reached an understanding or resolve to devote their best endeavours to achieve something. A treaty enters into force and is valid, a political document becomes effective, takes effect or enters into effect – and is never ‘valid’ in a legal sense. Both treaties and political documents may be terminated, but only a treaty can be denounced. A special case are ‘memoranda of understanding’ or MoUs, an expression which can be used in both the legal and the non-legal context. It is a common fallacy that memoranda of understanding are always of a political and not of a legal nature; in fact, they can be either the one or the other. It is normally a question of some research into the wording of a memorandum to find out whether it is legally binding (as, for 5

See K. Zemanek, ‘Is the Term “Soft Law” Convenient?’, in G. Hafner et al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Professor Ignaz Seidl-Hohenveldern in Honour of his 80th Birthday 843 passim (1998).

6

Cf. J. Klabbers, ‘The Redundancy of Soft Law’, 65 NJIL 167, at 171 (1996); M. Bothe, ‘Legal and non-Legal Norms – a Meaningful Distinction in International Relations?’, 11 NYIL 65 passim (1980).

7

It was for that reason that participants in the former European Political Co-operation (EPC), outside the EEC Treaty, were referred to as ‘partners’; an expression still frequently used, although since the creation of the treaty based European Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) ‘member states’ is more appropriate. It may be the case that this now outdated terminology sometimes reflects a preference of the user for the ‘merely political’ EPC as opposed to the treaty based CFSP.

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example, many of the MoUs of the United Nations, which call most of their treaties MoUs) or not. One of the advantages of politically (and not legally) binding memoranda of understanding is their generosity with regard to the lack of qualification on the side of one or all of the partners entering into such an instrument. Whereas treaties, including treaties called memoranda of understanding, can normally only be concluded by subjects of international law, politically binding memoranda may have partners either not possessing this status8 or, if they do so at least partially, may not be entitled to conclude a treaty on the subject matter concerned.9 To avoid the ambiguity of the expression ‘memorandum of understanding’, many other expressions are equally being used to describe documents containing political obligations, including ‘(joint) declaration of intent’ or ‘(joint) communiqué’. In the German language we favour the expression ‘(gemeinsame) Absichtserklärung’, that is, (joint) declaration of intent, both as the title of a document and as a description of its merely political content. Another frequent expression used in the non-legal sphere is ‘arrangement’, which may denote both a document containing political obligations and a non-treaty based international entity, similar in many ways to international organizations but without international legal personality.10 Political obligations are sometimes popular simply because they can be entered into more easily than legal obligations. While allowing for a signing ceremony during an official visit, they are not subject to the same internal procedures as treaties, including publication in an official gazette.11 But in certain cases, as in that of the CSCE/ 8

It is the common understanding that given the lack of legal personality of the OSCE, all bilateral memoranda concluded by it with states and international organizations fail to fulfil the treaty test and can only be qualified as politically binding documents. It is however a different question whether an instrument concluded with an entity previously not a subject of international law can establish, either in one step or gradually, the international legal personality of such an entity, see infra section IV.E.

9

The constitutional rule according to which the Austrian Länder only possess international treaty-making power in a relatively small area and under restrictive conditions entailed the consequence that the rule concerned (Austrian Federal Constitution, art. 16) was never applied and that the Länder have resorted to bi- and multilateral international documents which can only be qualified as merely politically binding.

10

See the Wassenaar Arrangement on export controls for conventional arms and dual-use goods and technologies, which shares with the OSCE not only Vienna as its seat but also the status of a non-subject of international law. As in the case of the OSCE, legal capacity in Austria and privileges and immunities in Austria could therefore not be granted through a headquarters agreement, but only through Austrian legal acts: Federal Law on the Legal Status of the Secretariat of the Wassenaar Arrangement in Austria, Federal Law Gazette I No. 89/1997, and Regulation of the Federal Government on the Granting of Privileges and Immunities to the Foreign Delegations, the Secretariat and the Officials of the Secretariat of the Wassenaar Arrangement, Federal Law Gazette No. 661/1996 as amended.

11

One may recall that in Austria all treaties, even agreements between governments or ministers, have to be published in the Federal Law Gazette (see Section 5 of the Federal Law on the Federal Law Gazette, Austrian Federal Law Gazette I No. 100/2003); an exemption from

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OSCE, the choice of political rather than legal obligations is an essential condition for the success of negotiations: it is often much easier to agree on political than on legal obligations. OSCE commitments belong to this extensive sphere of non-legal obligations; the ‘language code’ referred to above was and is applied in the drafting of these commitments.

III.

Status Quo of the OSCE

A.

No International Legal Personality

In 1994, the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (CSCE) was merely renamed Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE). Intergovernmental organizations normally possess international legal personality. In the case of the OSCE there is a common understanding that the renaming did not alter its status as a merely political arrangement. The question as to whether the OSCE is indeed an international organization in the sense of an intergovernmental organization enjoying international legal personality has to be answered in the negative. Why? Well-meaning analysts would argue that a founding treaty, absent in the case of the OSCE, is not a precondition for international organization status.12 There are intergovernmental bodies which came into existence in rather informal ways and which are still recognized as international organizations, an issue which comes up particularly when headquarters agreements (under international law) are to be concluded between a state and such an organization. However, these other organizations, benefiting from the flexibility of international law, have in common that their members agree with such an improvement of status or at least do not object to it.13 publication for agreements addressed exclusively to administrative authorities and their staff, still unforgotten, was abolished in 1996. 12

See I. Seidl-Hohenveldern, ‘Internationale Organisationen aufgrund von soft law’, in U. Beyerlin et al. (eds.), Recht zwischen Umbruch und Bewahrung, Festschrift für Rudolf Bernhardt 229, at 233 (1995).

13

For example, Interpol was not set up by an international convention, but is nevertheless nowadays recognized as an international organization enjoying international legal personality. In a letter of the UN Legal Counsel, Under Secretary General Erik Suy, to the Secretary General of Interpol, A. Bossard, of 14 December 1982, the United Nations Office of Legal Affairs confirmed the status of Interpol as international organization. It stated that ‘[e]ven if its constitution does not qualify as formal international treaty, an international organization may well be called intergovernmental as a result of the role which that constitution ascribes to governments with regard to such matters as membership, representations, financing, etc. A non-governmental organization may thus change its status to intergovernmental without a change to the non-treaty form of its statute, but as a result of appropriate amendments to the relevant provisions of the statute’. It has to be added that the qualification of the Interpol constitution as a non-treaty is changing too in view of state practice, see the results of the meeting of legal advisers on the legal foundation of Interpol held in Lyon on 3 and 4 May 2007. For other examples see H. Schermers/N. Blokker, International Institutional Law. Unity within Diversity, 27-28, § 35 (2003).

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The case of the OSCE is different. This is less due to the original intention of the founders of the 1975 Conference to establish a political cooperation rather than an international organization than to the explicit opposition by two important ‘persistent objectors’ to an informal acquisition of international organization status: the United States of America and the Russian Federation, sometimes supported by a few other participating states. The reasons for the positions of the US and Russia are different and will be examined below. The effect of these positions, however, is the same: the OSCE was unable to acquire in an informal way the status of an international organization enjoying international legal personality. One of the consequences of this lack of international legal personality of the OSCE is the different treatment it receives in its participating states. This explains why the issues of international legal personality on the one hand and privileges and immunities of the OSCE on the other hand are closely related. International organizations often benefit from a uniform system of privileges and immunities, agreed upon in a multilateral treaty. In the case of the CSCE/OSCE this approach was not possible, due to the reluctance of participating states to conclude a legally binding instrument. The attempt was made to deal with the question in the traditional CSCE way – through a political document, the so-called Rome Decision, addressing the issues of legal capacity as well as of privileges and immunities. As noted above, in the following we will concentrate on the status issue (legal personality and legal capacity) and only occasionally refer to privileges and immunities.

B.

The Rome Decision

The CSCE Council of Ministers, at its Fourth Meeting held in Rome from 30 November to 1 December 1993, considered the report of an ad hoc Group of Legal and Other Experts on the relevance of an agreement granting internationally recognized status to the CSCE institutions and adopted a decision on legal capacity and privileges and immunities. The final document of that meeting summarized the decision by recommending implementation of the following three basic elements: — The CSCE participating States will, subject to their constitutional, legislative and related requirements, confer legal capacity on CSCE institutions in accordance with the provisions adopted by the Ministers; — The CSCE participating States will, subject to their constitutional, legislative and related requirements, confer privileges and immunities on CSCE institutions, permanent missions of the participating States, representatives of participating States, CSCE officials and members of CSCE missions in accordance with the provisions adopted by the Ministers;

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— The CSCE may issue CSCE Identity Cards in accordance with the form adopted by the Ministers.14 These three elements were further elaborated in the Rome Decision itself.15 Given the fact that now, 14 years after its adoption, the decision is still the main OSCE document on the organization’s legal capacity and still exercises great influence on the relevant discussions, it merits several comments. Although the Rome Decision was based on a report ‘on the relevance of an agreement granting internationally recognized status to the CSCE institutions’,16 it clearly failed to achieve this objective: it neither provided for an agreement (in the sense of an international treaty), nor did it grant anything – it limited itself to recommendations – and the recommendations did not aim at an internationally recognized status, but only at the granting of legal capacity (and privileges and immunities) by the participating states. It is necessary to underline the distinction regularly made in international instruments dealing with the status of international organizations (multilateral treaties as well as bilateral headquarters agreements) between ‘international legal personality’ (relating to the legal status of an organization as subject of international law) and ‘legal capacity’ (relating to the capacity of an organization to perform transactions of a private law character and to be liable for such operations under private law). The Rome Decision recommends only the granting of legal capacity in the latter sense, i.e. ‘in particular the capacity to contract, to acquire and dispose of movable and immovable property, and to institute and participate in legal proceedings’.17 The legal capacity recommendation of the Rome Decision related only to certain CSCE institutions, i.e. the CSCE Secretariat (now Vienna), the Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights (ODIHR, Warsaw) and any other CSCE institution determined by the CSCE Council. Legal capacity of the CSCE as such was not even referred to in the otherwise ambitious title of the expert group which prepared the decision. The Rome Decision addresses both the legal capacity of the CSCE institutions and the privileges and immunities of CSCE institutions, permanent missions of participating States, representatives of participating States, CSCE officials and members of CSCE missions. Here again, it only recommends that the participating States confer these rights ‘subject to their constitutional, legislative and related requirements’. CSCE missions in participating States were a notable exception to the list of beneficiaries of the decision: neither was there a recommendation to grant them legal capacity like the CSCE institutions nor, as such, to grant them privileges and immunities (contrary to the privileges and immunities envisaged for the members of 14

See the Document ‘CSCE and the New Europe – Our Security is Indivisible’ of 30 November 1993, para. VII/11.

15

The Rome Decision is not contained in the final document of the Rome Ministerial Council, but in the separate document CSCE/4-C/Dec.2 of 1 December 1993.

16

See Rome Decision, supra note 15, para. 1.

17

Ibid., para. 1 of Annex 1 ‘Provisions concerning the legal capacity of the CSCE institutions and privileges and immunities’ of the Rome Decision.

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CSCE missions). This was one of the main weaknesses of the decision as well as an early incentive for its reform.

C.

Implementation of the Rome Decision

Being a political decision, the Rome Decision was never intended to create legal obligations which could be applied or implemented like obligations deriving from an international treaty. Fourteen years after its adoption, only about a quarter of the participating states of the OSCE have implemented the decision through appropriate legislative or, as the case may be, administrative measures. It became obvious that the non-implementation of the decision was not an issue which could eventually be solved by patience in the course of the years, since certain participating states, in particular the Russian Federation, indicated that their constitution did not allow them to grant legal capacity or privileges and immunities unless there were corresponding treaty obligations. For Austria, as the seat of the Secretariat of the CSCE/OSCE, the legal non-existence of the arrangement which only called itself an ‘organization’ meant that it could not recognize legal capacity and grant privileges and immunities in the same way as in the case of the numerous ‘regular’ international organizations having their seat in Vienna or other Austrian cities. It was necessary to resort to the device of a special law, the Federal Law on the Legal Status of the OSCE Institutions in Austria (Bundesgesetz über die Rechtsstellung von Einrichtungen der OSZE in Österreich),18 which grants legal capacity in Austria to the OSCE institutions having their seat in Austria (Section 1 para. 1 of the Law) and instructs the Federal Minister for Foreign (now European and International) Affairs to establish a list19 of the institutions concerned and to publish it in the Federal Law Gazette (Section 1 para. 2 of the Law). While the legal situation of the OSCE in Austria and other countries where OSCE institutions have their seat could be clarified by laws and other unilateral legal acts,20 many participating states, in particular those hosting OSCE field operations, did not implement the Rome Decision. In view of this situation, the Heads of State or 18

Austrian Federal Law Gazette No. 511/1993, amended through Austrian Federal Law Gazette No. 735/1995 and I No. 157/2002.

19

The present list (Austrian Federal Law Gazette II No. 79/1998) determines that the following five ‘institutions’ enjoy legal capacity in Austria: the Secretary General of the OSCE, the Secretariat of the OSCE, the Permanent Council of the OSCE, the OSCE Forum for Security Co-operation and the OSCE Representative on Freedom of the Media. There is an ongoing discussion as to what is an institution of the OSCE and what is not, and it is sufficient to state here that this list does not correspond to the prevailing opinion on this subject, which would not consider the Secretary General as an institution but as part of the Secretariat and would regard the Permanent Council and the Forum for Security Co-operation rather as decisionmaking bodies than as institutions of the OSCE. Sometimes the term ‘institutions’ is also understood as referring to operational structures of the OSCE other than the Secretariat.

20

A special case is the Parliamentary Assembly of the OSCE in Copenhagen, which is normally not regarded as an OSCE institution but as an autonomous body and whose status in Denmark is based on a headquarters agreement.

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Government of the participating states of the OSCE noted, at the Istanbul Summit of 18-19 November 1999, that ‘a large number of participating States have not been able to implement the 1993 Rome Ministerial Council decision on legal capacity of the OSCE institutions and on privileges and immunities. With a view to improve this situation, a determined effort should be made to review issues related to the implementation of commitments under the 1993 Rome Ministerial decision. To this end, we task the Permanent Council, through an informal open-ended working group to draw up a report to the next Ministerial Council Meeting, including recommendations on how to improve the situation’.21

D.

Difficulties

The difficulties which the OSCE is facing because of the lack of international legal personality have been discussed by the participating states on the basis of a number of documents prepared by the OSCE Legal Services.22 In recent years, these discussions took place in particular in 2000, 2001 and 2006 and focused on the following issues.

1.

Inability to Conclude Treaties Governed by International Law

Not enjoying internationally recognized legal personality, the OSCE cannot conclude treaties governed by international law. For the organization, this means a concrete difficulty in the following three areas. First, the OSCE is prevented from concluding headquarters agreements with the countries hosting its institutions. While the functioning of the OSCE institutions – notwithstanding the lack of headquarters agreements – can in practice be ensured by the adoption of legal acts under the national law of the host countries (see above), the conclusion of a headquarters agreement is considered desirable by the OSCE in order to reflect the equal status of the OSCE in comparison to other international organizations. In many countries, the conclusion of a headquarters agreement is a case of routine and therefore easier than the adoption of special legislation for the OSCE. Second, the OSCE cannot conclude treaties under international law with the host states of its field operations. For this reason, the conditions for the deployment of field operations have to be set out in memoranda of understanding, which are considered as legally non-binding. In addition, the lack of a uniform and binding system of privileges and immunities makes it necessary to negotiate the status of field operations in each individual case. All this weakens the position of the OSCE vis-à-vis the host states and

21

See the Istanbul Summit Declaration, para. 34, forming part of the Istanbul Document 1999 of the OSCE.

22

In particular, see Documents SEC.GAL/71/00 of 13 July 2000 and SEC.GAL/203/05 of 30 September 2005 as well as the Paper of the OSCE Legal Services of 7 July 2006 on the 1st meeting of the Group of Legal Experts tasked with reviewing the implications of the lack of international legal status and uniform privileges and immunities of the OSCE.

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the position of the staff of the field operations in case their privileges and immunities are violated. Third, the OSCE is unable to conclude treaties with other international organizations on mutual co-operation. According to the OSCE Legal Services, ‘[a] number of international organizations have not been able to apply their standard operating procedures to co-operate with the OSCE. Certain agencies have advised that the negotiation of inter-agency agreements is more time-consuming and cumbersome with the OSCE than with other international organizations due to its lack of legal personality. For instance, the OSCE is not included in the official list of organizations with which the UNDP co-operates. This reduces the possibilities for joint project implementation and may result in less funding for OSCE projects’.23

The unclear status of the OSCE therefore reduces the willingness of other international organizations to engage in co-operation with it.

2.

Lack of Perception as an International Organization

The lack of international legal personality weakens the position of the OSCE in comparison to other international organizations in the competition for projects. The OSCE also failed to obtain an ‘.int’ domain name, as it could not prove its existence as an international organization by a constituent treaty.

3.

Lack of Legal Capacity under National Law

The lack of international legal personality often leads to the non-recognition of the OSCE as a private law subject (although, under international private law, the establishment of the OSCE Secretariat as a subject of Austrian law, see above, should be able to solve some of these problems also with regard to other countries24). For example, in certain countries, the OSCE has encountered difficulties in opening bank accounts, purchasing goods and services and getting cars registered in its own name.

4.

Legal Standing

Without international legal personality and a clearly established legal capacity, the OSCE cannot file claims against states and other subjects of international law in international proceedings and cannot institute legal proceedings in front of national courts in order to assert its rights, e.g. to request indemnification. This weakens the position of the 23

Paper of the OSCE Legal Services of 7 July 2007 on the 1st meeting of the Group of Legal Experts tasked with reviewing the implications of the lack of international legal status and uniform privileges and immunities of the OSCE.

24

See Schermers/Blokker, supra note 13, 1015, § 1598. This solution, however, raises the problem of the relationship between the Secretariat and field operations and again explains the need for a uniform international personality of the OSCE.

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OSCE both internationally and at the level of the national laws of certain participating states and introduces legal uncertainty into the daily work of the organization.

5.

Responsibility/Liability

The lack of legal personality/capacity, both under international law and sometimes also under national law, raises the question of the responsibility/liability for the acts of the OSCE. In this situation, participating states may be held responsible or liable for OSCE activities as opposed to the OSCE itself. It should be in the interest of participating states to eliminate this legal uncertainty. If the legal capacity of the OSCE is not clearly established under national law, OSCE officials signing contracts, such as employment contracts or contracts on goods and services, on behalf of the organization, may be held personally liable by national courts if the latter feel unable to attribute these acts to the OSCE as such (which poses a practical problem if OSCE officials are not protected by appropriate immunities). Similarly, fiscal authorities may request officials to pay taxes for these acts (again a problem if protection by immunities is incomplete). The uncertainty as to the responsibility/ liability of the OSCE is especially problematic in the context of high-risk projects the OSCE is engaged in relating to ammunition destruction, rocket fuel elimination or assessment of uranium dumps.

6.

Consequences

The difficulties of the OSCE referred to above increase the more the OSCE and its projects gain in importance and size. The OSCE has grown from a conference with 35 participating states into an organization with several institutions, field operations and over 3,000 employees. The nature of some of its activities has also changed and involves greater risks (see above). In practice, pragmatic solutions can be found for many of the difficulties of the OSCE caused by the lack of international legal personality. However, these solutions do not provide for the reliable legal framework which is necessary for the smooth functioning of the OSCE. Furthermore, the ad hoc solutions imply that treatment and status of the OSCE vary from one participating state to another, which renders the daily work of the OSCE more difficult and complicated. In the absence of international legal personality, ensuring the effectiveness of the OSCE is hindered by the lack of legal certainty and therefore more difficult and more costly in comparison to other international organizations. Providing the OSCE with legal personality would enhance its effectiveness and ensure uniform treatment on the territories of its participating states and its equality in comparison to other international organizations.

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Options for a Solution

Various options have been suggested to improve the status and the privileges and immunities of the OSCE. The discussion of these options took place mainly in the open-ended working group which met in 2000 and 2001 following the Istanbul Summit Declaration and in the group of experts tasked with reviewing the implications of the lack of international legal status and uniform privileges and immunities of the OSCE which met in 2006. The chairman of this group gave the following overview over the various options in a document of 5 July 2006: ‘Convention on the International Legal Personality, Legal Capacity and Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE: to be adopted by the appropriate body of the OSCE, then open for signature, subject to ratification, acceptance or approval, binding for all States parties to this convention (this option is not favoured by all Participating States); Statute of the OSCE: convention addressing not only the international legal personality, legal capacity and privileges and immunities of the OSCE, but also its functions and institutional structure, to be adopted by the appropriate body of the OSCE, then open for signature, subject to ratification, acceptance or approval, binding for all States parties to this convention (this option is not favoured by a majority of the Participating States); Convention on the Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE: to be adopted by the appropriate body of the OSCE, then open for signature, subject to ratification, acceptance or approval, binding for all States parties to this convention (under this variant, the issue of international legal personality would have to be addressed separately, e.g. through a separate convention or through an OSCE decision; not all Participating States would be able to follow this approach); OSCE Decision on the International Legal Personality of the OSCE: decision of the appropriate body of the OSCE that the OSCE is to be regarded as an international organization and that, therefore, it can conclude agreements binding under international law (under this variant, the issue of privileges and immunities would have to be addressed separately, e.g. through a convention on Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE; not all Participating States would be able to follow this approach); (declaratory) OSCE Decision on the International Legal Personality of the OSCE: declaratory decision of the appropriate body of the OSCE that the OSCE, in view of its development, has already acquired the status of an international organization and that, therefore, it can conclude agreements binding under international law (under this variant, the issue of privileges and immunities would have to be addressed separately, e.g. through a convention on Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE ; not all Participating States would be able to follow this approach); (new) OSCE Decision on the International Legal Personality, Legal Capacity and Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE: to be adopted by the appropriate body of the

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OSCE, politically binding for all Participating States of the OSCE, to be implemented through legislation of the Participating States (which some Participating States say is not possible for them); Model law on the International Legal Personality, Legal Capacity and Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE: to be adopted by the appropriate body of the OSCE, political obligation for all Participating States of the OSCE to adopt such a law at the national level (which some Participating States say is not possible for them); Model bilateral agreement between the OSCE and mission receiving countries: to be adopted by the appropriate body of the OSCE, model text for agreements (with unclear legal status) with certain countries; this option – already in practice to a certain extent – does not solve the issue of the lack of international legal personality nor does it provide a uniform system of privileges and immunities’.

On the various options, the following comments can be made.

A.

Convention on the International Legal Personality, Legal Capacity and Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE

The solution favoured by most delegations was the elaboration of a convention on the international legal personality, legal capacity and privileges and immunities of the OSCE. While all multilateral conventions on privileges and immunities grant these to organizations deriving their international legal personality from a statute or founding treaty, the unique approach of the OSCE convention would be that it would not build upon such an instrument. The convention would be the first legal instrument granting international legal personality to the OSCE. Although there was some opposition to the convention approach, drafting commenced in 2000 on a text which was intended by most participating states to serve as the basis for such a convention. For a long time (until 2006), this approach was blocked by the delegation of the United States of America, with the support of some other delegations, objecting in principle to a legally binding document dealing with the constitutional questions of the OSCE.25 While recognizing that the OSCE faced certain difficulties, the United States said it was not convinced of the need to create a convention to overcome them. Among the reasons for this position was the United States’ reluctance to submit to its own legislature a convention on a subject matter concerning privileges and immunities of the OSCE, which, as far as the United States was concerned, had already been addressed by the Executive Order of the US President of 3 December 1996 on the implementation of the Rome Decision. Conscious of being among the few states having implemented the Rome Decision and of the fact that the status of the OSCE on US territory was not

25

It has to be noted that, in addition to the Convention on Conciliation and Arbitration within the CSCE, see supra note 3, there are already a few other examples of conventions negotiated in the framework of the OSCE, i.e. the 1990 Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe and the 1992 Treaty on Open Skies.

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among the organization’s difficulties, the United States remained ‘unconvinced’ of the need for a convention. The United States were not even convinced that the OSCE required international legal personality. It questioned whether the OSCE really needed to conclude legally binding agreements, arguing that politically binding memoranda of understanding with countries in which the OSCE had field operations and with international organizations in the framework of their cooperation were sufficient. Among the reasons for this position was the argument that US budgetary legislation treated formal international organizations and mere political arrangements differently and that it would not be to the advantage of the OSCE to be transformed into a formal international organization with international legal personality. It was also referred to a US law obliging the US administration to report to Congress within a given time if the United States became party to an international organization. Another possible reason for the US reluctance was the relationship between the OSCE and other security organizations as well as the question whether the OSCE should be strengthened by obtaining international legal personality. The EU and a majority of participating states, on the other hand, supported the idea of a convention from the very beginning. So did the Russian Federation, whose concept for a convention was however different (see below).

B.

Statute (‘Charter’) of the OSCE

The approach favoured by the delegation of the Russian Federation was, and still is, the drafting of a charter of the OSCE dealing not only with the international legal personality and legal capacity of the OSCE, but fulfilling all the functions of a founding treaty of an international organization, in particular by defining the tasks of the organs of the organization. Among the reasons given for this approach was that Russia’s constitution did not allow for the granting of privileges and immunities to entities which were not treaty-based international organizations. The Russian request for a charter of the OSCE was not new26 but merely reformulated in 2000/2001. A concrete Russian text proposal for such a charter was not submitted until 2007.27 Many participating states have objections against such an approach. They believe that the charter approach is too complicated, that a convention restricted to the issues of international legal personality, legal capacity and privileges and immunities would be sufficient to deal with the difficulties of the OSCE and that, in other areas, the established non-legal traditions of the OSCE should not be changed.

26

The Russian idea of a Charta of the OSCE even dates back to the discussions in 1994 about the future status of the CSCE, see M. Wenig, ‘Der völkerrechtliche Status der OSZE – Gegenwärtiger Stand und Perspektiven’, 3 OSZE-Jahrbuch 393, at 400 (1997).

27

See document PC.DEL/444/07 of 18 May 2007, later amended.

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C.

469

Political Decision on the International Legal Personality of the OSCE

The idea of a political decision on the international legal personality of the OSCE was briefly discussed, but it was assumed that a political document would hardly allow to grant international legal personality and that it could do no more – with regard to the status issue – than recommending participating states to confer legal capacity ‘subject to their constitutional, legislative and related requirements’ (as the Rome Decision had done). Generally speaking, it is not impossible for political decisions to establish an international organization with international legal personality.28 However, this would require subsequent state practice to conform to such a decision. In the case of the OSCE, such a decision cannot be presumed, because certain participating states, in particular the United States and the Russian Federation, have always acted, for different reasons, as persistent objectors to such an approach. The same is true for the idea of simply recognizing a supposedly already established international legal personality of the OSCE by way of a political decision, in a declaratory manner. As long as certain participating states object to such an approach, this is equally impossible. Nevertheless, the concept of granting international legal personality to the OSCE through a political decision still plays a certain, if minor, role in the discussions on how to improve the status of the OSCE.

D.

Better Implementation or Amendment of the Rome Decision

Another possibility, using traditional OSCE methods, was the idea to improve the implementation of the Rome Decision and, if necessary, to amend it. This approach was not very attractive to a majority of participating states, given the fact that many of them had already shown in the years since the adoption of the Rome Decision that they found it either legally impossible to grant privileges and immunities on the basis of a politically binding document or that such a document did not encourage them sufficiently to take the necessary legislative steps to implement it. There was no evidence that an improved Rome Decision would change this situation.

E.

Model Law/Model Bilateral Agreement

Another suggestion was to draft a model for either national laws or bilateral agreements with the OSCE on the issues of legal capacity and privileges and immunities. Although such an approach was attractive to some delegations, it was seen by a majority as having the disadvantage of leaving the status issue open, there being no guarantee that all participating states would either conclude bilateral agreements of an international law character with the OSCE or allow the OSCE to (gradually) obtain international legal personality through the conclusion of such agreements. The model law or agreement 28

See Seidl-Hohenveldern, supra note 12.

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approach would also have failed to secure a uniform system of privileges and immunities, given the possibility of deviations from a model law or agreement. Moreover, the delegation of the Russian Federation always made it clear that they regarded such an approach as insufficient and would therefore oppose it.

F.

Implicit Recognition of International Legal Personality Through the Conclusion of a Headquarters Agreement

In addition to the options contained in the above-mentioned paper of 2006, in 2007 a proposal that the OSCE should simply conclude a headquarters agreement with Austria, which would implicitly grant it international legal personality, surprised the participants in the long discussions on the legal status of the OSCE. Austria quickly made it clear that it was ‘able to take a flexible position in this regard and would be ready to conclude a headquarters agreement under international law with the OSCE along the lines of existing headquarters agreements between Austria and International Organizations, if the OSCE is in a position to do so’.29 However, not surprisingly there was no consensus within the OSCE to such an implicit approach.

V.

Work on a Convention on the International Legal Personality, Legal Capacity and Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE

A.

The Draft Provisions of 2000/2001

Since the working group had not managed in 2000 to reach consensus on the option to be chosen, it was decided, for practical purposes, to work on a document containing new provisions, irrespective of their definite legal character. Although some technical progress was made under this procedure, the main issue, i.e. the nature of the future document, remained unresolved. Last minute efforts by the chair to seek compromise solutions, some of them inspired by the then recent experience of the EU, which (as opposed to the EC) is not granted formal international legal personality, but treaty-making power which implies its international legal personality,30 were of no avail. Nor did the ideas of identical political and legal obligations (see below) convince the United States. Of all these efforts, only the attempt to draft a provision aimed at safeguarding the political nature of the OSCE commitments, which did not convince the United States at the time to agree to 29

Letter of the Legal Adviser of the Austrian Foreign Ministry, Ambassador Ferdinand Trauttmansdorff, of 29 May 2007, reprinted in G. Hafner et al., ‘Austrian Diplomatic and Parliamentary Practice in International Law’, 12 ARIEL (2007 forthcoming).

30

See Article 24 of the EU Treaty. See also G. Hafner, ‘The Amsterdam Treaty and the TreatyMaking Power of the European Union – Some Critical Comments’, in G. Hafner et al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Professor Ignaz Seidl-Hohenveldern in Honour of his 80th Birthday 257 (1998).

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a convention, survived and is still part of the present discussions on a convention (and even on a charter of the OSCE). In the end, the final document of the Eighth Meeting of the OSCE Ministerial Council held in Vienna on 27 and 28 November 2000 contained the following summary of these efforts:31 ‘The open-ended working group on OSCE legal capacity envisaged in the Istanbul Summit Declaration took an ambitious approach to the solution of the difficulties the OSCE has faced or may face due to the lack of international legal personality and privileges and immunities. The starting-point was an option paper by the Chairmanship32 and a background paper by the OSCE Secretariat.[33] A clear majority of participating States was in favour of a convention on legal personality and privileges and immunities of the OSCE, which was considered a precondition for the conclusion of bilateral agreements with the OSCE. On a proposal from the Chairmanship, the substance of future provisions on legal personality and privileges and immunities was discussed, irrespective of the form of document. In a final attempt to bridge the gap between different options it was suggested that the participating States be bound by identical political and legal obligations: a convention which would contain the substance of the 1993 Rome Council decision, with some amendments, in an annex, ratified or accepted either by all or by a certain number of participating States. This variant enjoyed the support of a large majority of delegations, but could not obtain consensus. In comparison with the existing state of affairs progress has been made during the negotiations due to the flexibility of most participating States. In order to keep the existing momentum the working group should, therefore, continue its efforts as soon as possible on the basis of the latest proposal of a draft convention.’

The meetings of the open-ended working group continued until September 2001. The result of its work is contained in a draft Convention on the international legal personality, legal capacity and privileges and immunities of the OSCE.34 The rules contained in it were similar to the provisions of the Rome Decision, but included also an explicit grant of international legal personality and, if possible, some improvements in the area of privileges and immunities. In addition to the Rome Decision, the draft provisions of such a convention, as did the Rome Decision itself, heavily draw on the Convention

31

See Annual report of the Austrian Chairmanship of the OSCE (‘Institutional issues’), para. 9, at page 29 et seq. of the final document of the Vienna Ministerial Council. The document also contains at 66 et seq. a Report of the Permanent Council on OSCE legal capacity and privileges and immunities.

32

Document CIO.GAL/42/00 of 23 June 2000, contained in the final document of the Vienna Ministerial Council, at 90.

33

Document CIO.GAL/71/00 of 13 July 2000, contained in the final document of the Vienna Ministerial Council, at 960.

34

Document CIO.GAL/49/01 of 26 September 2001.

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on the Privileges and Immunities of the United Nations of 13 February 1946.35 At a later stage of the negotiations, the Agreement on the Privileges and Immunities of the International Criminal Court36 was also an often quoted example. This document was somehow resuscitated in 2006/2007 (see below) and is nowadays referred to as the ‘2001 draft’.

B.

Summary of the Political Issues in 2001

Although the meetings of the open-ended working group continued in 2001, it was evident that further drafting progress was of no consequence as long as the open political issues remained unresolved. These issues were defined in a letter of 16 July 2001 from the chairman of the working group to the chairman of the Permanent Council of the OSCE, Ambassador Liviu Bota (Romania), in the following terms: ‘The elaboration of a Convention on the International Legal Personality, Legal Capacity and Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE has arrived at a stage where the Working Group entrusted with this work is in need of political guidance. While considerable progress has been made in the drafting of many technical provisions, it is my feeling that a number of issues have to be resolved at the political level before the drafting can be finalized. They are the following: a) The question of the nature of the instrument. While a large majority is in favour of a convention, at least one delegation has not concluded the examination of this issue. In my opinion, our thorough examination of all aspects of this problem has shown that a convention is the only solution to grant the necessary status and protection to the OSCE, and that the variants that were discussed (improvement of the Rome decision, model bilateral agreement) would not lead to a satisfactory result. b) The question of the international legal personality of the OSCE. While a large majority is in favour of granting such personality through an explicit provision in the convention, certain delegations have not concluded their examination of this issue. In my opinion, granting international legal personality is a precondition for enabling the OSCE to conclude the agreements necessary for the exercise of its functions. c) The scope of the convention. A proposal to create a legal basis for the work of the various components of the OSCE was repeatedly referred to by one delegation in the 35

Convention on the Privileges and Immunities of the United Nations, 1 UNTS 15. This Convention deals only with legal capacity (referred to in its Article I as ‘jurisdictional personality’), not with the international legal personality of the United Nations which had to be construed from the provisions of its Charter.

36

Agreement on the Privileges and Immunities of the International Criminal Court, ICCASP/1/3, available at http://www.icc-cpi.int/legaltools/. Article 2 of this Convention contains separate references to international legal personality and legal capacity: ‘The Court shall have international legal personality and shall also have such legal capacity as may be necessary for the exercise of its functions and the fulfilment of its purposes. It shall, in particular, have the capacity to contract, to acquire and to dispose of immovable and movable property and to participate in legal proceedings.’

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Working Group, but it did not receive support from other delegations. In my opinion, if progress is to be made on the issue of international legal personality, legal capacity and privileges and immunities of the OSCE in the near future, this issue has to be disconnected from any debate on the role and prerogatives of the various bodies of the OSCE, which might take a rather long time. d) The equal or different treatment of the various components of the OSCE. While a majority of the Working Group seems to be in agreement with my approach of granting the same privileges and immunities to all components of the OSCE, one delegation favours different treatment between the OSCE as such, the OSCE institutions and the OSCE missions. As to the extent of the privileges and immunities of the missions and their members, one delegation argues for a less favourable treatment, while a few others would support a more favourable treatment. In my opinion, a less favourable treatment of mission members would be a backward step from the Rome decision. The equal treatment approach, granting protection at a high level, should be pursued, as staff of the OSCE Secretariat and of the other OSCE institutions are also often travelling on mission, which makes the distinction between these staff members and mission members less pertinent.’

These four political issues could not be solved by the Permanent Council and remained open for a couple of years. The final document of the OSCE Ministerial Council in Bucharest of 3 and 4 December 2001 contained a summary of the four issues, laid down in a letter from the Chairman of the Permanent Council, and confirmed that a resolution of the issues had not yet been possible.37 As everybody involved in the negotiations was aware, the four political issues were politically well balanced, the first two of them being based on specific US objections while the other two reflected particular requests of the Russian Federation, which had not received much support. While the first three issues were about the options for a solution (see above), the issue of a different, restricted set of privileges and immunities for members of OSCE missions (field operations) corresponded to another Russian request. It was obvious that it was to play a prominent role in the negotiations, once the other political issues were closer to a solution. This was to be the case in 2007.

C.

The 2006 Group of Legal Experts

There was no progress on these political issues between 2001 and 2005, and therefore no progress on the status issue in general was made. The open issues were only rarely discussed in occasional consultations and only sometimes presented in OSCE meetings. In 2006, however, the legal personality became one of the items on the reform agenda of the OSCE, under the special responsibility of Ambassador Axel Berg (Germany), who proposed the creation of a ‘Group of Legal Experts tasked with reviewing the implications of the lack of international legal status and uniform privileges and immunities of the OSCE’. The expert group was established and had two meetings in 2006. It was in the fortunate situation of being able to witness a change in the position of the United 37

Final document of the Bucharest Ministerial Council, at 73.

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States, which no longer objected to the elaboration of a convention on legal personality of the OSCE. This paved the way for resuming work on the convention. On this issue, the Ministerial Council of the OSCE decided at its Fourteenth Meeting in Brussels on 4 and 5 December 2006:38 ‘1. That the work on a draft convention on the international legal personality, legal capacity, and privileges and immunities of the OSCE will be continued on the basis of the text drafted by the legal experts in 2001 (redistributed as document CIO. GAL/188/06); 2. To establish an informal working group at expert level under the Permanent Council tasked with finalizing a draft convention on the international legal personality, legal capacity, and privileges and immunities of the OSCE. The working group will submit this draft convention to the Ministerial Council through the Permanent Council for adoption by the Ministerial Council, if possible, in 2007.’

Attached to this decision, however, is an interpretative statement by the Russian Federation, which reads as follows: ‘While it has joined the consensus on the Ministerial Council decision on the legal status and privileges and immunities of the OSCE, the Russian delegation continues to insist that the only way of settling this matter in accordance with the norms of international law is to devise a founding OSCE document in the form of a charter or statute. Without a charter, the OSCE cannot be regarded as a fully fledged international organization. We believe it is necessary to proceed from the recommendation made in that connection in the report of the Panel of Eminent Persons, pursuant to which the participating States should devise a concise statute or charter of the OSCE containing its basic goals and principles along with reference to existing commitments and the structure of its main decision-making bodies. In any case, the entry into force of a convention on privileges and immunities, if and when there is agreement on a draft, will be possible only in conjunction with the entry into force of a statute or charter of the OSCE. The Russian Federation intends to firmly defend this position during the forthcoming talks within the expert working group on the legal status of the OSCE. We request that this statement be attached to the decision adopted and be included in the journal of today’s meeting.’

38

Decision No. 16/06 Legal Status and Privileges and Immunities of the OSCE (MC.DEC/16/06 of 5 December 2006).

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VI.

The Present Situation: a Draft Convention and Speculations About a Charter

A.

The 2007 Working Group

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According to this decision, the new informal working group at expert level on the international legal personality, legal capacity and privileges and immunities of the OSCE, chaired by Ambassador van Veldhuizen-Rothenbücher (Netherlands), was set up in 2007 and has worked, between March and October 2007, at monthly intervals on the finalization of the convention. The articles of the finalized draft relevant to the subject under discussion read as follows: Article 2 OSCE Decision-Making Process, OSCE Commitments 1. Nothing in the present Convention shall affect the OSCE decision-making process. 2. Nothing in the present Convention shall be construed to create any legal obligation for any State Party other than the obligations expressly set forth herein, nor shall anything in the present Convention affect the political, non-legally binding character of the OSCE commitments of the participating States. Article 3 International Legal Personality The OSCE shall possess international legal personality. Article 4 Legal Capacity The OSCE shall possess such legal capacity as is necessary for the exercise of its functions, including the capacity to contract, to acquire and dispose of movable and immovable property, and to institute and participate in legal proceedings.

Article 4, for the time being, contains a footnote after the word ‘functions’ indicating that two delegations requested to insert [‘as they are set forth in the OSCE Charter’]. These two delegations are Russia and Belarus. Article 2 is a central element with regard to the construction of the convention as well as a condition for the United States to agree to the drafting of a convention. The decision-making process of the OSCE, apart from very few exceptions, is consensusbased, but certain provisions of the draft convention depart from this practice (for example the provision on entry into force of the convention, see below). Article 2 paragraph 1 safeguards the general principle of consensus, while paragraph 2 protects the political, non-legally binding character of the OSCE commitments outside the convention. This provision reflects the fact that the convention would be an exceptional admission of the law into the non-legal world of the OSCE. Articles 3 and 4 are standard provisions on the issues they are dealing with: the separate notions of international legal personality and private law legal capacity.

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Apart from these issues of relevance for the status issue, the informal working group further refined the draft provisions on privileges and immunities. It also dealt with the entry into force of the convention. Whereas some delegations had argued for many years that a convention dealing with the international legal personality of the OSCE would have to be ratified by all participating states of the OSCE in order to ensure that this personality was respected in the entire OSCE area, the majority had objected that this would mean, in practical terms, that the convention never entered into force, each individual participating state being able to prevent it. Finally, agreement was reached in the informal working group that, in order for the convention to enter into force, a two-thirds majority of the participating states would have to become party to it. If, under these conditions, entry into force took a long time, it is hoped that the article on the convention’s provisional application would ensure, even before the formal entry into force, that the international legal personality of the OSCE and a uniform set of privileges and immunities would be recognized by many participating states.

B.

The Charter Project

Since the beginning of the discussion on a convention on the legal personality of the OSCE, the Russian Federation had made it clear that it did not regard such a convention as a sufficient solution and that it requested the elaboration of a charter of the OSCE. In the interpretative statement attached to the decision setting up the present working group it specified that, for Russia, the entry into force of a convention on privileges and immunities would be possible only in conjunction with the entry into force of a statute or charter of the OSCE. In May 2007, Russia finally submitted the text of a draft charter39 which contains the following draft Article 21: ‘1) The OSCE shall possess international legal personality. 2) The OSCE shall possess on the territory of its Member States such legal capacity as is necessary for the exercise of its functions. This comprises, in particular, the capacity to contract, to acquire and dispose of movable and immovable property, to institute and participate in legal proceedings. 3) The privileges and immunities of the OSCE, its officials and of the representatives of its Members shall be defined in a separate multilateral agreement. The Members shall undertake to enter as soon as possible into agreement, mentioned in paragraph 3 of this article.’

The draft also contains a provision (Article 3) on the political nature of the OSCE commitments: ‘1) Every Member State of the OSCE shall respect the principles and commitments of the CSCE/OSCE embodied in documents having a politically binding character

39

See supra note 27.

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and adopted by consensus since 1975, and cooperate sincerely and effectively in the realization of the aim of the OSCE as specified in Article 1.’

This draft will no doubt be improved, but it is obvious that there is an overlap between certain provisions of the draft charter and the draft convention.

C.

The Madrid Ministerial Council

Because of the Russian request for a charter, the Ministerial Council of the OSCE, at its Fifteenth Meeting in Madrid on 29 and 30 November 2007, was unfortunately unable to adopt the draft convention. The Chairman-in-Office of the OSCE, Spanish Foreign Minister Moratinos, referred to this issue in the following way in his statement at the closing session of the Ministerial Council:40 ‘There has been no agreement, either, on how to solve one of the most relevant and practical problems confronting the OSCE, namely recognition of the Organization’s legal personality in the international sphere. I believe that these failures should not discourage us — quite the contrary. We can give even greater impetus to debate in the Organization on questions related to its strengthening in the legal sphere, including the possibility of drafting a Charter or Founding Statute for the OSCE. This should not, in itself, be a matter for concern in any delegation. What is important would be the content, not the format. At the same time I want to recognize and congratulate the Working Group on its efforts, and I should like to see the text produced by this Working Group annexed to my Statement for practical purposes.’

In view of this statement, the draft convention was annexed to it. This was done mainly for reference purposes, as it is hoped that the draft can be formally adopted at a later stage. In the report of the Working Group, also annexed to the statement, a strong plea was made against re-opening the drafting of the convention: ‘Bearing in mind that the text of the Draft Convention was prepared by highly qualified legal experts from capitals and experienced members of Vienna delegations representing the participating States of the OSCE, the Chair recommends that the discussion on the text of the articles of the Draft Convention should not be re-opened.’

VII. Conclusion The next years will show whether the draft Convention on the international legal personality, legal capacity and privileges and immunities of the OSCE can be adopted. The unique project of the draft convention – the idea of granting, through a convention, international legal personality to an international organization which does not have a founding treaty – suffered a heavy setback by the insistence on the proposal of a OSCE charter, which made such a charter a precondition for the conclusion of the convention. 40

See document MC.DEL/67/07 of 30 November 2007.

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It remains to be seen whether the participating states agree to embark on the drafting of a charter, given the clear opposition of some of them to such a proposal. Drafting a charter would require a full discussion of all the delicate constitutional issues of the OSCE, a discussion which many participating states regard as superfluous. Many also suspect the charter proposal to be an attempt at changing the balance of powers inside the organization. In this situation, the future of the draft convention, notwithstanding all the progress made in 2007, is still unclear. The authors of this article believe, however, that the draft convention would be an adequate and sufficient remedy for the concrete difficulties the OSCE is facing.

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479

In the Twilight Zones of the State Christian Tomuschat

I.

Introduction

Notwithstanding the tremendous increase in subjects of international law which the world has been witnessing in recent decades,1 the State remains the central building block of the international legal order. Only States are full subjects of international law, entitled to all rights available at the level where they interact. International organizations and individuals also enjoy some rights that may be classified as being international in nature, thus being provided with the opportunity to confront States on equal footing. But such equation is confined to a number of limited areas. International organizations lack a territory of their own, they have no nationals, and financially they are usually heavily dependent on their members. Individuals, on the other hand, rise to the level of relationships governed by international law in even smaller segments, in particular where they have been granted a right to bring claims before international bodies. Thus, the sovereign State continues to provide the parameters against which all claims to an ‘international existence’ are measured, even in an age when the process of globalization has led to the loss of many former State prerogatives. But: What is the State? The State as such is not visible, apart from its territory and its citizens. What is really interesting for anyone eager to learn about the dynamics of a State is the machinery through which it acts, the governmental structures which make it a living reality. Whereas in a broader sense the State comprises the unity of a people living in a specific territory under the authority of a government, for the purposes of the interactive processes of international law it is generally only the government which counts as the State, being empowered to take action on its behalf and thus being able to commit the citizenship as a whole. Accordingly, it becomes necessary to distinguish between society and the State, understood in the narrow sense as governmental authority. Human beings in society, acting either individually or collectively in groups established under civil rights, remain free from the constraints of international law as long as they do not transgress the boundaries drawn by the prohibitions implied in international crimes. There is broad consensus about the core functions of a State. Since in the first place it is incumbent on the State to protect the rights and interests of its citizens, it must be able to act unilaterally in order to maintain peace, security, and order, without

1

See H. Mosler, ‘Die Erweiterung des Kreises der Völkerrechtssubjekte’, 4 Berichte der Deutschen Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht 39 (1961); id., ‘Subjects of International Law’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law,Vol. IV, 710 (2000).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 479-502, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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having to request the consent of its citizens with regard to any measure deemed to be necessary in the public interest. On the other hand, such power requires a high degree of legitimacy in order to be acceptable. In our time, political doctrine postulates that State power must have democratic foundations.2 Only then will unilateral commands be generally heeded. Governments whose democratic credentials are contested will normally experience great difficulties in asserting their authority. The unilateral character of State authority as power of command is clearly reflected in the legislative power. Legislative bodies do not have to negotiate, they do not conclude agreements with citizens, they just issue orders based on the strength of their democratic legitimacy of which they can boast. Likewise, the judicial power unequivocally embodies the sovereign power of the State. In every State, courts and tribunals are placed in a hierarchically superior position. Private citizens have a right to seek justice: they may submit their claims to the competent judicial bodies, and a full opportunity must be given to them to be heard in a fair and equitable manner. But these rights do not make them equal to the judge who adjudicates their case. They have to accept the determinations which settle their rights and duties. While accordingly the actions of the State in the exercise of its sovereign power can be easily identified in the legislative as well as in the judicial field, an assessment of governmental power is infinitely more difficult with regard to activities of the executive branch of government. To be sure, one finds on the one hand some ‘classical’ functions such as the police or the military. Resort to force, especially to armed force, is undeniably a prerogative of public authority. However, in our time the State is not confined any longer to discharging such traditional functions. Governmental agencies often deem it inappropriate to command and instead prefer to negotiate with the persons affected in order to increase the effectiveness of their action. The final outcome may then be a contract or a quasi-contract, in any event an act which is not easily recognizable as a sovereign act. Furthermore, the State has to a large extent become a provider of goods and services, partly in competition with commercial undertakings. In many of such instances, the question arises whether the State has behaved in the same way as a private individual in the marketplace or whether its conduct is characterized by features which give it a distinct profile, thus making it unfit for the general regime of private law. In France, the famous judgment Blanco introduced more than one hundred years ago for such configurations the concept of service public,3 a concept with which French case law and doctrine are struggling still today.4 In Germany, the concept of Daseinsvorsorge

2

See, in particular, UN General Assembly Res., Promoting and consolidating democracy, UN Doc. A/RES/55/96 (2000).

3

L’arrêt Blanco, Tribunal des conflits, Judgment of 8 February 1873, 1873 Recueil Lebon 61. The case concerned a tort claim arising from injury caused by a tobacco factory that was run by the State.

4

See, e.g., G. Braibant/B. Stirn, Le droit administratif français 135-167 (1999).

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attempts to capture the same phenomena, though without great success on the legal plane. Essentially, Daseinsvorsorge has remained a sociological category.5 The lack of precise criteria regarding the identity of State activity in contradistinction to other societal processes is not only felt in domestic legal orders, but raises problems in the realm of international law as well. The question must be clarified as to whether ‘the State’ is placed under the same regime in all fields of its action or whether differentiated answers are needed according to different patterns of conduct as disclosed by empirical research. This article attempts to elucidate this issue in three different areas. First of all, some consideration will be given to examining whether, and to what extent, States may act in the territory of foreign States and where, conversely, freedom of movement and establishment under international treaties find themselves restricted where they might possibly intrude into the realm of sovereign authority. In a next step, issues of responsibility will be analyzed. Do States bear international responsibility only when acting as true sovereigns, or do they have to face up to international responsibility even when they discharge certain functions in the twilight zone of service public or Daseinsvorsorge? This question is intimately connected with issues ratione personae: Is the State responsible only for the conduct of its specific organs, or may liability also arise from activities of separate entities controlled by the government? Lastly, immunity deserves consideration. Of course, the State itself is acknowledged as immune from the jurisdiction of the courts of foreign States when acting jure imperii, in the exercise of its sovereign powers. However, does this proposition also hold true with regard to separate entities, even private companies on which public authority has been conferred? While for many years regarding separate entities central banks were the main examples focused upon in legal discourse,6 the ever-growing wave of privatizations and, in particular, the upsurge of private military companies (PMCs) has shed new light on the complexities involved in these issues.

II.

Governmental Authority in Foreign Territory

A.

Constraints on the Freedom of Action of States

It is one of the most elementary rules of traditional international law that States are not allowed to exercise sovereign authority in the territory of other States, even if that

5

Originally, the European Commission had called ‘services of general interest’ in the sense contemplated by the Treaty establishing the European Community, art. 16, ‘Leistungen der Daseinsvorsorge’, see Official Journal C 17, 19 January 2001, at 4.

6

As far as the debates in the ILC on the topic of State responsibility are concerned, see the comments by the ILC members Reuter, 1974 YILC, Vol. I, 16, para. 26, and Ushakov, ibid., 19, paras. 26, 31, 37. The Central Bank of Estonia was qualified as an agency of Estonia in Genin v. Estonia, Award of 25 June 2001, para. 327, available at http://www.worldbank.org/ icsid/cases/genin.pdf (last visited 5 December 2007).

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authority does not reach the level of use of force as banned by Article 2 (4) of the UN Charter. In the famous Palmas arbitration, Max Huber stated: ‘Sovereignty in the relations between States signifies independence. Independence in regard to a portion of the globe is the right to exercise therein, to the exclusion of any other State, the functions of a State.’7

It is obvious that Huber had in mind the exercise of specific governmental powers, embodied in unilateral decisions or measures. This is also the meaning inherent in Article 2 of the Draft Declaration on Rights and Duties of States, adopted by the International Law Commission in 1949: ‘Every State has the right to exercise jurisdiction over its territory and over all persons and things therein, subject to the immunities recognized by international law.’8

Purely commercial activities of foreign States have never met with any kind of rejection as amounting to unlawful display of sovereignty outside their national boundaries. However, States have generally preferred to carry out commercial activities through private undertakings wholly owned by them or through special agencies or instrumentalities. For decades, communist States carried out their foreign commerce exclusively on the basis of State-owned enterprises.9 Indeed, under private international law practical difficulties might arise for States wishing to do business directly, without any intermediaries. Thus, for example, it might be doubtful whether they would be recognized as persons capable of holding real estate for other purposes than the establishment of diplomatic or consular premises, out of fear that national territory might come under the control of a foreign sovereign. International practice shows that, in principle, foreign States are indeed acknowledged as holders and bearers of private rights and duties. However, the basic assumption – not a principle of international law – is that States should remain at home, within their boundaries, instead of becoming mobile entities engaged in commercial transactions on a world-wide scale.10 One example may serve as an illustration of the complexity of the legal position. In the European Community the Deutsche Bundesbahn (German Federal Railways) did not attempt to engage in business activities beyond the German territory as long as it was organized as a special entity (Sondervermögen) within the Federal Administration. It maintained, however, a ferry link to Denmark across the Baltic Sea. In fact, there were legal obstacles impeding any transboundary activities. Traditionally, railway services in all European States were organized as a field of activity exclusively reserved for national undertakings. Transnational Community-wide liberalization was initiated by 7

Island of Palmas Arbitration (The Netherlands v. United States of America), Award of 23 April 1928, 2 RIAA 829, at 838.

8

United Nations (ed.), The Work of the International Law Commission 165 (1996).

9

See, e.g., F. Mádl, ‘Foreign Commerce and Investment in Socialist Countries’, in R. Buxbaum/F. Mádl (eds.), International Encyclopedia of Comparative Law, Vol. 17 State and Economy, Chapter 23, paras. 30-36 (1989).

10

See on that issue ILC member Reuter, 1980 YILC, Vol. I, 203, paras. 13, 14.

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Council Directive 91/440/EEC of 29 July 1991, which explicitly stated that it applied to any ‘private or public undertaking whose main business is to provide rail transport services’.11 This Community enactment became the point of departure for far-reaching structural reforms. The Deutsche Bundesbahn, after reunification together with the Deutsche Reichsbahn of the former GDR, was established as a shareholder company, Deutsche Bahn, as from 1 January 1994.12 Only after this transformation did Deutsche Bahn start expanding its services to the other countries of the European Union. It could do so although the German State was – and still is – the only shareholder. To establish and provide railway services falls undoubtedly within the scope of service public. But the Treaty Establishing the European Community (EC Treaty) does not prevent railway undertakings run by one of the member States from extending their activities to other member States. On the contrary, such activities are encouraged by the EC Treaty (Articles 16, 86). It confines itself to providing that the application of the general regime to which any economic actor is subject should not obstruct the performance of the particular common welfare tasks assigned to such undertakings. In principle, however, even industries having characteristics of service public have been subjected to the general rules on competition. In the past, the United States (US) Government attempted on several occasions to use the European subsidiaries of banks incorporated in the United States as agents for the collection of evidence required especially in tax matters. The banks were enjoined to disclose to the US authorities the names and assets of their customers, regardless of their nationality. Yet, under international law the US Government had no legal title enabling it to subject to scrutiny the transactions of persons who had no territorial or other link to the United States and whose only relationship with the United States was constituted by their holding an account with a US bank. Rightly, these practices have been stigmatized as being incompatible with the principles of international jurisdiction by British lawyer F.A. Mann.13 In Germany, a couple of years ago a dispute arose over the question of whether pre-shipment inspection of goods to be transported from industrialized countries to a number of developing countries, carried out by the Swiss company Société Générale de Surveillance (SGS), based in Geneva, contravened the customary principle that no governmental authority may be exercised on foreign territory.14 According to the German Basic Law (Grundgesetz, Article 25), the general principles of international law are an 11

Official Journal L 237, 24 August 1991, at 25. The Directive was amended by Directive 2001/12/ EC, 26 February 2001, Official Journal L 75, 15 March 2001, at 1.

12

Gesetz über die Gründung einer Deutsche Bahn Aktiengesellschaft vom 27 Dezember 1993, German Federal Law Gazette I, 2378, 2386.

13

F. A. Mann, ‘The Doctrine of Jurisdiction in International Law’, 111 Recueil des Cours 1 (1964-I), now in F. A. Mann (ed.), Studies in International Law 1, at 29 (1973); ‘The Doctrine of International Law Revisited After 20 Years’, 186 Recueil des Cours 9 (1984-II), now in F. A. Mann (ed.), Further Studies in International Law 1, at 34-37 (1990).

14

See F. G. v. Westphalen, ‘Preiskontrollen von Drittstaaten auf dem Territorium der Bundesrepublik Deutschland und ihre rechtliche Zulässigkeit’, 26 Recht der internationalen Wirtschaft 88 (1980).

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integral part of federal law, taking precedence over ordinary statutes. SGS has become internationally known through proceedings before ICSID panels where it sought to obtain financial compensation on account of alleged violations of bilateral investment treaties by two host countries where it had established subsidiaries.15 In Germany, the mandate of SGS was to examine the quality and the market value of goods before these were loaded on ships that were to carry them to their destinations. The governments of the countries that employed the services of SGS to carry out such inspections sought to ensure the quality of goods purchased abroad, so that they were well worth the monies that had to be disbursed for them in foreign currency. It was hoped that through the control mechanism fraudulent business activities leading to harmful expenditure of precious foreign currency could be prevented. Upon the submission of a certificate released by SGS, the amounts necessary to pay the relevant invoices were made available to the importer. At first glance, the contention would appear to have some plausibility that an undertaking which acts as the long arm of a foreign government on German soil does in fact exercise sovereign authority. On the other hand, closer reflection makes clear that the activity carried out by SGS did not display any features of such authority. In fact, SGS confined itself to assessing the specifications of the goods in issue – something that any other commercial expert could have done in the same fashion. To examine the quality of goods is a typical commercial activity. Thus, SGS was active on a commercial market and did not make use of specific governmental authority delegated to it. The fact that its certificates were used by the central banks of a number of countries as proof of the unobjectionable character of a given transaction had nothing to do with the activity of SGS itself. The two activities – first the assessment, then the release of the requisite amounts of foreign currency – do not constitute a coherent whole, but can be split up in two elements totally different in intrinsic nature.

B.

Governmental Authority as a Bar to European Economic Mobility

On the other hand, as already hinted with regard to the Deutsche Bundesbahn, the monopolistic nature of a State’s sovereign powers means that nationals of other States can have no right to participate in the exercise of such powers even if, in general, freedom to take up employment, freedom of establishment and freedom to provide services have been introduced under a regime of economic integration. Within the European Community, freedom of movement for workers does not extend to ‘employment in the public service’ (Article 39 (4)), and freedom of establishment as well as freedom to provide services are excluded from activities which are connected ‘with the exercise of official authority’ (Article 45 (1)). The decisive criterion is not exactly the same, although many common features have emerged in the case law of the Court of Justice of the European Communities (CJEC). With regard to the concept of ‘public service’, it first had to be clarified whether that concept was determined by the domestic law of the member States or whether it should 15

SGS v. Pakistan, Decision on Objections to Jurisdiction of 6 August 2003; SGS v. Philippines, Decision on Jurisdiction, 29 June 2004.

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be interpreted according to a common understanding placing all member States on equal footing. In Sotgiu v. Deutsche Bundespost, the CJEC held that the kind of legal relationship between a public employer and its personnel was irrelevant: it did not matter whether a person was employed as a civil servant according to a statutory regime or whether the employment was based on a work contract.16 At the same time, the CJEC observed that the exception clause was to be interpreted narrowly and could not be extended beyond what was strictly required for reaching the purpose justifying its existence.17 A few years later, the European Commission initiated proceedings against Belgium for breach of its treaty commitments by reserving numerous jobs in the public administration, inter alia with the Belgian railways, for its own nationals. In the judgment rendered in that case, the CJEC stated unequivocally that the concept of service public could not be left to unilateral determination by the member States since such definition power would inevitably lead to inequalities between member States according to the different ways in which the State and certain sectors of economic life were organized.18 Another decision in the case of Lawrie-Blum, where the inclusion of the teaching profession within the scope ratione materiae of the E(E)C Treaty was in issue, once again clarified that determinations by individual member States were not suitable as the relevant yardstick for the identification of activities falling within the concept of public service.19 It was more difficult to specify the relevant criteria of what public service means in substance. In Sotgiu, the CJEC could still avoid a pronouncement on the issue. However, in Commission v. Belgium, it had to take a clear stand in view of the general character of the exclusionary regime practiced by the respondent. The Court begins with a general formula which emphasizes the importance of the conferral of powers by public law designed to safeguard the general interests of the State. It then observes that there are ‘functions … typical of the public service’ and goes on to refer to the ‘public service properly so called’.20 The Court itself was not able to determine, on the basis of the evidence laid before it, which posts in the Belgian administration and the Belgian railways came within the scope of these propositions. It therefore requested the litigant parties to enter into negotiations and to report to it on the outcome of those negotiations. However, no common list of posts under the public-service clause could be agreed upon by the parties. In a second judgment, the Court itself made the requisite determinations, holding that certain high-level control functions were excluded from the principle of freedom of movement of workers, without giving any further explanations in that regard.21 16

Sotgiu v. Deutsche Bundespost, CJEC, Judgment of 12 February 1974, Case No. 152/73, at 153, para. 5.

17

Ibid., para. 4.

18

Commission v. Belgium, Interim Judgment of 17 December 1980, Case No. 149/79, 1980 ECR 3881, paras. 10, 11, 12, 18.

19

Lawrie-Blum v. Land Baden-Württemberg, Judgment of 3 July 1986, Case No. 66/85, 1986 ECR 2121, para. 20.

20

Commission v. Belgium, supra note 18, paras. 11, 12.

21

Commission v. Belgium, Judgment of 26 May 1982, Case No. 149/79, 1982 ECR 1845, para. 8.

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Later judgments have only slightly refined those first findings. In the most recent judgment on the issue, Colegio de Oficiales de la Marina Mercante de España,22 the CJEC has offered a comprehensive definition which combines all the different aspects already mentioned in the earlier case law. In para. 39 of the judgment, it held that Article 39 (4) EC Treaty covers ‘posts which involve direct or indirect participation in the exercise of powers conferred by public law and duties designed to safeguard the general interests of the State or of other public authorities and thus presume on the part of those occupying them the existence of a special relationship of allegiance to the State and reciprocity of rights and duties which form the foundation of the bond of nationality.’

Here again it then specifies that only tasks belonging to the ‘public service properly so called’ are excluded from the ambit of the regime of community-wide economic freedom of action. Essentially, what pertains to the ‘public service properly so called’, remains more a matter of intuition than of persuasive legal reasoning. In any event, the Court has taken care to emphasize that the application of Article 39 (4) EC Treaty is placed under the principle of proportionality, which means, in particular, that it applies only if governmental powers are in fact exercised on a regular basis by their holders, which is not the case if they represent only a very minor part of their activities. The CJEC rightly holds that the general interests of the member State concerned cannot be imperilled if powers conferred by public law are exercised only sporadically by nationals of other member States. Article 45 EC Treaty, formerly Article 55 EEC Treaty, has been interpreted along similar lines by the CJEC. In the ground-breaking judgment in Reyners,23 it observed that marginal exercise of some official authority did not exclude a specific profession from the scope of freedom of establishment altogether. The legitimate concern of member States to prevent foreigners from exercising such authority was fully satisfied when they were denied access to those activities which, ‘taken on their own, constitute a direct and specific connection with the exercise of official authority’. Where such activities were separable from the main professional activity, the profession as such could not be closed to nationals of other member States.24 This reasoning has been upheld in the later case law of the Court.25 The Court clarified that the societal importance of a specific activity cannot be relied upon as an exclusionary criterion. Thus, in particular, it cannot be ruled out that security services provided by undertakings from other member States encroach upon national sovereignty. From a legal viewpoint, the case law evolved by the CJEC is not entirely satisfactory. Essentially, what is the determinative element of ‘public service’ under Article 39 22

Colegio de Oficiales de la Marina Mercante Espanola v. Spain, CJEC, Judgment of 30 September 2003, Case No. C-405/01.

23

Reyners v. Belgium, Judgment of 21 June 1974, Case No. 2/74, 1974 ECR 631.

24

Ibid., paras. 44-47.

25

Commission v. Spain, CJEC, Judgment of 29 October 1998, Case No. C-114/97, para. 35; Commission v. Italy, CJEC, 31 May 2001, Case No. C-283/99, para. 20.

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(4) EC Treaty and what is meant by ‘official authority’ in the sense contemplated by Article 45 (1) EC Treaty remains conspicuously unresolved. The Court has followed a line of pragmatism. It was never confronted with ‘hard cases’ where a citizen of the Union could have requested access to the police outside his home country or where a lawyer would have claimed to be appointed as a judge. It is, however, implicit in the jurisprudence of the Court that governmental functions should be understood in a narrow, traditional sense as functions serving to maintain law and order by the exercise of its governmental authority in situations where the State assumes a hierarchically superior position. This narrow construction is explained by the general objective of the European integration treaties to create a common market where all production factors can freely circulate. What matters is the mechanism of the market. Whenever an economic activity obeys the logic of the market, it should be included in the common European project. Only core functions related to the State as the guardian of public order remain its domaine réservé. To date, this general line pursued by the CJEC has proved quite successful although every now and then attempts have been made by individual States to create privileged zones for their nationals. It is highly significant that the two EC clauses dealt with above have found a fairly similar reflection in the General Agreement on Trade in Services (GATS). In Article I 3., the Agreement specifies that ‘(b) “services” includes any service in any sector except services supplied in the exercise of governmental authority,’

and it adds that ‘(c) “a service supplied in the exercise of governmental authority” means any service which is supplied neither on a commercial basis nor in competition with one or more service suppliers.’

According to a lengthy commentary on these two provisions, the Canadian lawyer Eric Leroux has concluded that the decisive criterion is the organization of the interrelationship between the provider of services and its customer in the sense that the provider may make a profit or obtain a financial return.26 Where services are supplied in the marketplace, GATS applies. In this sense, the system of primary education is clearly outside the scope of GATS.27 On the other hand, the question remains largely open as to whether States parties are under an obligation to open up certain service markets where they have established governmental monopolies, e.g. regarding health services or air navigation services.28 To date, the dispute settlement system of the WTO has had no opportunity to look into this problematique. It may well be that in the future the question as to what extent States parties are under an obligation to open up 26

E. H. Leroux, ‘What is a “Service Supplied in the Exercise of Governmental Authority” Under Article I:3(b) and (c) of the General Agreement on Trade in Services?’, 40 Journal of World Trade 345, at 354-360, 385 (2006).

27

See in this sense Västerås v. Republic of Iceland, Supreme Court of Sweden, 95 AJIL 192 (2001).

28

Leroux, supra note 26, at 358-359.

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their markets for public services will become a hotly disputed issue. Although the view defended by Leroux that the regime established under GATS and the corresponding regime for transnational economic activities under the EC Treaty are not identical is certainly correct, his arguments to that effect are far from persuasive. Indeed, Leroux argues that the formulations employed in the two instruments differ. Whereas the EC Treaty speaks of ‘official authority’, GATS refers to ‘governmental authority’. This divergence is not the result of any deliberate intention to set the younger regime apart from the European system. Furthermore, Leroux himself has pointed out that the exceptional clause contained in GATS can be traced back to an initiative of the European Communities.29 However, it needs no great elaboration to conclude that at the universal level there has never been any intention to carry the process of economic cooperation to the same level as in the European Community, where horizontal cooperation has been largely replaced by hierarchical integration.

III.

International Responsibility

The identity of the State must find an answer also in the field of international responsibility. Whereas externally the classic metaphor for a State is that of a billiard ball, which touches other States only with its surface, domestically States are organisms possessing an infinitely complex structure which descends from the top down to the grassroots level. It belongs to the sovereign prerogatives of each State to organize itself as it sees fit. According to the particularization of the principle of sovereign equality in UN General Resolution 2625 (XXV), ‘(e) Each State has the right freely to choose and develop its political, social, economic and cultural systems.’

Therefore, no State should enjoy any privilege nor suffer any discrimination on account of its internal distribution of competences at different levels. This concerns not only the distinction between unitary States and federal States. Unitary States, too, may see advantages in creating bodies having their own distinct legal personality entrusted with the discharge of public tasks. At the international level, such variations should not lead to disparate regimes. No State should be able to escape international responsibility or enjoy special privileges because it has chosen a specific form of administrative structure. Following this approach, the International Law Commission (ILC) has established in its Articles on responsibility of States for internationally wrongful acts (henceforth: ILC Articles)30 a set of rules which cover all situations from which injury to the detriment of other States may emerge. Article 4 addresses the conduct of organs of the State. Article 5 deals with the conduct of a person who is not a State organ but who is empowered by law to exercise elements of governmental authority, provided that he/she acted in that 29

Ibid., 355.

30

Taken note of by UN General Assembly Res. 56/83, UN Doc. A/RES/56/83 (2001).

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capacity in the particular instance. A further extension is effected by Article 8 which provides that the conduct of a person can also be considered an act of State under international law ‘if the person or group of persons is in fact acting on the instructions of, or under the direction or control of’, the State concerned. A last scenario is dealt with by Article 9: it concerns instances where in the absence of State organs private citizens assume functions for the maintenance of public order. These propositions demonstrate the intention of the drafters to adopt a broad concept of State responsibility, an approach which deserves full support in the interest of anyone who has suffered injury at the hands of a foreign power under circumstances where the authorship of the injurious act leaves room for doubt. Yet, some basic questions have not been clarified, especially the question as to whether a State may become liable under international law if the interrelationship with the injured party had its foundations in private law.

A.

Sovereign State Acts and Acts Entailing Civil Liability

From the very outset, it can be observed that in international relations between States as the classic subjects of international law private law will rarely play an important role. Of course, States can choose to deal with one another on a private law basis. Sovereign States are free to do whatever they deem to be appropriate, provided they do not violate rules of jus cogens. Normally, however, transactions between States will be governed by international law if no intention to the contrary has been clearly manifested by the parties concerned. Proceeding from this basis, Article 10 (2) (a) of the 2004 UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property31 assigns commercial contracts between States to the field of public law by excluding any relevant disputes from domestic jurisdiction. Only rare examples of truly private inter-State relationships can be observed in practice, one of them being the executive agreement concluded on 15 February 1952 between the Federal Republic of Germany, the State of Bavaria and Austria for the establishment of a shareholder company (Donaukraftwerk Jochenstein AG) tasked with the construction and management of the hydroelectric power station Jochenstein on the Danube.32 Deliberately, the ILC Articles specify that an international wrongful act of a State presupposes its being attributable to the State concerned ‘under international law’ (Article 2 (a)). Private law and international law may run parallel to one another in legal relationships between States and private individuals. In our time, almost all States are bound by well-known treaties for the protection of human rights. The question is whether the guarantees provided by such treaties may be invoked in case difficulties arise in a contractual relationship. The European Court of Human Rights argued in the early Swedish Engine Drivers’ Union case, which concerned the freedom to form a trade union, that the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) did not make anywhere 31

Adopted by UN General Assembly Res. 59/38, UN Doc. A/RES/59/38 (2004).

32

See I. Seidl-Hohenveldern, Das Recht der Internationalen Organisationen einschließlich der Supranationalen Gemeinschaften 43, Rz 336 (1971).

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an express distinction between the functions of a State party as holder of public power and its responsibilities as employer. Consequently, it held that Article 11 ECHR was binding upon the State as employer, irrespective of whether the State’s relations with its employees were governed by public or private law.33 Still today, this judgment is referred to as evidence showing that the ECHR is applicable to any State activity, whatever the legal framework within which it is carried out.34 However, one may have serious doubts as to the true meaning of the Court’s interpretation of the ECHR. In the Swedish Engin Drivers’ Union case, the Swedish Government acted as guardian of the public interest. The agency entrusted with conducting negotiations with trade unions, the Swedish National Collective Bargaining Office, sought to prevent a disintegration of the labour market through the formation of numerous small unions which might be able to pursue without any great hindrance the specific interests of their limited membership. Thus, a strong element of public policy was involved in the denial of the Office to enter into negotiations with the union of the engine drivers. Far from handling just one individual case, the Office implemented a political determination made by the Swedish Government. Things are totally different if an individual concludes a commercial contract with a State and if the State, for some reason connected with the performance of the contract, does not pay the agreed price. In Europe, it could for instance be contended that such refusal to pay constitutes a violation of Article 1 of the [First] Protocol to the ECHR, inasmuch as this provision protects any assets having a financial value. However, the system established under the ECHR is not intended to provide individuals with a second layer of protection in commercial relationships to which a State is a party. In principle, all commercial contracts are placed under the same regulatory system of civil law. There is no need to derogate from this simple rule in case a State is involved. Any private party that feels aggrieved by the conduct of its governmental partner may bring such grievances to the competent civil courts, which will duly consider the matter. Under Article 6 (1) ECHR, access to an independent and impartial tribunal is firmly guaranteed. Only if a State makes use of extraordinary public powers, which derogate from the logic of the marketplace, does the private party need special protection which will eventually, after the exhaustion of local remedies, be afforded by the European Court of Human Rights. Interestingly enough, no cases seem to have been brought before the Court where individuals have complained about a violation of the rights deriving for them from a private contract. In sum, the proposition enunciated by the Court in the Swedish Engine Drivers’ Union case to the effect that the State as employer is invariably bound to abide by the ECHR can apply at the most to disputes involving governmental employees which relate to general amendments of the contractual bases but is not susceptible of being translated to other fields of private law.35 33

Swedish Engine Drivers’ Union v. Sweden, Judgment of 6 February 1976, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 20, para. 37. This holding was confirmed on the same day by the judgment in Schmidt and Dahlström v. Schweden, Judgment of 6 February 1976, ECHR (Ser. A), No. 21, para. 33.

34

See C. Grabenwarter, Europäische Menschenrechtskonvention 103, para 7 (2005).

35

Generally, the European Court of Human Rights deals with claims brought by State employees or civil servants by ascertaining whether they constitute ‘civil rights’ in the sense of 1950

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The coexistence of international law and contractual rights and duties that are governed by domestic law is one of the distinctive features of most of the cases settled under the regime of the Convention on the Settlement of Investment Disputes between States and Nationals of Other States.36 On the one hand, investors may conclude an agreement with the host State itself or with a special entity entrusted by it with managing development policies; on the other hand, their investment may enjoy the protection of a bilateral investment treaty (BIT) concluded between their home State and the host State. In departure from the classic model of diplomatic protection, Article 25 (1) of the Convention opens for them the way to the International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID) for the pursuance of legal claims arising directly out of an investment. Such claims can be derived either from the contractual relationship or from the relevant BIT.37 However, the procedural and substantive foundations for the seizure of an ICSID arbitration panel are normally specified in the BIT the claimant is entitled to rely upon as a national of the country having concluded a BIT with the host State; in some instances, the private contract contains such specifications as well. Progressively, the ICSID panels have developed a doctrine according to which, given the relevant BIT clauses, contractual claims cannot be pursued at the international level.38 Although those clauses are more often than not framed in fairly ambiguous language, the prevailing view is that the drafters of the numerous BITs generally had no intention to grant access to international settlement procedures for contractual claims as well,39 given that as a rule they provided for the settlement of such claims through domestic procedures. However, there is broad agreement to the effect that the violation of an

Europen Convention on Human Rights, art. 6(1), see, e.g., Neigel v. France, Judgment of 17 March 1997, 1997-II ECHR 399, paras. 43-44; Le Calvez v. France, Judgment of 29 July 1998, Application No. 25594/94, 1998-V ECHR, paras. 57-58; see also E. Palm, ‘The Civil Servant and the New Court’, in P. Mahoney, Protecting Human Rights: The European Perspective. Studies in memory of Rolv Ryssda 1065 (2000). Whenever the State modifies the rights of pensioners through a unilateral decision a different situation is present, see, e.g., Bulgakova v. Russia, ECHR, Judgment of 18 January 2007, Application No. 69524/01. 36

1965 Convention on the Settlement of Investment Disputes between States and Nationals of other States (1965 ICSID Convention), 575 UNTS 159.

37

See C. Schreuer, The ICSID Convention: A Commentary 126-128 (2001).

38

See, in particular, the annulment decision in the case Compañía de Aguas del Aconquija S.A. & Vivendi Universal v. Argentine Republic, Decision on Annulment of 3 July 2002, para. 60. For a thorough discussion see P.-M. Dupuy, ‘L’Etat et ses émanations dans le contentieux du droit international des investissements’, in id. (ed.), Common Values in International Law. Essays in Honour of Christian Tomuschat 297, at 313 et seq. (2006).

39

Opposite views were held in that respect in the two cases in which SGS was a party. In SGS v. Pakistan, supra note 15, paras. 161-162, the panel denied such a broad scope of the relevant jurisdiction clause, whereas in SGS v. Philippines, supra note 15, para. 135, the panel said that even contractual claim could be referred to arbitration. The separation doctrine had beforehand been applied in Salini v. Morocco, Decision on Jurisdiction of 23 July 2001, 42 ILM 609, at 623, paras. 60-61 (2003). See also comment by E. Gaillard, La jurisprudence du CIRDI 873 et seq. (2004).

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investment contract by measures of sovereign authority40 can at the same time amount to a violation of the relevant BIT.41 Likewise, it is generally accepted that through a so-called ‘umbrella clause’ contractual obligations can be made part and parcel of the bundle of obligations which a host State has to comply with under a BIT it has concluded with the home State of the investor. However, serious controversies have arisen as to the construction of BIT provisions alleged to constitute such ‘umbrella clauses’.42 The inconsistencies characterizing the relevant case law are largely attributable to differences in the language chosen for the formulation of those clauses.43 Although essentially the distinction between treaty claims and contractual claims derives from linguistic niceties, some elements of a more principled approach can be found in the case law under the ICSID Convention. It is in particular the annulment decision in the Vivendi case which has sought to highlight the differences which exists between a private law regime and a relationship governed by international law, by stating: ‘whether there has been a breach of the BIT and whether there has been a breach of contract are different questions. Each of these claims will be determined by reference to its own proper or applicable law – in the case of the BIT, by international law; in the case of the Concession Contract, by the proper law of the contract.’44

In other words, the panel was of the view that under general international law a strict separation of the two types of legal relationships is mandatory. Contracts are to be considered exclusively within the framework of the applicable rules of private law, unless the respective act can only be explained by the exercise of specific governmental powers.45 Thus, although the wording of Article 4 of the ILC Articles abstains from any 40

In Vivendi Universal v. Argentine Republic, supra note 38, para. 106, the claimant complained of ‘incitement of consumers, by legislators and others, not to pay their water bills; unauthorized tariff changes; the incorrect imposition of fines (never in fact collected) for allegedly deficient water quality; incorrect invoicing for municipal and provincial water taxes;’ etc.

41

See, in particular, Salini v. Morocco, supra note 39, para. 62; Impregilo v. Pakistan, Decision on Jurisdiction of 22 April 2005, para. 262.

42

For a recent survey of the arbitral practice of the ICSID panels see R. Dolzer, ‘Schirmklauseln in Investitionsschutzverträgen’, in P.-M. Dupuy (ed.), supra note 38, at 281.

43

See, on the one hand for an extensive reading of the jurisdiction clauses of the relevant BITs SGS v. Pakistan, supra note 15, paras. 127-128, and Noble Ventures v. Romania, Award of 12 October 2005, paras. 61-62; on the other hand, SGS v. Philippines, supra note 15, paras. 130-134, and Impregilo v. Romania, supra note 41, para. 223.

44

Vivendi Universal v. Argentine Republic, supra note 38, para. 96.

45

See S. M. Schwebel, International Arbitration: Three Salient Problems 111 (1987). Indeed, the ICSID panels invariably examine very carefully whether a specific type of conduct comes within the scope of the existing contractual relationship or whether it pertains to the public function of the State. Thus, in Maffezini v. Spain, Award of 13 November 2000, paras. 65-83, the panel determined that the unilateral handling of a loan by the Spanish government agency SODIGA exceeded that relationship, and in Impregilo v. Pakistan, supra note 41, para. 263, the panel, when ruling on the merits, will look into the question whether not to facilitate the importation of equipment through the port of Karachi amounted to a breach of the BIT.

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differentiation between private acts and governmental acts, such a differentiation would appear to be required. Two grounds can be adduced to explain this dichotomy. On the one hand, it might be argued that activities in the private sector lack the specific characteristics of an act of State; on the other hand, a somewhat simpler interpretation might rely on the fact that when engaging in business contracts States are free from any obligation under international law. The second alternative seems to provide the better answer, in particular in view of configurations where specific conduct, meant to shape an existing contractual relationship, amounts at the same time to a violation of general rules of international law that determine, outside the scope of that contract, the general legal framework constraining State action.

B.

Instrumentalities and Other Entities

Whereas the State bears responsibility for all of its organs, ‘whatever its character as an organ of the central government or of a territorial unit of the State’ (Article 4 ILC Articles), persons or entities not being an organ of the State but being empowered to exercise elements of governmental authority are capable of engaging the responsibility of the State only if they ‘act in that capacity in that particular instance’ (Article 5 ILC Articles). The logic of this restriction is unobjectionable. States cannot be made accountable for the actions of anyone under their jurisdiction. Particularly in an age when human rights have ascended to a dominant position, they are not required to set up a tight network of supervision of their citizens. On the other hand, they are under the obligation to maintain law and order within their territory, making sure that no activities harmful to the rights of other States are carried out. The case of persons or entities entrusted with governmental powers is different. They, too, embody the authority of the State. In sum, Articles 4 and 5 reflect the sovereign freedom of any State to organize itself as it sees fit. Inevitably, the question arises also in this connection what is meant by ‘governmental authority’. It is the lesson of the preceding observations that invariably a huge effort was required to elucidate the meaning of similar formulations. Strangely enough, the commentary of the ILC on Article 5 of the ILC Articles has chosen to skip the issue. The ILC deliberately refrained from identifying precisely the scope of the concept: ‘Beyond a certain limit, what is regarded as “governmental” depends on the particular society, its history and traditions. Of particular importance will be not just the content of the powers, but the way they are conferred on an entity, the purposes for which they are to be exercised and the extent to which the entity is accountable to the government for their exercise. These are essentially questions of the application of a general standard to varied circumstances.’46

This approach to the issue cannot meet with approval. The ILC argues as if the rules on State responsibility could be interpreted and applied by author States at their free discretion. 46

J. Crawford (ed.), The International Law Commission’s Articles on State Responsibility 101 (2002).

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There is no reference to the interests of victims of a breach of international obligations. It stands to reason, however, that a regime of State responsibility must take into account the interests of all parties involved. For potential or actual victims, uniformity of the standards to be applied is a precious asset. A wrongdoing State should never be able to deny its responsibility by contending that in its view the entity or person concerned had not been entrusted with governmental authority. Where an entity or person entrusted with governmental authority concludes a private contract within the discharge of its specific mandate, and if claims are raised from that contract, there is no need to resort to the regime of State responsibility. It must be assumed that Article 5 does not apply in such instances. Even if a service public is performed by an entity outside the State organization, the criteria of Article 5 are not met. Whenever legal instruments and methods are used which are at the disposal of every participant in the marketplace, the general regime of private law controls the transaction. Its purpose is irrelevant. In tort cases, however, where no prior contractual relationship existed, the nature of the act does not automatically provide the right answer. It must then again be ascertained whether the wrongdoer made use of specific powers which exceed what would be permissible under the general regime determining the status of every individual. Again, it would appear, notwithstanding the marked silence of the ILC, that the construction of Article 5 leads essentially to a traditional concept of State authority, as can be seen from a short glance at the cases adjudicated by a number of ICSID panels that had to make determinations on State responsibility on account of interference with contracts which the investor had concluded with regional sub-divisions or other instrumentalities of the host State.47 However, it has also emerged as a concept that to provide services not obtainable on the marketplace may also be encompassed by the notion of exercise of sovereign authority. There remains a small grey area which cannot easily be demarcated. It is a matter of public knowledge that governments in many parts of the world have started a practice of ‘outsourcing’ police and military functions to private companies (PMCs), thought to provide the services required at lower prices and more reliably. The recent (16 September 2007) killing of a considerable number of Iraqi citizens in Baghdad has highlighted the problems entailed by such abandonment of governmental tasks to private entities. Of course, no PMC comes within the ambit of Article 4 of the ILC Articles. It is precisely the aim of governments to divest themselves of specific responsibilities by hiring the services of commercial undertakings that do not belong to the State machinery proper. To subsume PMCs under Article 5 of the ILC Articles, on the other hand, likewise raises considerable difficulties. First of all, it must be acknowledged that the different factual configurations need to be assessed on a case-by-case basis. There are no answers which fit any kind of setup. In the following, the focus will be on situations where, like in Iraq, a government relies, for the support of its military forces, on one or several PMCs which are armed and instructed to ensure law and order if need be by resort to armed force, for instance when guarding certain transports or 47

See the indications in Vivendi Universal v. Argentine Republic, supra note 38; and the indications in Maffezini v. Spain, supra note 45; and Impregilo v. Pakistan, supra note 41.

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installations of vital importance, or escorting persons whose life is endangered. We will also consider situations where PMCs participated in guarding and interrogating prisoners, like in the infamous Abu Ghraib prison. The discharge of such police functions is a typical exercise of governmental authority within the meaning of Article 5 of the ILC Articles. Nothing embodies as visibly the traditional concept of State authority as the power to apply physical force, including armed force. The question remains whether the PMCs have received their authority ‘by the law’ of the State which has imparted to them their mandate. The ILC commentary does not provide any explicit explanations as to the meaning of the word ‘law’. But it gives many hints suggesting that ‘law’ should not be understood in a formalistic sense. In paragraph 2 of the commentary, reference is made to private security firms that may be contracted to act as prison guards and in that capacity may proceed to detaining persons or imposing disciplinary sanctions upon them.48 On the other hand, Article 8 stresses the purely factual character of a configuration where private persons or entities act on the instructions of, or under the direction or control of, a State. Where a whole system of outsourcing has developed, involving essential security functions, the law of the State concerned must be supposed to allow that specific method of discharging public responsibilities. In the United States, the fact that in Iraq the military forces proper are accompanied by thousands of members of PMCs, is a matter of public knowledge. Both the President and Congress are fully aware of the relevant developments. No legal objections have been raised regarding the system as such, only with regard to its modalities of implementation.49 Whatever legal regulations may have been enacted, the extent of the deployment of private security firms as one of the building blocks on which the occupation regime in Iraq is predicated, eliminates the privatization of police and military functions from the realm of purely factual phenomena. The entire occupation regime is founded on the assistance provided to the military forces by the PMCs that have been engaged. Therefore, full responsibility under article 5 of the ILC Articles exists for actions where PMCs provide other services than purely commercial activities.50 In fact, the examples given in the Commentary of the ILC to illustrate the meaning of Article 8 demonstrate that this provision contemplates situations of a different nature. In the famous Nicaragua case adjudicated by the ICJ,51 it fell to be considered 48

See Crawford, supra note 46, at 100.

49

See L. A. Dickinson, ‘Public Values in a Privatized World’, 31 Yale Journal of International Law 383 (2006).

50

See also N. Boldt, ‘Outsourcing War – Private Military Companies and International Humanitarian Law’, 47 German Yearbook of International Law 502, at 538 (2005); H.-P. Gasser, Humanitäres Völkerrecht 82 (2007); D. Thürer/M. MacLaren, ‘Military Outsourcing as a Case Study in the Accountability and Responsibility of Power’, in A. Reinisch/U. Kriebaum (eds.), The Law of International Relations. Liber amicorum Hanspeter Neuhold 391, at 412 (2007); Report of the Working Group on the use of mercenaries as a means of violating human rights and impeding the exercise of the right of people to self-determination, UN doc. A/HRC/7/77, 9 January 2008, paras. 23 et seq.

51

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14.

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what kind of control the United States exerted over the Contras, an insurgent force challenging the Government of Nicaragua. However, the Contras were a group of fighters with their own agenda. To some extent, they depended on the assistance of the United States, but they were essentially an autonomous organization. They had not pledged to act as the arm of the United States in Nicaragua. A similar configuration was present in the Tadic case,52 which concerned the war in the former Yugoslavia. In that case, the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) had to assess the relationship between the Bosnian Serb Army and the Army of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Again, this was a situation where some influence could be exerted by one military force over the other, but the two armies remained separate. The Bosnian Serbs had not given up their own objectives, unconditionally submitting to the Yugoslav Army. Thus, Article 8 addresses the interplay between a State and a group which has kept its separate command structure in spite of having entered into a close relationship with a predominant partner. It would therefore appear to be inappropriate to assess the responsibility of States for PMCs in their service by the yardstick of Article 8 of the Articles.53

IV.

Immunity

Immunity is the last one of the issues that deserve closer examination with regard to the concept of governmental authority. Still in the early days of the 20th century, in accordance with the theory of absolute immunity no distinction was made between different fields of activity of a State. Immunity was granted ratione personae and not ratione materiae: the State as a person under international law was protected against any kind of judicial action, whatever the foundations of the claims raised against it. In a famous case adjudicated in 1969, a French tribunal denied the immunity of the German State of Hessen, arguing that a component of a federal State, not being an actor at the international level, could not aspire to that kind of privilege.54 However, at that time customary law had already evolved in a different direction. The watershed was reached with the Tate letter,55 which introduced a distinction between commercial activities of States (acta jure gestionis) and governmental activities proper (acta jure imperii): only in instances of 52

Prosecutor v. Duško Tadić, Decision on the Defence Motion for Interlocutory Appeal on Jurisdiction of 2 Oktober 1995, Case No. IT-94-1, Appeals Chamber, 35 ILM 32 (1996).

53

It would therefore be hazardous to agree with C. Lehnardt, ‘Private Military Companies and State Responsibility’, in C. Lehnardt/S. Chesterton (eds.), From Mercenaries to Market. The Rise and Regulation of Private Military Companies 139, at 148 (2007), who, notwithstanding a careful analysis of the different factual patterns, concludes: ‘The ambiguities surrounding both the notion of governmental authority and the nature of activities of PMCs make it difficult to apply a principle of attribution based on the performance of governmental functions.’

54

Neger v. Gouvernement du Land de Hesse, 16 January 1969, in United Nations (ed.), Materials on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property 266 (1982).

55

Tate Letter of 19 May 1952, 24 Department of State Bulletin (1952).

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the latter class was the Government of the United States henceforth willing to suggest to its domestic courts to reject civil suits as being inadmissible. Very soon thereafter, at its 1954 session in Aix-en-Provence, the Institut de droit international drew the consequences from that shift to a theory grounded on elements ratione materiae by proclaiming: ‘Les tribunaux d’un Etat ne peuvent connaître des litiges ayant trait à des actes de puissance publique accomplis par un Etat étranger, ou par une personne morale relevant d’un Etat étranger.’56

In fact, if the exercise of governmental authority is acknowledged as the determinative criterion, it should not matter at all whether such an act of puissance publique is performed by the central organs of a State or by any of its subdivisions. Following this straightforward logic, the European Convention on State Immunity of 197257 introduced a regime for subdivisions of a State which corresponded fully to the new conception of governmental core functions. Although the Convention provides in Article 27 (1) that the expression ‘Contracting State’ shall not include any separate legal entity, Article 27 (2) almost reverses that assertion by stating that immunity shall be accorded ‘in respect of acts performed by [a distinct] entity in the exercise of sovereign authority (acta jure imperii)’. By contrast, the Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act of the United States (FSIA) in 197658 adopted a straightforward solution by including in the concept of State ‘agencies or instrumentalities’ of a foreign State, going even so far as to classify as instrumentalities also shareholder companies ‘a majority of whose shares or other ownership interest is owned by a foreign state or political subdivision thereof’ (Section 1603 (b)). The vast extension of this definition ratione personae was mitigated, however, through the commercial activity exception: The FSIA withholds immunity from any commercial activity conducted by the entities entitled to immunity (Section 1605 (a) (2)). The UK State Immunity Act 197859 reverted again to the legal technique employed by the European Convention on State Immunity. It provides that entities which are distinct from the executive organs of the government of the State and capable of suing or being sued (Section 14 (1)) do not partake of the immunity granted to foreign States, but departs from that exclusionary rule if proceedings against such an entity ‘relate to anything done by it in the exercise of sovereign authority’ (Section 14 (2) (a)). Notwithstanding the diversity of the drafting method encountered in the instruments referred to, the result is more or less the same. Whenever a separate entity, whatever its name, acts on foreign soil in the exercise of governmental powers, no civil suit can be brought against it before the courts of that country. 56

Institut de droit international, L’immunité de juridiction et d’exécution forcée des Etats étrangers, Resolution of 30 April 1954, reprinted in H. Wehberg (ed.), Tableau général des résolutions (1873-1956), at 17 (1957).

57

1972 European Convention on State Immunity, ETS No. 74.

58

1976 Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act of the United States (1976 FSIA), 15 ILM 1388 (1976); current version reprinted in C. Tomuschat (ed.), Völkerrecht, text No. 48 (2005).

59

1978 UK State Immunity Act, 17 ILM 1123 (1978).

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The United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property,60 to which Gerhard Hafner has devoted many hours of his professional life, avoids the seeming inconsistencies of the three instruments considered above. Indeed, either fully to equate instrumentalities with the State and its organs, but then to restrict the immunity in instances of a commercial activity (United States), or generally to exclude instrumentalities from the scope of the immunity regime, but to restore the protective cloak of immunity in instances of exercise of governmental (sovereign) authority (European Convention, United Kingdom) does not appear to be a felicitous method. Instead, the United Nations Convention specifies from the very outset that the concept of State means, inter alia (Article 2 (1) (b) (iii)), ‘Agencies or instrumentalities of the State or other entities, to the extent that they are entitled to perform and are actually performing acts in the exercise of sovereign authority of the State.’

No specific explanation was provided by the ILC when it adopted its draft on second reading in 1991.61 It confined itself to stating that to carry out commercial transactions was the opposite of the exercise of sovereign authority.62 When commenting on the justification for the inclusion of agencies or instrumentalities ‘and other entities’ within the scope of the concept of the State, the ILC mentioned the example of certain commercial banks which are entrusted by a government to deal also with import and export licensing.63 In the preceding debates, mention had often been made of central banks whose mandate it was to manage the national currency. These are examples which fit into the normal pattern of a State under the rule of law. However, the employment of PMCs sheds an entirely new light on the issue. According to what has been pointed out above, a PMC entrusted with a mandate to provide security services, if need be by armed force, is endowed with governmental or sovereign authority. Hence, following the text of the 2004 UN Convention, PMCs would enjoy immunity with regard specifically to those of its actions which are most fraught with dangers for their environment, namely actual recourse to armed force. With regard to States, immunity on account of military activities is a firm rule of international law. Military activities embody par excellence the sovereign authority of the State. Recent attempts to derogate from this rule in instances of grave violations of human rights and humanitarian law are utterly unconvincing.64 Breaches of human 60

2004 United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property, UN Doc. A/RES/59/83 (2004) (not yet in force).

61

Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, 1991 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 13.

62

Ibid., at 17, para. 15. The issue was further studied by a working group of the ILC in 1999, see, 1999 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), 149, at 158-162.

63

Ibid.

64

A special working group of the ILC, convened in 1999 to consider the issue, did not come up with any proposal to draw up a corresponding exception, see Report of the Working Group on jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, 1999 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), Annex, at 171.

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rights and humanitarian law by the troops of a State in military conflict must by necessity be settled pursuant to the classical methods at inter-State level. The two domestic judgments which have adopted a different reading of customary international law, the judgment of the Greek Supreme Court (Areios Pagos) in the Distomo case65 and the judgment of the Italian Corte di cassazione in the Ferrini case,66 cannot be acknowledged as evidence of a new trend, quite apart from the fact that they have disregarded the existing bilateral treaty law, attempting, moreover, to apply retroactively the recent departure from the former theory of absolute immunity.67 Even in the world of today, many of the domestic enactments on foreign sovereign immunity have specified that the ‘territorial clause’, according to which a State cannot claim immunity from jurisdiction for acts occurring in the territory of the forum State, if the author of the act was present in the territory of that State, does not apply to military activities,68 and a similar provision has been enunciated in the European Convention on State Immunity (Article 31). The ‘territorial clause’ is intended to cover only insurable risks, in particular injury resulting from traffic accidents. The text of Article 12 of the 2004 UN Convention does not say so explicitly. No agreement could be reached on a specific provision that would have unambiguously narrowed the scope of the territorial clause in that sense. But Gerhard Hafner, the Chairman of the Ad Hoc Committee on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property established by the General Assembly, introducing the report of this Committee, made clear that indeed military activities do not fall within the ambit of Article 12.69 He could rely, in that regard, on the commentary of the ILC which explained explicitly that the provision did not apply to ‘situations involving armed conflicts’.70 Thus, it can hardly be argued that a new rule has emerged which would expose States to civil suits brought against them in other States on account of military activities conducted abroad. 65

Distomo case (Prefecture of Voiotia v. Federal Republic of Germany), Hellenic Supreme Court, Judgment of 4 May 2000, summary in M. Gavouneli/I. Bantekas, ‘Case Report: Prefecture of Voiotia v. Federal Republic of Germany’, 95 AJIL 198 (2001). It should not be overlooked that the legal views on which the judgment was based were rejected in the later judgment of the Special Court according to Article 100 of the Greek Constitution, which in Greece performs the functions of a constitutional court: Germany v. Margellos, 17 September 2002 (not yet published), mentioned by E. de Wet, ‘The Prohibition of Torture as an International Norm of jus cogens and Its Implications for National and Customary Law’, 15 EJIL 97, at 109, n. 61 (2004).

66

Ferrini case (Ferrini v. Federal Republic of Germany), Corte di Cassazione (sezioni unite civili), Judgment of 11 March 2004, 87 Rivista di diritto internazionale 539 (2004).

67

Criticism by C. Tomuschat, ‘L’immunité des Etats en cas de violations graves des droits de l’homme’, 109 RGDIP 51 (2005).

68

See 1978 UK State Immunity Act, 17 ILM 1123, at section 16 (2) (1978); Canada, Act to Provide for State Immunity in Canadian courts, 21 ILM 798, at section 15 (1982).

69

Reproduced by D. P. Stewart, ‘The UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property’, 99 AJIL 194, at 197, n. 19 (2005). See also G. Hafner/U. Köhler, ‘The United Nations Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property’, 35 Netherlands Yearbook of International Law 3, at 46-47 (2004).

70

Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, supra note 61, at 46, para. 10.

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Regarding PMCs, almost all of the elements underlying the immunity of State for actions of their military units are lacking. In the first place, PMCs, although entrusted with a public mandate, pursue their own financial interests. What matters even more, however, is the fact that they are not placed under the same mechanisms of oversight as regular military forces of the State. Their work force is not subject to the strict disciplinary regime which normally in a country abiding by the rule of law applies to the members of the armed forces. Regarding the United States, most worrying reports have been given on the lack of true accountability of Blackwater and the other firms operating in Iraq. The democratically legitimated bodies have very little influence over the PMCs that have been hired by the Department of Defence. In sum, PMCs are characterized by an inherent lack of trustworthiness. The dignity of the State, which basically justifies State immunity, is totally absent. PMCs are just commercial undertakings mandated to participate in the discharge of a military function. Consequently, it would be almost absurd to grant them immunity from judicial jurisdiction. This denial of immunity corresponds exactly to the logic which underlies the outsourcing of military functions to PMCs. States privatize military and police functions mainly because they wish to escape from the rigidity of the legal regime that encompasses their military actions. They wish to have a freer hand, being able to shed responsibility for any undesired occurrences. This attempt must fail. As shown above, the State cannot evade its responsibility for the actions of PMCs. Additionally, however, the PMCs themselves remain liable, and claims against them can be brought without encountering the objection of sovereign immunity. A similar conclusion must be drawn if States delegate some sovereign powers to private entities incorporated under the law of another State. In France, a suit was brought against the Italian company RINA which had certified the seaworthiness of the oil tanker Erika which sank in December 1999, causing havoc in large parts of the French coast by contaminating the beaches and damaging marine life.71 According to the case law of the French Conseil d’Etat, to certify the security of civil aircraft qualifies as an acte de puissance publique.72 The same would then apply to such certificates in the shipping industry. However, a private company is primarily a commercial undertaking. If a State entrusts to a foreign company some elements of its sovereign authority, it will almost inevitably be unable to exercise over it the tight control which the public expects to exist for a public organ under the rule of law. Much will depend on the circumstances. As a rule, however, it does not seem to be justifiable to bestow upon such companies a privileged status under international law.73 Following a different approach, one could also argue, as in the case of SGS, that the certification is a purely technical activity which obtains its legal authority only through the recognition of the certificates issued by the State concerned, which may be expressed ex ante.

71

For a detailed account see S. Robert, L’Érika: Responsabilités pour un désastre écologique (2003).

72

Bureau Veritas, 23 March 1983, at http://www.lexinter.net/JPTXT2/arret_bureau_veritas. htm (last visited on 5 December 2007).

73

See also Erika case, Cour d’appel de Paris, Decision of 13 June 2007.

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501

Conclusions

The result of the above considerations is that references to governmental or sovereign authority of the State or prérogatives de puissance publique are generally to be understood as references to State power in the classical sense, where State authorities take unilateral decisions or measures, without having to seek agreement with their counterparts. Mostly, regarding the constraints to be respected by States when acting on foreign territory, the rule on State responsibility and the international regime of immunity, the substantive content of governmental or sovereign immunity is the same, irrespective of the variations in wording. There is also broad agreement to the effect that the conduct of commercial activities is the opposite of the exercise of sovereign authority: if and when the State enters the marketplace, it is free from the rules of public international law as long as it remains within the framework of the relevant contractual relationship. However, some important divergencies have been found to exist. If an instrumentality or other State entity is equated with the State because it was entrusted with elements of sovereign authority, this does not automatically bring it under the protection of judicial immunity. Judicial immunity constitutes a specific recognition of the authority and dignity of the State as the organization of a people under the rule of law. PMCs, in particular, do not deserve the same respect. In balancing the interests in issue, the interests of the potential or actual victims of the actions of PMCs must prevail.

502

CHRISTIAN TOMUSCHAT

25

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Some Peculiarities of the UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property: a Footnote on the Codification Technique Tullio Treves

I. The UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property presents some peculiarities.1 These peculiarities concern the Convention as a treaty and in my view are not irrelevant for an assessment of the Convention as a product of the UNpromoted work on codification and progressive development of international law. Such relevance seems particularly likely as the matters dealt with are among those that had made it difficult to reach an agreement on the final text. The contribution made by Gerhard Hafner to the work leading to the adoption of the Convention emerges clearly in the provisions I wish to examine. Such work shows the imprint of Hafner’s talent as a diplomat and a scholar. The peculiarities I wish to address are two. First, I shall consider the ‘Understandings with respect to certain provisions of the Convention’ set out in an Annex to the Convention. According to article 25, the Annex ‘forms an integral part’ of the Convention. Secondly, I shall examine paragraph 3 of the UN General Assembly Resolution (59/38) by which the Convention was adopted. This provision states that the General Assembly ‘agrees with the general understanding reached in the Ad Hoc Committee that the Convention […] does not cover criminal proceedings’.

II. Regarding the ‘understandings’ set out in the Annex, different categories may be distinguished. A first category includes understandings which add something to what is stated in the provisions they refer to. This is the case, in my view, of the understanding concerning article 17. This article states that immunity cannot be invoked regarding proceedings concerning various aspects of an arbitration procedure in the case of an arbitration 1

2004 UN Convention on Jurisdictional Immunities of States and their Property, adopted by the UN General Assembly Resolution 59/38, UN Doc. A/RES/59/38 (2004). The text, annexed to the Resolution, can also be read in 44 ILM 801 (2005).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 503-508, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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agreement relating to ‘a commercial transaction’. The understanding is that such transaction ‘includes investment matters’. Similarly, regarding articles 13 and 14, which state that immunity cannot be invoked in proceedings relating to the ‘determination’ of rights on immovable and movable or intellectual and industrial property, the relevant understanding states that ‘the expression “determination” is used to refer not only to the ascertainment or verification of the existence of the rights protected, but also to the evaluation or assessment of the substance, including content, scope and extent of such rights’. In this category I would also include the understanding that in article 19 (c) ‘‘‘entity” means the State as an independent legal personality, a constituent unit of a federal State, a subdivision of a State, an agency or instrumentality of a State or other entity, which enjoys independent legal personality’. Other ‘understandings’ are of the nature of a savings clause, in particular those stating that certain provisions are without prejudice to the question of ‘piercing the corporate veil’. ‘Understandings’ of still another category do not seem to add or exclude anything from the provisions of the Convention. This seems to be the case of the ‘understanding’ stating that the expression ‘security interests’ in article 11(2)(d), ‘is intended primarily to address matters of national security and the security of diplomatic missions and consular posts’. The ‘primarily’ detracts much of the legal effect of this provision. Even less meaningful seems the remaining part of the understanding relating to article 11. It mentions, in a neutral tone, certain obligations under the Vienna Conventions on Diplomatic and Consular Relations. It seems reasonable that the understandings mentioned above that add something to the Convention, including those of the nature of a saving clause, ought to be considered as integral part of the Convention, while this does not seem appropriate for those that do not add anything. One may wonder, however, why the understandings that add something to the rights and obligations set out in the Convention are relegated in the Annex, together with those for which the assimilation to the Convention proper does not seem appropriate, and not in the text of the Convention. The Chinese representative to the UN General Assembly’s Sixth Committee, commenting on the Draft convention in 2004, raised some doubts as to the legal status of the ‘understandings’.2 While conceding that, according to article 25, they formed an integral part of the Convention, he held the view that they ‘did not […] share equal legal status with the provisions of the draft convention’. According to the Chinese representative, the reason was that, as said in the chapeau of the understandings, the ‘purpose of the annex was to set out understandings relating only to the provisions concerned’. That the understandings relate to specific provisions is a fact: so, for example, the understanding relating to the meaning of ‘commercial transaction’ (so as to include investment matters) for the purposes of article 17, is a specification, aimed at that article only, of the definition of commercial transaction set out in article 2(1)(c); and the definition of ‘entity’ for the purposes of article 19(c), overlaps and somehow modifies the definition of ‘State’ given in article 2(1)(b). Nevertheless, this has to do 2

Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-ninth Session, Sixth Committee, 13th meeting, UN Doc. A/C.6/59/SR.13, and Corrigendum, para 49.

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with the scope, the quantitative effect, of the understandings and not with their status as binding rules (at least for those whose formulation is such that they may have a binding effect). However dubious its legal justification, there may be something true in the Chinese statement. As stated by other State representatives, the ‘understandings’ were introduced in order to find a compromise between opposing views. They set out rules that were neither recognized as corresponding to customary law, nor as representing a generally endorsed progressive development of the law. They were adopted as mere treaty provisions so that those wishing to rely on them outside the framework of the Convention would face a heavy burden. Their position in the Annex would seem to signal such purpose.

III. The statement in the resolution adopting the Convention that the General Assembly agrees with the ‘general understanding reached in the ad hoc committee’ that the Convention ‘does not cover criminal proceedings’ is a manifestation of another technique for registering understandings which, on their face, could be included in provisions of the Convention, but were not so included – most likely for the purpose of signalling a nuanced status of the provision. These concepts emerge in part in the reasoning of the representative of Guatemala to the Sixth Committee. He remarked that provisions ‘that defined the scope of a multilateral treaty normally appeared in the very text of the treaty’. He consequently proposed to incorporate the provision excluding criminal proceedings in the text of the Convention or at least in the Annex. He stated the concern that had the understanding been kept, as in fact it was, in the resolution, ‘it would not occur to anyone who interpreted the Convention, and who was unfamiliar with the General Assembly resolution adopting it, to consult that resolution in order to determine the scope of the Convention, particularly because articles 2 and 3 of the draft Convention and its annex contained provisions limiting its scope’.3 This concern may be somehow pessimistic as to the professional capability of legal advisers, counsel and judges. Still, it is a fact that a provision that could have been given the status of a treaty provision (either in the text or in the Annex) was denied such status. A number of delegates stated that the resolution (including in particular its paragraph 3) would form part of the travaux préparatoires of the Convention. In light of the status of the travaux under the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, where they are considered as supplementary means of interpretation, this seems a subtle way to downgrade the legal weight of this understanding, while enhancing its political status by incorporating it in a consensus resolution of the General Assembly.

3

Ibid., paras. 68, 71.

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This technique could be seen as providing for a slightly enhanced role of the understanding set out in the resolution, if, as suggested by Professor Hafner,4 it could be considered ‘an element of the context of the convention’ under article 31(2)(b) of the Vienna Convention, as an ‘instrument which was made by one or more of the parties in connexion with the conclusion of the treaty and accepted by the other parties as an instrument related to the treaty’. Be it as it may, again, the purpose seems to have to do with the effect of the Convention on customary law. This would be relevant in case the application to criminal proceedings of customary rules corresponding to those of the Convention were to be claimed. Whether it would be easier to contrast these claims on the basis of the resolution or on the basis of a binding provision remains to be seen. The two techniques have been used in the Convention. Which one is more effective and for which purposes remains a question for the future. The fact that the already quoted resolution adopting the Convention ‘takes into account’ in its last preambular paragraph the Statement of the Chairman of the Ad Hoc Committee (Professor Hafner) has been invoked by Norway in the declaration made upon ratification. Recalling that Professor Hafner had stated that ‘the general understanding had always prevailed’ that military activities were not covered by the Convention,5 Norway stated its own understanding to that effect. It added that such activities include ‘the activities of armed forces during an armed conflict, as those terms are understood under international humanitarian law, and activities undertaken by military forces of a State in the exercise of their official duties’. This declaration directs our attention to another, even subtler, and more indirect, technique of delimiting the scope of the Convention.

IV. In the 2004 preface to the paperback edition of her important book on The Law of State Immunities (published in 2002), Lady Fox states that ‘one view may be that the inclusion of the understandings [we might add the resort to the other techniques mentioned] evidences a diplomatic compromise rendering the articles of the Convention to be merely an agreement between ratifying States as to one set of rules to be applied by national courts with regard to State Immunity’.6 In her view, however, this would be tantamount to endorsing a ‘restricted role’ for the Convention, contradicting the ‘whole purpose of the ILC work to codify international law on the basis of State practice’, as well as the support of a majority of States to the establishment of ‘a firm statement in treaty form of the current international law’ ‘at a time of increasing erosion of immunities’.

4

G. Hafner/L. Lange, ‘La convention des Nations Unies sur les immunités juridictionnelles des Etats et de leurs biens’, 50 Annuaire français de droit international 45-76, at 75 (2004).

5

Official Records of the General Assembly, supra note 2, para. 36.

6

H. Fox QC, The Law of State Immunities xii (2004).

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I agree with Lady Fox’s statement that ‘the number of ratifications will determine the interpretation of the convention as constituting such statement’. The three years that have lapsed since the Convention was opened for signature (17 January 2005) are probably too short to indicate a meaningful trend. Still, the omens are not good. Up to 1st October 2007, only 28 States had signed the Convention, and a mere four, all European (Austria, Norway, Portugal and Romania), had ratified it. I am not sure whether the Convention’s main purpose is to preserve a core set of immunities ‘at a time of increasing erosion of immunities’. The Convention may be seen to have, or to have also, another purpose: that of preserving a core group of exceptions to the immunities at a time in which an important number of States has just moved away form the absolute theory of State immunities. Of course, the Convention as a treaty tries to balance these two objectives. The preambular clause stating that customary law continues to govern matters not covered by the Convention, as well as the lack of a provision excluding or limiting reservations, should be sufficient to provide the necessary flexibility. Regarding the Convention’s influence on practice outside its effects as a treaty, it may nevertheless be wondered whether it will be more influential in limiting the expansion of exceptions or in consolidating the exceptions set out in its provisions. I do not have a crystal ball to answer this question. In light of the present trends, however, I do not think the existence of the Convention (unless it attains a very high number of ratifications and accessions) will stop the expansion of exceptions to State immunities, or that it will induce changes in those domestic laws which already now provide for more or broader exceptions.

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509

XX – XXX

CHAPTER V

International Criminal Law

510

XX

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Responsibility of States and Individuals for Genocide and other International Crimes Vladimir-Djuro Degan

I.

Introduction

In 1999, I wrote a contribution to the essays in memory of the eminent Chinese lawyer Li Haopei, my older friend and Confrère at the Institute of International Law. The title of my paper was very similar to the present one and it was published in 2001.1 In view of new developments in this important subject-matter, I decided to prepare a new article for the Festschrift to honour the 65th anniversary of the outstanding Austrian scholar Gerhard Hafner, who is my friend and Confrère at the Institute. These new developments consist, in the first place, in the adoption of the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court which entered into force on 1 July 2002. This Statute precisely codifies, for the first time in the form of a convention, the general principles of criminal law. Among them, the most important seem to be those on individual criminal responsibility (Articles 25 and 30 to 33). Furthermore, in 2001, the International Law Commission (ILC) adopted the final text of its Articles on State Responsibility, completing its work which started in 1956 when this author was a student of law in Sarajevo. However, the Commission deliberately omitted in that text former Draft Article 19, providing a definition of international crimes. It was done under the pretext that responsibility of States was not of a criminal nature. Nevertheless, we have a body of codified rules on this extremely important subject-matter, which the International Court has already stated as reflecting customary law. Both legal texts have a tendency to rigidly separate the issues of State responsibility and of criminal responsibility of individuals into two autonomous sets of rules of international law. This author has expressed in his former article quite a different idea. He tried to highlight their similarities, as well as their differences. Finally, on 28 February 2007, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) rendered its Judgment in the case concerning the Application of the Genocide Convention (BosniaHerzegovina v. Serbia).2 The Court itself could not neglect the fact that the commission of some international crimes can involve both individual criminal responsibility of the perpetrators and the responsibility of a State for the violation of its treaty obligations. 1

V.-Dj. Degan, ‘Responsibility of States and Individuals for International Crimes’, in Sienho Yee/ Wang Tieya (eds.), International Law in the Post-Cold War World. Essays in Memory of Li Haopei 202 (2001).

2

Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro), Judgment of 28 February 2008, not yet published, http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/91/13685.pdf (last visited 20 June 2008).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 511-534, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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In this particular case, the matter at issue was the 1948 Genocide Convention, more precisely the crime of genocide with its specific dolus specialis. But this Judgment has opened a number of other questions which are important for the topic under discussion here.

II.

The Problem of Defining International Crimes, including Genocide, in General International Law

In its efforts to codify the rules of State Responsibility, the ILC adopted in 1976 a division into international crimes and ordinary international delicts, as proposed by its Special Rapporteur Roberto Ago from Italy. This division was obviously advanced under the impact of the statement by the ICJ on erga omnes obligations in the 1970 Barcelona Traction Judgment.3 His proposed Draft Article 19(2) read as follows: ‘An internationally wrongful act which results from the breach by a State of an international obligation so essential for the protection of fundamental interests of the international community that its breach is recognized as crime by that community as a whole constitutes an international crime.’

Paragraph 4 of this Draft Article gave a negative definition: ‘Any internationally wrongful act which is not an international crime in accordance with paragraph 2 constitutes an international delict.’

In its commentary to that Draft Article, the Commission stressed that the notion of international crimes has two aspects: ‘one is the requirement that the obligation breached shall, by virtue of its content, be essential for the protection of fundamental interests of the international community; the other, which completes the first and provides a guarantee that is essential in such a delicate matter, makes the international community as a whole responsible for judging whether the obligation is essential and, accordingly, whether its breach is of a “criminal” nature.’4 Since 1956, no voice has been raised in doctrine seriously challenging the above distinction, especially in light of the rapid expansion of international criminal law and the adoption of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court in 1998. Thus even in the Draft Articles on State Responsibility, adopted in first reading in 1996, Article 19 remained untouched.5 The final and authoritative text on the Responsibility of States 3

Barcelona Traction, Light and Power Company, Limited, (Belgium v. Spain), Judgment of 5 February 1970, 1970 ICJ Rep. 33, paras. 33-34.

4

1976 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 119, para. 61. Only in this second criterion lies the distinction between international crimes proper, and other peremptory norms of general international law (jus cogens), as defined in 1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, 8 ILM 679 (1969), art. 53.

5

It is true that throughout its work, i.e., since 1976, the Commission had been unable to ascertain specific legal consequences for States committing international crimes as distinct from a

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for Internationally Wrongful Acts, as adopted by the ILC on 9 August 2001, turned these things upside down. The former draft article 19 was suppressed altogether and the adjective ‘criminal’ was omitted throughout the newly adopted text. Rules providing rights of ‘injured States’ and obligations for all other States in case of commission of international crimes were replaced with new provisions concerning ‘serious breaches of obligations under peremptory norms of general international law’ (Articles 40-41). This happened after a quarter of a century of existence of that essential provision concerning international crimes that was generally understood as reflecting a customary rule of general international law. This radical change was a concession to representatives of a number of States in the Sixth Committee of the UN General Assembly. They vigorously argued that the responsibility of States is not of a criminal nature. At first glance, this allegation seems to be correct. However, in the Commission’s commentary, the following examples of such ‘serious breaches’ are quoted (while it must not be forgotten that every breach of jus cogens is serious in itself): the prohibition of aggression, the prohibition of slavery and slave trade, genocide, racial discrimination and apartheid, torture, some basic rules of humanitarian law, and the right of peoples to self-determination. This list is, of course, not exhaustive.6 From the above cited examples it appears that the changes in the attitude of the ILC were only of a formal kind in order to avoid political objections.7 That is so because even by applying former draft Article 19(2), almost all of the above acts would have constituted ‘international crimes’ proper.8 However, whether or not only formal changes were the real intention of the ILC, their practical consequences seem to be more serious. As already mentioned, according to former draft Article 19(2), it was up to the international community as a whole to judge whether some internationally wrongful acts are so essential to the protection of fundamental interests of this community that they constitute international crimes. As of now, it can be implied that a very powerful State can judge for itself that another State committed a serious breach of obligations under peremptory norms of general international law against it, and react unilaterally. The new situation also results in the confusion of terms, but before we will deal with that another remark seems to be of importance. Before the Rome Statute of 1998, all international crimes were qualified as such in humanitarian and other codification

commission of ‘ordinary’ international delicts. It became obvious to everybody that, unlike individuals in their personal capacity, sovereign States cannot be criminally responsible. 6

See the commentary reprinted in J. Crawford (ed.), The International Law Commission’s Articles on State Responsibility 246-247 (2002).

7

These important modifications do not seem entirely justified, especially in light of another decision by the Commission not to prepare draft articles of a codification convention on this subject-matter for a future diplomatic conference. Instead, the Commission adopted a restatement of provisions having primarily doctrinal importance.

8

However, the problem of the right of peoples to self-determination faced with the principle of territorial integrity of States is of a more complex character. See the view of this author on this question in V.-D. Degan, ‘Création et disparition de l’Etat (à la lumière du démembrement de trois fédérations multiethniques en Europe)’, 279 Recueil des Cours 330-367 (1999).

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conventions with a broad participation of States.9 All these conventions provide for or imply primarily the responsibility of the States parties in case of their violation.10 Personal responsibility of individuals for these crimes was aggregated.11 This personal responsibility cannot, of course, eliminate the responsibility of States in case of violation of their conventional obligations. But that simple fact was not universally agreed on.12 Now we come to a curious situation. On the basis of its jurisdiction under Article IX of the 1948 Genocide Convention, the ICJ can be competent in a case to establish the responsibility of a State party to the Convention for the latter’s violation. Article I expressly states that genocide is a crime under international law which the contracting parties ‘undertake to prevent and to punish’. The acts enumerated in Articles II and III imply that a State party may commit the crime of genocide on its own. However, according to the new logic introduced by the ILC, the crime of genocide cannot be committed in such way. Rather it is a serious breach of an obligation arising under a peremptory norm of general international law prohibiting genocide. This is so because the responsibility of States is not criminal. The genuine crime of genocide can be committed, according to this logic, only by individuals for which the International Criminal Court (ICC) is competent, not the ICJ. In spite of that, in either situation what is at issue is the same internationally wrongful act. Even its qualification in Article II of the 1948 Genocide Convention and in Article 6 of the 1998 Rome Statute is the same.13 This means that the Hague Court and criminal courts and tribunals apply the same legal rules and that violations of the prohibited acts have the same heinous consequences for their victims. For these reasons it does not seem possible to ignore the concept of international crimes in respect of State responsibility as well. On the other hand, in spite of the negative attitude in the ILC’s Articles on State Responsibility, we cannot neglect altogether the important difference between, on the one hand, proper international crimes and, on the other, the violation of other norms of jus cogens which the international community of States has not as yet recognized as such. Other peremptory norms include for instance the general rule of non-discrimination of

9

An exception to that were crimes against humanity, first provided in the 1945 London Statute on the Nuremberg Tribunal.

10

The matter was in particular of the 1948 Genocide Convention, 78 UNTS 277, or of ‘serious breaches’ set forth in the four 1949 Geneva Conventions on humanitarian law, infra note 20.

11

It is true that the States parties to these treaties also undertook to sanction the same crimes in their national legislations and to provide effective penalties for the persons found guilty. These obligations are but one aspect of these treaty commitments.

12

In its 2007 Judgment the ICJ dismissed the allegation by Serbia that the Genocide Convention does not provide for the responsibility of States for acts of genocide as such. The Court relied on the Preamble and arts. I to III and IX of the Convention. See Genocide case, supra note 2, paras. 155-179.

13

The same holds true also with regard to 1993 Statute of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, art. 4; and with regard to the 1994 Statute of the Tribunal for Rwanda, art. 2.

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human beings, certain fundamental human rights whose violation does not amount to international crimes, or the most fundamental principles of international law (or ‘the principles of the UN’) which allow for important derogations if provided by other legal rules. Unlike these other peremptory norms, international crimes are, in principle, of an absolute character. As such they are forbidden even as acts of countermeasures or of reprisals in armed conflicts. With these features, international crimes normally generate in the customary process articulated by codification conventions, or by some resolutions of the UN General Assembly (like the definition of aggression).14 If a sufficient number of States become parties to these conventions, and the important group of ‘specially interested States’15 do not oppose them, international crimes as codified in these conventions obtain the feature of being recognized as such by the international community of States as a whole. On the basis of the above criteria it can be alleged that the following internationally wrongful acts constitute international crimes in general international law of the present time: (i) piracy on the high seas (ii) slavery and slave trade, (iii) the crime of aggression, (iv) crimes against humanity, (v) the crime of genocide, and (vi) war crimes.16 The first candidate for a new international crime is that of international terrorism. The reason why this particular crime has so far not attained all the features of other international crimes is that the international community as a whole has not yet agreed on its definition. All the forms of international terrorism should be defined in a general codification convention, like for instance the 1948 Genocide Convention. Even a better solution seems to be to include in the text of the Rome Statute, at the next Review Conference, the definitions of the crime of international terrorism, as well as that of the crime of aggression. There is no more suitable impartial instance than the ICC for combating this scourge of the international community. It can, however, not be excluded that, like terrorism, some other international crimes appear in the future, if they meet all the above criteria. These could be some transnational organized crimes such as trafficking in arms, large-scale drug trafficking, participation in organized criminal groups, money laundering, obstruction of justice, or smuggling of migrants.17 All international crimes involve personal criminal responsibility of their perpetrators, but some can involve international responsibility of the wrong-doing State as well. In this respect, a variety of situations relating to the perpetrators of these international crimes exist in practice. Crimes of piracy, slavery and drug trafficking are usually committed by individuals or groups acting in their own interest. Although anything in life is possible, it is difficult to impute, i.e. to ‘attribute’, these acts to one or more States. As such, these crimes seem to be unsuitable to fall under the jurisdiction of 14

UN General Assembly Res. 3314, UN Doc. A/RES/3314 (XXIX).

15

North Sea Continental Shelf case (Germany v. Denmark), Judgment of 26 April 1968, 1969 ICJ Rep. 42-42, paras. 73-74.

16

To this list some authors add torture in all circumstances.

17

To these ends the UN Convention against Transnational Organized Crimes was signed in Palermo in 2000, with its three supplementing protocols so far.

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international tribunals. Some of the most dreadful crimes such as genocide, apartheid, terrorism, or crimes against humanity, can also be committed by groups of individuals acting in their own personal capacity; but individuals can be inspired by or act as agents of a State. However, crimes against peace (i.e. the crime of aggression) can by definition be committed by individuals only if acting in the capacity of State organs. State responsibility cannot be dissociated from them, while in other cases this must be proved. It is precisely the ‘supreme’ crime of aggression that nowadays does not lie within the jurisdiction of any international criminal court or tribunal. National jurisdictions are absolutely incapable of prosecuting this specific international crime, especially against acting heads of State and Government.

III.

Judicial Bodies Competent to Deal With International Crimes

In its 2007 Judgment on the Application of the Genocide Convention, the ICJ recalled ‘the fundamental distinction between the existence and binding force of obligations arising under international law and the existence of a court or tribunal with jurisdiction to resolve disputes about compliance with these obligations. The fact that there is not such a court or tribunal does not mean that the obligations do not exist. They retain their validity and legal force. States are required to fulfil their obligations under international law, including international humanitarian law, and they remain responsible for acts contrary to international law which are attributable to them.’18

This statement concerned legal obligations of States. The situation is, however, not dissimilar with that of legal obligations of individuals not to commit any of the above quoted international crimes. For instance, persons committing aggression remain responsible for this international crime although, as already said, there is at present no international court or tribunal competent for their punishment. In this case, responsibility remains rather ‘platonic’. The same applies to the responsibility of an aggressor State if the latter is much stronger than its victim and this relationship practically excludes recourse to the right of self-defence by the victim State. And if the aggressor State is a permanent member of the Security Council, or another State acting under its protection, coercive measures under Chapter VII of the UN Charter are impossible. With these realities in view, we shall now separately deal with judicial bodies that may be competent to prosecute individual perpetrators of international crimes, and with international courts and tribunals that can deal with some international crimes within their jurisdiction. That will allow us to draw some conclusions.

18

Cf., Application of the Convention on Prevention and Punishment of Crime of Genocide (Bosnia Herzegovina v. Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro), Judgment of 26 February 2007, 2007 ICJ Rep., para. 148.

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A.

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Prosecution of Individual Perpetrators

Quite a number of scholars advocate various measures in order to avoid that major individual perpetrators of the most serious international crimes enjoy impunity. These authors want to advance these measures in law, hoping that no such perpetrator or his superior remains unpunished, wherever the crime was committed. However, these efforts have their limits. They should never degenerate into the notorious violation of the principle of nullum crimen sine poena by Judges in Nazi Germany. These measures should not encroach upon well established general principles of criminal law which are now part of human rights guarantees. Some experts in public international law are not always aware of these limits, even when acting as judges at international criminal tribunals.

1.

Domestic Courts

The erga omnes obligation of all States to prohibit international crimes does not have an immediate effect on the prosecution of these crimes, either by national organs, or by international criminal courts and tribunals. Customary rules, even peremptory, cannot have a straightforward impact on criminal proceedings. For this very reason, multilateral conventions that define international crimes and provide for other obligations of States parties to prevent, suppress and punish these crimes, including various kinds of judicial assistance, cannot be substituted by any peremptory norms of general international law as such. In order for a domestic court to establish its jurisdiction for the prosecution offences constituting crimes under international law, it is not sufficient that the respective State became a party to the convention in question. Even in those States that recognize the supremacy of international law in the municipal sphere, or whose constitution provides for the primacy of treaties over national legislative acts, an independent court can declare that it lacks competence if such an offence is not also expressly prohibited by criminal law of that State. Domestic courts shall strictly apply the general principle of law, which was confirmed in human rights conventions, according to which no one shall be convicted of any act or omission that did not constitute a criminal offence under the applicable law at the time of its commission.19 In order to prevent such situations, the respective conventions oblige States parties to adjust their criminal legislation according to their provisions, or to enact new laws to this end which are necessary for the prosecution (or for extradition to other States) of perpetrators of the offences in question.

19

Although constitutions and other national laws in modern times prescribe that an offence can be prescribed by international law as well, general international law and the conventions in force do not provide penalties for the commission of crimes. It is in any event not wise to leave it to the discretion of domestic judges to establish and interpret rules of international law, because that can produce contradictory judicial practice in this subject-matter even within one State.

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Hence the 1948 Genocide Convention provides in its Article V: ‘The Contracting Parties undertake to enact, in accordance with their respective Constitutions, the necessary legislation to give effect to the provisions of the present Convention, and, in particular, to provide effective penalties for persons guilty of genocide or any of the other acts enumerated in Article III.’

The common paragraph 1 in the respective provisions of the four 1949 Geneva Conventions also states: ‘The High Contracting Parties undertake to enact any legislation necessary to provide effective penal sanctions for persons committing, or ordering to be committed, any of the grave breaches of the present Convention [...].’20

It actually happens that some States never adopt legislation to implement treaties they ratified, or do not properly publish it in their official gazettes, or that the definition of the crime in national legislation is incomplete, or that the obligation of universal jurisdiction is missing, etc.21 Usually, other States parties to these treaties will not care enough to have each one of them correctly adjust its legislation to the crime defined in the convention. The situation may be different with regard to treaty stipulations of a contractual nature that provide various types of mutual legal assistance, including extradition. If one State party refuses to comply with a lawful request by another party in such case, it will have to expect reciprocal practice. However, the conventions codifying universally recognized international crimes are as yet scarce of obligations of this kind. As a matter of fact, in the application of the above mentioned provisions, there are very few cases in which members of national armed forces were adequately punished by domestic courts for the commission of international crimes. Sometimes a genuine international crime is qualified as a minor disciplinary offence, and sometimes not even that. It is curious that the same thing is observed in many cases of international crimes committed by enemy forces, probably for the fear of reciprocity. This scarcity of practice strongly indicates that by including international crimes in their penal laws, States merely pay lip service to their international obligations. National courts are perhaps ready to prosecute individuals for crimes which they commit in their own personal interest, such as drug trafficking. However, if a criminal act may involve the international responsibility of the respective State – even only indirectly –,responsible persons most frequently will remain unpunished, or receive only symbolic punishment.

20

See common para. 1 of the 1949 Convention for the Amelioration of the Conditions of the Wounded and Sick in Armed Forces in the Field, 75 UNTS 31, art. 49; 1949 Convention for the Amelioration of the Conditions of the Wounded, Sick and Shipwrecked Members of Armed Forces at Sea, 75 UNTS 31, art. 50; 1949 Convention relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, 75 UNTS 135, art. 129; and 1949 Convention relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War, 75 UNTS 287, art. 146.

21

See some concrete examples of this unlawful practice in A. Cassese, International Criminal Law 305-306 (2003).

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Domestic courts invoke various bases of jurisdiction that imply a territorial link, as this is regularly provided for in national criminal law. The territorial principle is the basic one in all criminal legislations and it directly emanates from the territorial sovereignty of States. Following this principle, even when in case of trans-frontier effects of a crime in more than one State, criminal jurisdiction can be exercised on the territory of each of them. Domestic courts, whenever they establish their jurisdiction, apply criminal laws of their State only, including international agreements to which this State is a party. The principle of active personality emanates from the personal sovereignty of States, but is always subsidiary to the territorial principle. According to this principle, every State is entitled to prosecute its own nationals for crimes they committed abroad, but it has no right to apprehend them there. National legislations of all States also provide for real or protective jurisdiction, if a foreigner has grossly violated some of their national interests abroad, such as assaults on their diplomatic agents or premises, counterfeiting the national currency, acts of espionage, etc. There is still no such agreement on the principle of ‘passive nationality’, i.e. for crimes committed abroad against domestic nationals, when the foreign perpetrator was not properly punished in the territorial State. All the above mentioned grounds of domestic criminal jurisdiction are exercised in the national interest of each State individually, in order to protect its own values and domestic legal order. By contrast, universal criminal jurisdiction is considered to be exercised in the interest of the international community as a whole, in order to prevent impunity for international and transnational crimes. However, because every judicial process is costly, States are generally unwilling to give full effect to it, even when they assumed such an obligation by a treaty. Belgium was in one period an exception to that, but many difficulties were revealed in its operation. On 26 August 2005, the Institute of International Law adopted an important resolution at its Krakow Session on ‘Universal criminal jurisdiction with regard to the crime of genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes’.22 Paragraph 1 of this resolution suggested the following definition: ‘1. Universal jurisdiction in criminal matters, as an additional ground of jurisdiction, means the competence of a State to prosecute alleged offenders and to punish them if convicted, irrespective of the place of commission of the crime and regardless of any link of active or passive nationality, or other grounds of jurisdiction recognized by international law.’

However, in spite of the statement in paragraph 2 that ‘universal jurisdiction is primarily based on customary international law’, there is today no erga omnes obligation of all States to exercise universal jurisdiction through their domestic judicial organs. Unless assumed as a treaty obligation, it remains a mere option. But this also means that no State could lawfully complain about its exercise by another State when it is a matter of

22

71-I Annuaire de l’Institut de droit international, Session de Cracovie, 215-338 (Paris 2005). See in particular the reports by Christian Tomuschat and the literature indicated therein, ibid, at 215-265.

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prosecution of generally recognized international crimes, subject to other requirements as were correctly formulated in that resolution. State practice indicates a general unwillingness to exercise universal jurisdiction even if the latter is considered an obligation under the conventions codifying international crimes. The most significant basis for universal jurisdiction may be found in common paragraph 2 of the respective articles in the four Geneva Conventions of 1949. It contains a far-reaching legal obligation which reads: ‘Each High Contracting Party shall be under the obligation to search for persons alleged to have committed, or to have ordered to be committed, such grave breaches [of the present Convention], and shall bring such persons, regardless of their nationality, before its own courts. It may also, if it prefers, and in accordance with the provisions of its own legislation, hand such persons over for trial to another High Contracting Party concerned, provided such High Contracting Party has made out a prima facie case.’23

Practically all States in the world are now parties to the four Geneva Conventions. But this bulk of treaty obligations does not allow the hasty conclusion that they have been transformed into a customary rule of general international law. There are no customary rules without general practice, which however is lacking with regard to universal jurisdiction. This title of jurisdiction was properly exercised in the famous case of Adolf Eichmann before Israeli courts.24 The Pinochet case was widely publicized,25 but he was not extradited to Spain in the end. During the conflict in Bosnia-Herzegovina a few persons were brought to justice on this ground in Germany, and one in Denmark. For a certain period Belgian legislation provided for a large basis of this type of jurisdiction. However, faced with the Judgment by the ICJ of 2002 in Arrest Warrant,26 it had to restrain its legislation. These few instances do not amount to a general practice. It seems unlikely that this general unwillingness to perform this kind of jurisdiction will radically change some time in the future. There is, consequently, no reason to believe that universal jurisdiction will become an ‘effective means to prevent impunity for international crimes’, as noted in the preamble of the above quoted resolution by the Institute of International Law. For this reason, all partisans of international criminal justice should lend their full support to the International Criminal Court in The Hague.

23

In the equally authentic French version, the last part is formulated in a more precise way: ‘pour autant que cette Partie contractante ait retenu contre lesdites personnes des charges suffisantes’.

24

Attorney General of Israel v. Eichmann, District Court of Jerusalem, 1961, 36 ILR 5.

25

Pinochet case, 1999, 119 ILR 135.

26

Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000 (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Belgium), Judgment of 14 February 2002, 2002 ICJ Rep. 3.

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The Experiments with the ICTY and the ICTR

By resolutions under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, the UN Security Council established two ad hoc tribunals, namely the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY),27 and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR).28 Being part of the binding resolutions, the Statutes of these Tribunals became legally binding on all the member States of the UN. These include all sovereign States in the world, with the only exception of the State of Vatican. Because these Tribunals and their practice are better known to scholars of public international law than the case law of national courts in criminal matters, we shall focus our attention here only on some deficiencies in the Statutes of these Tribunals and in the practice of their organs. And because this author is more familiar with the conflict in the former Yugoslavia than with that in Rwanda, he will primarily deal with the ICTY. According to article 1 of its Statute, the jurisdiction of the ICTY ratione loci extends over the territory of the former Yugoslavia, and the jurisdiction ratione temporis covers crimes that have been committed since 1991. It has, however, an erga omnes jurisdiction ratione personae. Thus, whoever is suspected of the commission of a crime within its competence, falls within the jurisdiction of its Prosecutor. (i) The first deficiency relates to the applicable law as stipulated in the Statute of the ICTY. The supreme crime of aggression is not among the crimes within its jurisdiction. That was obviously the politically motivated wish of permanent members of the Security Council.29 According to its Statute, the ICTY has jurisdiction ratione materiae for the following four international crimes: grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions of 1949 (article 2), violations of the laws or customs of war (article 3), genocide (article 4); and crimes against humanity (article 5). However, the crimes provided for in Article 2 are applicable only in international armed conflicts. Article 3 is poorly drafted and, as a consequence, there was a lacuna in the law applicable in non-international armed conflicts. In fact, on the territory of the former Yugoslavia every conflict started as an internal one. The judges of the Tribunal recognized this deficiency as an opportunity to create new law. They deduced the ‘customary rules’ mostly from ‘elementary considerations of humanity’ as presumably being their own opinio juris sive necessitatis. The borderline between lex lata and lex ferenda is thus almost completely blurred. Still, the Tribunal expects States to conform their practice in warfare to this ‘judge-made law’ in future international and non-international armed conflicts, which has however not occured up to now. (ii) Pursuant to its article 9(2), the ICTY enjoys primacy over national courts. At any stage of the procedure, the Tribunal may formally request national courts to defer to it any case under its jurisdiction. Further, according to article 29(2), States shall comply

27

Cf. UN Security Council Res. 827, UN Doc. S/RES/827 (1993).

28

UN Security Council Res. 955, UN Doc. S/RES/855 (1994).

29

It could, however, be useful to provide the crimes against peace applicable even in internal armed conflicts, as they happened in the former Yugoslavia, or now in Sudan in respect of its province of Darfur.

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‘without undue delay’ with any request for assistance or with an order issued by a Trial Chamber, including in particular the identification and location of persons, their arrest or detention and the surrender or the transfer of the accused to the Tribunal. On the other hand, the Statute does not provide for any form of intervention by interested States in these proceedings, including in the above mentioned requests for assistance. There is an obvious lack of balance in this respect which is itself an obstacle to a smooth cooperation of these States with the Tribunal and the Prosecutor. In spite of this lacuna, the Tribunal did not hesitate to include in its judgments the issue of the responsibility of the States concerned. Dismissing the so-called ‘test of overall control’, previously established by the ICTY’s Appeals Chamber in the Tadić case,30 the ICJ has warned in its 2007 Judgment on the Genocide Convention on the following: ‘The Court [...] finds itself unable to subscribe to the Chamber’s view. First, the Court observes that the ICTY was not called upon in the Tadić case, nor is it in general called upon, to rule on questions of State responsibility, since its jurisdiction is criminal and extends over persons only. Thus, in that Judgment the Tribunal addressed an issue which was not indispensable for the exercise of its jurisdiction. [T]he Court attaches the utmost importance to the factual and legal findings made by the ICTY in ruling on the criminal liability of the accused before it [...]. The situation is not the same for positions adopted by the ICTY on issues of general international law which do not lie within the specific purview of its jurisdiction and, moreover, the resolution of which is not always necessary for deciding the criminal cases before it.’31

For questions of State responsibility by the Yugoslavia Tribunal – even if they only form part of obiter dicta –, the States concerned should have been represented by their agents and counsel in the proceeding, and they should have in addition the right to nominate their ad hoc Judges in its respective Chambers. Nothing of that is provided for in the Tribunal’s Statute. (iii) The third main lacuna is the lack of a complete statement of general principles of criminal law. Neither is such a list included in the Statute of the ICTY, nor did the Tribunal itself establish these general principles in its Rules of Procedure and Evidence. Instead, on 14 January 2000, the Trial Chamber in the Kupreškić case establish something which reminds the reader of the Martens Clause: ‘[A]ny time the Statute does not regulate a specific matter, and the Report of the Secretary-General does not prove to be of assistance in the interpretation of the Statute, it falls to the Tribunal to draw upon (i) rules of customary international law or (ii) general principles of international criminal law; or lacking such principles, (iii) general principles of criminal law common to major legal systems of the world; or, lacking such principles, (iv) general principles of law consonant with the basic requirements of international justice.’ (para. 591)

30

Prosecutor v. Tadić, Case No. IT-94-1, Judgment of 15 July 1999, 38 ILM 1518, at 1546 (1999), para. 145.

31

Application of the Genocide Convention, supra note 18, para. 403.

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On this basis, the Chambers of the Tribunal deduced actus reus and mens rea for particular cases as alleged rules of ‘customary law’. In addition, there should be no substantial differences between the so-called ‘general principles of international criminal law’ and the proper general principles of law binding on judges in all criminal matters. The Tribunal in its rulings often confused the concepts of general principles, customary law, and judicial precedent. That was generally done to the detriment of the rights of the accused in proceedings.32 (iv) The Statute of the ICTY does not provide for any compensation to the victims of unlawful arrest and detention by the Tribunal. If this problem was regulated in full accordance with the human right to compensation for any person who was the victim of unlawful arrest or detention, the Prosecutor would have been much more careful in the initiation of indictments and in issuing orders of arrest.33 (v) It would even have been justified to provide a scheme regarding reparation of the victims of crimes, including restitution, compensation and rehabilitation, as is now provided for in Article 75 of the Rome Statute of the ICC. (vi) Finally, a few words must be said on the powers of the Prosecutor of the ICTY. In criminal proceedings, whether adversarial or inquisitorial, the role of the prosecution should not be more important than that of the defence. Prosecution regularly has more personnel and financial resources at its disposal than the defence of the accused.34 According to the Statute, the Prosecutor is invested with comprehensive powers in pre-trial investigations. He/she not only has the absolute freedom to decide whether or not to initiate the investigation, and against whom, but performs them detached from any judicial scrutiny. Only at the end of the investigation does the reviewing judge admit or dismiss the indictment. But even in this phase of the proceedings, the suspect and his counsel have no right to assist in the proceedings. Therefore, the confirmation of an indictment is more often than not a simple formality. However, it must be acknowledged that international criminal courts and tribunals have no police or other enforcement powers at their disposal that could locate suspects and arrest and transfer them to their seat. In case of the ICTY, the Office of Prosecution has the tremendous task to induce the respective UN member States to provide the necessary assistance. If the Tribunal does not have the major suspects of crimes arrested and transferred to The Hague, in spite of its enormous financial expenses, trials only of persons of minor importance in the hierarchy are not sufficient to fulfill its mission. Due to the large scale and gravity of the crimes that have occurred on the territory of the former Yugoslavia, there probably should not be serious complaints against such broad powers, on condition that the Prosecutor carries them out impartially 32

See the details in V.-D. Degan, ‘On the Sources of International Criminal Law’, 1 Chinese Journal of International Law (2005) 45-83.

33

After four years spent in the Hague prison, the three Kupreškić brothers from Vitez are entitled to no compensation. The same was with the arrest of wrong persons, or keeping in detention other persons who were acquitted by the final judgment.

34

It was only the mark of dictatorial regimes, especially in the former Soviet Union and other countries of the Soviet Block, that the prosecution was in a privileged position, allegedly representing the highest interests of the society.

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with respect to all crimes committed within the jurisdiction of the Tribunal, even if the suspects belong to international forces engaged. All UN members States, including the five permanent members of the Security Council, should acquiesce to the same obligations. It must be held to the credit of the Prosecution of the ICTY that it marked the scenes of the biggest crimes and identified their victims. These tragic facts are not easy to deny, not even in judicial proceedings. But this only relates to the crimes committed by the conflicting parties in the former Yugoslavia and to their victims. The Prosecution has never dared to investigate the use of prohibited weapons by NATO air force in Bosnia in 1995, and in Serbia (including Kosovo) in 1999. In view of these considerations, the Tribunal nevertheless confirmed its importance in carrying out its main task. As was highlighted in the never completed Pinochet case, the work of the Tribunal has confirmed that future political and military leaders must know that their policies of ethnic cleansing aimed at changing State frontiers, their acts of genocide, rape, forced prostitution, etc. will perhaps not go unpunished.

3.

The (Permanent) International Criminal Court

Unlike the Statute of the ICTY, the 1998 Rome Statute of the ICC was drafted with much more care, not the least because experts of both public international law and criminal law were involved in the drafting. Its text was in fact intended to prevent most of the problems and deficiencies encountered by the ICTY criticized above. Articles 6 to 8 of the ICC Statute codify the rules of law applicable by the Court. The following crimes presently fall within its jurisdiction: genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes. Of special importance is the broad text of article 8 relating to war crimes. Once a great majority of States, including all permanent members of the UN Security Council, become parties to the Rome Statute, its articles 7 and 8 may be considered a complete codification of general customary international law in the field of international crimes, humanitarian law and the law of armed conflict – all of which, in fact, form a unity. Article 21 of the Rome Statute establishes a hierarchy of all rules of law applicable by the ICC. Frequent misuse of the term ‘customary law’ in the past might be the reason why it is not referred to as such. In Part 3, the Rome Statute contains the general principles of criminal law in written form. Among these principles are those on individual criminal responsibility and on the various forms of perpetration of and participation in a crime (article 25), on mens rea (article 30), on the grounds excluding criminal responsibility (article 31), on errors of fact or law (article 32), etc. These are in fact the substantial provisions in the ‘general part’ of criminal laws in many jurisdictions, which judges must not disregard or interpret at will. The function of the Prosecutor of the ICC is part of the judicial power, and the rights of the accused and indicted are better protected before the ICC than before the ICTY. Furthermore, various kinds of intervention by the States concerned in pending proceedings are provided for in the Rome Statute. This is not the place, though, to go into further detail of the Rome Statute, its elements of crime and very detailed rules on procedure and evidence.

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With the Rome Statute, the international community has created a very costly machinery for the prosecution of crimes within its jurisdiction. At present, it is of utmost importance that its Prosecutor, with the approval of the Pre-Trial Chambers, initiates investigations within his powers, and that the UN Security Council does not impede these activities by politically motivated decisions. One may well hope that a comparison of expenditures and the number of final judgments rendered by the Court in some ten years time will not lead to the conclusion that this machinery is too costly, and as such inefficient.

B.

International Courts and Tribunals Competent to Decide on State Responsibility for International Crimes

This quite different aspect of the problem proves the total disorganization of the present international community which consists in the fact that sovereign States cannot be sued for their internationally wrongful acts unless they have agreed on the jurisdiction of an international court or tribunal. Hence, although the ICJ is the principal judicial organ of the United Nations according to article 92 of the Charter, it has no jurisdiction over disputes between its member States or others without their approval. There is no need to go into further detail on this issue which is well-known to any scholar of international law. Apart from this general situation, however, due to the strong condemnation of the crime of genocide, the vast majority of States are parties to the 1948 Convention on the prevention and suppression of this particular international crime. Its article IX provides: ‘Disputes between the Contracting Parties relating to the interpretation, application or fulfilment of the present Convention, including those relating to the responsibility of a State for genocide, or for any of the other acts enumerated in Article III, shall be submitted to the International Court of Justice at the request of any of the parties to the dispute.’

This provision is the only basis for a unilateral application before the ICJ by a State party against another State party to this Convention. Outsiders, including many politicians, are ignorant of the fact that no similar convention on the prevention, suppression and punishment of the crime of aggression has been concluded, which does not even seem to be politically conceivable. Nor do the four 1949 Geneva Conventions, defining their grave breaches as international crimes, contain a provision on the compulsory settlement of disputes between the its parties. In short, no international crime – with the exception of genocide – lies within the compulsory jurisdiction of the ICJ, enabling unilateral applications by an injured State. In such a situation, it is hard to expect that a State, suspected of the commission of international crimes other than genocide, will voluntarily agree with the alleged victim State on the jurisdiction of the ICJ or of inter-State arbitration for a final settlement of their dispute. No political organ can impose such jurisdiction on sovereign States. Therefore, the establishment of a criminal tribunal, prosecuting States for their

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commission of international crimes and rendering punitive sanctions against them, does not seem realistic.

IV.

Differences between Individual Responsibility and State Responsibility for International Crimes

We will now address the core of the subject-matter, starting with the criminal aspects of this topic. (i) According to a maxim in criminal law, being rooted in Roman as well as in canon law, actus non facit reum nisi mens sit rea, which means that an act does not make a person guilty of a crime unless the person’s mind is also ‘guilty’.35 Hence, besides the material element of a crime (actus reus) the guilty mind (mens rea) of its perpetrator is also required. Article 30 of the 1998 Rome Statute, entitled ‘Mental element’, provides as follows: ‘1. Unless otherwise provided, a person shall be criminally responsible and liable for punishment of a crime within the jurisdiction of the Court only if the material elements are committed with intent and knowledge. 2. For the purposes of this Article, a person has intent where: (a) in relation to conduct, that person means to engage in the conduct; (b) in relation to a consequence, that person means to cause that consequence or is aware that it will occur in the ordinary course of events. 3. For the purposes of this Article “knowledge” means awareness that a circumstance exists or a consequence will occur in the ordinary course of events. “Know” and “knowingly” shall be construed accordingly.’

Intent and knowledge express the principal composition of ‘intention’ by both volitional and cognitive components.36 The intent of the suspected perpetrator exists, firstly, in respect of his conduct and his will to engage in it, and, secondly, with respect to consequences, his will to cause them, or his awareness that they will occur in the ordinary course of events. Therefore, the sum of the requirements in article 30 indirectly exclude the strict liability of the perpetrator. Negligence or recklessness, and even omission, as grounds for responsibility, are neither provided nor defined in article 30 itself, but they are governed elsewhere, for instance in article 28. A military commander or other superior shall be criminally responsible for crimes committed by forces under his effective command, or by his other subordinates, ‘as a result of his or her failure to exercise control properly’ over them. 35

Cf., A. Eser, ‘Mental Elements – Mistake of Fact and Mistake of Law’, in A. Cassese/P. Gaeta/J. R. W. D. Jones (eds.), The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, Vol. I, at 890 (2002).

36

Ibid., at 907.

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(ii) As stressed above, the responsibility of States in international law has no criminal elements – it is of an ‘objective nature’. Nevertheless, this does not equal strict liability, unless provided by other, specific legal rules. The elements of an internationally wrongful act of a State are set forth in article 2 of the 2001 Articles on State Responsibility by the ILC: ‘There is an internationally wrongful act of a State when conduct consisting of an action or omission: (a) is attributable to the State under international law; and (b) constitutes a breach of an international obligation of the State.’

Hence, an internationally wrongful act (including international crimes) can consist both of an action or omission. As the ILC’s commentary points out, ‘[c]ases in which the international responsibility of a State has been invoked on the basis of an omission are at least as numerous as those based on positive acts’.37 With regard to State responsibility, the material element consists in a breach of an international obligation by the conduct of any State organ, ‘whether the organ exercises legislative, executive, judicial, or any other function, whatever the position it holds in the organization of the State (Article 4(1)). There is a breach of an international obligation by a State when its act ‘is not in conformity with what is required of it by that obligation, regardless of its origin or character’ (article 12). Consequently, the basis of these obligations is very broad. Articles 4 to 11 define attribution of conduct to a State, and articles 16 to 18 regulate responsibility of a State in connection with the acts of another State. Thus, these numerous rules on attribution replace what is the mental element of personal perpetrators of international crimes. Where unlawful acts of a State are concerned, there is no ‘command responsibility’. The wrongdoing State is responsible for the acts and omissions attributable to it by all the organs in its hierarchy. However, according to article 55, the above provisions do not apply ‘where and to the extent that the conditions for the existence of an internationally wrongful act [...] are governed by special rules of international law’. Such special rules can provide something different, as does for instance article 30 of the Rome Statute in respect of the ‘mental element’.

37

Commentary to art. 2, para. 4, reproduced in J. Crawford, The International Law Commission’s Articles on State Responsibility 82 (2002).

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The 2007 Judgment of the ICJ on the Application of the Genocide Convention (Bosnia-Herzegovina v. Serbia)

Article II of the 1948 Genocide Convention contains a rule of attribution that deviates from the general ones presented above. It reads: ‘In the present Convention, genocide means any of the following acts committed with the intention to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such: (a) killing members of the group; (b) causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; (c) deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; (d) imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; (e) forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.’ (Italics added.)

If the Applicant State cannot prove in the proceedings this special intention, which the Court has called dolus specialis, the case in question is not dealt with as genocide but another international crime, i.e. a crime against humanity or a war crime. Article 4 of the Statute of the ICTY contains the same provision, including dolus specialis. While the ICTY is also competent to adjudicate on other crimes, the ICJ does not have jurisdiction over these, as they do not come within the 1948 Genocide Convention. However, having said that, the ICTY and the ICTR cannot adjudicate financial compensation to victims of crimes. They are only competent for the punishment of the perpetrators, whereas the ICJ, having established a violation of the Genocide Convention by one of its parties, can award compensation to be paid by the wrong-doing State. Article III of the Convention also provides: ‘The following acts shall be punishable: (a) genocide; (b) conspiracy to commit genocide; (c) direct and public incitement to commit genocide; (d) attempt to commit genocide; (e) complicity in genocide.’

The same provision is embodied in the text of article 4 of the ICTY’s Statute (and in article 2 of the ICTR’s Statute). At this point, we finally arrive at a situation of overlapping between individual criminal responsibility and State responsibility for the same international crime. Criminal courts and tribunals apply the same substantive rules as the ICJ. All these jurisdictions apply the same restrictive rules concerning the existence of the crime of genocide, including dolus specialis. For this reason, it is more difficult to prove genocide than any other international crime.

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Furthermore, there are important differences in these two kinds of procedure before the ICTY and the ICJ which have to be stressed. A significant distinction, especially between the powers of the Prosecutor of the ICTY and those of the Applicant State before the ICJ, exists in respect of collecting evidence for the proceedings. In this regard, the ICTY went beyond the rules of its Statute. According to the Blaškić (subpoena) Judgment by its Appeals Chamber of 1997, the Tribunal’s Prosecutor is authorized directly to carry out these activities on the territory of a State in two situations. Firstly, when the State was one of the former belligerents and entities of the former Yugoslavia, and secondly, for other States, when such an investigative activity is authorized by national implementing legislation.38 In addition, according to the Appeals Chamber, the Tribunal is authorized to reach out directly to private individuals if they are needed to testify in court or deliver a particular document, and if the State concerned has refused to comply with an order of the Tribunal; in such a case, the Tribunal can directly summon a witness or order an individual to hand over evidence or appear in court.39 The Rome Statute does not contain such far-reaching obligations of its States parties. The ICC cannot issue subpoena orders against an individual. If a party fails to comply with a request by the Court to cooperate, the Court can only ‘make a finding to that effect’ and refer the matter to the Assembly of States Parties, or to the UN Security Council if the latter itself referred the matter to the Court (article 87(7) of the Statute). Proceedings in the ICJ are substantially different in this respect. First, the Court does not have a Prosecutor of its own. Furthermore, there is no difference with regard to the positions of the Applicant and Respondent during the proceedings. One cannot imagine the Applicant State being authorized to gather evidence on the territory of the Respondent State, nor is it conceivable that the belligerent States of the former SFRY would have been treated differently than any other State appearing before the Court. As the procedure before the ICJ is strictly adversarial, the Court can rely only on the evidence in possession of and presented by the Applicant. In some circumstances, though, the Court can act proprio motu. Article 62 of the Rules of Court thus qualifies article 49 of the Statute as follows: ‘1. The Court may at any time call upon the parties to produce such evidence or to give such explanations as the Court may consider to be necessary for the elucidation of any aspect of the matters in issue, or may itself seek other information for this purpose. 2. The Court may, if necessary, arrange for the attendance of a witness or expert to give evidence in the proceedings.’

Moreover, the Court may put questions to the agents, counsel and advocates in oral proceedings, and ask them for explanations (article 61 of the Rules). However, if a

38

Ibid., para. 55.

39

Ibid., paras. 55-56. For details see A. Cassese, International Criminal Law 410-412 (2003).

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party refuses to cooperate, according to article 49 of the Statute, only formal note is taken thereof.40 Following this preliminary explanation, I shall now proceed with some issues raised by the Applicant State and decided by the Court in its 2007 Judgment. Already in the preliminary phase, Bosnia-Herzegovina invoked various ‘additional bases of jurisdiction of the Court’ in order to enable it ‘to make findings on some of the means used by Yugoslavia to perpetrate the genocide [...] and in particular its recourse to a war of aggression during which it seriously violated the 1949 Geneva Conventions and the 1977 Protocols I and II’.41 In this respect the Court was firm: ‘The jurisdiction of the Court in this case is based solely on Article IX of the Convention. All the other grounds of jurisdiction invoked by the applicant were rejected in the 1996 Judgment on jurisdiction [...]. The Court [...] has no power to rule on alleged breaches of other obligations under international law, not amounting to genocide, particularly those protecting human rights in armed conflicts.’42

Throughout the proceedings, the Applicant tried to convince the Court of the existence of genocidal intent of Serbs, as expressed in their particular ‘pattern of acts’ in camps in Bosnia-Herzegovina and in their treatment of minority populations in the FRY. The Court did not agree with this reasoning: ‘The dolus specialis, the specific intent to destroy the group in whole or in part, has to be convincingly shown by reference of particular circumstances, unless a general plan to that end can be convincingly demonstrated to exist; and for a pattern of conduct to be accepted as evidence of its existence, it would have to be such that it could only point to the existence of such intent.’43

The Court concluded that the Applicant’s allegation of such a general plan with this specific intent was not demonstrated. A considerable part of the Judgment was dedicated to the description of atrocities committed by the Serb side in the principal areas of Bosnia and in various detention camps, as indicated in the application. The Court’s findings on the crimes committed were based on impartial sources: final Judgments by the ICTY, the ‘Mazowiecki Com40

In addition, according to art. 66 of its Rules, the Court may decide to obtain the evidence at a place or locality to which the case relates, but only after ascertaining the views of the parties and subject to necessary arrangements with the government of the territorial State. In practice, it has hardly ever made use of this power which has nothing in common with the powers of the ICTY’s Prosecutor in collecting evidence on the territory of States.

41

Application of the Convention on Prevention and Punishment of Crime of Genocide (Bosnia Herzegovina v. Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 11 July 1996, 1996 ICJ Rep. 595, at 617-618, para. 35.

42

Application of the Convention on Prevention and Punishment of Crime of Genocide, supra note 18, para. 147. On the same ground, the Court also excluded from its jurisdiction all the crimes committed by ‘ethnic cleansing’ unless they were covered by art. II of the Convention. See ibid., para. 190.

43

Ibid., para. 373.

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mission’, reports of the UN Secretary-General, etc. The events actually proved were horrifying. After these detailed descriptions, the Court concluded that the requirement of the material element as defined in paragraphs (a), (b) and (c) of Article II of the Convention was proved. Nevertheless, the Applicant did not prove, in the Court’s view, the dolus specialis of the perpetrators in committing all these crimes.44 In respect of paragraphs (d) and (e) of Article II, the Court found that the evidence placed before it did not enable it to conclude that Bosnian Serb forces committed acts which could be qualified as imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group, and forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.45 A different finding was made only in respect of the massacre at Srebrenica, starting on 13 July 1995, in which more than 7000 military-aged Bosnian Moslems were executed. With respect to this massacre, the Court relied on the final Judgments by the ICTY in Krstić and Blagojević regarding the existence of dolus specialis. According to these two Judgments, the killings were planned no earlier than on 12 July, and the government in Belgrade was not informed.46 It follows from what has been said above that Bosnia-Herzegovina could not prove the existence of dolus specialis with its own means of gathering evidence. In this respect, the ICJ was strongly dependent on the evidence produced by the Prosecutor and acknowledged in final Judgments by the ICTY. Hence, the Court only established the commission of the crime of genocide in Srebrenica and not in other Serb-controlled parts of Bosnia or on the territory of the FRY including Kosovo.47 Regarding the Srebrenica massacre, the responsibility lies with the Army of the Republika Srpska and its command. In respect of this entity, the Court concluded that it had never attained international recognition as a sovereign State, but that it only enjoyed some de facto independence, and had de facto control of substantial territory of Bosnia-Herzegovina.48 However, Bosnia-Herzegovina could not sue this unrecognized entity – which now constitutes one of its two components – before the ICJ.and therefore raised its application against the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Consequently, the main issue was the question of attribution of the Srebrenica massacre to the Respondent State. Meanwhile, criminal proceedings were carried out before the Trial Chamber of the ICTY against Slobodan Milošević. During the critical period he was the president of Serbia. According to the media, the Prosecution was unable to produce any document, nor deposition of a trustworthy witness to the Tribunal, which could connect Milošević 44

Cf., Application of the Convention on Prevention and Punishment of Crime of Genocide, supra note 18, paras. 276-277, 319, 354. However, in respect of a large-scale destruction of historical, religious and cultural property of Moslems under para. (c), the Court agreed with the Judgment of the ICTY in Krstić that the definition of acts of genocide is limited to those seeking the physical and biological destruction of a group. Ibid., para. 344.

45

Ibid., paras. 361, 367.

46

Ibid., paras. 278-297.

47

Ibid., paras. 368-369.

48

Ibid., paras. 233, 235. Which, however, allows the conclusion that this de facto entity bears de facto responsibility for all international crimes it actually committed, including the genocide at Srebrenica.

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with the Srebrenica massacre. Milošević also managed to destroy or conceal most documents on his personal responsibility for other crimes committed in Bosnia-Herzegovina. If Milošević had lived to see a verdict against him, and if he had been sentenced by the ICTY for genocide at Srebrenica, the ICJ itself would have had no choice but to attribute this crime to the FRY, in which Milošević had enjoyed the position of the most powerful political leader. But, as it happened, the decision on attribution fell entirely to the ICJ that was unable to resort to a decision by the ICTY regarding the existence of dolus specialis of Milošević. Therefore, we have to omit further explanations of the Judgment on this interesting aspect at this point.49 Before concluding, we shall make some critical remarks on several of the findings by the ICJ in the operative part of its 2007 Judgment.50 On the one hand, the Court seems to have been correct in stating ‘that it can only form its opinion on the basis of the information which has been brought to its notice at the time when it gives its decision, and which emerges from the pleadings and documents in the case file, and the arguments of the Parties made during the oral exchange.’51

On the other hand, in view of the heavy burden imposed on the Applicant to prove the existence of dolus specialis for each crime committed in Bosnia, the findings in paragraphs (2), (3) and (4) of the operative part of the Judgment do not seem to be the luckiest.52 Instead, the relevant operative paragraphs should have spelled out that ‘the Court finds, on the basis of the information presented to it, that Serbia has not committed genocide, through its organs or persons whose acts engage its responsibility’. The same reservation should apply also to operative paragraphs (3) and (4). Maybe by its emphatic conclusions the Court wanted to prevent a possible application for revision of its Judgment in the next ten years, but such a motivation sees inappropriate. In case of a future sentence of the ICTY, condemning a high officer of the Army of Yugoslavia, or a responsible commander of the Police of Serbia, for the genocide at Srebrenica, Bosnia-Herzegovina would be enabled to submit to the ICJ an application for the revision of its 2007 Judgment in accordance with the strict rules set forth in article 61 of its Statute. In respect of the finding of the Court that Serbia violated its obligation to prevent the genocide in Srebrenica (operative paragraph 5), it would seem that the conclusions on the applicable law in paragraphs 428 to 438 of the Judgment were well presented. This does not, however, relate to the factual finding in paragraph 437 on Milošević’s ignorance of these events.

49

See ibid., paras. 377-424.

50

See ibid., para. 471.

51

Ibid., para. 395.

52

Ibid., para. 471. The Court found that ‘Serbia has not committed genocide’ (operative para. 2), that ‘Serbia has not conspired to commit genocide’ (operative para. 3), and that ‘Serbia has not been complicit in genocide’ (operative para. 4).

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The weakest point in the entire Judgment appears to be the decision by the Court under operative paragraph 9 that, with regard to the breach of Serbia’s obligation to prevent genocide, the Court’s own findings in operative paragraphs 5 and 7 constituted in themselves appropriate satisfaction, ‘and that the case is not one in which an order for payment of financial compensation [...] would be appropriate’. The Court established the causal nexus between the genocide at Srebrenica and the responsibility of Serbia only for the time when that massacre happened.53 In this respect it relied on the precedent in the Corfu Channel case of 1949. However, the events in these two cases were profoundly different. In Corfu Channel, Albania was responsible for the deaths of 44 and personal injuries to 42 British officers and men during the innocent passage of two British warships through the Channel in October 1946. The Court, however, made a declaration that the mine-sweeping operation and collection of evidence by the UK constituted a violation of Albanian sovereignty. And, as the Court said, this ‘declaration [was] in itself appropriate satisfaction’.54 In the case of Srebrenica the matter was one of violation by Serbia of its obligation to prevent the massacre of about 8,000 men.55 Even more important is the fact that, during the break-up of Yugoslavia, the regime of Belgrade unlawfully appropriated most of the arms, ammunition and equipment of the former ‘Yugoslav People’s Army’, which should have been apportioned among all its successor States. With these arms, Serbia equipped the Army of the Republika Srpska in Bosnia-Herzegovina and the ‘Militia’ of the Serbian Kraina in Croatia. The military-aged Bosnian Muslim men were, in fact, murdered at Srebrenica with the arms which should have been their own.56 Under these circumstances, there should not be an alternative to the payment of financial compensation by Serbia, not in the full amount but in an appropriate share, to the victims of this crime and to their heirs. The ‘satisfaction’ to the victims provided by the Court’s Judgment looks like a mockery of justice. Finally, in spite of the wishes of some circles in Belgrade, there is almost no chance that the actual Serbian government complies with the findings, i.e. orders, by the Court in operative paragraphs 6 and 8 that General Ratko Mladić should immediately be transferred to The Hague and that Serbia should fully cooperate with the ICTY. Serbia’s policy today brings back to mind the attitude of the racist regime in South Africa which had also overlooked the Court’s Advisory Opinions from 1950 onwards, and numerous resolutions by the UN General Assembly and the Security Council from 1966 onwards.

53

Application of the Convention on Prevention and Punishment of Crime of Genocide, supra note 18, para. 462.

54

Corfu Channel (United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland v. Albania), Merits, Judgment of 9 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 4, at 35.

55

On this problem see also A. Gattini, ‘Breach of the Obligation to Prevent and Reparation Thereof in the ICJ’s Genocide Judgment’, 18 EJIL 695 (2007).

56

The problem of tangible movable property of the former SFRY which formed part of the military property of that State, was not finally settled by the 2001 Vienna Agreement on Succession Issues, 41 ILM 3-36 (2002). According to art. 4 of its Annex A, this problem shall be the subject of a special agreement, which has not yet been reached. Even this obligation does not relate to the responsibility for the past abuse of this property.

534

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Taking all this into account, the Court in fact rendered a declaratory judgment in this case, just as Serbia itself requested in its final submission. A considerable part of the responsibility for the present hostile attitude of the public against that Judgment lies with the agents and counsel of Bosnia-Herzegovina. Since the beginning of the proceedings, they had not ceased to pretend that the Court would extend its competence to the crime of aggression as well. They equalled all crimes committed in ethnic cleansings with genocide, and expected that the Court would adjudicate billions of dollars in compensation by Belgrade to all victims of the aggression. After the 1996 Judgment was rendered, there were no reasons for such expectations. The same story was repeated by Croatia after its application against the FRY in 1999. There were only few other cases, if any, before the Permanent Court of International Justice and the ICJ that involved so much human suffering and so many victims. It was not easy for the Judges to handle a pile of documents on all the horrible crimes committed. A rational person cannot see any justification for these crimes, whatever side was involved. Nevertheless, the responsibility of each perpetrator, and of each State, must be individual. Nothing is wronger as to pretend that in a hostile conflict there was no ‘blameless side’.

27

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Individuelle versus Staatenverantwortlichkeit im Zusammenhang mit Völkermord Frank Höpfel*

Das Urteil des Internationalen Gerichtshofs (IGH) vom 26. Februar 2007 in der Sache Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro) („Urteil“) führt den Kontrast zwischen individueller und kollektiver Verantwortung vor Augen. Diese beiden Ebenen lassen sich nicht immer leicht auseinander halten. In der organisatorischen Trennung des IGH von internationalen Strafgerichten – im Kontext des genannten Urteils vor allem: von dem vom Sicherheitsrat eingerichteten Strafgericht für das ehemalige Jugoslawien1 (ICTY) – kommt eine grundsätzliche Bipolarität zwischen der individuellen strafrechtlichen und der allgemein-völkerrechtlichen Staatenverantwortlichkeit zum Ausdruck. Diese Plastizität ginge verloren, wenn man die Ebene der Staatenverantwortlichkeit mit jener der individuellen strafrechtlichen Verantwortlichkeit vereinheitlichen wollte. Daher kommt der vielerörterten Ausweitung des Systems internationaler Gerichte („proliferation of international courts and tribunals“) zweifellos ein Wert zu. Er dürfte über den vertrauensbildenden Effekt der heute gegebenen vielgestaltigen Landschaft2 sogar hinausgehen. Die bereits in der Völkermordkonvention3 (im Folgenden VMK oder „Konvention“) imaginierte Vision eines internationalen Strafgerichts wurde vom IGH nun in Bezug auf Ex-Jugoslawien durch das ICTY als realisiert angesehen. Diesem Tribunal – es hatte zur Zeit der Klagseinbringung seine Tätigkeit noch nicht einmal aufgenommen – kommt im vorliegenden Urteil zentrale Bedeutung zu. Vor allem ist davon die Ebene der Sachverhaltsfeststellung betroffen (auch wenn der Gerichtshof auf dieser Ebene *

Für wertvolle Anregungen bin ich nicht nur dem Jubilar zutiefst zu Dank verpflichtet, der mir nach Karl Zemaneks Initiative im Gefolge der ersten Schritte des ICTY zum fächerübergreifenden Unterricht entscheidende Impulse gegeben und mich motiviert hat, mich mit dem Völkerstrafrecht näher zu befassen; für wichtige Gelegenheiten, meine Gedanken zu überprüfen, habe ich insbesondere auch Jelka Mayr-Singer, Lena Pampalk, Bill Schabas und Stefan Trechsel zu danken. Mein Überblick über das Schrifttum hat sich zudem durch Hinweise von Sawsan Baage und Astrid Reisinger-Coracini erweitert.

1

International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, eingerichtet durch UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 827, UN Doc. S/RES/827 (1993).

2

Vgl. dazu Th. Buergenthal, „Proliferation of International Courts and Tribunals: Is It Good or Bad?“, 14 Leiden Journal of International Law 267-275 (2001).

3

1948 Konvention über die Verhütung und Bestrafung des Völkermordes, UN Doc. A/ RES/260(III)A (1948), öBGBl. 1958/91.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 535-552, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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selbst Aktivitäten von seltener Intensität entfaltet hatte). In mehrfacher Hinsicht unterstützt der IGH die Arbeit des ICTY, auch wenn er sich mit der Anschauung, er hätte einen im Vergleich zu einem Strafverfahren höheren Beweisstandard zu beachten, in einen gewissen Widerspruch zu diesem zu setzen scheint. Dazu ist vielleicht zunächst ein Wort der Klarstellung angebracht (I.), ehe die Hinweise des Urteils zur Frage der Staatenverantwortlichkeit für Völkermord und zur Pflicht der Staaten, Völkermord zu verhüten bzw. an der Bestrafung mitzuwirken, kurz kommentiert werden (II. bis IV.). Im Weiteren soll zur Debatte um die Reichweite des Völkermordtatbestandes, dessen Grenzen in dem vorliegenden Urteil hervorragend ausgeleuchtet werden, Stellung genommen werden (V., VI.). Abschließend sei noch einmal der Sukkus jener Gegenüberstellung von individueller und Staatenverantwortlichkeit beleuchtet, die im Mittelpunkt unserer kurzen Ausführungen steht (VII.). Diese beziehen sich auf eine Fragestellung, der im Schaffen des Jubilars zentrale Bedeutung zukommt. Gerhard Hafner hat entscheidend zur Verwirklichung des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofes beigetragen4 und diese grundlegende Entwicklung auch in seine akademische Arbeit einbezogen.5 Er hat freilich auch den anderen Pol der im Titel dieses Beitrags angesprochenen Thematik, nämlich die völkerrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit von Staaten („State responsibility“), durch seine Mitwirkung an den dafür grundlegenden Arbeiten der Völkerrechtskommission der Vereinten Nationen mitgeprägt.6 Beide Ebenen, die der Staaten- und jene der individuellen Verantwortlichkeit, folgen zwar ihren eigenen Regeln, sie stehen aber in einem Wechselverhältnis, das typisch ist für die Beziehungen zwischen den zusehens zusammenwachsenden Disziplinen Völkerrecht und Strafrecht. Gleichzeitig spiegeln sie die Ebenen wider, auf denen heute der internationale Menschenrechtsschutz vor sich geht. Die VMK erweist sich in diesem Zusammenhang als ein frühes Dokument jener Entwicklung, die zur Ausbildung der individuellen Verantwortlichkeit für schwere Menschenrechtsverletzungen geführt hat. Gegenüber der gemeinsamen Wurzel stehen heute Strafrecht und Menschenrechtsschutz im eigentlichen Sinne als selbständige Systeme nebeneinander. Dankbar sei an dieser Stelle verzeichnet, dass es der Jubilar dem Autor dieser Zeilen möglich gemacht hat, in einer Serie aufschlussreicher Seminare nicht nur mit ihm, sondern gleichzeitig besonders für die menschenrechtliche Perspektive mit Manfred Nowak die reichen Überschneidungen dieser drei Fächer auszuleuchten. 4

Hier sei bloß in Erinnerung gerufen, dass Gerhard Hafner jene österreichische Delegation geleitet hat, die an der Versammlung der nachmaligen Vertragsstaaten des Römischen Statuts vom 17 Juli 1998 teilnahm (und die damit als die Sprecherin der Mitgliedstaaten der Europäischen Union fungierte, deren Ratsvorsitz damals eben die Republik Österreich übernommen hatte).

5

Paradigmatisch das Kapitel G. Hafners, „Die internationale Strafgerichtsbarkeit“, in H. Neuhold/W. Hummer/Ch. Schreuer (Hrsg.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts, Band I: Textteil, 533-537 (2004).

6

Zusammenfassend, Report of the Commission to the General Assembly on the work of its fiftythird session, 2001 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), 20-143. Vgl. dazu St. Wittich, „The International Law Commission’s Articles on the Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts Adopted on Second Reading“, 15 Leiden Journal of International Law 891 (2002).

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I. Anders als im Bereich des Menschenrechtsschutzes, wo vor allem durch die Rechtsprechung des Europäischen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte7 eine immer stärkere Integrierung von Verfahrensrecht und den zu schützenden Grundrechten selbst gelingt, sind für das Strafrecht – auch und gerade im internationalen Bereich – Abstriche vom Erfordernis eines gegen den Beschuldigten zu erbringenden Schuldnachweises jenseits vernünftiger Zweifel8 unvorstellbar. Im genannten Urteil nähert sich der IGH der Beweisfrage mit größter Umsicht, und er hebt hervor, sich nur dort zur Feststellung von Tatsachen verstehen zu können, wo dies auf einem hohen Niveau von Sicherheit, wie es der Schwere der Klagebehauptung angemessen sei, zustande komme („the Court requires proof at a high level of certainty appropriate to the seriousness of the allegation“).9 Der Gerichtshof konkretisiert diesen Standard, indem er, statt die traditionelle Formel eines „proof beyond reasonable doubt“ zu verwenden, schlechthin einen Beweis „beyond any doubt“ voraussetzt. Daraus ist vielleicht ein Missverständnis entstanden. War damit wirklich ein höherer Standard gemeint, als er im Strafverfahren gilt?10 Die Formel „beyond any doubt“ ist, bei Licht besehen, kein taugliches juristisches Werkzeug. Wörtlich genommen, würde sie lediglich eine psychologische Kategorie bezeichnen, mit der die normative Charakterisierung aufgeweicht würde, die mit dem Attribut „reasonable“ elegant gelingt. Eine radikale Subjektivierung des 7

Insbesondere zum Bereich Recht auf Leben (Artikel 2 EMRK) hat sich die Linie des EGMR seit 2000 maßgeblich geändert. Danach greift bei einem behaupteten „Verschwindenlassen“ für den Menschenrechtsgerichtshof eine wesentliche Beweiserleichterung ein (Timurtaş v. Türkei, Urteil vom 13 Juni 2000, Beschwerde Nr. 23531/94, Paras. 82-83; bekräftigt in Çiçek v. Türkei, Urteil vom 27 Februar 2001, Beschwerde Nr. 25704/94, Paras. 145-147). Siehe auch das Urteil der Großen Kammer vom 6 Juli 2005, Fall Nachova et al. v. Bulgarien, Beschwerden Nr. 43577/98 und 43579/98, wo Beweismaß wie Beweislast gegenüber einem Strafverfahren entscheidend modifiziert werden, indem die Pflicht des Staates, selbst nachforschend tätig zu werden, über Artikel 14 EMRK in die materielle Deutung des Rechts auf Leben einfließt, ibid., Paras. 128-130, 166-168. Vgl. Velásquez Rodríguez Fall, Urteil vom 29 Juli 1988, Inter-American Court of Human Rights (Ser. C) No. 4 (1988), Paras. 122-139, wo das Gericht sich vor der Aufgabe sah, die Gewichtigkeit der Beschwerdebehauptung im Kontext einer Praxis des Verschwindenlassen mit der Bestimmung der Beweisstandards im Sinne einer überzeugenden Herangehensweise („capable of establishing the truth of the allegations in a convincing manner“) in einen Ausgleich zu bringen.

8

Aus der Praxis des ICTY siehe das Čelebići Berufungsurteil, Prosecutor v. Delalić et al., IT-96-21-A, Berufungsurteil (Judgement on appeal) vom 20 Februar 2001, Para. 458; vgl. Prosecutor v. Brđanin, Urteil vom 1 September 2004, IT-99-36-T, Para. 22, sowie zuletzt etwa Prosecutor v. Haradinaj et al., IT-04-84-T, Urteil vom 5 April 2008, Para. 7.

9

Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro), Urteil vom 26 Februar 2007, noch nicht publiziert, http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/91/13685.pdf, Para. 210.

10

D. Müller, „Procedural Developments at the International Court of Justice“, 6 The Law and Practice of International Courts and Tribunals 447, 490 (2007), bezeichnet den angelegten Beweisstandard, ohne ihn zu analysieren, bloß als „more demanding“ bzw. „more difficult“.

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Beweisstandards dürfte aber mit der Formel des IGH nicht beabsichtigt gewesen sein. Sie widerspräche schon der Logik der Entscheidungsfindung im Richterkollegium. Das zeigt sich auch daran, dass der Gerichtshof – ohne vielleicht alle erreichbaren Beweismittel überhaupt verwertet zu haben11 – in vorsichtiger Form auf den Erkenntnissen aus einer Reihe von Verfahren vor dem ICTY aufbaut.12 Für dieses ergänzende Vorgehen hatte er nicht einmal alle Verfahrensgarantien zu beachten, die im Strafverfahren gelten. Nach den Grundsätzen des Strafverfahrensrechts ist es an sich nicht unproblematisch, Sachverhaltsfeststellungen aus anderen Fällen, in denen der Angeklagte keine Parteistellung genossen hat, zu übernehmen. Regel 94 (B) der Rules of Procedure and Evidence13 erlaubt es dem ICTY vielmehr nur in engen Grenzen, sich auf sogenannte „adjudicated facts“ zu stützen.14 So erscheinen die Sachverhaltsfeststellungen des IGH in Wahrheit auf einer Metaebene angesiedelt, auf der sie freilich mit besonderer Behutsamkeit und Klarheit entwickelt wurden. Es ist deshalb kein Schaden, sondern für sich allein schon aussagekräftig, dass dieses Verfahren über 13 Jahre in Anspruch genommen hat. Zum Urteilszeitpunkt (26. Februar 2007) mag bereits für viele vergessen gewesen sein, dass die Klage einige Monate vor der tatsächlichen Schaffung des ICTY durch Resolution des Sicherheitsrats 827 (1993) eingebracht worden war. Durch die nachherige Entwicklung hat sich der Unterschied zwischen individueller und Staatenverantwortlichkeit erst voll ausgeprägt. Es darf hier in Erinnerung gerufen werden, dass der Spruch des IGH zwar nicht die Begehung, wohl aber die Verletzung jener Pflichten von Staaten, die sich auf die Verhütung und die Bestrafung von Völkermord beziehen, konstatiert hat.

II. So bereitwillig sich der Gerichtshof auf die bereits vom ICTY vorgenommene Qualifizierung der schrecklichen Ereignisse, die mit dem Namen „Srebrenica“ untrennbar verbunden sind, als Verbrechen des Völkermordes eingelassen hat, so streng sind

11

Vgl. insbesondere Dissenting Opinion von Vize-Präsident Al-Khasawneh, Para. 35; vgl. dazu S. SáCouto, „Reflections on the Judgement of the International Court of Justice in Bosnia’s Genocide Case against Serbia and Montenegro“, 15 Human Rights Brief 2, 3, 54 (2007); R. J. Goldstone/R. J. Hamilton, „Bosnia v. Serbia: Lessons from the International Court of Justice‘s encounter with the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia“, 21 Leiden Journal of International Law 95, 107-108 (2008); siehe weiters: Dissenting Opinion von ad-hoc Richter Mahiou, Paras. 56-63.

12

Dieses Vorgehen ist auf – unberechtigte – Kritik von verschiedener Seite gestoßen; siehe zum Beispiel S. Sivakumaran, „Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro)“, 56 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 696-708 (2007).

13

Rules of Procedure and Evidence, Regel 94 (B), IT/32/Rev. 41 (Fassung 28 Februar 2008).

14

Illustrativ dazu etwa Prosecutor v. Blagojević and Jokić, IT-02-60-T, Decision on Prosecution’s Motion for Judicial Notice of Adjudicated Facts and Documentary Evidence, 19 Dezember 2003.

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andererseits die völkerrechtlichen Maßstäbe, an denen er die Zurechenbarkeit desselben zum beklagten Staat gemessen hat. Konnte der IGH hier doch auf den einleitend zitierten Arbeiten der ILC15 aufbauen, wonach es für den Begriff der Rechtsverletzung („internationally wrongful act of a State“) als Grundlage für die völkerrechtliche Staatenverantwortlichkeit nach Völkergewohnheitsrecht erforderlich ist, dass das fragliche Geschehen von einer Person oder einer Gruppe von Personen gesetzt wird, die auf Anordnung oder unter der Leitung oder faktischen Kontrolle dieses Staates („in fact acting on the instructions of, or under the direction or control of, that State in carrying out the conduct“) handeln.16 Schon die ILC hat gegenüber der weiter reichenden Ansicht des ICTY im Fall Tadić17 („overall control“; nicht notwendig „effective control“ im Sinne der Formel des IGH aus dem „Nicaragua“-Urteil18) deutliche Vorbehalte angemeldet.19 Der IGH konnte diese nun direkt übernehmen.20 Dabei macht er säuberlich auf den Unterschied in der Aufgabenstellung eines Straftribunals und des IGH aufmerksam: „[T]he ICTY was not called upon in the Tadić case, nor is it in general called upon, to rule on questions of State responsibility, since its jurisdiction is criminal and extends over persons only“.21 Und er gelangt in Ermangelung einer abweichenden lex specialis zum Schluss:22 „Genocide will be considered as attributable to a State if and to the extent that the physical acts constitutive of genocide that have been committed by organs or persons other than the State’s own agents were carried out, wholly or in part, on the instructions or directions of the State, or under its effective control. This is the state of customary international law, as reflected in the ILC Articles on State Responsibility.“

Was das Verhältnis zwischen verschiedenen VN-Organen betrifft, so kommt an dieser Stelle der weise Gedanke von Richter Lachs in der Entscheidung des IGH über Vorläufige Maßnahmen im Lockerbie-Fall in den Sinn, wonach jeweils auf die verschiedenen Rollen Rücksicht zu nehmen sei, die die einzelnen Organe zu spielen haben, und dass nur agiert werde „in harmony – though not, of course, in concert – and that each 15

Siehe supra Fn. 6.

16

Artikel 8 des zitierten Entwurfes, siehe Report of the Commission, supra Fn. 6, 47-49.

17

Prosecutor v. Duško Tadić, IT-94-1-A, Berufungsurteil vom 15 Juli 1999, Paras. 117, 145; siehe auch bereits ausführlich die Dissenting Opinion der Richterin Kirk McDonald im erstinstanzlichen Urteil: IT-94-1-T, Trial Chamber Judgement vom 7 May 1997. Zusammenfassend Goldstone/Hamilton, supra Fn. 11. Kritisch auf Folgewirkungen für die Beurteilung künftiger Attribuierungsprobleme hinweisend: A. B. Loewenstein/St. A. Kostas, „Divergent Approaches to Determining Responsability for Genocide“, 5 Journal of International Criminal Justice 1-19 (2007).

18

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Merits, Urteil vom 27 Juni 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14, Para. 115.

19

Report of the Commission, supra Fn. 6, 48.

20

Ablehnend allerdings die Dissenting Opinion of Vice-President Al-Khasawneh, Paras. 36-39.

21

Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Para. 403.

22

Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Para. 401.

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should perform its functions with respect to a situation or dispute, different aspects of which appear on the agenda of each, without prejudicing the exercise of the other’s powers“.23

III. Anders als in Bezug auf die Begehung von Völkermord, fand der Gerichtshof die Antragsgegnerin bekanntlich der Unterlassung schuldig, den Völkermord von Srebrenica verhindert und an seiner Bestrafung mitgewirkt zu haben. Während die erste Unterlassung örtlich und zeitlich klar abgrenzbar ist, erlangte die zweite eine beachtliche Dynamik. Auch sonst unterscheiden sich diese beiden Unterlassungen strukturell: Während die Bestrafung des Völkermordes (oder jede Form der Mitwirkung an einer solchen) erfolgsbezogen ist, verneinte dies der Gerichtshof in Bezug auf die Pflicht, Völkermord zu verhüten. Es handle sich vielmehr um eine reine Verhaltensnorm.24 Die Annahme einer Verletzung dieser Handlungspflicht setzt nicht voraus, dass die Verhinderung tatsächlich gelungen wäre („the obligation in question is one of conduct and not one of result, [...] a State cannot be under an obligation to succeed, whatever the circumstances, in preventing the commission of genocide“) – nicht ohne mahnend zu ergänzen:25 „[T]he possibility remains that the combined efforts of several States, each complying with its obligation to prevent, might have achieved the result – averting the commission of genocide –which the efforts of only one State were insufficient to produce.“

Hier kann sich das Urteil des IGH auch wieder auf die gedankliche Vorarbeit der Völkerrechtskommission stützen.26 Mit der Ansicht, die Bundesrepublik Jugoslawien habe sich schon deshalb einer Unterlassung schuldig gemacht, weil ihre Organe nicht alles in ihrer Macht Stehende getan hätten, das Massaker zu verhindern, scheint der Gerichtshof seine Zurückhaltung in Bezug auf den Vorwurf einer aktiven Rolle der Antragsgegnerin in Bezug auf das Massaker gewissermaßen auszugleichen. Rechtsdogmatisch sind diese grundlegenden Ausführungen hochinteressant, da sie die Begehung durch Unterlassung als klar erfolgsbezogen von dem Unrecht der Unterlassung der Verhinderung abschichten. In der Sprache des Strafrechts ausgedrückt, haben wir 23

Questions of Interpretation and Application of the 1971 Montreal Convention arising from the Aerial Incident at Lockerbie (Libyan Arab Jamahiriya v. United Kingdom), Provisorische Maßnahmen, Order vom 14 April 1992, 1992 ICJ Rep. 27, (Richter Lachs, Separate Opinion); zitiert etwa von Richterin Higgins in ihrem Sondervotum zu IGH in Case Concerning Legality of Use of Force (Serbia and Montenegro v. Belgium), Preliminary Objections, Urteil vom 15 Dezember 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 279, Para. 20 (Richterin Higgins, Separate Opinion).

24

Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Para. 430.

25

Ibid., Para. 430, am Ende.

26

Siehe die Bezugnahme des Urteils, Para. 431, auf Artikel 14 (3) des genannten Entwurfes zur Staatenverantwortlichkeit, supra Fn. 6, 59-62.

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es hier mit einem echten Unterlassungsdelikt zu tun. Als solches entbehrt es einer Erfolgskomponente. Im Kontrast dazu wird die eindeutige „Kausalität der Unterlassung“ (man spricht von „Quasi-Kausalität“, da es nicht um das Setzen einer produktiven Bedingung für den Erfolgseintritt geht, sondern um das pflichtwidrige Nicht-Setzen einer präventiven Bedingung) einmal mehr zum zentrales Merkmal einer „Begehung durch Unterlassung“. Eine solche (in Gestalt der Beteiligung am Verbrechen) schließt der Gerichtshof aber aus, und zwar auch in Bezug auf Artikel III lit. e der Konvention („complicity in genocide“).27 Die begriffliche Schärfe, mit der der Gerichtshof die diesbezüglichen Überlegungen aufbaut, ist beeindruckend. Dabei stellt er klar,28 dass sich seine Ausführungen zur Unterlassung der Verhütung allein auf den Völkermord beziehen, auch wenn es in zahlreichen anderen völkerrechtlichen Verträgen ähnliche Verpflichtungen gibt. Ein Hinweis, der gewiss als Anregung an die Wissenschaft verstanden werden wird, die Systematik weiterzuentwickeln. Die Pflicht, zur Verhütung von Völkermord beizutragen, ist nach der Bestimmung des Artikel I der VMK jedenfalls eine absolute. Der IGH macht sie zu einer zentralen Schutznorm, die treffend als Keimzelle der allgemeinen Schutzpflicht der Staaten (Responsibility to Protect) gewertet wurde.29 Ihre Verletzung setzt auch nicht dieselbe subjektive Tatseite voraus, wie sie für die Begehung – sei es in unmittelbarer Täterschaft, sei es in Form der Komplizenschaft – erforderlich ist.30

IV. Was weiters die Verurteilung Serbiens aus dem Titel des Artikel VI VMK – der Pflicht zur Bestrafung des Völkermords – betrifft, so liegt die besondere Dynamik dieses Punktes31 nicht allein in der zeitlichen Komponente (das Tribunal wurde, wie gesagt, überhaupt erst nach Einbringung der gegenständlichen Klage eingerichtet, auch wenn seine Einsetzung bereits beschlossene Sache war),32 sondern vor allem in der Ausstrahlung auf die Arbeit des ICTY; eine Arbeit, die von vornherein auf die Unterstützung durch die Staaten angewiesen ist. Bemerkenswert erscheint nun, wie dem IGH die Synthese der Regelung der Konvention mit dem ICTY gelingt. An sich ist die Verpflichtung aller Staaten zur Zusammenarbeit mit dem ICTY in Artikel 29 des Statuts, das sich im Anhang der Sicherheitsrats-Resolution 827 vom 25.

27

Vgl. Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Para. 432.

28

Ibid., Para. 429.

29

L. Arbour, „The responsibility to protect as a duty of care in international law and practice“, 34 Review of International Studies 445-458 (2008).

30

Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Para. 432; zum subjektiven Tatbestand des Völkermords vgl. infra V., VI.

31

Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Paras. 439-450.

32

Siehe Resolution des UN-Sicherheitsrates 808, UN Dok. S/RES/808 (1993).

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Mai 1993 findet,33 konkret ausgesprochen. Sie bezieht sich nicht nur auf Völkermord.34 Da die Resolution ausdrücklich auf Kapitel VII der Satzung der Vereinten Nationen gestützt ist, steht diese Verpflichtung grundsätzlich außer Frage. In Punkt 4 seiner Entschließung hatte der Sicherheitsrat hervorgehoben: „[…] that all States shall cooperate fully with the International Tribunal and its organs in accordance with the present resolution and the Statute of the International Tribunal and that consequently all States shall take any measures necessary under their domestic law to implement the provisions of the present resolution and the Statute, including the obligation of States to comply with requests for assistance or orders issued by a Trial Chamber under Article 29 of the Statute; “

Was konkret die Verpflichtung der Bundesrepublik Jugoslawien und ihrer Rechtsnachfolgerinnen anlangt, so hat die Analyse der historischen Abläufe den IGH dazu geführt, dass eine solche Verpflichtung spätestens mit dem Dayton-Agreement zwischen der Bundesrepublik Jugoslawien, Bosnien und Herzegowina und Kroatien, sohin seit 14. Dezember 1995 in Geltung war.35 Seit diesem Zeitpunkt bildete daher das ICTY im Sinne des Artikel VI VMK ein „internationale[s] Strafgericht [...], das für jene Vertragschließenden Parteien zuständig ist, die seine Gerichtsbarkeit anerkannt haben“. So redundant diese Ableitung aus der VMK erscheint, so klärend wirkt dennoch der diesbezügliche Ausspruch des IGH. Und er bedeutet für andere internationale Strafgerichtshöfe, die – ihre Zuständigkeit vorausgesetzt – in vergleichbare Situationen kommen könnten, zweifellos eine Stärkung ihrer Autorität. Dies ist besonders gegenüber dysfunktionalen Staaten wichtig. Was während der Kriege auf dem Balkan und unmittelbar danach für die betroffenen Regionen galt (und zur Zeit der Abfassung dieser Zeilen etwa auch im Sudan hervortritt), ist die Erfahrung, dass dysfunktionale Staatlichkeit die Tätigkeit internationaler Strafgerichtshöfe nicht nur erfordern, sondern auch entscheidend behindern kann. In dieser Hinsicht berühren sich individuelle 33

Resolution des UN Sicherheitsrates 827, UN Dok. S/RES/827 (1993).

34

Die praktische Erfahrung der Organe des ICTY geht dahin, dass diese Verpflichtung zur vollen Zusammenarbeit auch und gerade in weniger spektakulären Fällen mitunter zu wünschen übrig lässt. Dabei wird manchmal auf die Unklarheit hingewiesen, die der Wortlaut des Artikel 29 ICTY-Statut selbst (und in Verbindung damit auch der angeführte Punkt 4 der Resolution) enthält. Die Pflicht zur Zusammenarbeit ist insbesondere in Bezug auf Verfahren wegen Missachtung des Tribunals (Regel 77 der Rules of Procedure and Evidence) strittig. Gehören solche Verfahren zu jenem Bereich der „investigation and prosecution of persons accused of committing serious violations of international humanitarian law”, auf den Artikel 29 die Verpflichtung zur umfassenden Rechtshilfe bezieht? Die teilweise abgeschlossenen Rechtshilfe-Abkommen zwischen dem Tribunal und einzelnen Staaten befreien nicht aus diesem Dilemma. Indem sie typischerweise hinter der unbeschränkten Pflicht, wie sie sich aus dem Gründungsstatut ergibt, zurückbleiben und insbesondere die Praktikabilität der „Contempt“-Verfahren nicht im Auge haben, übersehen sie den dienenden Charakter der genannten Regel 77 (ausdrücklich formuliert Absatz A: „The Tribunal in the exercise of its inherent power may hold in contempt those who [...]“). Es dürfte außer Frage stehen, dass sie auch und insbesondere die Verfolgung des Verbrechens des Völkermordes abzustützen hätte.

35

Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Para. 447.

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und Staatenverantwortlichkeit. Der Spruch des IGH, dass Serbien seine Verpflichtung zur Zusammenarbeit verletzt habe und verletze, bedeutet eine Stärkung der ersteren durch Wahrnehmung der letzteren.

V. Für die weitere Entwicklung des Völkerstrafrechts erscheint von besonderer Bedeutung, wie der IGH die Tatbestandselemente des Völkermords ausgelegt hat. Dazu gilt es einerseits die objektive, andererseits die subjektive Tatseite zu betrachten. Während die erste eine einfachere und im wesentlichen eine Frage ist, die de lege ferenda zu beurteilen sein wird, hat sich jene nach der subjektiven Tatseite als eine der zentralen Auslegungsfragen rund um den Begriff des Völkermords erwiesen, zumal es hier vordringlich um die subjektiven Faktoren auf Seiten der Antragsgegnerin als Staat ging. A fortiori dürfen die diesbezüglichen Ausführungen des Gerichtshofs36 Bedeutung für die rechtsdogmatische und rechtspolitische Diskussion in Bezug auf die strafrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit von Individuen beanspruchen. Zur Klärung des Vorverständnisses sei zunächst ein allgemeiner Gesichtspunkt hervorgehoben. Womit sich der Gerichtshof in erster Linie befasst,37 ist nicht so sehr der allgemeine Tatvorsatz, der sich selbstredend auf die jeweils zur Diskussion stehenden objektiven Merkmale zu beziehen hat; es ist vielmehr das Thema des „erweiterten Vorsatzes“, also der überschießenden Innentendenz. Die Definition des Artikel II, Einleitungssatz, der VMK verlangt die „Absicht [...], eine nationale, ethnische, rassische oder religiöse Gruppe als solche ganz oder teilweise zu zerstören“.38 Vor der Strafrechtsreform 1974 war in der österreichischen Rechtssprache die Bedeutung des Ausdrucks „Absicht“ durchaus verschwommen. Die Legaldefinition, die heute § 5 Absatz 2 des österreichischen StGB für „Absichtlichkeit“ gibt,39 entspricht keineswegs internationalem common sense. Daher verdient rechtsdogmatisch wie rechtspolitisch Beachtung, was unter dem Begriff „genocidal intent“ diskutiert wird. Der Beitrag des IGH zu dieser Diskussion steuert insoweit Wesentliches bei, als das Urteil die Notwendigkeit hervorhebt, diesen „intent“ im Sinne eines „special [auch: 36

Siehe insbesondere das Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Paras. 186-189, sowie in Bezug auf sog. „ethnische Säuberungen“, ibid., Para. 190.

37

Ibid., Para. 187.

38

Ebenso die Konstruktion in § 321 des österreichischen Strafgesetzbuches: Er verlangt die Begehung „in der Absicht, eine durch ihre Zugehörigkeit zu einer Kirche oder Religionsgesellschaft, zu einer Rasse, einem Volk, einem Volksstamm oder einem Staat bestimmte Gruppe als solche ganz oder teilweise zu vernichten“; vgl. dazu insbesondere die Bearbeitung dieser Bestimmung durch Gerhard Hafner im Wiener Kommentar: W. Brandstetter/G. Hafner (gemeinsam mit Ch. Ebner), § 321, in F. Höpfel/E. Ratz (Hrsg.), Wiener Kommentar zum Strafgesetzbuch (2004).

39

Danach handelt der Täter „absichtlich, wenn es ihm darauf ankommt, den Umstand oder Erfolg zu verwirklichen, für den das Gesetz absichtliches Handeln voraussetzt“. Vgl. für den Völkermord W. Brandstetter/G. Hafner, supra Fn. 38, § 321, Randn. 45-47.

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specific] intent“ oder „dolus specialis“ zu verstehen. Ob englisch oder lateinisch, dieser Begriff, dessen Verwendung sich wie ein roter Faden durch die Urteilserwägungen zieht, bleibt dennoch in mehrfacher Hinsicht undeutlich. Insbesondere – darauf machte schon Kreß40 aufmerksam – wird nicht immer zwischen dem Gegenstand und der Art der psychischen Beziehung zu diesem unterschieden. Während der Ausdruck „dolus specialis“ historisch im Bestreben entwickelt wurde, ihn im Gegensatz zum „dolus generalis“ als themenfokussierte Vorstellung zu definieren, steht heute die Zielgerichtetheit, also die Finalität in ihrer höchsten Steigerung, im Vordergrund des Begriffs der Absicht im eigenen Sinne. Man kann die Diskussion vielleicht nach folgenden Kriterien strukturieren: Zunächst wird man den „gewöhnlichen“ Ausführungstäter (wenn es so etwas im gegebenen Zusammenhang denn gibt) rechtsdogmatisch erörtern; eine allfällige rechtspolitische Dimension kommt durch einige der vorliegenden Standpunkte von selbst mit ins Spiel. Außerdem sind jene Verästelungen zu berücksichtigen, die nach dem gegenwärtigen (internationalen) Recht und der bisher erreichten Entwicklung der Rechtsprechung hierzu die Strafbarkeit ausweiten. Es sind dies neben den einfachen Erscheinungsformen41 vor allem die Figuren der gemeinsamen kriminellen Unternehmung („joint criminal enterprise“)42 und der gesondert normierten Vorgesetztenverantwortlichkeit.43 Gerade für diese Ausstülpungen erweist sich, dass das österreichische Strafrecht auch in Bezug auf den Völkermord (§ 321 öStGB in Zusammenhalt mit den Bestimmungen des Allgemeinen Teils), hinter den Anforderungen des Völkerstrafrechts zurückbleibt.44 Eine ergebnisorientierte Betrachtung steht stets vor einem Scheideweg: Wird man zur Stärkung des jeweiligen Instruments beitragen, indem man seinen Anwen40

C. Kreß, „The Darfur Report and Genocidal Intent“, 3 Journal of International Criminal Justice 562, 567-569 (2005). Wie Schabas, Genozid im Völkerrecht, 289-295 (2003), deutlich macht, wird der Ausdruck „dolus specialis“ primär auf die systematische Stellung dieses Vorsatzes als überschießender Innentendenz bezogen.

41

Hier besteht international – anders als nach österreichischer Vorstellung (§ 13 öStGB) – die Tendenz, für bestimmte Formen mittelbarer Tatbeteiligung das Wissen um die Absicht beim unmittelbaren Täter ausreichen zu lassen (siehe etwa das Urteil des deutschen Bundesgerichtshofs vom 21 Februar 2005, 3 StR 372/00).

42

In Betracht kommen vor allem die Hauptformen dieses Modells der Tatbegehung, die regelmäßig an dem gemeinsamen verbrecherischen Ziel anknüpfen („common criminal purpose“); siehe die Formel aus Prosecutor v. Tadić, Berufungsurteil, supra Fn. 17, Para. 190; vgl. zum Beispiel Prosecutor v. Martić, IT-95-11-T, Urteil vom 12 Juni 2007, Para. 435.

43

Im ICTY-Statut siehe Artikel 7 Absatz 3; für den International Criminal Court vgl. die weitere Differenzierung nach militärischen und zivilen Vorgesetzten (Artikel 28 Römisches Statut). Zum Völkermord im Besonderen vgl. A. Zahar, „Command Responsibility of Civilian Superiors for Genocide“, 14 Leiden Journal of International Law 591-616 (2001).

44

Ohne dass dem hier ausreichend nachgegangen werden kann, bleibt dies ein Merkposten, wenn man die weitere Umsetzung durch nationales Strafrecht diskutiert. Umgekehrt kann das nationale Strafrecht, wie der der Fall Jorgic (Jorgic v. Deutschland, EGMR, Beschwerde Nr. 74613/01, Urteil vom 12 Oktober 2007) unter Hinweis auf die Rechtsprechung des ICTY in den Fällen Krstić und Kupreskić deutlich gemacht hat, bei der Umsetzung des Völkermordtatbestandes auch übers Ziel schießen, wenn nämlich der subjektive Tatbestand von vornherein zu weit gefasst wird.

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dungsbereich nach Möglichkeit ausdehnt, oder wird man zweckmäßigerweise den gegenteiligen Weg gehen? Die zweite Option ist nach Ansicht des Verfassers die bessere. Der geradezu inflationäre Gebrauch des Etiketts „Völkermord“ im Zusammenhang mit bewaffneten Konflikten, zumeist zum Zweck propagandistischer Übertreibung, scheint immer beliebter zu werden. Hier gilt vielmehr, was man sich beim Umgang mit dem Strafrecht ganz allgemein bewusst halten muss: Ein Messer zu viel benützt, wird stumpf. Die Bemühungen in der Dogmatik, den Begriff einzugrenzen, sind daher schon grundsätzlich zu begrüßen. Solche Ansätze gibt es – wie im folgenden Kapitel näher behandelt werden soll – in Bezug auf den objektiven wie auf den subjektiven Tatbestand des Völkermordes.

VI. Was die Interpretation der objektiven Tatbestandselemente betrifft, hat Hafner in seiner Kommentierung des § 321 öStGB bereits die entscheidenden Punkte angesprochen.45 Für den internationalen Bereich ist insbesondere auf die Arbeiten von Schabas zurückzugreifen.46 De lege lata wie de lege ferenda geht es vor allem darum, dass die auf der Völkermordkonvention fußende taxative Reihung der geschützten Gruppen als eine ausreichende Aufzählung anzusehen sind. Von der Berufungskammer des ICTY47 scharf abgelehnt wurden Vorstöße etwa in der Richtung, auch bloß negativ – also durch die Nicht-Zugehörigkeit zu einer bestimmten anderen Menge – gekennzeichnete Gruppen ausreichen zu lassen.48 Ebenso wie solche Versuche sind auch de lege ferenda

45

Hafner, supra Fn. 38, § 321, Randn. 25-35 (geschützte Gruppen) bzw. 36-45 (Tathandlungen).

46

Vgl. unter anderem W. A. Schabas, „Article 6 – Genocide“, in O. Triffterer (Hrsg.), Commentary on the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court: Oberserver’s Notes, Article by Article 107-116 (1999), und 143-158 (2te Auflage 2008); id., „The Jelisic Case and the Mens Rea of the Crime of Genocide“, 14 Leiden Journal of International Law 125-139 (2001); id., „Whither genocide? The International Court of Justice finally pronounces“, 9 Journal of Genocide Research 183–192 (2007). Eine Neuauflage der umfassenden Monographie W. A. Schabas, Genocide in International Law (2000) ist in Vorbereitung.

47

Dem geneigten Leser dieser Zeilen mag auffallen, dass sich der Blick auf das Case-Law des ICTY konzentriert, obwohl der Völkermordtatbestand für das zweite Ad-hoc-Tribunal, jenes für Ruanda (ICTR), einen weit hören Stellenwert erlangt hat. Aber es ist gerade diese dem Begriffsrand nähere Natur der Fälle, die das ICTY beschäftigen, die diese Fälle grundsätzlich eher zur Rechtsentwicklung beitragen haben lassen. Zu Ruanda vgl. die Hinweise bei P. Akhavan, „The Crime of Genocide in the ICTR Jurisprudence“, 3 Journal of International Criminal Justice 989-1006 (2005).

48

Vgl. Prosecutor v. Stakić, IT-97-24-A, Berufungsurteil (Appeal Judgement) vom 22 März 2006, Paras. 19 und 21 (arg. „as such“), unter ausdrücklicher Ablehnung der in Prosecutor v. Jelisić, IT-95-10-T, Urteil vom 14 Dezember 1999, Para. 71, eingenommenen Gegenposition. Vgl., supra Fn. 40, 149-151; C. Kreß, „The International Court of Justice and the Elements of the Crime of Genocide“, 18 The European Journal of International Law 619-629 (2007), insb. 622-623.

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zu hörende Vorschläge, zusätzlich etwa rein politische Gruppierungen aufzunehmen, zu Recht auf Widerspruch gestoßen.49 In Ansehung der in Betracht kommenden Tathandlungen gilt eine extensive Diskussion der Beurteilung der diversen Praktiken sog. ethnischer Säuberungen. Auch hier ist dank der vom ICTY benützten Technik der Einzelfallbeurteilung50 ein Ausufern nicht zu befürchten, und gerade in diesen Fällen sind die Tatbestände der Kriegsverbrechen und der Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit ein problemloses Auffangbecken. Aber auch was das subjektive Unrecht betrifft, ist kein Bedarf erkennbar, die Reichweite des Völkermordtatbestandes zu Lasten der Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit, aus denen dieser bekanntlich hervorgegangen ist, auszudehnen. Man muss nicht erst so weit gehen, mit Triffterer51 die fragliche Völkermordabsicht auf Grund einer systematischen Analyse ohne Weiteres im Sinne eines bloßen dolus eventualis zu deuten. Anlässlich des Falles Jelisić52 wurde zu Recht bemerkt, ein Einzelner könne schwerlich, ohne dass sein Vorhaben in einen größeren politischen Plan eingebunden wäre, das Verbrechen des Völkermordes begehen. Daher sollte man die auf Völkermord gerichtete Absicht nicht losgelöst von dem typischerweise gegebenen kollektiven Charakter53 des Völkermordes definieren. Im Wege der teleologischen Reduktion des Tatbestandes könnte man daher berechtigt die Einbindung der einzelnen Tat in ein entsprechendes politisches Konzept verlangen. Ist dann aber trotz einer derartigen Objektivierung dieser „planmäßigen und systematischen Auslöschung ganzer Gruppen von Menschen“54 das besondere subjektive Element der Völkermordabsicht weiter vonnöten? Das ist eine rechtspolitische Frage, die wohl nicht ohne Änderung des Wortlauts der Definition gelöst werden könnte. Sollte noch an der Absichtlichkeit im engeren Sinn – der Finalität also in ihrer höchsten Ausprägung – festgehalten werden? Hierfür tritt etwa Werle ein,55 der sich auf den historischen Sinn der Definition beruft. Demgegenüber hat Kreß56 ein Modell erarbeitet, das sowohl praktikabel und eng genug abgegrenzt erschiene, dass es kein Nachgeben gegenüber den oben (V.) angesprochenen „inflationären“ 49

Vgl. G. Werle, Völkerstrafrecht (2007), Randn. 681 mit weiteren Nachweisen.

50

Ibid., Randn. 700-701.

51

O. Triffterer, „Genocide, Its Particular Intent to Destroy in Whole or in Part the Group as Such“, 14 Leiden Journal of International Law 399-408 (2001).

52

Prosecutor v. Jelisić, IT-95-10. Vgl. dazu W. A. Schabas, „The Jelisic Case and the Mens Rea of the Crime of Genocide“, 14 Leiden Journal of International Law 125-139 (2001).

53

Kreß, supra Fn. 48, 622-623 und 627. Dieser Zusammenhang kommt dem für die Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit vorausgesetzten „Politikelement“ nahe, das bei den Verhandlungen zum Rom-Statut als Erfordernis eines „Angriffs auf die Zivilbevölkerung“ (siehe Einleitungssatz des Artikel 7 Absatz 1) ausgestaltet würde; vgl. Werle, supra Fn. 49, Randn. 770.

54

Werle, supra Fn. 49, Randn. 650.

55

Werle, supra Fn. 49, Randn. 713; vgl. auch ebenda, Randnr. 712: „Das Wissen des Täters, an einem Vernichtungsangriff auf eine Gruppe teilzunehmen, kann die Völkermordabsicht nicht ersetzen, aber ihr Vorliegen indizieren. Stets muss jedoch die Feststellung getroffen werden, dass der Täter selbst in Zerstörungsabsicht gehandelt hat.“ Erst damit trete „die Tat als Weltfriedensstörung in eine völkerrechtliche Dimension“.

56

Kreß, supra Fn. 40, 577.

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Tendenzen im Umgang mit dem Völkermordbegriff bedeuten würde: Im Sinne eines „knowlegde-based approach“57 schlägt Kreß58 vor, unter „intent“ (a) das Wissen um den Vernichtungsangriff auf Mitglieder der Gruppe und um die Förderung dieses Angriffs, sowie (b) den bedingten Vorsatz in Bezug auf eine tatsächliche Vernichtung der Gruppe oder eines Teils derselben zu verstehen. Dass ein solches Modell kaum ohne eine Änderung der Bestimmungen verwirklicht werden könnte, wurde bereits gesagt. Es fragt sich allerdings, ob man dazu nicht auch bloß die „Elements of Crimes“59 weiterentwickeln könnten, die insofern bisher mit einer minimalistischen, auf die Umstände des Einzelfalls verweisenden Sprache auszukommen meinten.

VII. Die Völkermordkonvention ist ein janusköpfiges Gebilde. Zwar schreibt sie in erster Linie die kriminelle Natur des Völkermordes vor (und trägt damit den Vertragsstaaten die Verhütung und Bestrafung dieses Verbrechens auf);60 gleichzeitig hat der IGH aus der Konvention aber abgeleitet, dass der einzelne Vertragsstaat sich selbst der Begehung von Völkermord schuldig machen kann.61 Eine solche Begehung durch einen Staat stellt uns wohl in rechtsdogmatischer Hinsicht vor größte Unsicherheiten, auch wenn der IGH eine diesbezügliche Verantwortlichkeit des beklagten Staates in casu nicht festzustellen vermochte. Die Fragen, die sich hier theoretisch aufwerfen, gehen 57

Vgl. A. K. A. Greenawalt, „Rethinking Genocidal Intent: The Case for a Knowledge-Based Interpretation“, 99 Columbia Law Review 2259-2294 (1999).

58

Vgl. näher C. Kreß, „The Crime of Genocide under International Law“, 6 International Criminal Law Review 461-502 (2006).

59

Siehe ICC-ASP/1/3, Article 6, Genocide, Introduction, wo es im dritten Anstrich lediglich heißt: „Notwithstanding the normal requirement for a mental element provided for in article 30, and recognizing that knowledge of the circumstances will usually be addressed in proving genocidal intent, the appropriate requirement, if any, for a mental element regarding this circumstance will need to be decided by the Court on a case-by-case basis.“

60

Auch wenn die VMK offenkundig davon ausgeht, dass die Verfolgung von Völkermord im nationalen Strafrecht grundsätzlich möglich und mit der durch ein internationales Strafgericht als gleichwertig zu betrachten ist, waren es insbesondere Vertreter der deutschen Philosophie der Nachkriegszeit (etwa Karl Jaspers, wie seine Schülerin Hannah Arendt in ihrem Epilog zur Berichterstattung über den Eichmann-Prozess in Jerusalem bemerkt), die es im Vergleich mit den Nürnberger Prozessen für unangemessen hielten, dass sich ausschließlich ein nationales Rechtssystem (hier: das israelische) mit dem monströsen Verbrechen des Völkermords befassen sollte: siehe den Auszug aus der 1963 erschienenen Dokumentation „Eichmann in Jerusalem“ von H. Arendt, Eichmann and the Holocaust 93-101 (2005). Mit der Einschaltung internationaler Strafgerichte ist grundsätzlich das Problem der Grenzen nationaler Strafgewalt überwunden. Dieses kann zwar theoretisch durch Zugrundelegung des Universalitätsprinzips gelöst werden, wie dies das deutsche Strafrecht tut (vgl. dazu das Urteil des Europäischen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte im Fall Jorgic gegen Deutschland, supra Fn. 44). Aber es ist keine Frage, dass die einzelstaatliche Justiz dann an ihre praktischen Grenzen stößt.

61

Urteil, supra Fn. 9, Para.166.

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in zwei Richtungen: Zum einen mag es dunkel erscheinen, ob ein Staat überhaupt als „Täter“ von Völkermord in Betracht kommt; zum anderen fragt sich im Detail, ob bejahendenfalls der subjektive Tatbestand ebenso erfüllt sein müsste. Beides hat der Gerichtshof bejaht. In Ansehung beider dieser Fragen erscheinen aber ein paar Klarstellungen angebracht. Was die Begehbarkeit völkerrechtlicher Verbrechen durch Staaten anlangt, ist mangels eines rechtlichen Regelungszusammenhangs außerhalb der VMK nur der Völkermord als Möglichkeit zu erwägen. Der Umstand, dass der IGH aus der Konvention – konkret: aus der Pflicht, Völkermord zu verhindern – eine solche Begehbarkeit abgeleitet hat, könnte leicht im Sinne einer strafrechtlichen Verantwortlichkeit des Staates missinterpretiert werden.62 Wonach der IGH konkret gefragt hat, muss aber keineswegs so verstanden werden. Es stellt sich vielmehr – vom Strafrecht losgelöst – als eine im Völkervertragsrecht angesiedelte schlichte völkerrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit dar.63 Mit ihr ist der ursprünglich menschenrechtliche Sinn der Völkermordkonvention angesprochen. Da die mögliche Rechtsverletzung jenseits der Missachtung der Verpflichtungen, Völkermord zu verhüten und an seiner Bestrafung mitzuwirken, in ihren Voraussetzungen nicht ausformuliert ist, bleibt nichts anderes, als die Tatbestandsmerkmale der Verbrechensdefinition in ihrer Gesamtheit zugrunde zu legen. Der IGH hat dies nicht zum erstenmal getan. In seinem Gutachten „Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons“64 hat er sich schon einmal damit auseinander gesetzt. Und er hat die Völkermordabsicht dort folgerichtig neben der nach den objektiven Tatbestandsmerkmalen ins Spiel gebracht. Erst recht überzeugt es, dass im nunmehrigen Verfahren Bosnien und Herzegowina gegen Serbien das subjektive Unrecht genauestens eruiert wurde.65 Vorgelagert stellt sich die Frage, ob das Strafrecht überhaupt als Ebene eines Vorwurfs an einen Staat in Betracht kommen kann. Die beiden Ebenen überschneiden sich im gegenständlichen Fall insofern, als im Urteil des Weltgerichtshofs zunächst von der Frage die Rede ist, ob der beklagte Staat die Begehung von Völkermord zu verantworten hat, und sodann erst von der Verletzung spezifischer Konventionsverpflichtungen, insbesondere der zentralen Verpflichtungen zur Verhütung und Bestrafung des Völkermords. Denkt man über den Kontrast zwischen individueller und kollektiver Verantwortlichkeit nach, so erweist sich auch die ureigene strafrechtliche Begriffswelt als brüchig. Zwar kennt das positive Recht grundsätzlich keine Strafbarkeit von Staaten. Selbst die 62

Vgl. die Skepsis gegenüber einer Attribuierung von Völkermord an einen Staat in den Sondervoten der Richter Shi, Koroma, Owada, Tomka und Skotnikov (Joint Declaration of Judges Shi and Koroma, Paras. 1-4; Separate Opinion of Judge Owada, Paras. 40-73; Separate Opinion of Judge Tomka, Paras. 39-73; Declaration of Judge Skotnikov, Merits).

63

Vgl. K. Oellers-Frahm; „IGH: Bosnien-Herzegowina gegen Jugoslawien“, 2007 Vereinte Nationen 163, 167.

64

Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, Advisory Opinion vom 8 Juli 1996. Zum Völkermord, und hier zur erforderlichen Absicht, siehe Para. 26.

65

Siehe Urteil, supra Fn. 9, insbesondere Paras. 186-190.

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nationalen Strafrechte, in denen eine strafrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit juristischer Personen anerkannt ist,66 klammern eine solche in Bezug auf Gebietskörperschaften aus.67 Eine solche Strafbarkeit könnte theoretisch normiert werden. Dies wäre aber kein Fortschritt. Die kollektive Verantwortung für Völkerrechtsverbrechen sollte möglichst auf einer metajuristischen Ebene bleiben. Was gerade im Zusammenhang mit der strafrechtlichen Verantwortlichkeit juristischer Personen besonders deutlich hervortrat:68 In der Strafrechtsdogmatik pflegt man den persönlichen Charakter von Schuld und Strafe zu betonen.69 Dies ist an sich unabhängig vom Streit um die genaue Deutung der Schuld im indeterministischen oder aber in einem agnostischen Sinn. Es geht um die Distanzierung der Rechtsordnung von Tat und Täter. Die Herauslösung beider aus dem gesamtgesellschaftlichen Zusammenhang erlaubt nicht nur die Normverdeutlichung, sondern gleichzeitig eine Identifizierung der Opfer. Im Zusammenhang mit Völkerrechtsverbrechen pflegt man sich auf den bekannten Ausspruch aus dem Haupturteil der Nürnberger Prozesse zu beziehen: „Crimes against international law are committed by men, not by abstract entities, and only by punishing individuals who commit such crimes can the provisions of international law be enforced.“70 Gleichwohl steht in einem politischen, nicht rechtlichen Sinn stets die Frage nach dem Zustand der Gesellschaft, der eine solche Tat zulässt, gleichzeitig im Raum – und zwar umso deutlicher, je extremer die Tat erscheint. Dieses Problem kann man sich sowohl auf internationaler wie auf nationaler Ebene bewusst machen. Eine Gelegenheit dazu gab es zum Beispiel in Österreich im Frühjahr 2008, als in Amstetten/ Niederösterreich der Fall eines Familienvaters offenbar wurde, der über viele Jahre seine Tochter – und in der Folge auch die Kinder, die er mit dieser gezeugt hatte – in einem Verließ gefangen hielt. Der Fall, der ungemeines Aufsehen erregte, führte nicht 66

So nach dem österreichischen Verbandsverantwortlichkeitsgesetz (VbVG), öBGBl. I Nr. 2005/151.

67

Vgl. § 1, Absatz 3, Ziffer 2 VbVG, wonach Gebietskörperschaften, außer in Bezug auf die Privatwirtschaftsverwaltung, keine Verbände im Sinne des Gesetzes sind.

68

Vgl. D. Kienapfel/F. Höpfel, Grundriss des Strafrechts. Allgemeiner Teil 313 (2007).

69

Siehe zum Beispiel H. Fuchs, Österreichisches Strafrecht. Allgemeiner Teil I: Grundlagen und Lehre von der Straftat 14 (2004).

70

Urteil des Nürnberger Militärgerichtshofs vom 1 Oktober 1948; siehe: The Trial of Major War Criminals: Proceedings of the International Military Tribunal Sitting at Nuremberg Germany, Teil 22, 447, 467 (1950). Willkürlich herausgegriffen seien folgende drei Beispiele, in denen man sich seither auf den berühmten Satz bezogen hat: die ausdrückliche Beschränkung der Arbeiten der Völkerrechtskommission an einem „Draft Code of Offences against the Peace and Security of Mankind“ auf die Strafbarkeit von Individuen, siehe 1954 YILC, Vol. II, 134, Para. 52 (c) [sic]; weiters die bekannte „Jurisdiction Decision“ der Berufungskammer des ICTY im Fall Tadić (Prosecutor v. Tadić), IT-94-1-AR 72, Decision on the defence motion for interlocutory appeal on jurisdiction vom 2 Oktober 1995, Para. 128 (vgl. K. Ambos, „Article 25 – Individual criminal responsibility“, in Triffterer, supra Fn. 45, 457, n. 1, 4 [1999]); schließlich die Rede von Ph. Kirsch, „From Nuremberg to The Hague“, gehalten am 19 November 2005, The Nuremberg Heritage: A Series of Events Commemorating the Beginning of the Nuremberg Trials, http://www.icc-cpi.int/library/organs/presidency/ speeches/PK_20051119_En.pdf.

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zuletzt zur Diskussion der Frage, wie weit er durch gesellschaftliche Bedingungen begünstigt gewesen sein mag. Gleich mehrfach titelten denn auch verschiedene Zeitungen des deutschen Auslandes sinngemäß: „Amstetten ist überall“. Damit warfen diese Kommentare mit Recht die Frage nach der moralischen Mitverantwortung der Gesellschaft auf. Dasselbe Problem71 stellt sich auch sonst bei außergewöhnlichen Verbrechen. Regelmäßig geht es darum zu reflektieren, welchen Anteil an Spaltungen nach Art des Stevenson’schen „Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde“ unsere Gesellschaft hat. Unabweisbar stellt sich diese Frage gerade unter den Bedingungen großer, gewaltsam ausgetragener Krisen wie der für viele nach wie vor unerklärlichen Konflikte auf dem Balkan im ausgehenden 20. Jahrhundert. Wenn die Entwicklung eines internationalen Strafrechts neuer Form, wie sie insbesondere auf dem Nürnberger Internationalen Militärtribunal aufbauen konnte, unter dem Titel des „Völkerstrafrechts“ behandelt wird,72 so hat es selten einen Begriff der Rechtslehre gegeben, der stärker erklärungsbedürftig war. Suggeriert der Ausdruck „Völkerstrafrecht“ doch eine strafrechtliche Verantwortlichkeit bestimmter Gemeinwesen und gerade nicht von Individuen.73 Benützt man ihn, so muss man sich jenen revolutionären Wandel vor Augen halten, den das Völkerrecht insgesamt nach dem II. Weltkrieg durch die neue Stellung des Individuums im Spannungsfeld des internationalen Rechts erlebt hat – einen Wandel, der schon 1948 seinen prägnanten Ausdruck in der Völkermordkonvention gefunden hat und den in seinen verschiedenen Verzweigungen bewusst zu machen gerade der verehrte Jubilar stets hervorragend verstand und versteht.74 Es geht nicht nur um eine akademische Frage, sondern stellt auch eine politische Herausforderung dar, zu der die wissenschaftliche Diskussion hoffentlich einen Beitrag leisten kann. Diese Hoffnung bezieht sich insbesondere auf die Akzeptanz des ICTY: Die klare Ablehnung der (oft einfach zu Verteidigungszwecken) gebrauchte Rhetorik, das Haager Tribunal richte sich gegen nationale Gruppen oder irgendeine der Nachfolgerepubliken, ist ein Gebot der Stunde, das in seiner Dringlichkeit kaum 71

Um Missdeutungen zuvorzukommen, sei ausdrücklich betont, dass die angestellte Überlegung keineswegs zu einer Entlastung des Individuums führen soll.

72

Der Begriff wurde von Jescheck geprägt; vgl. H.-H. Jescheck, Die Verantwortlichkeit der Staatsorgane nach Völkerstrafrecht (1952); id., „Die internationale Genocidium-Konvention und die Lehre vom Völkerstrafrecht“, 66 Zeitschrift für die gesamte Strafrechtswissenschaft 193-217 (1954).

73

Klarstellend auch der Entwurf der Völkerrechtskommission (supra Fn. 6), wenn er in seinem Artikel 58 das allfällige Eingreifen jeder Form individueller (also der strafrechtlichen, pro futuro aber auch einer möglichen zivilrechtlichen) Verantwortlichkeit von Individuen als unabhängig definiert. Article 58 („Individual responsibility“) bestimmt: „These articles are without prejudice to any question of the individual responsibility under international law of any person acting on behalf of a State.“ (Siehe 2001 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), supra Fn. 6, 142-143.)

74

So etwa zuletzt mit seinem für Sommer 2008 im Rahmen der Hague Academy of International Law angekündigten Kurs „The Emancipation of the Individual from the State under International Law“.

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überschätzt werden kann. Missverständnissen in dieser Beziehung entgegenzutreten ist deshalb nicht bloß Sache der Außenpolitik, sondern schon in theoretischer Hinsicht eine Aufgabe der Wissensvermittlung auf jeder Stufe. Das verleiht dem Thema, zu dem hier, zu Ehren von Gerhard Hafner, Stellung genommen werden durfte, sein Gewicht. Diese Herausforderung spricht auch dafür, die Ausdifferenzierung der Einrichtungen der internationalen Strafjustiz, insbesondere in ihrer gerichtsorganisatorischen Trennung vom IGH, beizubehalten.75 Unter anderem hat das Implikationen für die Ausgestaltung des Prozessrechts. Ohne dass dazu hier ausführlich Stellung genommen werden kann, ist etwa schon im Grundsätzlichen eine Menge an Vorbehalten gegenüber der adversarischen Gestalt der Prozesse vor den Ad-hoc-Tribunalen angebracht. Die Verfahren, vor allem in der Phase der Hauptverhandlung, sollten kurz und knapp geführt werden. Der Fokus muss stets die der Anklage zugrunde liegende Tat – und nicht etwa der historische Hintergrund – sein. Zweckmäßigerweise sollte dazu ein Verhandlungsführer nach Art des kontinentaleuropäischen Verfahrensmodells den Ton angeben. Für eine besondere Kultur der Verfahrensfairness, wie sie aus der Tradition des Common Law genährt wird, ist trotzdem weiter zu sorgen. Diese Quadratur des Kreises gilt es in den kommenden Jahren noch zu bewältigen; dazu gehört etwa auch die zentrale Herausforderung des Zeugenschutzes im Gefüge der zentralen Verteidigungsrechte. Aber dies führt vom eigentlichen Gegenstand der vorstehenden Zeilen ab. Sie sollten die zentrale Errungenschaft des Völkerstrafrechts herausstellen: dass man für die extremen Erscheinungsformen des Hasses und der Zerstörung Einzelne, und nicht ganze Gemeinschaften, zur Verantwortung zieht. Es sollte deshalb stets irrelevant sein, zu welcher Volksgruppe ein Angekagter gehört. Betrachtet man etwa das Verhalten einzelner Mitglieder des Sicherheitsrates oder verfolgt man die mediale Berichterstattung, so gelangt man zum Schluss, dass dieser Grad an Aufklärung noch nicht erreicht ist. Wie soll dann der einfache Mann auf der Straße begreifen , worum es geht, und aus der Spirale von Hass und Aggression herausfinden?

Postskriptum Die Kontrastierung, wie sie durch die Formulierung des Titels angesprochen werden sollte, ist eine rechtsdogmatische. Es wurde aber bereits bemerkt, dass sich der Gegensatz nicht vollständig durchhalten lässt. Die Einbindung des Einzelnen in die Gesellschaft spricht vielmehr schon grundsätzlich dafür, den Vorwurf gegenüber dem Individuum nicht absolut zu setzen („Amstetten ist überall“). Und auch juristisch sind die Ebenen der individuellen und der Staatenverantwortlichkeit – wie das Urteil des IGH in Bezug auf die Verpflichtung zur Zusammenarbeit der Regierungen mit dem ICTY hervorhebt – komplex miteinander verwoben.

75

Vgl. supra Fn. 2.

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Nach Abschluss des Manuskripts hat aus Anlass der Festnahme des Angeklagten Radovan Karadzić und seiner Übergabe an das Tribunal Dubravka Ugrešić76 treffende Worte gefunden, indem sie dem Selbstbild der Richter, nun neuerlich über individuelle Schuld zu urteilen, das soziologische Erfordernis einer „kollektiven Scham“ zur Seite stellte, ohne das die betroffenen Gesellschaften zu keiner echten Katharsis finden könnten: „die Prozesse gegen die Kriegsverbrecher alleine“ könnten eine solche Veränderung noch nicht auslösen. Vielmehr verlangt Ugrešić: „Ohne kollektive Verantwortung kann es keine effiziente Entnazifizierung (sic) geben. Für viele Bürger Ex-Jugoslawiens seien immer die anderen schuld: für die Kroaten die Serben, für die Serben die Muslime, die Kosovo-Albaner, die Kroaten, die ganze Welt [...].“ Hier wird also einem individualisierenden Bild von Schuldigen und Opfern die Forderung entgegengesetzt, dass gerade das Kollektiv zur Einsicht gelangt. Dies erinnert an die Schwierigkeiten, mit der Geschichte der Österreicher, als es kein „Österreich“ gab, ins Reine zu kommen: Auch hier steht neben dem Erfordernis einer Aufarbeitung individueller Schuld das erst spät geäußerte Bedürfnis, von politischer Seite durch ein Benennen der Dinge und symbolische Entschädigung, in erster Linie durch die offizielle Bitte um Verzeihung – insgesamt also durch „acknowledment“77 – zu einer gemeinsamen Vergangenheitsbewältigung78 zu finden. In der Tat lässt sich die Wahrnehmung individueller Verantwortlichkeit gerade bei besonders schweren Verbrechen in den seltensten Fällen von der Ebene gesellschaftlicher Analyse loslösen. In einer umsichtigen Wahrnehmung dieser Dialektik zwischen individueller und kollektiver Verantwortung besteht moderne „Governance“, die der Schutzaufgabe des Rechts gerecht werden will.

76

D. Ugrešić, „Von Greisen und ihren Enkeln“, Neue Zürcher Zeitung (Internationale Ausgabe) vom 16/17 August 2008, 29-30.

77

Richtungsweisend E. Barkan, The Guilt of Nations (2000). Für den Hinweis danke ich auch hier Professor Günter Bischof, New Orleans.

78

Zur österreichischen Formel, wie man sie im späten 20. Jahrhundert entwickeln konnte, vgl H. Feichtlbauer, Der Fall Österreich (2000).

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The International Criminal Court – International Humanitarian Law at Work Hans-Peter Kaul

I.

Introduction

It is often overlooked that today international humanitarian law and international criminal law in the modern sense may somehow be regarded as ‘two sides of the same coin’. The following dates – without claiming to be comprehensive – may illustrate how closely related the development of international humanitarian law is to the idea that serious violations of international humanitarian law should be prosecuted by international courts1: — 1859 – The horrors of the Battle of Solferino lead Henry Dunant to write his book ‘A Memory of Solferino’ and to take the initiative to found the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). — 1872 – The Swiss Gustave Moynier, Henry Dunant’s successor as founder of the International Red Cross, drafts the first Statute for an International Criminal Court. — 1907 – The Hague Convention (IV) respecting the Laws and Customs of War on Land, which established the basis for the present notion of war crimes, is adopted. — 1945/1947 – The International Military Tribunals of Nuremburg and Tokyo establish the principle of individual criminal responsibility for former leading State representatives and military for their acts and, in particular, for the war crimes and crimes against humanity committed by them. — 1948 – Article VI of the Genocide Convention envisages the creation of an International Criminal Court. — 10 December 1948 – For the first time in the history of mankind, the United Nations commit themselves to general, inalienable human rights that henceforth must be protected by every State against arbitrariness, abuse and violence in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. 1

For an overview of the history of International Criminal Law in Germany see C. Kress, ‘Versailles – Nuremberg – The Hague: Germany and International Criminal Law’, 40 The International Lawyer 15 (2006).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 553-570, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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— 1949 – The four Geneva Conventions relating to the protection of victims of armed conflict establish the foundations of modern international humanitarian law and specify those acts that are henceforth prohibited in armed conflict. — 1993/1994 – The ad hoc Criminal Tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda are established, which in their Statutes contain criminal norms concerning war crimes and crimes against humanity. — 17 July 1998 – After years of intense negotiations and almost indescribable efforts, the Diplomatic Conference in Rome successfully adopts the founding treaty of the International Criminal Court, the Rome Statute, with 120 positive votes, 21 abstentions and 7 negative votes. In the final phase of the Rome Conference Professor Gerhard Hafner played a significant role. He was Head of the Austrian Delegation and as Austria then held the EU Presidency, he was also Chairman for quite difficult EU coordination meetings.2 Eventually, on the night of 16 July and into the morning of 17 July 1998 Professor Hafner managed to bring about a common EU position on the Rome Statute, notably on the crucial questions of jurisdiction and admissibility.3 — 11 March 2003 – The International Criminal Court (ICC) is solemnly inaugurated in The Hague in the presence of Kofi Annan and Queen Beatrix. The ICC in The Hague is the first permanent International Criminal Court with a statutory basis that prosecutes genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes, if and when national criminal systems fail.4 It is a general, future-oriented court which is based – and that is the decisive progress compared with the ad hoc-criminal tribunals – on ‘equality before the law, equal law for all’5 as a general principle of law and on the free consent of the international community. The objective of the ICC is to hold individuals accountable for crimes that fall into the category of the most grave and large-scale violations of common values of humanity. In this sense, it shall prevent impunity while also setting up a permanent system to 2

See H.-P. Kaul, ‘Special Note: The Struggle for the International Criminal Court’s Jurisdiction’, 6 European Journal of Crime, Criminal Law and Criminal Justice 364, at 372 (1998).

3

Regarding the crucial question of reservations see G. Hafner, ‘Reservations: Art. 120’, in O. Triffterer (ed.), Commentary on the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court: Observers’ Notes, Article by Article 1251 (1999).

4

H.-P. Kaul, ‘Construction Site for More Justice: The International Criminal Court After Two Years’, 99 AJIL 370 (2005); id., ‘Baustelle für mehr Gerechtigkeit – Der Internationale Strafgerichtshof in seinem zweiten Jahr’, 2004 Vereinte Nationen 141; id., ‘Der Aufbau des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofs, Schwierigkeiten und Fortschritte’, 2001 Vereinte Nationen 215; id., ‘Durchbruch in Rom – Der Vertrag über den Internationalen Strafgerichtshof’ – 1998 Vereinte Nationen 125; id., ‘Auf dem Weg zum Weltstrafgerichtshof – Verhandlungen und Perspektiven’, 1997 Vereinte Nationen 177.

5

See 1945 Statute of the International Court of Justice, art. 38 (1)(c).

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deter potential offenders worldwide, especially with regard to those main offenders who might try to hide behind high hierarchical positions and use their influence to evade prosecution. This article will essentially deal with three sets of questions: First: What is the ICC? What are its key features? Second: What are the most important innovations of the Rome Statute with regard to substantive criminal law? What is the relationship between the crimes in the Statute and international humanitarian law? Third: What is the relevance of international humanitarian law codified in Articles 6 to 8 of the Statute for concrete cases currently before the Court? The article will conclude with some remarks on current challenges and perspectives of the International Criminal Court.

II.

Key Features

Initially the question arises as to what are some of the most important key features which guarantee that the ICC will indeed remain an impartial, non-political and independent judicial institution with fair proceedings. This contribution cannot review the many detailed safeguards built into the Court but it can at least highlight a few elements: ‘The jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court6 is limited to the most serious crimes of concern to the international community as a whole, namely, genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes, pursuant to Articles 6 to 8 of the Statute. It is worthwhile to take a personal look at the long list of 5 forms of genocide, 15 forms of crimes against humanity and more than 50 different war crimes.’

The Court’s jurisdiction is not universal. It is clearly limited to the most well-recognized bases of jurisdiction. The Court has jurisdiction over: — Nationals of States Parties; or — Offences committed on the territory of a State Party. 6

H.-P. Kaul, ‘Preconditions to the Exercise of Jurisdiction’, in A. Cassese/P. Gaeta/J. R. W. D. Jones (eds.), The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court: A Commentary, Vol. I, 583, at 607-616 (2002); H.-P. Kaul/C. Kress, ‘Jurisdiction and Cooperation in the Statute of the International Criminal Court, Principles and Compromises’, 2 Yearbook of International and Humanitarian Law 143, at 152 (1999); M. P. Scharf, ‘The ICC’s Jurisdiction over the Nationals of Non-Party States: A Critique of the U.S. Position’, 64 Law & Contemporary Problems 67, at 110 (2001).

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— In addition, the Security Council can refer situations to the ICC independent of the nationality of the accused or the location of the crime.7 — The Security Council also has the power to defer an investigation or prosecution for one year in the interest of maintaining international peace and security. The ICC is a court of last resort.8 This is known as the principle of complementarity.9 What does this mean? Once again: — Under normal circumstances, States will investigate or prosecute offences themselves. — The Court can only act where States are unwilling or unable to genuinely investigate or prosecute offences. The primary responsibility to investigate and prosecute crimes remains with the States. — Furthermore, cases are only admissible if they are of sufficient gravity to justify the Court’s involvement. Numerous safeguards in the Statute also ensure that politically-motivated prosecutions will not take place. The Pre-Trial Chamber is one example of an important innovation in this regard. — Generally, the Prosecutor is under the control of the Pre-Trial judges. Before launching an investigation on his own initiative, the Prosecutor must first obtain authorization from the Pre-Trial Chamber. This ensures that investigations comply with the strict legal standards set forth in the Statute. These include the obligation upon the Prosecutor to consider whether there is a reasonable basis to believe that a crime within the jurisdiction of the Court has been committed and whether the case is admissible. — The Pre-Trial Chamber also holds a hearing to confirm the charges against the accused, determining for itself that substantial grounds and sufficient

7

A. Zimmermann, ‘Two Steps Forward, One Step Backwards? Security Council Resolution 1593 (2005) and the Council’s Power to Refer Situations to the International Criminal Court’, in P.-M. Dupuy et al. (eds.), Völkerrecht als Wertordnung – Common Values in International Law. Festschrift für/Essays in Honour of Christian Tomuschat 681 (2006).

8

See H.-P. Kaul, ‘The International Criminal Court: Key Features and Current Challenges’, in H. R. Reginbogin/C. J. M. Safferling (eds.), Die Nürnberger Prozesse – Völkerstrafrecht seit 1945, at 246 (2006).

9

See 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 37 ILM 999 (1998), art. 17; M. Benzing, ‘The Complementarity Regime of the International Criminal Court: International Criminal Justice between State Sovereignty and the Fight against Impunity’, 7 Max Planck Yearbook of United Nations Law 591 (2003).

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— evidence exist to proceed to trial. Only if the Pre-Trial Chamber is thus satisfied the trial may go forward. The guarantees of a fair trial and protection of the rights of the accused are of paramount importance before the ICC. — The Statute incorporates the fundamental provisions on the rights of the accused and due process common to national and international legal systems. A further novelty is the active role of victims. Subject to the requirements of the rights of the accused and the guarantee of a fair trial, victims are substantially integrated into the Court’s proceedings – and this concerns both an acknowledged right to actively participate in the proceedings as a regime for reparation procedures, and possible reparation. Another key feature is the fact that the Court is completely dependent on effective criminal co-operation and the support of States Parties.10 As the Court generally has no executive powers and no police force of its own, it is totally dependent on full, effective and timely co-operation from States Parties. As foreseen and planned by its founders, the Court is characterized by the structural weakness of lacking the competencies and means to enforce its own decisions. Also in this respect, it was the intention of the Court’s creators that State sovereignty should prevail.

III.

Current Situation

In short: today the Court is a functioning reality. The four organs of the ICC, the Presidency, the Chambers, the Office of the Prosecutor and the Registry, are now working in well-established structures. The Court today has a staff of around 800 persons from 70 countries, including staff from current non-States Parties such as China, Egypt, the United States and others. The workflows of judicial proceedings within the Court are functioning better and better. Indeed, the main activities of the Court are shifting more and more from the build-up of the Court to actual judicial proceedings. Some facts and figures may illustrate this: — Four situations have been referred to the Prosecutor.

10

For a discussion of the cooperation regime in the Rome Statute, see Kaul/Kress, supra note 6, at 143; P. Mochochoko, ‘International Cooperation and Judicial Assistance’, in R. S. Lee (ed.), The International Criminal Court: The Making of the Rome Statute. Issues, Negotiation, Results 305 (1999); M. Perry/J. McManus, ‘The Cooperation of States with the International Criminal Court’, 25 Fordham International Law Journal 767 (2002); B. Swart/G. Sluiter, ‘The International Criminal Court and International Criminal Cooperation’, in H. von Hebel et al. (eds.), Reflections on the International Criminal Court 91 (1999).

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— Three States Parties have referred situations on their territory, namely Uganda,11 the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)12 and the Central African Republic (CAR)13. — On 31 March 2005, the Security Council referred the situation in Darfur/ Sudan to the Court.14 — As the first non-State Party, the Ivory Coast has accepted the jurisdiction of the Court by a declaration based on Article 12 (3) of the Rome Statute.15 — The Office of the Prosecutor is carrying out investigations in four situations: Uganda, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Darfur/Sudan, and, as announced by the Prosecutor on 22 May 2007, the situation in the Central African Republic. The Office has carried out many investigative missions, concluded agreements necessary for its work and is analysing situations on three continents. — The Public Information Office promptly disseminates information about these activities and the status of all situations. The Court’s Registry has undertaken a range of activities to support the Court in its field operations. It is easy to imagine how important and difficult these field operations are. Investigations take place in hardly accessible, unstable and unsafe areas. This is one reason why field offices are so important. The Kampala those in Uganda is fully operational as are the field offices in Kinshasa in the Democratic Republic of Congo and in Bangui, CAR. The Court also established a presence in the Chad to collect evidence in the refugee camps at the border between Chad and Sudan, where many of the victims and witnesses of the crimes committed in Darfur/Sudan now live. Networks have been established with local counterparts to support the Court in carrying out its mandate, and efforts are underway to provide information to affected communities on the work of the Court.

11

See International Criminal Court, ‘President of Uganda refers situation concerning the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) to the ICC’, Press Release ICC-20040129-44-En, 29 January 2004.

12

See International Criminal Court, ‘Prosecutor receives referral of the situation in the Democratic Republic of Congo’, Press Release ICC-OTP-20040419-50-En, 19 April 2004.

13

See International Criminal Court, ‘Prosecutor receives referral concerning Central African Republic’, Press Release ICC-OTP-20050107-86-En, 7 January 2005.

14

See UN Security Council Res. 1593, UN Doc. S/RES/1593 (2005).

15

See International Criminal Court, ‘Registrar Confirms that the Republic of Côte d’Ivoire has accepted the Jurisdiction of the Court’, Press Release ICC-20050215-91-En, 15 February 2005.

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Substantive Criminal Law – Origins and Innovations

To assess the substantive criminal law codified in the Rome Statute, one is well advised to begin with a closer look at Articles 6 to 8 of the Rome Statute, which contain the list of crimes over which the ICC has jurisdiction.16 As is well-known, the International Criminal Court was created to deal with the most heinous crimes under international law: genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes and at a later stage perhaps supplemented by the crime of aggression;17 an effort to define the crime of aggression is underway. None of these crimes were ‘invented’ by the drafters of the Rome Statute. Rather, they all have strong foundations in international law, especially international humanitarian law, which often date back more than 50 years.18 To take the most obvious example, the crime of genocide19 was recognized in the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide of 1948 – often referred to as Genocide Convention. The definition of the crime of genocide provided for in that Convention is literally the same as that in Article 6 of the Rome Statute. However, the General Assembly resolution approving the Convention (Resolution 260) had already called on the International Law Commission to ‘study the desirability and possibility of establishing an international judicial organ for the trial of persons charged with genocide or other crimes over which jurisdiction will be conferred upon that organ by international conventions’. This suggestion was echoed in the Genocide Convention in Article VI, which states that ‘Persons charged with genocide […] shall be tried by a competent [national Tribunal], or by such international penal tribunal as may have jurisdiction with respect to those Contracting Parties which shall have accepted its jurisdiction’. With the creation of the International Criminal Court, this ‘international penal tribunal’ is now finally in existence! It is clear that with such a strong legal foundation, the adoption of Article 6 never posed any real difficulties. More difficult was the adoption of Article 7, which deals with crimes against humanity.20 Crimes against humanity were for the first time prosecuted before the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg. Article 6(c) of the Charter of the International Military Tribunal defined crimes against humanity as ‘murder, extermination, enslavement, deportation, and other inhumane acts committed against any civilian population, before or during the war; or persecutions on political, racial or 16

For an overview on the crimes see G. Werle, Principles of International Criminal Law 186-403 (2005).

17

O. Fixson/G. Westdickenberg, ‘Das Verbrechen der Aggression im Römischen Statut des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofs’, in J. Frowein et al. (eds.), Verhandeln für den Frieden/ Negotiating for Peace. Festschrift für Tono Eitel 483 (2003); M. Politi/G. Nesi (eds.), The International Criminal Court and the Crime of Aggression (2004).

18

For a summary of this aspect see H.-P. Kaul, ‘Substantive Criminal Law in the Rome Statute and its Implementation in National Legislation’, in International Committee of the Red Cross/ Damascus University Faculty of Law (eds.), The International Criminal Court and Enlarging the Scope of International Humanitarian Law 277 (2004).

19

See W. A. Schabas, Genocide in International Law (2000).

20

See Werle, supra note 16, at 214-266.

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religious grounds in execution of or in connection with any crime within the jurisdiction of the Tribunal, whether or not in violation of the domestic law of the country where perpetrated’. One cursory glance at the definition in Article 7 of the Rome Statute will immediately make apparent the enormous evolution the concept of crimes against humanity has undergone since 1948. Needless to say, the work of the ad hoc Tribunals for the Former Yugoslavia and Rwanda has been instrumental for this development. But it is to the merit of the Rome Statute to have captured these developments of customary international law – because that is, in the absence of specific treaty law, the ultimate basis of crimes against humanity – in an authoritative new definition. As is well-known, there are two main elements of the concept of crimes against humanity: first, the conditions which amount to a crime against humanity – the socalled ‘threshold test’ – and second, a list of crimes that can constitute such crimes. This two-pronged structure was already present in the Nuremberg Charter and Control Council Law No. 10 and can also be found in the definitions used in the Statutes of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR). Article 7 of the Rome Statute shows very clearly that the crime against humanity requires the existence of two constitutive elements: — a widespread or systematic attack directed against a civilian population as such (Gesamttat); — individual acts such as murder or other such acts listed in Article 7, which are consciously, with knowledge of the attack, committed as part of the attack (Einzeltat). In this respect, it is interesting to compare the difference between the definition of the ‘threshold test’ in the Statute of the ICTY,21 which still requires an armed conflict, with the definition in Article 3 of the Statute of the ICTR, which requires that the crimes are committed ‘as part of a widespread or systematic attack against any civilian population on national, political, ethnic, racial or religious grounds’. It is clear that the difference in scope between these two provisions is quite substantial. The Statute of the Yugoslavia tribunal limits the definition of crimes against humanity to crimes committed during an armed conflict, whereas the Rwanda tribunal does not have such a restriction. On the other hand, the ICTR definition requires that the crimes are committed ‘on national, political, ethnic, racial or religious grounds’, whereas this requirement is absent from the ICTY definition. Article 7 of the Rome Statute is a combination of both in so far as no armed conflict or political, ethnic racial or religious motives – essentially discriminatory motives – must be established. It is understood that this is a considerable expansion of the scope of application of crimes against humanity. Attention should also be paid to the fact that the definition speaks about a widespread or systematic attack, as also provided in the 21

See 1993 Statute of the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, 32 ILM 1203 (1993), art. 5.

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ICTR Statute. It was suggested that the attack should be widespread and systematic, but this was not retained in the final draft. Obviously, this also broadens the scope of the article considerably. To summarize the present ‘threshold test’ and how it has departed from earlier definitions: 1.

There is no nexus required with an armed conflict, whether of an international or internal nature – this is a departure from the requirements laid down in the Nuremberg and Tokyo Charters, as well as from the ICTY Statute.

2. There is no longer a general requirement for a discriminatory element, except for the crime of persecution (sub-paragraph 1(h)). It is interesting to note that the Nuremberg Charter and the ICTY Statute never contained this requirement, whereas the ICTR Statute does. With the adoption of the Rome Statute, however, all doubts are resolved. 3. The nature of the attack must be widespread or systematic. In other words, the broader, disjunctive test was retained over the more restrictive conjunctive test proposed by a number of countries. 4. Lastly, perhaps the most important new element is that the Rome Statute defines what is meant by an attack against a civilian population. This concept, which is defined in sub-paragraph 2(a), has two elements: a) ‘multiple commission of acts’ b) ‘pursuant to or in furtherance of a State of organizational policy to commit such attack’. In particular, this last element is an important innovation, as it is for the first time that it is spelled out with an authoritative definition. This element is also especially important since the definition requires the person committing the act to have knowledge of the attack, which is a very specific aspect of mens rea. From this brief overview, it will be understood that, although the Rome Statute has not invented anything new, it has to a large extent clarified and thereby broadened the scope of the concept of crimes against humanity. At the same time, the list of crimes that can amount to crimes against humanity is expanded and specified. One could mention the inclusion of apartheid in sub-paragraph 1(j) as well as ‘enforced disappearance of persons’ in sub-paragraph 1(i). But undoubtedly a most important addition to the list is the inclusion of a number of defined sexual crimes in sub-paragraph 1(g). The traditional inclusion of ‘rape’ has expanded to ‘sexual slavery, forced pregnancy, enforced sterilization, or any other form of sexual violence of comparable gravity’. Another gender-related crime which was included under the heading of ‘enslavement’ is ‘trafficking in persons, in particular women and children’ (sub-paragraph 2(c)). These are more than just symbolic inclusions. They indicate that international criminal law has become more mature and has left the realm

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of military-concern-dominated laws of war, where the female victims of war were taken for granted as an inevitable ‘side-effect’ of war. As pointed out earlier, all these innovations were based on evolutions in customary international law since the creation of the concept of crimes against humanity. It is important to consider this legal basis because it should be clear that the drafters of the Rome Statute did not ‘invent’ anything new. At the same time, one should also take note of Article 10, which states that ‘nothing in this Part shall be interpreted as limiting or prejudicing in any way existing or developing rules of international law for the purpose other than this Statute’ (emphasis added). This means that the Rome Statute will not stand in the way of further developments of customary law and that the Court is open to such further evolutions and improvements. Customary international law played an even more significant role in the definition of the list of war crimes in Article 8 of the Rome Statute.22 If one counts the provisions, Article 8 provides for 50 different forms of war crimes under four different headings: — grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions; — other serious violations of the laws and customs applicable to international armed conflict, in other words: violations of customary international criminal law; — common Article 3 – applicable to non-international armed conflicts; — other serious violations of the laws and customs applicable in non-international armed conflicts, which again means violations of Customary International Criminal Law as applicable to internal armed conflicts. As they are presented in the Rome Statute now, it may seem that the provisions on war crimes were not very controversial. Yet, the opposite is true, as the definition of war crimes proved to be an extremely sensitive political issue.23 As may be noticed at first glance, the provisions on crimes committed in non-international armed conflicts are almost parallel to those on crimes in international conflicts. From a substantive point of view, this is perhaps one of the greatest achievements of the Rome Statute. The greatest problem was of course with war crimes committed in non-international conflicts, as a number of States including major powers such as the United States of America had not ratified the Second Additional Protocol to the Geneva Conventions. And it was only after the approach was adopted to address the issue as an exercise of codifying customary international law that an agreement could be found. The breakthrough took place in 1997, when, after extensive consultations between some UN members and the ICRC

22

See Werle, supra note 16, at 267-383.

23

For an account of the travaux préparatoires with regard to art. 8 on war crimes, see A. Zimmermann, ‘The Creation of a Permanent International Criminal Court’, 2 Max Planck Yearbook of United Nations Law 169 (1998).

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under the chairmanship of the author, the so-called ‘Bonn Paper on war crimes’24 was agreed upon, which adopted the approach that can now be found in Article 8. Article 8 of the Rome Statute can without exaggeration be described as the first international ‘criminal code for armed conflict’. This achievement has been generally hailed, even by those coming from states that usually oppose the ICC. For example, the Chief US negotiator for the ICC, then US Ambassador-at-Large for War Crime Issues, David J. Scheffer, wrote in 1999 that ‘[a] major achievement of Article 8 of the treaty is its application to war crimes committed during internal armed conflicts’.25 And also Judge Theodore Meron, the former President of the ICTY, arguably America’s most respected expert on international humanitarian law and a member of the US delegation to the Rome Conference, has repeatedly praised Articles 6 to 8 of the Rome Statute as significant progress in international law.

V.

International Humanitarian Law in the Statute – First Experiences and First Cases

The article will now address the first experiences and first cases in which international humanitarian law and the crimes listed in the Statute have become relevant in concrete cases before the ICC. This concerns the question which concrete crimes of known individuals suspected to have committed crimes against humanity or war crimes are currently investigated or prosecuted by the Court. Altogether four situations have been referred to the Prosecutor either by States Parties or by the Security Council, namely the situations in Uganda, in the Democratic Republic of Congo, in the Central African Republic and the situation in Darfur/Sudan. The Prosecutor has opened official investigations in Uganda,26 in the Democratic Republic of Congo,27 regarding the situation in Darfur/Sudan28 and in the Central African Republic.29 The Presidency has assigned each situation to one of the Chambers of the Pre-Trial Division. Pre-Trial Chamber I, responsibile of the situation in the Democratic Republic 24

See Reference Paper on War Crimes submitted by Germany, UN Doc. AC.249/1997/WG.1/ DP.23/Rev.1.

25

See D. J. Scheffer, ‘The United States and the International Criminal Court’, 93 AJIL 12, at 16 (1999); regarding the view of the United States on the ICC see also R. Wedgwood, ‘The International Criminal Court: An American View’, 10 EJIL 93 (1999); and G. Hafner et al., ‘A Response to the American View as Presented by Ruth Wedgwood’, 10 EJIL 108 (1999).

26

See International Criminal Court, ‘Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court opens an investigation into Nothern Uganda’, Press Release ICC-OTP-20040729-65-En, 29 July 2004.

27

See International Criminal Court, ‘The Office of the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court opens its first investigation’, Press Release ICC-OTP-20040623-59-En, 23 June 2004.

28

See International Criminal Court, ‘The Prosecutor of the ICC opens investigation in Darfur’, Press Release ICC-OTP-0606-104-En, 6 June 2005.

29

See International Criminal Court, ‘Prosecutor opens investigation in the Central African Republic’, Press Release ICC-OTP-PR-20070522-220_En, 22 May 2007.

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of Congo and in Darfur/Sudan, and Pre-Trial Chamber II, responsibile of the situation in Uganda, have held many hearings and issued many decisions. In these proceedings, altogether nine cases are currently investigated or prosecuted by the Court. Regarding the notion ‘case’, the question arises as to what is meant by ‘case’. There is a lot of confusion concerning this important notion. It is advisable to speak of a case only when suspects are investigated and prosecuted by the competent organs of the Court for concrete crimes they have allegedly committed. According to this approach, the Court is currently engaged in judicial proceedings against two suspects in Sudan, three suspects from the Democratic Republic of Congo, who are already in the custody of the Court, and four suspects from Uganda against whom Pre-Trial Chamber II has issued arrest warrants. In the following paragraphs, these nine cases and the concrete crimes against humanity or war crimes currently being investigated will be summarized very briefly. Each time the article will give a brief outline of the case and then specify the crimes being under investigation. Firstly, with regard to Darfur/Sudan, on 1 May 2007, Pre-Trial Chamber I issued warrants of arrest for Ahmad Muhammad Harun, former Minister of State for the Interior of the Government of Sudan and currently Minister of Humanitarian Affairs, and Ali Muhammad Al Abd-Al-Rahman (‘Ali Kushayb’), a leader of the Janjaweed Militia nicknamed ‘colonel of colonels’.30 The two suspects are accused of crimes against humanity and war crimes committed in Darfur in 2003 and 2004. After examining the request and evidence submitted by the Prosecutor, the Chamber concluded that ‘there are reasonable grounds to believe that Ahmad Harun, by virtue of his position, had knowledge of the crimes committed against the civilian population and of the methods used by the Janjaweed Militia; and that in his public speeches Ahmad Harun not only demonstrated that he knew that the Janjaweed Militia were attacking civilians and pillaging towns and villages, but also personally encouraged the commission of such illegal acts’. The Chamber further concluded that there are reasonable grounds to believe that Ali Kushayb, leader of the Janjaweed Militia in the Wadi Salih enlisted fighters, armed, funded and provided supplies to the Janjaweed Militia under his command, thereby intentionally contributing to the commission of the crimes. He personally participated in some of the attacks against civilians. The two individuals are suspected of having committed the following crimes: Crimes against humanity pursuant to Article 7: — murder of civilians in violation of Article 7(1)(a); — forcible transfer of a large number of civilians in violation of Article 7(1)(d);

30

See The Prosecutor v. Ahmad Muhammad Harun (‘Ahmad Harun’) and Ali Muhammad Ali Abd-Al-Rahman (‘Ali Kushayb’), Pre-Trial Chamber I, Warrant of arrest for Ahmad Harun, and Warrant of arrest for Ali Kushayb of 1 May 2005, Case No. ICC-02/05-01/07, http:// www.icc-cpi.int/cases/Darfur/c0205/c0205_docPreTrial.html.

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— imprisonment or severe deprivation of liberty of at least 400 civilians in violation of Article 7(1)(e); — torture of at least 60 civilians in violation of Article 7(1)(f); — rape of women and girls in violation of Article 7(1)(g); — persecution in violation of Article 7(1)(h); and — infliction of great suffering, serious injury to body or to mental or physical health by means of an inhumane act upon civilians in violation of Article 7(1)(k) At the same time, they are also suspected of having committed the following war crimes pursuant to Article 8: — murder of civilians in violation of Article 8(2)(c)(i); — violation of the dignity of women and girls in violation of Article 8(2)(c)(ii); — intentional directing of attacks against civilians not taking direct part in hostilities in violation of Article 8(2)(e)(i); — pillaging of property in violation of Article 8(2)(e)(v); — rape of women and girls in violation of Article 8(2)(e)(vi); and — destruction of property in violation of Article 8(2)(e)(xii). These massive and widespread crimes took place at various locations and times in 2003 and 2004 and seem to have involved tens of thousands of victims. Since the Chamber was apprehensive that the two suspects will not voluntarily present themselves before the Court, warrants of arrest were issued even though the application by the Prosecutor primarily requested a summons to appear. This decision by Pre-Trial Chamber I significantly increases the pressure on the Sudanese suspects and the Sudanese government. As Prosecutor Luis Moreno Ocampo stated, ‘[t]he judges have issued arrest warrants. As the territorial state, the Government of the Sudan has a legal duty to arrest Ahmad Harun and Ali Kushayb. This is the International Criminal Court’s decision, and the Government has to respect it’.31 Secondly, the case of Thomas Lubanga Dyilo from the Democratic Republic of Congo32 is a rather special case in various respects. This concerns in the first place the 31

See International Criminal Court, ‘Sudan: Judges endorse Prosecutor’s evidence of crimes in Darfur’, Press Release ICC-OTP-20070222-215-En, 2 May 2007.

32

See The Prosecutor v. Thomas Lubanga Dyilo, Pre-Trial Chamber I, Warrant of Arrest for Thomas Lubanga Dyilo of 10 February 2006, ICC-01/04-01/06, http://www.icc-cpi.int/ library/cases/ICC-01-04-01-06-2_tEnglish.pdf.

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suspect and the nature of the crimes. During the relevant time-period, Thomas Lubanga Dyilo was the President of a self-declared politico-military movement, the ‘Union des Patriotes Congolais’ (UPC), and simultaneously the Commander-in-Chief of the ‘Forces Patriotiques pour la Libération du Congo’ (FPLC), the UPC’s military branch. The FPLC operated in Ituri, a district of the DRC, located in its north-east, bordering Uganda. The FPLC – as other militia in the area – recruited literally thousands of children under 18 years and many of them below 15 years and used them to participate actively in hostilities. Against this background, Thomas Lubanga is indicted, as co-perpetrator, for the war crime of enlistment, of conscription and the war crime of using children under 15 years to participate actively in hostilities pursuant to Article 8(2)(b)(xxvi). Pre-Trial Chamber I confirmed these charges on 29 January 2007. It is expected that the trial against Thomas Lubanga Dyilo, who continues to be in custody of the Court, will begin on 23 June 2008. This will be the first case in which this particular crime – a terrible problem in some African countries – will be fully tried before the International Criminal Court. Since 17 October 2007, Mr Germain Katanga,33 and since 7 February 2008, Mr. Mathieu Ngudjolo Chui two further suspects from the Democratic Republic of Congo are also in the custody of the Court. Mr Katanga, also known as ‘Simba’, and Mr. Chui are believed to be responsible for numerous war crimes and crimes against humanity as highest ranking commanders of the ‘Force de Résistance Patriotique en Ituri’ (FRPI), and the ‘Front des Nationalistes et Intégrationnistes’ (FNI), respectively. In particular, they allegedly played an essential role in a murderous attack against the village of Bogoro, Ituri on or around 24 February 2003 in which about 200 civilians were murdered. The two cases have been joined on 10 March 2008 and the hearing to confirm the charges before Pre-Trial Chamber I has been set on 21 May 2008.34 Thirdly, with regard to Uganda, in 2005 Pre-Trial Chamber II issued five warrants of arrest against Joseph Kony, chairman and commander of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) and four of his commanders.35 This group allegedly established a regime of terror and violence in Uganda and Southern Sudan. According to the Prosecutor the group is responsible for: — at least 2,200 killings and 3,200 abductions recorded from July 2002 to June 2004, in over 850 attacks; 33

See The Prosecutor v. Germain Katanga, Pre-Trial Chamber, Warrant of Arrest for Germain Katanga of 2 July 2007, ICC-01/04-01/07; http://www.icc-cpi.int/library/cases/ICC-01-0401-07-1_tEnglish.pdf.

34

See The Prosecutor v. Germain Katanga and Mathieu Ngudjolo Chui, Decision on the Joinder of the Cases, ICC-01/04-01/07-307; available at http://www.icc-cpi.int/library/cases/ICC01-04-01-07-307-ENG.pdf.

35

See The Prosecutor v. Joseph Kony, Vincent Otti, Raska Lukwiya, Okot Odhiambo and Dominic Ongwen, Pre-Trial Chamber, Warrants of arrest for Joseph Kony, Dominic Ongwen, Okot Odhiambo, Raska Lukwiya, Vincent Otti of 8 July 2005, ICC 02/04-01/05, http://www.icccpi.int/cases/UGD/c0105/c0105_docPreTrial1.html; it is noteworthy that the proceedings against Raska Lukwiya have been terminated on 11 July 2007 due to the confirmed death of Raska Lukwiya (ICC-02/04-01/05-248).

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— attacking and pillaging communities in Uganda and Southern Sudan; — killing without reason thousands of men, women, boys and girls from different communities; — destroying villages and camps, and burning entire families; and — abducting thousands of persons (especially children), forcing boys to be killers and girls to be sex slaves. Against this background Joseph Kony is in particular suspected of having committed the following crimes against humanity pursuant to Article 7: — unlawful killings of civilian residents in violation of Article 7(1)(a); — enslavement of civilian residents in violation of Article 7(1)(c); — sexual enslavement in violation of Article 7(1)(g); and — rape in violation of Article 7(1)(k). Furthermore, he is suspected of having committed the following war crimes pursuant to Article 8: — cruel treatment and unlawful killings of civilian residents in violation of Article 8 (2)(c)(i); — intentional directing of an attack against the civilian population not taking direct part in hostilities in violation of Article 8(2); — pillaging of Internally Displaced Persons (IDP) Camps in violation of Article 8(2)(e)(v); — rape in violation of Article 8(e)(vi); and — enlisting children under the age of 15 through abduction in violation of Article 8(2)(e)(vii). The warrants of arrest against the other three LRA commanders contain similar charges. The fact that the warrants of arrest, issued already in 2005, are not yet executed and that the four suspects are still fugitive (one of them – Vincent Otti – may have been killed in the meantime according to unconfirmed reports) is very regrettable. This unfortunate fact highlights the critical dependency of the ICC on effective criminal co-operation.

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VI.

Conclusion

In concluding, some of the major challenges which the Court continues to be confronted with shall be highlighted. A very serious challenge is the enormous difficulty of carrying out investigations and collecting evidence regarding mass crimes committed in regions thousands of kilometres away from the Court, hardly accessible, unstable and dangerous. Carrying out investigations in Uganda, the Democratic Republic of Congo or in Darfur entails logistical and technical problems, unprecedented problems which no other Prosecutor or Court has ever been faced with. Another grim reality is the notorious scarcity of financial and other resources available for investigations and other work of the Court. A further serious challenge is the obvious fact that the Court cannot be successful without active and steadfast support from States Parties, both in word and deed. States Parties must draw appropriate conclusions from the well-known fact that the Court has no executive powers, no police, no armed forces or other executive mechanisms. Consequently, States Parties and the Court must in a foreseeable future tackle in particular three fundamental necessities. Firstly, the joint development of a new and innovative system of best practices of international criminal co-operation: direct, point to point, flexible, without unnecessary bureaucracy, with full use of modern information technology and a fast flow of information and supportive measures. Secondly, the gradual build-up and increasing strengthening of a solid and reliable network of efficient international co-operation between the Court and States Parties.36 Thirdly, practical solutions for the making of arrests and the transfer of suspects to the ICC.37 In general, these necessities require a new openness and a new thinking commensurate to the task of making the ICC system work. The starting point is clear: the ICC is located in The Hague, far away from the crisis areas it deals with, like in Uganda, the DRC and Darfur. It has no police force of its own, no soldiers, and no powers of enforcement. All persons concerned must be prepared to draw appropriate conclusions from these facts in order to overcome these handicaps. The Court is, as it were, only five years old. It is an enterprise designed to be permanent and to have a medium and long term effect. It is important to give the ICC time to complete its own process of development to a fully functioning and reliable international organization.38 It must be given the chance to become an effective and acknowledged international court. In addition, it seems appropriate to recall in particular that with regard to future prospects of the ICC, one should, for a good while still be quite sober and 36

See H.-P. Kaul, ‘Der Internationale Strafgerichtshof – Stand und Perspektiven’, in F. Neubacher/A. Klein (eds.), Vom Recht der Macht zur Macht des Rechts 93 (2006); Kaul, supra note 4, at 149; Kaul/Kreß, supra note 6. at 143 et seq.

37

See B. Swart, ‘Arrest and Surrender’, in A. Cassese/P. Gaeta/J. R. W. D. Jones (eds.), The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court: A Commentary, Vol. II, at 1639 (2002); see H. Ru Zhou, ‘The Enforcement of International Arrest Warrants by International Forces – From the ICTY to the ICC’, 4 Journal of International Criminal Justice 208 (2006).

38

See Kaul, supra note 4, at 384.

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realistic, maybe even modest. In particular, one should avoid exaggerated expectations – which would only backfire on the ICC if they cannot be fulfilled. It is obvious that the ICC is no panacea for all evils and crimes of this world. It will not be able to prosecute all the perpetrators of all crimes committed anywhere in the world, only a few of those who bear the greatest responsibility. As the Court depends completely on co-operation from States Parties, there is a risk that the ICC may be perceived as weak and inefficient, if this co-operation is not as forthcoming as it should.39 In general, the ICC will always have a rather limited capacity and will be small, more a symbol for the rule of law and a court of last resort. But there is the expectation shared by many all over the world that the Court over time will be able to demonstrate, in exemplary cases, that it can hold fair trials within a reasonable period and that it can produce judgments which set and affirm important standards for the international community.

39

See J. K. Cogan, ‘International Criminal Courts and Fair Trials – Difficulties and Prospects’, 27 Yale Journal of International Law 119 (2002); Kaul, supra note 35, at 93 et seq.

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29

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‘Irrelevance of Official Capacity’ – Article 27 Rome Statute Undermined by Obligations under International Law or by Agreement (Article 98)? Otto Triffterer*

I.

Homage

Der Jubilar hat als einer der wenigen Völkerrechtler schon frühzeitig nicht nur ein besonderes Interesse am Völkerstrafrecht bekundet, sondern sich auf diesem neuen Gebiet auch vielfältig engagiert. So hat er etwa bereits kurz nach der Errichtung des ICTY und des ICTR gemeinsam mit dem Verfasser in Wien ein Seminar zum aktuellen Stand des Völkerstrafrechts abgehalten. Seit 1999 trägt er regelmäßig jedes Jahr mit einschlägigen Vorträgen zum Gelingen der „Salzburg Law School on International Criminal Law, Humanitarian Law and Human Rights Law“ bei.1 Seine reichhaltigen Erfahrungen aus seiner Mitarbeit in zahlreichen internationalen Institutionen, wie etwa der International Law Commission, fallen dabei aufgrund seines umfassenden „InsiderWissens“ stets als eine besondere Bereicherung für alle Teilnehmer ins Gewicht. Seit seiner Beteiligung an der Ausarbeitung des Rom Statuts tritt der Jubilar für ein Statut „ohne Vorbehalte“ ein. Nachdem Artikel 120 dementsprechend festlegt, „no reservation may be made to this Statute“, geht es ihm immer wieder darum, Schwachstellen ausfindig zu machen, zu analysieren und im Gesamtkontext des Statuts umfassend, insbesondere auch mit Hilfe der Wiener Vertragsrechtskonvention zu interpretieren. Dabei hat zum Beispiel Artikel 124, der im Widerspruch zu Artikel 120 (offene!) Vorbehalte für Kriegsverbrechen zeitlich begrenzt zulässt, ebenso sein reges Interesse gefunden wie Artikel 98, der nur auf den ersten Blick in Widerspruch zu Artikel 27 zu stehen scheint. Hinzu kommt, dass die erste Vorschrift auch wegen der in ihr sowie an anderer Stelle des Statuts unklaren Verwendung der Bezeichnung „third State“ einer besonderen Aufmerksamkeit bedarf. Vor allem aber scheint sie bei Ersuchen „to act inconsistently with […] obligations under international law“ oder „international agreements“ die generellen Verpflichtungen nach Artikel 86 ff, jedenfalls auf den ersten Blick, so erheblich einzuschränken, dass der Grundsatz der „irrelevance of official capacity“, der in Artikel 27 festgelegt ist, „leerlaufen“ könnte.

*

Articles without further indication are those of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (hereinafter ‘Rome Statute’ or ‘Statute’).

1

For more details see http://www.sbg.ac.at/salzburglawschool.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 571-602, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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Das besondere Interesse des Jubilars an Widersprüchen, die vom Ergebnis her nicht offensichtlich sind, aber bei genauerer Betrachtung auf offene oder verdeckte „Vorbehalte“ hinauslaufen, rechtfertigt es, ihm diese Betrachtung zu widmen. In ihr treffen nämlich strafrechtliche und völkerrechtliche Prinzipien im Rom Statut in einer Weise aufeinander, die der Rechtsfindung nicht dienlich sein könnte, vor allem, wenn sich diese beiden Vorschriften möglicherweise sogar gegenseitig beeinträchtigen. Möge dieser Beitrag deshalb nicht nur dem Jubilar gefallen, sondern ihn zugleich als Homage an seine bisherigen Leistungen auf dem Gebiet des Völkerstrafrechts darin bestärken, sich auch weiterhin neben den umfassenden traditionellen Fragestellungen gerade solchen Bereichen zu widmen, die oft ein Orchideen-Dasein führen. Dass er diese Aufgabe, vor allem den Studierenden eine ausgefallene Materie nahe zu bringen, noch viele Jahre wird weiterführen können, das wünsche ich ihm − und uns − mit einem herzlichen gratulor zur Vollendung des 65. Lebensjahres!

II.

Introduction: Political Compromises Protecting Potential Perpetrators?

The Rome Statute, the Elements of Crimes2 and the Rules of Procedure and Evidence3 are strongly shaped by political compromises between, on the one hand, so called ‘hardliners’, demanding a Court competent for all ‘core crimes’ and independent of the territorial or the active personality principle or the consent of individual states parties, and on the other hand those carefully observing that the states cannot without their expressed consent be ‘controlled’ by the Court, that is, not without taking due account of their individual, in particular political interests.4 The Rome Statute as a whole with its well balanced ‘complementarity regime’ is the most convincing example of the generally prevailing will to compromise of those present at the 1998 Rome Conference in order not to miss the chance of the day, after more than 100 years of continuous endeavours, finally to create the first permanent (and real) International Criminal Court (hereinafter ‘the Court’).5 Articles 27 and 98 jointly constitute another compromise that plays an independent role for, or at least forms an important part of,

2

With regard to the Elements of Crimes see E. Gadirov/R. S. Clark, ‘Article 9’, in O. Triffterer (ed.), Commentary on the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (2008).

3

Rules of Procedure and Evidence, as adopted pursuant to the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court; further on Rule(s); see B. Broomhall, ‘Article 51’, in Triffterer, supra note 2.

4

See, for instance, O. Triffterer, ‘Article 27’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 11 et seq.

5

In general also the Court or the ICC. For these controversial interests see A. Gastmann, ‘The Act of State Doctrine’, in J. Stone/R. K. Woetzel (eds.), Toward a Feasible International Criminal Court 248 et seq. (1970); see also C. Kreß/K. Prost, ‘Article 98’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 1 et seq.; see also G. Karl, Völkerrechtliche Immunität im Bereich der Strafverfolgung schwerster Menschrechtsverletzungen 113 (2003).

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the ‘complementarity regime’. The following considerations concentrate on these two articles in respect of the last aspect.6 Article 27 provides, at the end of its Paragraph 1, that ‘official capacity […] shall in no case exempt a person from criminal responsibility under this Statute’. In addition, already the heading of this provision excludes any relevance of official capacities for individual criminal responsibility under international law. Its opening phrase further requires that ‘this Statute shall apply equally to all persons without any distinction based on official capacity’. The just quoted wording implies that international criminal law is addressed to both persons holding such a position and those not acting in official capacity. Therefore any person may become responsible directly under its provisions, at least to the extent defined or otherwise expressed in the Rome Statute or its Rules. However, Article 98 seems to express a reservation. Since persons in official capacity often enjoy diplomatic immunities, ‘[t]he Court may not proceed with a request for surrender or assistance’ when such request ‘would require the requested State to act inconsistently with its obligations under international law’. Does this restriction of the powers of the Court protect potential perpetrators provided they belong to certain privileged groups of persons enjoying ‘immunities or special procedural rules’? Does Article 98 result in impunity and does it therefore ‘undermine’ Article 27? All these aspects seem to display consequences of the abolition of the act-of-state doctrine, which excluded individual criminal responsibility of those acting on behalf of the state but which lost its dominating position in the context of the wars at the beginning of the 20th century. At least with respect to the most serious crimes of concern 6

For the reader’s convenience both provisions of the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 37 ILM 999 (1998), are reprinted: Article 27 Irrelevance of official capacity 1.

This Statute shall apply equally to all persons without any distinction based on official capacity. In particular, official capacity as a Head of State or Government, a member of a Government or parliament, an elected representative or a government official shall in no case exempt a person from criminal responsibility under this Statute, nor shall it, in and of itself, constitute a ground for reduction of sentence.

2. Immunities or special procedural rules which may attach to the official capacity of a person, whether under national or international law, shall not bar the Court from exercising its jurisdiction over such a person.

Article 98 Cooperation with respect to waiver of immunity and consent to surrender 1.

The Court may not proceed with a request for surrender or assistance which would require the requested State to act inconsistently with its obligations under international law with respect to the State or diplomatic immunity of a person or property of a third State, unless the Court can first obtain the cooperation of that third State for the waiver of the immunity.

2. The Court may not proceed with a request for surrender which would require the requested State to act inconsistently with its obligations under international agreements pursuant to which the consent of a sending State is required to surrender a person of that State to the Court, unless the Court can first obtain the cooperation of the sending State for the giving of consent for the surrender.

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to the international community, falling within the jurisdiction of the Court, no such privileges appear acceptable any more, although they still might play a role on the national level in the exercise of national jurisdiction.7 Besides this basic concept of substantive international criminal law, Article 27(1) in fine draws per argumentum e contrario attention to the fact that such official capacity, though it shall not ‘in and of itself constitute a ground for reduction of sentence’, may be relevant together with other grounds for the determination of sentence according to Article 78. In addition, the just quoted part of paragraph 1 does not exclude the possibility that such capacity is taken into consideration, for instance, when being abused, as an aggravating circumstance. These basic premises described in Article 27(1) shape the conditions for commencing investigations and prosecutions in cases falling within the jurisdiction of the Court. Paragraph 2 of Article 27 further provides that ‘[i]mmunities or special procedural rules […] shall not bar the Court from exercising its jurisdiction over such a person’ in the sense mentioned above. Which means that the Court may start or continue proceedings with respect to such persons, independent of whether they have (or merely claim to have) ‘[i]mmunities or special procedural rules […] under national or international law’. However, Article 98 raises doubt as to whether this exercise of jurisdiction is possible in all cases or whether Article 27 in all its aspects may be limited by the concept and notion implied in Article 98. The question is whether Articles 27 and 98 jointly contain a political compromise protecting those responsible according to Article 27 against surrender to the Court when they for instance have ‘good friends’ to shelter them against criminal proceedings. Article 98 states that ‘[t]he Court may not proceed with a request […] which would require the requested state to act inconsistently with its obligations under international law with respect to the state or diplomatic immunity of a person or property of a third state’ or ‘under international agreements pursuant to which the consent of a sending state is required to surrender’. It may be asked whether either proviso in Article 98 could prevent investigations and prosecutions in the sense of Article 27 if certain parts of criminal proceedings in absentia are prohibited, and the person charged is not at the disposal of the Court or only ‘available’ by surrender. In relation to trials, a tendency in this direction is shown by Articles 63(1) and 67(1) (d) when using the words ‘shall be present during the trial’ and ‘shall be entitled […] to be present at the trial’, respectively. It is, therefore, the purpose of this essay to examine the question whether the exercise of jurisdiction may be limited by demanding the

7

See, for instance, H.-H. Jescheck, Die Verantwortlichkeit der Staatsorgane nach Völkerstrafrecht, Eine Studie zu den Nürnberger Prozessen 121 (1952), K. Prost/A. Schlunck, ‘Article 98’, in O. Triffterer (ed.), Commentary on the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (1999), margin no. 4; O. Triffterer, ‘Prosecution of States for the Crimes of State’, 67 Revue Internationale de Droit Pénal 341 et seq. (1996); K. Ambos, Internationales Strafrecht; Strafanwendungsrecht, Völkerstrafrecht, Europäisches Strafrecht, para. 7, margin nos. 109 et seq. (2006). See also A. Zimmermann, ‘Article 5’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 8 et seq.

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presence of the suspect and, if so, how such a regulation could or should be handled in practice.8

III.

Article 27: ‘Official capacity … shall in no case exempt … from criminal responsibility’

The first issue to be dealt with is the question whether there really is no exception to the rule quoted in the heading – not even in cases where persons acting in official capacity enjoy ‘[i]mmunities or special procedural rules’. Whatever the answer, it remains to be seen what practical importance this provision entails for the day-to-day business of the Court and national courts, having priority within the ‘complementarity regime’ established by the Rome Statute. Does Article 98 interfere with their task ‘to put an end to impunity for the perpetrators of these crimes and thus to contribute to the prevention of such crimes’, as postulated by paragraph 5 of the Preamble to the Rome Statute?

A.

Acknowledgement of an International Ius Puniendi Covering ‘all persons without distinction’

Article 27 presupposes and acknowledges that there exists an inherent ius puniendi of the international community over all natural persons.9 It thus covers persons acting in official capacity, at least with regard to the establishment of the substantive law basis, triggering international criminal responsibility; the plea that the suspect acted in ‘official capacity’ will not be accepted. Article 27 is not the only provision dealing with this substantive law basis and its application ‘equally to all persons’. However, other relevant provisions mainly concern the exercise of the ius puniendi through the International Criminal Court. Hence they do not deal with the existence or the development of substantive law but with its enforcement by exercising the ius puniendi as the visible consequence of the law: prosecuting individuals in specific cases. This last aspect is for instance expressed in Article 5, enumerating four groups of crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court; and in Article 25 which defines different modalities of individual criminal responsibility, as complemented by Article 28 on superior responsibility, and which determines the scope and notion of responsibility for committing such crimes and the Court’s competence to deal with them.10 8

For details concerning the applicability of art. 98 see C. Kreß/K. Prost, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 12 et seq.; and G. M. Danilenko, ‘ICC Statute and Third States’, in A. Cassese/P. Gaeta/J. R. W. D. Johnes (eds.), The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court: A Commentary, Vol. 2, at 1885 (2002).

9

See O. Triffterer, ‘Preliminary Remarks to Part 1’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 37 et seq.; and ibid., ‘Article 27’, margin nos. 11 et seq.

10

Ibid., margin nos. 11 et seq. With respect to aggression, jurisdiction is established but may only be exercised by the Court ‘once a provision is adopted […] defining the crime and setting all

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However, this substantive law basis for the Court’s inherent ius puniendi is not undisputed. Up until now some authors hold the opinion that substantive international criminal law does not exist.11 Rather it is argued that the states parties to the Rome Statute have transferred part of their national sovereignty, including their jurisdiction, to the Court for common treatment of crimes in the interest of the international community and the legal values shared by this community, so that the law and its enforcement would depend on the ‘good will’ of the states.12 However, this argument is not convincing. The generally approved understanding is that international criminal law is a part of the international legal system, the law of nations. It is based on the assumption that every legal system has the right to include criminal law in its catalogue of norms to protect, as ultima ratio, its highest values against particular grave violations.13 If this is agreed upon, we further have to take into consideration the fact that the validity of every criminal law and ius puniendi need to be confirmed by enforcement. For without permanent application and continuous execution, relevant consciousness of, or obedience to, the law can neither be expected nor can it develop and continue to shape the enforcement.14 As much as this law is independent of other legal systems, as much does its practical importance depend on its inherent enforcement mechanisms. Obedience to the law can only be demanded and expected when, almost for sure, violations will at least be sanctioned in the manner provided for and strictly described by the legal order the rules of which have been violated. This is true not only on the national level but also with regard to all crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court. And this is why the complementarity regime of the Rome Statute provides that for all cases within the jurisdiction of the Court, the primary jurisdiction substituting the international

the conditions under which the Court shall exercise jurisdictions with respect to this crime’, 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, supra note 6, art. 5, para. 2. See A. Zimmermann, ‘Article 5’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 17 et seq. 11

See, for instance, M. Bothe, ‘Strafrechtliche Immunität Fremder Staatsorgane’, 31 Zeitschrift für Ausländisches Öffentliches Recht und Völkerrecht 246 (1971); id., ‘Töten und Getötet Werden: Kombattanten, Kämpfer und Zivilisten im Bewaffneten Konflikt’, in K. Dicke et al. (eds.), Weltinnenrecht – Liber amicorum Jost Delbrück 67 (2005); or L. C. Green, ‘The Law of Armed Conflict and the Enforcement of International Criminal Law’, 22 The Canadian Yearbook of International Law 18 (1984).

12

See, for instance, K. Ambos, Internationales Strafrecht, supra note 7, para. 8, margin nos. 15 et seq.; and M. Benzing, ‘The Complementarity Regime of the International Criminal Court: International Criminal Justice between State Sovereignty and the Fight against Impunity’, 7 Max Planck Yearbook of United Nations Law 591 (2003); F. Gioia, ‘State Sovereignty, Jurisdiction, and “modern” International Law: The Principle of Complementarity in the International Criminal Court’, 19 Leiden Journal of International Law 1095 (2006).

13

See O. Triffterer, Dogmatische Untersuchungen zur Entwicklung des materiellen Völkerstrafrechts seit Nürnberg 29 et seq., 35 et seq. (1966); id., ‘Preliminary Remarks’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 50 et seq.

14

For the development in human rights law see the various contributions in M. Nowak/D. Steurer/H. Tretter (eds.), Fortschritt im Bewusstsein der Grund- und Menschenrechte. Progress in the Spirit of Human Rights, Festschrift für Felix Ermacora (1988).

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community lies with the states, though especially according to Articles 17 and 20 it is ultimately under the control of the Court. Since the international community has no means of its own to guarantee this minimum agreement on its independent, inherent ius puniendi, it was necessary, at least for the decision-making process and as last authority, to create an international court. The only condition of its establishment was the compatibility of its creation with the structure of the international community.15 Such direct enforcement mechanisms were recognised by the creation of the ad hoc Tribunals for the former Yugoslavia in 1993 and for Rwanda in 1994, both established by the Security Council,16 as well as by the International Criminal Court, coming into existence after the Rome Statute had entered into force on 1 July 2002. But all three judicial organs are ‘incomplete’ insofar as they are lacking effective means to exercise their jurisdiction and enforce their decisions. This is why it is necessary that they are supported by the states which are all well equipped with experienced and competent staff, and why they are required to assist in the exercise of the ‘international judiciary’ by means of their national courts and their executive forces.17 States, therefore, may easily enforce the criminal law of the international community to which they belong as an indispensable part. It is ‘their’ law and ‘their’ Court, even though the functioning of both is, in principle, independent of the consent of each individual state. In addition, the number of crimes and suspects of concern to the international community is nowadays so high that enforcing international criminal law merely on the international level would not effectively prevent impunity for perpetrators. Effective prosecution requires, already for purely practical reasons, the indirect enforcement through national or ‘internationalized’ courts to manage the task properly and within reasonable time.18 15

See O. Triffterer, ‘Grundlagen, Möglichkeiten und Grenzen des Internationalen Tribunals zur Verfolgung der Humanitätsverbrechen im Ehemaligen Jugoslawien’, 1994 Österreichische Juristenzeitung 825.

16

See for the ICTY: http://www.un.org/icty; and for the ICTR: http://69.94.11.53/default.htm; and Triffterer, supra note 15.

17

For the ICC see http://www.icc-cpi.int. For the necessity to relay on the states see, in particular, A. Cassese, President of the ICTY in his First Report to the 25th General Assembly, 7 November 1995: ‘The decisions, orders and requests of the International Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia can be enforced only by others, namely, national authorities. Unlike domestic criminal courts, the Tribunal has no enforcement agencies at its disposal. Without the intermediary of national authorities, it cannot execute arrest warrants, it cannot seize evidentiary material, it cannot compel witnesses to give testimony, it cannot search the scenes where crimes have been allegedly committed. For all these purposes, it must turn to State authorities and request them to take action.’ About 10 years later the Prosecutor of the ICTY proposed to create ‘special task forces’ by the Security Council to arrest, for instance, Radovan Karadžić, who at that time had already been indicated by the ICTY for ten years, but still not arrested by Serbian authorities, see http://www.un.org/icty/latest-e/pressindex.htm.

18

See, for instance, O. Triffterer, ‘Preliminary Remarks’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 50 et seq.; and C. P. R. Romano/A. Nollkaemper/J. K. Kleffner (eds.), ‘Internationalized Criminal Courts: Sierra Leone, East Timor, Kosovo and Cambodia’, 5 Journal of International Criminal Justice 249 (2007).

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For these reasons, it has to be kept in mind that the two ad hoc Tribunals as the first real international enforcement mechanisms were established independently of any agreement of the states directly involved in the situation where the crimes allegedly had been committed or of states which were otherwise concerned about these events. All these states were represented by the Security Council; and the competence of the Tribunals, therefore, is independent of whether the state on the territory of which the crime has been committed or of the nationality of the perpetrator has agreed to this kind of exercise of international criminal jurisdiction. The Security Council created this kind of enforcement mechanism on behalf of the international community; and, as a result, the preconditions as provided for in Article 12 do not exist with respect to cases falling within the competence of the two Tribunals.19 The establishment of ad hoc tribunals is one way of creating direct enforcement mechanisms although it meanwhile has become superfluous after the ICC with its comprehensive jurisdiction rationae materiae et personae came into operation.20 The ad hoc establishment has to be distinguished from treaty-based enforcement mechanisms that was preferred for creating the permanent International Criminal Court.21 However, for the purpose of the subject matter under scrutiny, these distinctions are not important. The decisive fact is rather that both modalities have in common that they apply, in principle, the same substantive law. Even though the ad hoc Tribunals and the Court may have a slightly different competence, they are based on the same, or at least on a comparable, ‘delegation’ of the ius puniendi of the international community. They therefore represent and substitute the international community in the same way and thus do not depend on their own but on a superior ius puniendi which is inherent to this community and which they exercise on its behalf. This approach is valid not only in respect of any modalities of direct enforcement but may apply mutatis mutandis also to forms of indirect enforcement. States enforce either their own or, in substituting the international community, the ius puniendi of the latter. They do so by means of their regular national courts or by ‘hybrid’ or ‘internationalized’, so called ‘special’ courts, and they all apply the same substantive international criminal 19

Rwanda, for instance, at that time member of the Security Council, abstained from the vote on the establishment of the ICTR. The proceedings against Radovan Karadžić, Ratko Mladić and Slobodan Milošević are also convincing examples to demonstrate how this modality can work. See, for instance, http://www.un.org/icty/cases-e/index-e.htm; and for Rwanda see http://69.94.11.53/default.htm.

20

See M. Ch. Bassiouni, International Criminal Law. A Draft International Criminal Code 107 et seq. (1980). It also could be considered to label the direct application of international criminal law independent if by national or international courts as direct enforcement model. For this aspect see Ch. Nill-Theobald, ‘Defences’ bei Kriegsverbrechen am Beispiel Deutschlands und der USA: Zugleich ein Beitrag zu einem Allgemeinen Teil des Völkerstrafrechts 38 et seq. (1998); O. Triffterer, ‘Grundlagen, Möglichkeiten und Grenzen des Internationalen Tribunals zur Verfolgung der Humanitätsverbrechen im Ehemaligen Jugoslawien’, 49 Österreichische Juristenzeitung 825 (1994).

21

See O. Triffterer, ’Preliminary Remarks’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 81 et seq.; see for the actual ratification status: http://web.amnesty.org/pages/icc-signatures_ratificationseng, http://www.iccnow.org respectively.

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law. In addition, their competence is, again in principle, independent of whether the states concerned have implemented the Rome Statute into their national legal system or otherwise implement the law of the international community by applying and enforcing it. The latter is possible in some states which allow for the direct application of international law without implementing national legislation.22 This structure of two separate levels of enforcement of the same law justifies the approach according to which there should be no significant differentiation between the models of direct and indirect enforcement of international criminal law. And since either way the ius puniendi exercised is the same, the applicable law should be uniform. It should not be left to the discretion of those exercising the will of the international community to deviate from what is ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ accepted by this community as the already existing applicable law.23 Whether this substantive law is applied by exercising the ius puniendi inherent to the international community under the direct or the indirect enforcement model, it charges all persons within its competence without any distinction, and therefore none of them is exempted because of his acting in ‘official capacity’.24 This responsibility therefore does not only exist under the complementarity regime contained in the Rome Statute and relevant in proceedings before national and international courts. It rather is in both proceedings equally independent of ‘immunities or special procedural rules’, even though such ‘privileges’ may be accepted in ordinary, purely national proceedings by the respective state. Since in such proceedings concerning cases under the complementarity regime the applicable law is international law and since the forum state acts on behalf of the international community, that state would otherwise take the risk of not genuinely proceeding in the interest of the complementarity regime and, therefore, trigger Article 17 or 20.

B.

Official Capacity – An Element of Crime?

Article 27 is one of the very few provisions that do not indicate – even upon thorough analysis – any elements necessary for their application. It only contains statements which are completely independent of those material or mental elements shaping the individual crime and, therefore, necessary to establish responsibility for the specific crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court and of the states parties.25 On the other hand, the wording of Article 27 expresses more than once that in all situations described, only those elements need to be established which are generally

22

See, for instance, O. Triffterer, in Triffterer, Commentary, supra note 2, margin nos. 50 et seq; Romano/Nollkaemper/Kleffner, supra note 18, at 249; and C. Stahn, ‘Between Harmonization and Fragmentation: New Groundwork on Ad Hoc Criminal Courts and Tribunals’, 19 Leiden Journal of International Law 567 (2006).

23

See Report of the Secretary-General, UN Doc. S/25704 (1993), pursuant to UN Security Council Res. 808 (1993), para. 2.

24

Triffterer, supra note 9.

25

See O. Triffterer, ‘Article 27’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin no. 21.

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required for the actus reus and the mens rea of the respective crime. And since there are no additional elements to be established, in particular none of the examples given in paragraph 1, these descriptions are irrelevant for the prosecution of crimes under international law, irrespective of whether the proceedings follow the direct or the indirect enforcement model.26 Article 27 thus emphasizes by a mere statement the irrelevance of any official capacity. However, although in general the official capacity in which the perpetrator may have committed a crime falling under one of the four groups of Article 5 and under one of the definitions in Articles 6, 7 and 8 is irrelevant, there may be exceptional situations in which, as already mentioned,27 such a capacity and its relation to crimes committed need to be established for the sentencing. The same may be true if, in the context of a ‘request for surrender or assistance’, the suspect claims immunity because of such an official capacity in order to avoid standing trial before the Court.28

1.

Examples Given in Paragraph 1 Mirror Positions in which Abuse of Power May Shape the Appearances of Crimes Within the Jurisdiction of the Court

Article 27 does not define the concept and notion of ‘official capacity’. It only mentions ‘in particular’ a few examples listed as alternatives and thus does not exclude others. A verbal interpretation of these examples does not lead much further with respect to their common structure and function. In addition, whether one interprets this provision narrowly or broadly, there are always other positions and circumstances that are not mentioned in Article 27 but which would deserve being also listed. In any event, since they all are ‘of and by themselves’ irrelevant for proving responsibility for a specific crime, they do not need to be established. It is only with regard to aggravating and mitigating circumstances (albeit always in conjunction with other circumstances) that they may bear some relevance. Nevertheless, a teleological approach seems justified because it may help to at least better understand the relation between Articles 27 and 98. This appears to be indispensable for answering the question whether Article 98 contradicts Article 27 or merely opens a possibility of barring the jurisdiction of the Court – or perhaps only part of its proceedings – in very specific cases. Heads of state and heads of government are mentioned on an equal footing, and both are detached from any legal or de facto power assigned to them by constitutional or other domestic laws. Furthermore, questions such as to whether these officials are only representing the state or government, are mere administrators (for whom ever) or, in their function as politicians, ‘decision-makers’, or a mixture of all, are insofar imma-

26

See ibid, margin nos. 9 et seq.; and M. Ch. Bassiouni, supra note 20.

27

See also supra section II.; and infra section III. B. 2.

28

See infra section IV.; and C. Kreß/K. Prost, ‘Article 98’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 29 et seq.

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terial.29 This broad concept suggests that the two examples mentioned at the beginning of Article 27 only serve the purpose of not excluding any corresponding position at the level of heads of state or government from being relevant in terms of ‘official capacity’. This broad approach is based on the idea that a narrow verbal interpretation could imply that capacities not explicitly mentioned in the provision were actually ‘relevant’ and might affect the responsibility or even lead to impunity.30 The same broad concept and notion is described by the second alternative, that is ‘members of a government or parliament’. It includes all branches and levels of the executive and the legislative bodies within national jurisdictions. Typically, the first are appointed and the second elected. But members of the government may be elected too, for instance ombudsmen; and members of parliament may be appointed by whatever procedures, such as Lords in the United Kingdom. As regards the third alternative, that is, an ‘elected representative or a government official’, the adjective ‘elected’ seems to exclude appointed representatives such as ambassadors. However, when appointed by the government, they become ‘government official’ in any event.31 Irrespective of the vagueness of such an interpretation, all these examples taken together lead to the conclusion that responsible administrators and politicians are either mentioned expressly or included by way of necessary implication because they are, albeit each in a different way, competent to deal with sovereign power of the state. They all have the possibility to exercise such power or to exert influence on the execution of ‘official’ decisions. Their official capacity, therefore, entails the possibility of abuse of power. The military, though not expressly mentioned, is a good example. They are included within the phrase ‘government official’ since they are part of the executive branch. They could also be considered included because they act otherwise in an ‘official capacity’. They can definitely not be excluded when committing crimes in their military capacity as commanding officers; and their responsibility for omissions is demonstrated by the general principle underlying Article 28, calling superiors to responsibility for what they failed to do, when, as a result of their failure, subordinates commit crimes and the superior remains passive even though he knew or at least should and could have known

29

For a comparable analysis of theses examples see O. Triffterer, ‘Article 27’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 15 et seq.; and C. Kreß/K. Prost, ‘Article 98’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin no. 21; Z. Deen-Racsmány, ‘Prosecutor v. Taylor: The Status of the Special Court for Sierra Leone and Its Implications for the Question of the Immunities of an Incumbent President Before It’, 18 Leiden Journal of International Law 299 (2005); S. M. H. Nouwen, ‘The Special Court for Sierra Leone and the Immunity of Taylor: The Arrest Warrant Case Continued’, 18 Leiden Journal of International Law 645 (2005).

30

See O. Triffterer, ‘Article 27’, supra note 2, margin nos. 15 et seq.

31

See for this aspect N. L. Reid, ‘Bridging the Conceptual Chasm: Superior Responsibility as the Missing Link Between State and Individual Responsibility Under International Law’, 18 Leiden Journal of International Law 795 (2005).

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about the commission of crimes and nevertheless did not interfere.32 A ‘private’ soldier, for instance, may commit a war crime on a single prisoner of war or a civilian. But the typical manifestation of war crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court is, pursuant to Article 8(1), ‘in particular when committed as part of a plan or policy or as part of a large-scale commission of such crimes’. Concluding from what has been said, with particular reference to the examples given in Article 27(1), we may carefully attempt to deduce a common aspect underlying the examples mentioned in this provision and those circumstances not mentioned but nevertheless coming within one of these groups. The reason why these examples have been selected is to clarify the possibility to hold responsible those persons who, because of their rank in the state hierarchy or in local government,33 are in a position to abuse state power. In this context, it is furthermore irrelevant whether they could do so alone as individuals or only with at least silent toleration or even consent of others holding similar official positions.34 All such persons in official capacity should be called to responsibility when committing punishable crimes by abusing their position. This was the main intention of the drafters of Article 27. The idea that official capacity was irrelevant for criminal responsibility was already raised and applied at Nuremberg and is based on the rationale that persons holding such a position will not likely be called to responsibility before state organs, in particular the judiciary – either on account of their own position or due to their connections to other persons in official capacity. This is one of the reasons why international criminal law has had and still has to take over the original tasks of national criminal law when national jurisdictions do not guarantee proper prosecution and prevention of such international crimes.35 The Rome Statute with its ‘complementarity regime’ provides a well-balanced system to deal with such violations on the international and the national level because it addresses these aspects not only in Article 12 but also in Articles 17 and 20. In addition, persons called to responsibility for committing crimes by acting in ‘official capacity’ often claim to be exempted from criminal responsibility by enjoying ‘immunities or special procedural rules’, for instance exemption from a specific juris-

32

O. Triffterer, ‘Article 28’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin no. 3; and id., ‘Command Responsibility, Article 28 Rome Statute, an Extension of Individual Criminal Responsibility for Crimes Within the Jurisdiction of the Court – Compatible with Article 22, nullum crimen sine lege?’, in O. Triffterer (ed.), Gedächtnisschrift für Theo Vogler 213 et seq. (2004).

33

For details see Prosecutor v. Akayesu, Case No. ICTR-96-4-T, Trial Chamber, Judgment of 2 October 1998; and Prosecutor v. Akayesu, Case No. ICTR-96-4-A, Appeals Chamber, Judgment of 1 June 2001.

34

O. Triffterer, ‘Regierungskriminalität durch Machtmissbrauch’, in G. Kaiser/J.-M. Jehle (eds.), Kriminologische Opferforschung – Neue Perspektiven und Erkenntnisse, Vol. I: Kriminalität der Mächtigen und ihre Opfer, at 137 (1994); id., ‘Command Responsibility – Grundstukturen und Anwendungsbereiche von Art. 28 des Rom Statutes, Eignung, auch zur Bekämpfung des Internationalen Terrorismus?’, in C. Prittwitz et al. (eds.), Festschrift für Klaus Lüdersen 437 et seq. (2002).

35

See O. Triffterer, ‘Preamble’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, para. 5.

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diction by international law agreements or the rule of exterritoriality.36 However, the only purpose of Article 27(2) is to clarify that whoever falls under one of the examples given in Paragraph 1 or otherwise is acting in ‘official capacity’ cannot validly object to prosecution by referring to immunity, whether on the national or the international level, by arguing that he acted in an official capacity protected by one of these rules. Any such motion is not successful when such persons are called to responsibility ‘under this Statute’. And in case states nevertheless grant such privileges, they have to face the (moral) blame in case they fail to properly investigate and prosecute on behalf of the international community within the complementarity regime. The only proceedings in which such issues may be raised successfully are those mentioned in Article 98, a provision which does not concern the substantial law question of punishability. Article 98 deals exclusively with the enforcement of the ius puniendi of the international community against persons who are personally or on account of their official capacity in one way or another protected against the obligation to appear before the Court. They are, like any other person, responsible of and liable for their crimes and thus subject to prosecution. However, as Article 98 demonstrates very clearly, it may be difficult to get hold of them and make them available to the Court because they may be protected by their privileged position, an aspect which I will deal with below in section IV.

2.

Capacity, ‘of and in itself’, without Influence on ‘Individual Criminal Responsibility under this Statute’?

The wording quoted in the heading implies that official capacity per se neither justifies nor requires any distinction as compared to ‘ordinary’ perpetrators, and the elements of crimes necessary for prosecution are identical for both ‘types’ of criminals. This equal treatment of both groups of persons becomes particularly evident with regard to mitigating circumstances. At the end of Article 27(1) it is expressly mentioned that acting in official capacity shall not ‘in and of itself […] constitute a ground for reduction of sentence’. Combined with other aspects, official capacity may therefore well be evaluated as a mitigating circumstance. This may for instance be justified when a young person without sufficient relevant individual capabilities has been elected and more or less forced to perform acts that exceed his personal abilities. Such an interpretation is confirmed by the introductory phrase of Article 27(2) (‘without any distinction based on official capacity’). This means that this distinction based on other aspects may well apply not only to all private persons, but also to those acting in official capacity. Reference may for instance be made to Article 26 (‘Exclusion of jurisdiction over persons under eighteen’), although this provision does not generally exempt persons from criminal responsibility but only excludes jurisdiction rationae personae of the Court for this group of persons. This conclusion is based on the consideration that such persons may also be held responsible on the national level, especially

36

See O. Triffterer, ‘Article 27’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 21 et seq.

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if the state of their nationality provides jurisdiction over persons below eighteen.37 Such a state then cannot exercise its jurisdiction on behalf of the international community. Yet it cannot be blamed when it includes into its national law the core crimes and confers jurisdiction on its courts even over persons under eighteen. In this context one should also mention Article 31 (‘Grounds for excluding criminal responsibility’), specifying, ‘in addition to other grounds’, defences which directly ‘exempt’ a person from criminal responsibility. This applies also to certain constellations described in Articles 32 and 33, to give a few additional examples.38 If there is reason to believe that such mitigating or aggravating circumstances exist, the official capacity in which the person has acted may need to be proven. However, even then it is not necessary to establish the precise designation of this capacity. Rather it suffices that the Court bases its sentence on the conviction that the perpetrator holds either position X or, alternatively position Y, both of which would prove that the perpetrator acted in official capacity.39 Finally, it may be necessary for the Court to make specific findings on the position of a person in order to conclude that this ‘official capacity’ is of relevance for the commission of the crime but that there are no ‘immunity or special procedural rules’ attached to it, or that the official capacity at least could not affect his or her responsibility, whether under national or international law.

C.

‘Immunities and special procedural rules […] shall not bar the Court from exercising its jurisdiction’

Article 27(1) explains in detail the ‘irrelevance of official capacity’ with respect to establishing individual criminal responsibility under substantive law. Paragraph 2 specifies that ‘[i]mmunities or special procedural rules which may attach to the official capacity of a person […] shall not bar the Court from exercising its jurisdiction over such a person’. This provision has two implications. First it confirms the existence and continuance of criminal responsibility of those acting in official capacity, even if combined with ‘[i]mmunities or special procedural rules’. And second, it acknowledges the fact that these ‘attachments’ shall not bar the Court more from ‘exercising its jurisdiction’ than it is barred in ordinary situations or in cases falling within its jurisdiction. Article 27(1) thus implies that natural persons are individually and equally responsible under international law for core crimes listed in Article 5. This basis of the ius puniendi of the international community with all its consequences is independent of the question whether a core crime has been committed in private or in official capacity. But the question remains: what does ‘exercising its jurisdiction’ mean and what is the scope of the legal demand not to bar the corresponding proceedings?

37

See O. Triffterer, ‘Article 26’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 11 et seq., 23.

38

See, for instance, O. Triffterer, ‘Article 32’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin no. 9; and id., ‘Article 33’, margin nos. 8 and 13.

39

See K. Schmoller, Alternative Tatsachenaufklärung im Strafrecht: Wahlfeststellungen, Stufenverhältnisse, ‘Freispruch zweiter Klasse’ (1986).

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1.

585

Modalities and Stages of Proceedings not to be Bared?

The phrase ‘exercising its jurisdiction’ does not only mean the conduct of a trial, the sentencing and the enforcement of the final verdict or a decision of acquittal. Article 27 is located in Part 3 of the Rome Statute, dealing with ‘General principles of criminal law’. It does not affect, at least at first sight, the issues regulated by Article 98, which belongs to Part 9 on ‘International cooperation and judicial assistance’. The basic principle underlying Article 27 therefore is not questioned or endangered by immunities or special procedural rules more than it is by investigations against a suspect who is not ‘qualified’ by one of these protective measures. The reason for this is that all immunities or other protective privileges, whether under national or international law, have no effect on the substantial law basis of crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court. In addition, both, ‘immunities and special procedural rules’, do not by themselves ‘bar the Court from exercising its jurisdiction’ because the modalities how the Court has to proceed when exercising its jurisdiction are specified in the Statute and the Rules. And the Statute refers in Article 98 merely to factors which may make the exercise of jurisdiction more difficult. Such requirements may ‘disturb’ the ordinary proceedings for a request to surrender, but they do not violate Article 27(2) because they do not bar the exercise of jurisdiction as long as they do not make such exercise generally impossible as compared to proceedings provided for in the Statute with respect to ‘ordinary’ situations or cases. Such a difference, however, does not exist. As long as the suspect is ‘available’ to the Court, immunities or special procedural rules attaching to official capacity have no influence on the exercise of jurisdiction whatsoever. It may be recalled that the ‘Statute shall apply equally […] without any distinction’, and if a suspect is not available to the Court, the proceedings to get hold of him or her are, by and large, independent of whether the suspect was acting as a private person or in official capacity. As far as Article 27 is concerned, this equal treatment under international law has been demonstrated already by many historical examples. After World War I, the former German emperor William II was not ‘available’ because he was not extradited by the Netherlands. After World War II, numerous persons acting in official capacity had to stand trial at Nuremberg and in other places, while others who had committed crimes in both official and non-official capacity successfully escaped. Jurisdiction could be exercised against all of them as far as a trial in absentia was permissible under the respective ius puniendi. And if not, the prosecutor and the competent court could take all necessary measures to enter the trial phase as soon as such a person was apprehended. These investigations and prosecutions were an exercise of jurisdiction, for instance by issuing warrants of arrest, as in the cases against Eichmann, Barbie and many others.40 40

For the Adolf Eichmann case see, for example, P. Krause, Der Eichmann-Prozess in der Deutschen Presse (2002); H. Lamm (ed.), Der Eichmann-Prozess in der Deutschen Öffentlichen Meinung. Eine Dokumentensammlung (1961); H. Mulisch, Strafsache 40/61. Eine Reportage über den Eichmann-Prozess (1987). For the Klaus Barbie case see, for example, H. J. Andel, Kollaboration und Résistance. Der Fall Barbie (1987, 1995); R. J. Golsan (ed.), Memory,

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These examples already confirm that the detailed modalities of the Court’s ‘exercising its jurisdiction’ and how the competent organ of the Court should proceed are not at the discretion of the Court but depend on the provisions of the Rome Statute and the Rules. This limitation derives from the opening phrase of Article 27(1), which provides that ‘[t]his Statute shall apply equally’, and from its concluding phrase, referring to ‘criminal responsibility under this Statute’. Both phrases imply that the jurisdiction of the Court, and of the states parties within the framework of the complementarity regime, has to be exercised within the meaning of the Statute. For, as already stated above, both equally exercise the same ius puniendi of the international community, at least in theory.41 Article 12 on ‘Preconditions to the exercise of jurisdiction’ and Article 13 on the ‘Exercise of jurisdiction’ as well as Article 19 concerning ‘Challenges to the jurisdiction of the Court or the admissibility of a case’ presuppose the substantive law basis and (merely) shape the concept and notion of this jurisdiction. The exercise of this jurisdiction begins as soon as one of the competent organs analyses a complaint or a situation referred to it, takes initial actions to investigate and perhaps prosecutes. Therefore, these and many other activities have to be taken into consideration when determining the ‘exercise of jurisdiction’ in the sense of Article 27(2) without the Court being barred from such exercise in ordinary proceedings or by specific exceptions provided for in the Statute. Such a specific exception is Article 98, and the question therefore has to be examined whether it may bar the exercise of jurisdiction or whether it just contains a procedural rule on how to proceed when difficulties occur which have to be overcome in order to continue the exercise of jurisdiction. Relevant for the issues arising in the context of Articles 27 and 98 is for instance Article 63(1), which governs the ‘[t]rial in the presence of the accused’. The opening sentence provides that the accused ‘shall be present during the [whole] trial’. It is only after ‘being present before the Court’ that the accused may be removed from the courtroom, but ‘only in exceptional circumstances […] and only for such duration as is strictly required’ (paragraph 2). These provisions are applicable for all situations and cases, independent of the official capacity of the suspect concerned. In addition, Article 64(8.a) provides that ‘[a]t the commencement of the trial, the Trial Chamber shall have read to the accused the charges previously confirmed by the Pre-Trial Chamber’. That the personal presence of the accused is indispensable already at this early moment is underlined also by the subsequent sentence, demanding that ‘[t]he Trial Chamber shall satisfy itself that the accused understands the nature of the charges’ and ‘shall afford him or her the opportunity to make an admission of guilt in accordance with Article 65 or to plead not guilty’. Finally, it is the right (and not the duty) of every accused ‘to be present at the trial’ (Article 67(1.d)). All these provisions do not expressly prohibit a trial in absentia but they presuppose and thus implicitly require

the Holocaust, and French Justice. The Bousquet and Touvier Affairs Dartmouth College, (1996); A. Kaufmann, Klaus Barbie: Dem Schlächter von Lyon entkommen (1987). 41

See supra section III. A.

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the presence of the accused for any trial.42 While this silent or implicit prohibition of a trial in absentia is undisputed, the requirement to have the suspect or the accused present before that stage of the proceedings is not undisputed, in particular with regard to proceedings before the Pre-Trial Chamber.43 Of course, when ‘proceedings in the custodial State’ result in arresting the person required, he or she must be present as stipulated in Article 59(3). But does the suspect need to be present in any of the other stages of the proceedings, or may there be investigations and decisions leading to a sealed indictment without his or her presence? As convincingly argued by William Schabas in his commentary to Article 63, the answer is in the affirmative, and therefore the Court’s jurisdiction is not barred as long as such proceedings are possible and admissible. William Schabas first develops the historical issues, concluding that ‘[t]he right to be present begins with the outset of the trial and does not apply to pre-trial proceedings. Indeed, for some pre-trial proceedings it is either implicit or explicit that the accused will not be present’. Pointing to the right to be present according to Article 61(1), he further emphasises that this right ‘may be waived by the accused, pursuant to Article 61(2.a)’. It may, therefore, be concluded that the suspect is not required to be present at the pre-trial stage and that even the confirmation of charges may be negotiated in absentia.44 Taking due consideration of the provisions just quoted and the opinions referred to, it appears convincing that all persons, even those acting in official capacity and protected by ‘immunities and special procedural rules under national or international law’, are not only in theory responsible under international criminal law. Rather, the ius puniendi of the international community remains applicable so that the Court may proceed with exercising its jurisdiction up until the stage when, according to the general provisions for proceedings before the Court, the trial could commence and the presence of the suspect would be required. These consequences are independent of whether the suspect claims immunity or not. Within the jurisdiction of the ICTY, the indictments and warrants of arrest against Radovan Karadžić and Ratko Mladić confirm this interpretation,45 as well as the investigations against Slobodan Milošević before the first and the last have been surrendered to the ICTY. In particular the last case demonstrates that proceedings against persons acting in official capacity are not barred, though perhaps limited for a certain period of time, to the pre-trial proceedings.46 While this interpretation of Article 27(2) appears convincing, it still needs to be confirmed by reviewing its theoretical basis.

42

For details on these Articles see G. Bitti, ‘Article 64’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 27 et seq.; and W. A. Schabas, ‘Article 67’, ibid., margin nos. 29 et seq.

43

See, for instance, W. A. Schabas, ‘Article 63’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin no. 12.

44

Ibid., margin nos. 1 et seq., 12 and nn. 26 et seq.

45

See Rule 61 of the ICTY and Rules 195 of the ICC. For the indictments see Prosecutor v. Mladić, Case No. IT-95-5/18-I, Amended Indictment of 11 October 2002; and Prosecutor v. Karadžić, Case No. IT-95-5/18-I, Amended Indictment of 31 May 2000.

46

For detailed information on the Milošević case see www.un.org/icty/cases-e/index-e.htm.

588

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Paragraph 2 – an Accepted General Principle or an Anticipated Comprehensive Waiver (of all States Parties) for all Immunities?

Suspects not ‘available’ to the Court may be searched for and, in case of sufficient suspicion and evidence, arrested to be surrendered at the request of the Court. The purpose of such proceedings, well known and practised on the horizontal level of cooperation between states, is to guarantee that the suspect is available for trial, in case the evidence makes a conviction appear more probable than an acquittal. Meanwhile, corresponding procedures are introduced and practiced also on the vertical level of ‘surrender and assistance’ to the Court, as already approved in the case of the ICTY and the ICTR. For the last group of vertical cooperation, however, Article 98 provides that the Court may only proceed with a request for surrender in ‘special’ cases with due respect of possible ‘inconsistencies’. Such inconsistencies may be based on international obligations, which the state addressed may have under international law, when the suspect is ‘privileged’ and thereby protected because of his or her official capacity (for example ‘with respect to State or diplomatic immunity’). The Court may then, for instance, have ‘first [to] obtain the cooperation of that […] State for the waiver of the immunity’. Now the question arises whether such a delay, necessarily caused by raising and negotiating the matter of immunity, is already barring the Court in the exercise of its jurisdiction. Or are all modalities of investigation and prosecution including vertical cooperation between the Court and the states an ‘exercise of jurisdiction’? In order to find out whether such an obligation referred to in Article 98 exists and a waiver is possible, the Court may have to interrupt or change its ordinary proceedings for establishing responsibility in such cases. It thereby has to proceed with the required special care which protects the suspect better than in ordinary cases. For instance, provisional arrest in the sense of Article 92 seems to be impermissible and the new direction of the proceedings may at least delay the Court’s endeavours to bring the case to trial. Although such ‘[i]mmunities and special procedural rules’ are, according to Article 27(2), finally without relevance for the ‘exercise of jurisdiction’, they may bar the beginning of the trial, if Article 98 allows for the possibility to prevent or at least postpone the surrender and thus also to bar the cooperation with the Court. Yet, requesting a surrender and assistance or cooperation is already part, if not an essential one, of ‘exercising jurisdiction’. It is part of the ‘investigation and prosecution’ to prepare the trial. Therefore, raising such questions or merely delaying surrender does not bar the jurisdiction. Whatever the outcome of the Court’s endeavours to ‘obtain the cooperation of that third State’ may be, and even if the situation is evaluated as not barring the exercise of jurisdiction but merely as deviating from it temporarily, the person concerned is protected by a certain privileged way of investigation, as already mentioned above. This special status may be justified in respect of the diplomatic relations of states and their mutually acknowledged representatives. But it may equally become relevant for those in official capacity abusing their de iure or de facto power to commit a crime falling within the jurisdiction of the Court. It is the experience in handling such cases that

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makes Article 98 necessary and at the same time shows its contradiction in relation to Article 27 and, therefore, the limits of Article 98. The fact that proceedings provided for in Article 98 do not bar the Court’s exercise of jurisdiction is also demonstrated by the fact that the Court may already at the beginning of an investigation, or before it continues to proceed, want to know whether a crime was at all committed in official capacity and if so whether the suspect may claim any form of immunity or has to be treated just as an ‘ordinary criminal’. Since these investigations are also an ‘exercise of jurisdiction’, the Court can indeed not be barred from exercising jurisdiction other than in cases where the location of an unqualified and thus not privileged suspect is not known to the Court and investigations are undertaken by the organs of the Court in order to find out all relevant facts until they are available or strong enough to base a warrant of arrest. These considerations and the comparability of situations for privileged and non-qualified suspects justify the conclusion that Article 27(2) expresses the mere declaration of the generally accepted principle according to which ‘immunities and special procedural rules’ do not bar the Court in any other way than already provided for in ordinary proceedings. The proceeding may be commenced and the suspect in official capacity, provided that he is available to the Court, may be treated equally to all suspects acting in private capacity. This is even true in cases where one of the states parties has custody over the suspect since such a state is obliged to fully cooperate and surrender him according to Articles 86 et seq. Appraising Article 27(2) as a principle of international criminal law moreover has the advantage that it does not only apply to states parties. It rather represents ius cogens and therefore imposes an obligation erga omnes to investigate and prosecute persons enjoying immunities of any kind. In such cases, Article 98 therefore may be left unconsidered as long as the requested state has not informed the Court that it is obliged towards a third state to protect the suspect because of his or her official capacity and the privileges attached to it. This rather broad concept of the principle expressed in Article 27(2) could not be applied this way if its wording were interpreted as an anticipated general waiver which has been tacitly and en bloc declared by the states parties with regard to all modalities of immunities when signing and ratifying the Rome Statute. Such a vague interpretation however cannot be considered a legally binding declaration. Such an interpretation would moreover entail the disadvantage of binding states parties only while, an interpretation according to which such privileges are in any event inapplicable to crimes under international law would apply to all states. It reflects a well-recognized basic principle of international criminal law, generally accepted by the world community since Nuremberg. Therefore, it is not necessary to assume an anticipated waiver of immunities. The phrase ‘shall apply equally to all persons’ in Article 27(1) supports this narrow interpretation. In addition, according to its terms, Article 98 applies exclusively to situations where the Court and two states are involved, and the latter are mutually connected by national or international obligations to protect immunities or other international agreements. The intention of the drafters of Article 98 was to protect persons in official capacity

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who had received or expected immunities and asylum in exchange for a more or less voluntary withdrawal from their ‘position of power’ and for renouncing to commit crimes coming within the jurisdiction of the Court. It was believed that it would be difficult, if not impossible, to generally prosecute such persons as ordinary persons. Therefore, the definitions in Article 27 were not contested as being the ultimate purpose, albeit admitting that there was a need to compromise in the sense of Article 98. The relevance of this background has been confirmed by Radovan Karadžić at his first hearing before the ICTY on 31 July 2008. He claimed that the U.S., one of the parties at the peace negotiations in Dayton, had offered him immunity in case he would resign from all official positions, which he finally did.47 In sum, it may be said that Article 98 does not affect the interpretation of Article 27. However, as will be considered below (section IV., in particular A. and B.), the question still remains whether the interpretation of Article 27 has an impact on Article 98, as a compromise paid to ensure the adoption of the Rome Statute.

D.

Practical Importance

The three examples taken from the case law of the ICTY have already demonstrated the practical importance of pre-trial proceedings, especially in cases of persons invoking ‘official capacity’. Pre-trial investigations and proceedings are one form of ‘exercise of jurisdiction’ without the Court being barred by ‘immunities or special procedural rules’ in the sense of Article 27(2) or by agreements under Article 98 concerning ‘[c]ooperation with respect to waiver of immunity and consent to surrender’. In addition, these common or overlapping aspects show to what extent Article 27 may influence the concept inherent in Article 98 with respect to cases of ‘irrelevant official capacity’ and vice versa. However, before analysing Article 98, I will summarize the main practical consequences of Article 27. These consequences and their relation to Article 98 are helpful and decisive for answering the final question whether Article 98 by its concept and notion is capable at all to undermine Article 27 in the context of related issues in the Statute.

1.

Acknowledgement of Individual Criminal Responsibility Directly Under International Law, Unlimited by ‘Official Capacity’

Article 27 does not create international responsibility for crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court. Rather, as almost all principles listed in Part 3 of the Rome Statute, it is merely declaratory of the existing law.48 The most important statement in Article 27(1) therefore confirms the substantial legal bases for investigations against and prosecution of any person, including those acting in official capacity. Acknowledging this fact means that the existence of an inherent ius puniendi of the international 47

For the statement of Radovan Karadžić which the US denied see http://www.un.org/icty/ latest-e/index.htm (Internet, 20.08.2008).

48

See O. Triffterer, ‘Preliminary Remarks’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin nos. 25 et seq.

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community is not questioned by crimes committed in official capacity. On the contrary, Article 27(1) confirms that any ‘official capacity’, in which or out of which a person abuses his power resulting in one of the crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court, is irrelevant for establishing responsibility and cannot result in an exemption from criminal responsibility under the Statute. This substantive legal basis therefore puts an end to impunity for all persons by leaving no doubt that a suspect may become criminally responsible directly under international law even if he or she has acted in official capacity. Moreover, his or her responsibility is independent of any ‘privileges’ national or international law may grant such persons. This substantive legal basis furthermore is independent of whether the ius puniendi of the international community can or cannot be completely or merely partially be enforced in specific cases because the suspect escaped on condition that enforcement is generally not questioned.

2.

Confirming the Irrelevance of ‘Immunities or Special Procedural Rules’ for the Exercise of Jurisdiction within the Complementarity Regime of the Rome Statute

Neither such capacity nor any ‘[i]mmunities or special procedural rules which may attach to the official capacity […] under national or international law’ can prevent investigations against and prosecution of a suspect in absentia unless her or his presence is expressly or silently required by the Statute. This is only the case with respect to the commencement of the trial and subsequent proceedings. Where the Statute refers to the suspect or comparable expressions, his or her personal presence is not required. On the contrary, sometimes the circumstances call for ‘secret’ investigations like in cases where the indictment shall be sealed. These limitations are applicable for all persons without distinction and hence also for those acting in official capacity. Article 98 does not bar the Court from ‘exercising its jurisdiction’ pursuant to one of these modalities. This is in particular true for cases in which the Court needs to clarify whether conduct was performed in ‘official capacity’ and evidence for instance requires to take duly into consideration these aspects governed by Article 98. Such investigations as well as any cooperation concerning the question of waiver are part of the exercise of jurisdiction. Since states involved within the meaning of Article 98 cannot refuse consultations and cooperation with the Court such exercise of jurisdiction under Article 98 cannot be considered as barring the Court.

3.

Raising Awareness and Sensibility through the Existence, Application and Enforcement of the Law – An Effective Contribution to Crime Prevention

In assessing the importance of Article 27, one of the main aspects are the definitions contained therein that reflect generally accepted principles. They contribute to raise the awareness that all persons in official capacity are without exception responsible directly

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under international law. Creating such an awareness is one of the most important functions of substantive criminal law. It is one of its tasks to make potential perpetrators acquainted with this legal situation, to let them know what they are required to do or not to do, and what consequences they have to face if they do not duly comply with their obligations under existing law even when acting in official capacity. This ‘message of the law’ does not only threaten high ranking officials but also, and probably even in harsher ways, those in lower ranks who commit crimes and who lack the influence of being protected and evading prosecution. Thus, for instance, if their superiors can be tried, then they themselves will a fortiori be held responsible. However, knowledge about a corresponding law is by itself not sufficient. The most clearly defined rule may not be convincing when it may reasonably be expected that, for whatever reason, it will not be applied. Therefore, the existence of enforcement mechanisms and their effective use is also necessary as is the proof that these mechanisms do indeed function, though perhaps in an imperfect way because it is for instance not permitted to conduct trials in absentia. Communicating to the general public that persons in official capacity might risk loosing the power they have ‘collected’ with great endeavours quicker than they gained it, may well contribute more effectively to the prevention of such crimes than punishment.49 This practical importance is quite independent of the question whether a specific suspect is ‘available’ to the Court, in custody by a state party or only at the disposal of the Court when his or her immunity will be waived. The past has demonstrated that even if international trials did not take place because of controversial opinions with respect to questions of immunity, the publicity which the alleged crimes and the responsibility for their commission have attracted appeared to have valuably contributed to the future prevention of such crimes. Examples of such instances were the cases of the former Persian Shah Rezah Pahlewi, the former Chilean President Pinochet and many others.

IV.

Article 98 Restricting General Obligations to Cooperate Fully with the Court?

Article 98 is located almost at the end of Part 9 of the Rome Statute and figures under ‘International Cooperation and Judicial Assistance’. It does not deal with the day-to-day vertical cooperation between the Court and the states parties. Article 98 applies mainly in exceptional, rather spectacular cases, particularly when a third state is involved in a case concerning ‘waiver of immunity and consent to surrender’ in a manner that is unusual for ordinary proceedings governed by Article 27 – one of the substantive law bases providing for any exercise of jurisdiction within the framework of the Statute.

49

See, for instance O. Triffterer, ‘The Preventive and Repressive Function of the Permanent International Criminal Court’, in M. Politi/G. Nesi (eds.), The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court: A Challenge to Impunity 137 (2001).

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Such a ‘triangle relationship’ between the Court and two states is not completely unusual for the Statute. It is for instance also relevant in the context of Article 90 dealing with ‘[c]ompeting requests’. In this case, the Court has issued a request ‘for the surrender of a person under article 89’ and the requested state has received a ‘competing request’ by another state. Article 90 says in particular how the requested state has to act in such a case. This emphasis differs from that of ‘triangle relations’ according to Article 98 where the Court is not competing with a request of a state (the third state) to surrender. Quite on the contrary, the Court has to overcome a certain opposition against its request in terms of a right or even an obligation of that state to protect the suspect concerned against surrender to the Court. While pursuant to Article 90 the two states or one of them has to take the initiative to solve the problem, Article 98 concerns activities of the initiator, i.e., the Court requesting the waiver or consent from one of the two states involved. The Court therefore plays a decisive role in reaching a solution to avoid that its request causes, at least at first sight, an ‘inconsistency with obligations under international law […] or international agreements’. Since it is typically the requested state that is aware of such obligations between the states involved – even though the interests of a third state may be equally or even more affected –, the requested state primarily ‘shall provide any information relevant to assist the Court in the application of article 98’, as provided for in Rule 195. However, the inconsistencies mentioned in Article 98 do not affect the criminal responsibility of the suspect as such. Decisively, the call for responsibility is laid down in Article 27. What is important in the context of Article 98 is the availability of the suspect or the evidence to the Court. Although both issues deviate from the ordinary process, they concern factors that do not depend on the requested state alone as it is – or, as the case may be, only claims to be – obliged by the law to take due consideration of the ‘legal’ interest of a third state before fulfilling the request of the Court. The question therefore is whether, and if so, to what extent Article 98 restricts the general obligation to cooperate fully with the Court, as required in Article 86 et seq. It has already been mentioned above (in sections II and III) that because of the ‘triangle relation’ underlying Article 98, the applicability of the principles underlying Article 27 may raise tension. Yet, since it has been rejected to consider Article 27(2) as an anticipated waiver of all states parties and for all cases of immunities, the question remains whether Article 98 limits the broad basis of substantive criminal law by requiring that the exercise of the recognized responsibility for acting in official capacity has to be accepted expressly for those cases where immunity otherwise could bar the Court from proceeding. The following considerations will concentrate on this question. An attempt will be made to find out whether and to what extent there is a contradiction inherent in these two Articles and whether they mutually limit each other.

A.

Necessity to Compromise?

Already the drafting history of Article 98 demonstrates that its provisions reflect one of the big compromises without which the Rome Statute would probably not have

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been adopted and the Court not been established. The point of departure as defined in Article 27 appeared to be completely indispensable and unchangeable due to the development of criminal responsibility under international law since Nuremberg. However, the broad and unconditioned principle that every person may be criminally responsible, even persons in ‘official capacity’, raised the fear of many states that their representatives acting in official capacity could, for political reasons, be blamed to have committed a core crime and that the case could be brought before Court not for the purpose of justice to be done but to achieve a political advantage. Already the Bellagio-Wingspread draft of 1971/72 therefore provided for a neutral investigating commission to prevent such attempts to abuse the Court. According to this idea, it should be avoided that by claiming that politicians had committed one of the core crimes, the harm to the respective person or state could not be compensated, even if the suspect later was released or acquitted.50 In addition, the peace negotiations on the Balkans before the establishment of the ICTY in 1993 had demonstrated that persons suspected of having participated in the crimes committed appeared indispensable to negotiate a successful armistice or a solution to guarantee permanent peace. However, these persons were more interested in receiving guarantees of freedom from prosecution after they had successfully contributed to the establishment of peace. Leading figures in the former Republic of Yugoslavia were, for instance, playing an important role during the peace negotiations at Dayton, while at that time nobody dared to individually propose investigations or even prosecution of such persons, although resolutions of the Security Council increasingly addressed individual responsibility of persons acting in official capacity. In fact, already in 1995 two indictments were issued by the ICTY against Karadžić and Mladić and not much later against Milošević, then president of the Republic of Yugoslavia. However, the tide has turned, and keeping this in mind certain representatives of states at the Rome Conference had not been too willing to accept the argument of the hardliners according to which ‘developments in general international law had substantively reduced, if not eliminated, immunities with respect to crimes under international law as listed in Article 5 of the Statute’.51 In addition, NATO troops and other forces in so called peace-keeping missions have been increasingly stationed in foreign countries. Status of forces agreements therefore became of tremendous practical importance in many places of the world. Experiences have shown that such troops may need protection against false accusations even though, regretfully, some allegations have been confirmed as war crimes or crimes against humanity committed against persons in detention. Since Article 27 is an indispensable basis for the Court in the struggle against abuse of power, an exception to it appeared intolerable. It was therefore necessary to find other ways to at least diminish the most severe possibilities for abuse of power by putting an 50

See Foundation for the Establishment of the International Court (ed.), Report of the First international law conference – The Establishment of an International Criminal Court, art. 34 and page 22 right column describing the commission ‘as an impartial body investigating complaints’.

51

C. Kreß/K. Prost, ‘Article 98’, in Triffterer, supra note 2, margin no. 2.

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end to impunity for such behaviour. Article 98 thus represents the final compromise by opening the possibility to give due credit to international immunities or even national obligations based on international law in order to have the possibility of control against false accusations. The compromise was that every endeavour should be made to protect such persons against false accusations but for those having allegedly committed core crimes it should remain at the discretion of the Court to decide whether Article 27 should be applied with all its consequences or whether the Court should withdraw its request because it was not sufficiently well-founded and therefore in the interest of justice should not be executed. This possibility opened up by Article 98 was even more necessary as the Rome Statute is based on the ‘complementarity regime’ according to which national jurisdictions enjoy priority. Although the Court controls this substituting jurisdiction of the states, Article 98 allows for the possibility, for instance by a request to surrender, to bring the case before the Court and thus to avoid any political abuse of the Statute by initiating proceedings against political opponents on the national level. These endeavours to compromise can be traced back to the work of the Preparatory Committee which considered the already existing drafts and worked for almost three years on the details for a new Statute to be adopted by the Rome Conference in 1998. Drawing attention to these negotiations, Claus Kreß and Kimberly Prost summarize the situation before and at the Conference as a rather complex one characterized by tensions between the states concerned and those promoting ‘the competence of the Court to authoritatively rule on the matter’. They reflect the ambivalence of the issues which had to be dealt with and the legislation of some countries as being almost in contradiction to others.52

B.

‘Preconditions’ to the Applicability of Article 98

Against this background, Article 98 is only relevant in cases where assistance is required, especially because the suspect is neither arrested at the Detention Centre in The Hague nor otherwise at the disposal of the Court, for instance because he or she is not willing to appear voluntarily before the Court or to deliver evidence requested by the Court. It may therefore be necessary to request the competent state or organ for ‘surrender or assistance’, especially in order to enable the Court to further proceed with the ‘exercise of its jurisdiction’ as far as the presence of the suspect is obligatory for commencing or continuing the trial. Even in such cases, however, Article 98 may be superfluous unless the state having custody over the accused is, irrespective of its (other) international obligations, unwilling to comply with the request of the Court or of any national, hybrid or internationalized court to surrender the suspect or to give any other assistance, though perhaps limited as for example by Article 72. Typically, it is the invocation of Article 98 by the requested state which triggers its applicability. Details on how to further proceed in such cases are to be found in Rule 195. Since Article 27(2) provides that ‘[i]mmunities or special

52

Ibid., margin nos. 9 et seq., including the drafting history of the relevant Rules to art. 98, now Rule 195.

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procedural rules’ shall not bar the Court from exercising jurisdiction, it must be considered what practical importance Article 98 may nevertheless have with regard to cases where Article 27 applies and a surrender is necessary to make the suspect or other assistance by a third state available to the Court in order to continue proceedings.

C.

The Court May not Require a State ‘to act inconsistently with […] obligations under international law’ or ‘international agreements’

Under the Rome Statute both the Court and national jurisdictions of states parties are, in principle, equally competent, justified and obliged to enforce international criminal law, whether directly or indirectly. This complementarity regime idealiter requires close cooperation. However, in cases of abuse of power, domestic authorities might not provide an adequate handling of such problems. Therefore, it is the international community which then should take action, for instance by establishing special national, hybrid or internationalized courts, in order to guarantee impartiality and independence which may otherwise influence in one way or another ordinary criminal proceedings in the state concerned. Correspondingly, whereas Part 9 provides for vertical bottom-up cooperation at the request of the Court, the latter is equally obliged to cooperate with the states topdown, for example, when it has evidence available from current or former proceedings which may be decisive for finding the truth in domestic proceedings. It is therefore not surprising that the cooperation between the Court and the states concerned has proven satisfactory in the interest of international justice. This cooperation is indispensable as national jurisdiction generally enjoys priority, though under the control and supervision of the Court according to the complementarity regime; and it would not be in the interest of justice to make use of the possibilities granted by Articles 17 and 19 to trigger the competence of the Court when the Court itself has contributed to the insufficiency of national proceedings by refusing to cooperate. One expression of this close cooperation may be found in Article 97 which provides that the pertinent ‘State shall consult with the Court without delay in order to resolve the matter’ in cases where the state has identified any problems ‘which may impede or prevent the execution of the request’. Paragraph (c) mentions as an example for triggering consultations the possibility that the execution of the request ‘would require the requested State to breach a pre-existing treaty obligation undertaken with respect to another State’. Article 97 therefore is the general rule that must be kept in mind when analysing the more specific provisions in Article 98 where immunities and other special international regulations shape the relevant reactions.

1.

Waiver of Immunity and Consent to Surrender

Article 98 regulates two big categories that can be summarized as ‘waiver of immunity’ of whatever kind, and ‘consent for surrender’. For both groups the Court ‘may not proceed with a request […] which would require the requested State to act inconsistently with its obligations under international law’ or ‘under international agreements’. The phrase

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‘may not proceed’ implies that the Court has already delivered a request to the state concerned. This interpretation is confirmed by Article 97 which concerns a situation ‘[w]here a State Party receives a request […] in relation to which it identifies problems’; and it is further supported by interpreting the terms ‘may not proceed’, which mean that the Court may issue a request but then may not proceed to enforce it. Rule 195 also confirms this interpretation. According to paragraph 1 the ‘requested State notifies the Court that the request for surrender or assistance raises a problem of execution in respect of article 98’. In view of the necessarily close cooperation between the Court and the states parties, this undelayed information of the Court appears self-evident. Article 98 does not provide that the Court, after being so informed, may consider to withdraw its request, although this lies of course within the Court’s discretion. Article 98 requires merely that the Court, after having been informed, shall not proceed which means that it shall not continue to enforce its request unless the third state cooperates by waiving the immunity, or by consenting to surrender the person, respectively. Furthermore, according to Rule 195, ‘the requested State shall provide any information relevant to assist the Court in the application of article 98’; and to be sure, ‘[a]ny concerned third State’ in the sense of Article 98(1) or a sending state in the sense of Article 98(2), ‘may provide additional information to assist the Court’. With respect to the decision how to proceed in such a situation, these provisions demonstrate that the drafters of the Statute expected an open ‘triangle relation’ between the Court and the (two) states concerned in the sense described above. Cooperation therefore merely requires consultations in the sense of Article 97. Again it is at the discretion of the Court how to react after it has made sure whether it ‘can first obtain […] cooperation’. It is the result of these endeavours which guide the Court in determining whether or not to proceed with a request. This broad discretionary competence of the Court appears justified and convincing. Since Article 27 established the substantive law basis for investigating and prosecuting, the merely procedural ‘advice’ as to how to proceed with consultations and cooperation when problems with regard to immunities or consent to surrender arise does not question the Court’s exercise of jurisdiction, but merely triggers the (re)consideration of the issue to make sure that all interests of the three parties involved are adequately respected. Article 98 therefore does not undermine Article 27 but is based on its generally accepted principles.

2.

Are Bi- and Multilateral Agreements Open or Undercover ‘Reservations to this Statute’?

The foregoing conclusion is confirmed by a contextual interpretation of Article 98(2) because the uniform language in both paragraphs of Article 98 requires equal interpretation. In addition, Article 97(c), referring to the ‘breach [of] a pre-existing treaty obligation’, may be helpful in this context. International agreements between two states establish international law between the two parties. Despite their limited scope such agreements have the same binding force for the parties concerned as treaties. Such obligations that had already existed before the adoption of the Rome Statute,

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have therefore to be treated differently from obligations established after the Rome Statute entered into force. In this context one may also distinguish between the 60 states that ratified the Rome Statute before it came into force and those having joined the Statute after its entry into force. However, the decision how to handle these obligations based on such agreements should not be dealt with individually but should be evaluated in a general way. States that have ratified the Rome Statute and that enter into obligations to protect persons who may be the object of cooperation with the Court act contrary to their duties under the Statute as they may be required to violate their obligation to fully cooperate within the meaning of Articles 86 et seq. States ratifying the Statute after they have accepted an obligation covered by Article 98 make an open or covert reservation to the Statute, depending on how transparently such an agreement deals with the question that Article 98 agreements may interfere with the obligation to fully cooperate with the Court and, particularly, with a request of the Court to surrender suspects. In accordance with these considerations, bi- and multilateral agreements that are commonly applied in relation to forces serving in foreign countries (e.g., in the framework of NATO and UN missions) should be accepted as creating binding obligations for the Court only when they have already been in force before the ratification of the Statute by the respective state(s). To accept such a requirement does not interfere with the difficult tasks assigned to such forces because the sending state has anyhow priority on account of the nationality principle expressed in Article 12. In case the state on the territory of which the alleged crime was committed claims priority due to its concurring jurisdiction, it has to be carefully observed whether it proceeds ‘genuinely’. Otherwise the Court has to take over the case according to Article 17.

3.

Duty to Avoid Conflicts by Consultations and by Obtaining Cooperation

Whenever the Court has issued a request based on Article 27 and which triggers the applicability of Article 98, the initiative to achieve a solution ought to be primarily within the responsibility of the Court. Since it is the request which has ultimately caused the problem it is up to the Court to apply the relevant international criminal law within the framework of the Rome Statute. Independent of this overall responsibility of the Court, it is, on the other hand, the duty of the two states involved to inform and assist the Court because their mutual legal relationship may interfere with their obligation to fully cooperate according to the exigencies expressed in the request of the Court. Moreover, it seems to be in the interest of international justice to require any party that first notices potential problems concerning Article 98 must inform the two other partners. This is particularly true for cooperation under the complementarity regime of the Rome Statute because all of these three parties are in any event under the duty to fully inform each other without undue delay and to consult with each other to solve any problem which may interfere with their common goal and obligation to exercise the ius puniendi of the international community. During the period of consultations and while trying to obtain cooperation, the two states as well as the Court have to accept

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the substantive law basis as defined in Article 27, which is completely independent of any procedural regulation concerning the practical enforcement of this principle. Article 98 however demonstrates how prosecution for the core crimes, in particular if committed in official capacity, may be obstructed by immunities. Keeping this approach in mind, it is the duty of all three parties to guarantee that investigations and prosecution are carried out for crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court independent of official capacity and of any kind of immunities. However, at the same time they have to avoid acting ‘inconsistently with […] obligations under international law […] or under international agreements’. This demand could be fulfilled by withdrawing the request which, however, is not in the interest of justice. In view of this interest, one must for instance consider whether evidence can be established to prove the commission of the alleged crime. If the evidence is overwhelming or convincing, the states involved have to be convinced by the Court and by each other that in the specific case hiding behind immunity or other special procedural rules would lead to the result that a suspect would be protected, who may perhaps have abused his or her official capacity for committing a crime within the jurisdiction of the Court, and who, therefore, does not deserve any special protection by immunity rules. Any such suspect has to face trial before the Court. As long as there is no reasonable ground to believe that a complaint would be abused for political reasons, all parties to this special ‘triangle relationship’ should cooperate as closely as possible with a view to a waiver of immunity and a consent to surrender. In case the suspect agrees, the whole situation could be considered as a voluntary surrender entailing all advantages attached to it. At any rate, in such instances immunity has to be waived and consent for surrender has to be declared in the interest of international justice; and if this cannot be achieved by the Court after doing its best in terms of consultations with the parties involved in order to obtain their cooperation, the Court may proceed enforcing its request by all legal means. The efficiency of these means and of political and economic pressure is for instance demonstrated by the surrender of Slobodan Milošević, Charles Taylor and recently Radovan Karadžić to the competent organs of international criminal justice.53 Furthermore, such flexibility in making a decision is required by the wording, the concept and the notion as well as the drafting history of Articles 27 and 98. The purpose of the compromise elaborated during the drafting process was to avoid complaints and political damage by starting an investigation which would prove unjustified in the end. But it was never the intention to protect persons acting in official capacity against justified complaints when those persons were, at that stage of the proceedings, most probably responsible for one of the core crimes coming within the jurisdiction of the Court. On the contrary, it is the main task and purpose of the Court to bring leading persons to trial who have abused their power for criminal purposes, especially when the states concerned are not able or willing to genuinely prosecute such persons. The as yet unconfirmed indictment of the still acting Sudanese President Omar Hasan Ahmad al-Bashir for genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity is an example of how

53

See http://www.un.org/icty/latest-e/pressindex.htm.

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the international community should proceed in order to protect and restore permanent ’peace, security and well-being of the world’.54

D.

Practical Importance

Although the principles defined in Article 27 have generally not been disputed since Nuremberg this fact has not diminished the practical importance of Articles 27 and 98. Up until now the opinion has often been presented in court that immunities could and should exempt from criminal responsibility and thus guarantee impunity. Since this is not the prevailing opinion, I shortly summarize a few aspects underlining the practical importance of Article 98.

1.

Deviations from General Proceedings only on Demand, not ex officio?

The procedure provided for in Article 98 does not depend on a certain triggering event. Article 98 only describes what has to be done after the Court has received notice of a situation described in Article 98. In this context, Rule 195 is relevant, which however only covers the alternative ‘when a requested State notifies the Court’. But this phrase does not exclude the possibility that the third state notifies the Court or that the Court by itself finds out, before or after it has issued the request, that the request ‘for surrender or assistance raises a problem of execution in respect of Article 98’. Reference here is made to paragraphs 1 and 2, so that the deviation from general proceedings may be necessary on demand of one of the states concerned, simply by one of the states delivering this new information to the Court, or ex officio when the Court finds out in the course of its investigations that Article 98 shall be applied in order to avoid inconsistencies.

2.

The Court is not Barred from Initiating or Continuing Investigations

In no case does Article 98 bar the Court from exercising its jurisdiction. The phrase ‘to be barred from exercising jurisdiction’ can be understood in different ways. According to a teleological interpretation and in the context of Article 27, it means not to prevent any continuance of the procedures underlying the request. Since the presence of the suspect is only necessary for the trial all activities covered by Article 98 cannot prevent the continuance of an investigation including the prosecution, nor an indictment. Thus, Article 98 only provides for a stay of proceedings for the purpose of consultations and in order to obtain cooperation. In addition, consulting or trying to obtain cooperation is also part of ‘exercising jurisdiction’. The purpose of Article 98 is very clear as already 54

See for this already drafted indictment, which however needs to be ‘controlled and confirmed’ by the Pre-Trial Chamber, http://www.icc-cpi.int/press/pressreleases/406.html. For the relevant decision of the Security Council, refusing to support arresting the President of Sudan see S/RES/1828 (2008).

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mentioned above: not to prevent the continuance of proceedings even if there is strong suspicion for the commission of a crime in official capacity by a person who may claim immunity or invoke other procedural rules. It is only when the Court is convinced that the complaints against such a person are not justified that it may accept the immunity rule. But in such a case it is not necessary to refer to such ‘protective’ measures because the proceedings have in any event to be closed even though the suspect may not be present. In case a request has been issued during a trial where the suspect is present – and where only ‘obligations under international law with respect to the state or diplomatic immunity of […] property’ are concerned – the person has to be acquitted. Even if a request triggering Article 98 is issued at the beginning of investigations, nothing in Articles 27 and 98 can bar the Court from initiating and continuing investigations like in ordinary cases where the suspect is not present.

3.

‘The Court may (issue but) not proceed with a request … unless the Court can first obtain the cooperation’?

Article 98 presupposes a request for surrender or assistance. This follows not only from the terms of Article 98 itself (‘may not proceed with a request’), but also – and even more clearly – from Rule 195 (‘when a requested state notifies the Court that a request for surrender or assistance raises a problem of execution in respect of article 98’). Therefore, what Article 98 aims at is that the Court interrupts its ordinary procedure for enforcing its request and that it conducts investigations to clarify whether the suspect enjoys immunity and the sending state needs to consent. The details of this procedure are left to the discretion of the Court. The Court only has to take due consideration of the facts, namely the assertion that the suspect might enjoy immunity or that there is an obligation that would require the requested state to act inconsistently when complying with the request. But there is nothing that would prevent the Court, and probably one or both of the states concerned, to take all legal measures to convince the state, whose waiver of immunity or consent for the surrender is required, that in this specific case there is overwhelming evidence that a crime coming within the jurisdiction of the Court was committed, that Article 27(2) is applicable and that, in the interest of international justice, the requested state should do as required. Whatever the outcome of such consultations and cooperation, the final word is with the Court. It carries the responsibility of investigating and prosecuting also those acting in official capacity, provided there is sufficient suspicion, but irrespective of the fact that the Court may proceed to the trial phase only when the suspect is available to the Court.

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OTTO TRIFFTERER

Conclusions and Future Perspectives

Article 27 defines what is generally acknowledged, namely the irrelevance of whether a person acted in official capacity. Official capacity does not exempt for a person from criminal responsibility. Immunities and other procedural rules may cause a delay in proceedings, but they are unable to prevent prosecution and punishment. Even in cases where the suspect is not available to the Court and consultations as well as cooperation do not lead to a surrender, the exercise of jurisdiction is not barred but can be continued up to the trial phase. Such proceedings are not in vain. On the contrary, experience has demonstrated that creating and promoting awareness and consciousness of the law are valuable contributions to putting an end to impunity and thus to protect peace, security and the well-being of the world. While in the short run such endeavours are not successful because the absent suspect cannot be tried, the development since the establishment of the ICTY and the ICTR has shown that a tremendous increase of successful investigations has attributed certain crimes to certain persons who consequently lost their political power and social position. These consequences have demonstrated to the world society that abuse of power in the future will not go unpunished. It therefore seems increasingly preferable to limit the exercise of power to legally accepted aims and procedures. Despite the continuing use of force and violence, for instance in Afghanistan, Iraq, Dafur in Sudan and now also in Tibet in March 2008, one may observe a global tendency to give in and negotiate, if the pressure of the international community condemns the abuse of power (almost) unanimously, as in Kenya after the elections in February 2008. It therefore may be hoped that if the international community effectively improves the well-being of the world, hunger and poverty will diminish and finally disappear. Such a development would be the most valuable contribution to promote and guarantee permanent peace and security in our world.

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603

The Crime of Aggression: Custom, Treaty and Prospects for International Prosecution Elizabeth Wilmshurst

I.

Introduction

Once a subject of historical interest only, the international law crime of aggression has received a great deal of attention in the last ten years. Much of the debate has focused on the inclusion of the crime within the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court (ICC). But there have been other developments. Various armed conflicts across the world, including the legally controversial intervention in Iraq in 2003 and the prolonged conflicts in the Great Lakes region of Africa, have led to discussion of the crime in national and international courts and have given rise to the creation of new treaty law. This chapter discusses customary international law on the crime of aggression, the negotiations for ICC jurisdiction, and other legal developments – including the African concept of aggression – and asks the question whether and how aggression can be prosecuted again, more than sixty years after Nuremberg, in an international court.

II.

The Crime of Aggression and Customary International Law

Although there is no universally agreed definition of aggression for the purposes of international criminal law, aggression is now regarded as a crime under customary international law and there are few commentators who would maintain the contrary.1 This is a recent development. The crime set out in Article 6(a) of the London Charter2 1

See I. Brownlie, International Law and the Use of Force 185-194 (1963); Y. Dinstein, War, Aggression and Self-Defence 121 (2005). But see also C. Tomuschat, ‘Crimes against the Peace and Security of Mankind and the Recalcitrant Third State’, 24 Israel Yearbook on Human Rights 41, at 53 (1995).

2

The jurisdiction given to the Nuremberg International Military Tribunal over ‘crimes against peace’ comprised the ‘planning, preparation, initiation, or waging of a war of aggression, or a war in violation of international treaties, agreements, or assurances, or participation in a common plan or conspiracy for the accomplishment of any of the foregoing’, 1945 London Charter of the International Military Tribunal, art. 6(a). The 1946 Charter for the Tokyo International Military Tribunal, art. 5(a), defined crimes against peace as ‘the planning, preparation, initiation, or waging of a declared or undeclared war of aggression, or a war in violation of international law, treaties, agreements or assurances’; Control Council Law No. 10, adopted by the allied powers in Germany, art. II(a), began: ‘Initiation of invasions of other

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 603-624, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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was included in spite of the fact that the discussions in the United Nations War Commission and elsewhere which preceded the drafting of the Charter had disclosed doubts as to whether there existed a crime of aggression under international law as it then stood.3 In the Nuremberg Tribunal itself the accused argued that the London Charter created new law and that the Tribunal was applying law ex post facto. The dismissal of the argument by the Tribunal was based on the view that aggressive war had been a crime under international law ever since the conclusion of the Kellogg-Briand Pact in 1928: ‘In the opinion of the Tribunal, the solemn renunciation of war as an instrument of national policy necessarily involves the proposition that such a war is illegal in international law; and that those who plan and wage such a war, with its inevitable and terrible consequences, are committing a crime in so doing.’4

Their reasoning was supported by their view that individual criminal liability could be established directly by international law: ‘crimes against international law are committed by men, not abstract entities, and only by punishing individuals who commit such crimes can the provisions of international law be enforced.’5

The judgment of the Tokyo Tribunal accepted this approach, although Judges Röling and Pal disagreed in their dissenting judgments.6 It is indeed difficult to argue that the 1928 Pact was intended to give rise to individual criminal responsibility.7 Although the ‘principles of international law’ recognised by Nuremberg were immediately affirmed by the UN General Assembly,8 the formulation of those principles by the new International Law Commission (ILC) was not accepted (nor rejected) by the General Assembly.9 There remained a view in the General Assembly’s Sixth Committee countries and wars of aggression in violation of international laws and treaties, including but not limited to planning […]’, as in the London Charter. 3

There is a summary in Brownlie, supra note 1, at 159-166. See also W. Schabas, ‘The Unfinished Work of Defining Aggression: How Many Times must the Cannonballs Fly, before they are Forever Banned?’, in D. McGoldrick/P. Rowe/E. Donnelly (eds.), The Permanent International Criminal Court 124 (2004).

4

International Military Tribunal (Nuremberg), Judgment and Sentences, reprinted in 41 American Journal of International Law 172, at 218 (1947).

5

Ibid., at 221.

6

Judgment of the Tokyo International Military Tribunal 48, at 437-439. Judge Röling did agree that the occupiers were entitled to prosecute for the initiation of wars on the basis that the wars threatened their security. It is interesting that there is a memorial to Judge Pal at Yasukini Shrine, Japan.

7

For discussion see S. Glueck, War Criminals: Their Prosecution and Punishment (1944); S. Glueck, The Nuremberg Trial and Aggressive War (1946).

8

UN General Assembly Res. 95(I), UN Doc. A/RES/95 (I).

9

See UN General Assembly Res. 488(V), UN Doc. A/RES/488 (V).

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that aggression was not a customary law crime.10 A request to the ILC in 1950 to draft a definition of aggression11 did not meet with success. The ILC Special Rapporteur indeed declared that aggression ‘by its very essence, is not susceptible of definition’.12 The ‘definition of aggression’ which was adopted in 1974 by GA resolution 3314(XXIX)13 followed years of debate, with the negotiations bedevilled by Cold War politics. While the resolution stated that it was intended as guidance to the Security Council in making its determinations of aggression under Article 39, it is doubtful that it has ever been used for that purpose. In wording reflecting Article 2(4) of the UN Charter, the resolution defines aggression as: ‘The use of armed force by a state against the sovereignty, territorial integrity or political independence of another state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the Charter of the United Nations, as set out in this Definition (Article 1).’

Article 3 of the Definition enumerates various examples of acts of aggression, specifying however that they are not exhaustive and that the Security Council may conclude that they do not constitute aggression in specific circumstances, while other acts may do.14 Whether or not every part of this definition can be considered to reflect customary law with regard to state responsibility,15 it is clear to this writer that resolution 3314

10

See the discussion in the Sixth Committee of the UN General Assembly, UN General Assembly Official Record, Fifth Session, 231st meeting; UN General Assembly Res. 177(II), UN Doc. A/ RES/177 (II).

11

UN General Assembly Res. 378B(V), UN Doc. A/RES/378B (V). See further A. Rifaat, International Aggression (1979).

12

UN Doc. A/CN.4/44, at 69. In 1954, the ILC did include a provision on aggression in its draft Code of Crimes, but the General Assembly decided that the code raised problems ‘closely related to that of the definition of aggression’ and postponed further consideration until the special committee which had been established by the General Assembly in 1952 to consider the definition of aggression had reported, UN General Assembly Res. 897(IX), UN Doc. A/RES/897 (IX). The definition of aggression in the draft Code read in part: ‘Any act of aggression, including the employment by the authorities of a state of armed force against another state for any purpose other than national or collective self-defence or in pursuance of a decision or recommendation of a competent organ of the United Nations.’; threats were also included.

13

UN General Assembly Res. 3314, UN Doc. A/RES/3314 (XXIX). The definition is contained in the Annex to the resolution.

14

Ibid., arts. 2, 4. See further, on the negotiation of the definition, Rifaat, supra note 11, ch.15; J. Stone, ‘Hopes and Loopholes in the 1974 Definition of Aggression’, 71 American Journal of International Law 224 (1977); B. Ferencz, Defining International Aggression, Vol. 2 (1975).

15

The ICJ has held that paragraph 3(g) of the Definition, which relates to the sending of armed groups into another state, reflects customary law, cf. Case concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. USA), Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14, para.195; see also Case concerning Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (DRC v. Uganda), Judgment of 19 December 2005, 2005 ICJ Rep., para. 146. For

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did not in itself provide a customary law definition of aggression for the purpose of individual criminal responsibility. Article 5.2 provides: ‘A war of aggression is a crime against international peace. Aggression gives rise to international responsibility.’

This provision appears to point to a distinction between a war of aggression, participation in which engages individual criminal responsibility, and acts of aggression, engaging the responsibility only of states.16 The Friendly Relations Declaration has a similar provision.17 The ILC noted, in its commentary on its 1994 draft Statute for an international criminal court, that resolution 3314 ‘deals with aggression by States, not with the crimes of individuals, and is designed as a guide for the Security Council, not as a definition for judicial use. But, given the provisions of Article 2(4) of the Charter of the United Nations, that resolution offers some guidance’. The view that the resolution does provide a customary law definition for individual criminal responsibility was, however, expressed during the course of the ICC negotiations by some state representatives.18 The final attempt by the ILC at a draft Code of Crimes against the Peace and Security of Mankind came in 1996.19Article 16 of the draft reads as follows: ‘An individual who, as leader or organiser, actively participates in or orders the planning, preparation, initiation or waging of aggression committed by a state shall be responsible for a crime of aggression.’20

The provision does not describe what aggression is, the ILC noting in its commentary that the issue was ‘beyond the scope of the present Code’, but stating that individual responsibility for the crime was incurred only if the conduct of the state was ‘a sufficiently serious violation of the prohibition’ in Article 2(4) of the UN Charter.21 The Code was not adopted by governments; their attention had moved to the negotiations on the crimes within the jurisdiction of the ICC. doubts that all of the paragraphs are customary see A. Zimmerman, ‘Article 5’, in O. Triffterer (ed.), Commentary on the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court 103 (1999). 16

For the negotiating history on this point see B. Broms, ‘The Definition of Aggression’, 154 Hague Recueil 299 (1977); Ferencz, supra note 14, at 45; Rifaat, supra note 11, at 275, 276.

17

Declaration on Principles of International Law concerning Friendly Relations and Cooperation among States in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations, UN Doc. A/RES/2625 (XXV), Ann., para.1 states inter alia: ‘A war of aggression constitutes a crime against the peace, for which there is responsibility under international law.’

18

See, e.g., M. Gomaa ,‘The Definition of the Crime of Aggression and the ICC Jurisdiction over that Crime’, in M. Politi/G. Nesi, The International Criminal Court and the Crime of Aggression 56 (2004).

19

After a revival of the ILC’s earlier mandate in UN General Assembly Res. 36/106, UN Doc. A/ RES/36 (1981), by which the ILC was invited to resume its work on the draft Code of offences against the peace and security of mankind.

20

1996 YILC, Vol. II (Part Two), at 42.

21

Ibid. The Commission also noted that the Charter and Judgment of the Nuremberg Tribunal were the main sources of authority with regard to individual criminal responsibility.

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During the negotiations on the establishment of the ICC, there was an early attempt to avoid going beyond established customary law on aggression, as with the other crimes within ICC jurisdiction, in order not to create new criminal offences or new descriptions of them.22 This was a reasonable policy objective. The discussion during the negotiations, however, illustrated the difficulties of ascertaining custom. There is very little practice of a kind which would contribute to the formation of customary law on the crime of aggression, other than the post-World War II cases,23 and there have been only a few national cases. Customary international law, therefore, probably remains as in the jurisprudence of Nuremberg, supplemented by the subsequent proceedings under Control Council Law No. 10 and by the Tokyo IMT, with the result that only armed force of the scale and nature of aggressive war founds individual criminal responsibility.24 But this does not seem to be the opinion of many of those governments conducting the negotiations which still continue in relation to ICC jurisdiction over the crime, and which show a wish to adopt a more expansive definition. It may well be that the negotiators, past and present, have a somewhat cavalier attitude to the method of ascertaining customary law or, though without conscious reference to Kirgis’ sliding scale,25 they have adopted the view that a more developed definition of aggression is desirable for international peace and security and for the protection of the individual, and it therefore must have achieved customary law status.

22

For the extent to which the ICC Statute has succeeded in reflecting customary law, see the view of the Trial Chamber in the case of Prosecutor v. Anto Furundžija, Judgment of 10 December 1998, Case No. IT-95-17/1-T, para. 227; supported in Prosecutor v. Dusko Tadic, Appeals Chamber Judgment of 15 July 1999 Case No. IT-94-1-A, para. 223, although Judge Shahabuddeen reserved his position on the matter (Judge Shahabuddeen, Separate Opinion, para. 3). See also Prosecutor v. Hadzihasanovic, Decision on Interlocutory Appeal Challenging Jurisdiction in Relation to Command Responsibility of 16 July 2003, Case No. IT-01-47-AR72, para. 53, where the Appeals Chamber considered that the fact that the Rome Conference voted for art. 28, though not legally conclusive of the matter, at least cast doubt on views opposing the law contained in that text, and that the fact that ‘[…] the Rome Statute embodied a number of compromises among the states parties that drafted and adopted it hardly undermines its significance. The same is true of most major multilateral conventions.’

23

For a useful compilation of relevant parts of the post World War II case law, see the UN Secretariat paper ‘Historical review of developments relating to aggression’, UN Doc. PCNICC/2002/WGCA/L.1 (2002).

24

T. Bruha, Die Definition der Aggression 126 (1980); Dinstein, supra note 1, at 125, 126, noting that the extension in the 1996 ILC draft Code to ‘acts of aggression “short of war” represents a striking departure from the law as perceived in the London Charter and in the consensus Definition of Aggression’; see also G. Werle, Principles of International Criminal Law 391, 394 (2005); C. Kreß, ‘The German Chief Federal Prosecutor’s Decision not to Investigate the Alleged Crime of Preparing Aggression against Iraq’, 2 Journal of International Criminal Justice 245, at 249 (2004); and C. Kreß, ‘Strafrecht und Angriffskrieg im Licht des “Falles Irak”’, 115 Zeitschrift für die gesamte Strafrechtswissenschaft 294, at 299 (2003); R. Cryer et al., An Introduction to International Criminal Law and Procedure 272 (2007).

25

F. L. Kirgis, ‘Custom on a Sliding Scale’, 81 American Journal of International Law 146 (1987).

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ELIZABETH WILMSHURST

The Negotiations to Amend the ICC Statute

Until the intergovernmental negotiations to amend the ICC Statute reach a successful conclusion, the Court cannot try the crime. Article 5(2) governs the situation: ‘The Court shall exercise jurisdiction over the crime of aggression once a provision is adopted in accordance with Articles 121 and 123 defining the crime and setting out the conditions under which the Court shall exercise jurisdiction with respect to this crime. Such a provision shall be consistent with the relevant provisions of the Charter of the United Nations.’

The provision was a compromise, put forward because the majority at the Rome Conference insisted that aggression be included in the Statute but without agreement on a definition.26 The subsequent negotiations, first in the Prepcom established by the Conference to prepare for the entry into force of the Statute,27 and then in the Special Working Group on the Crime of Aggression28 have made progress, but whether or not they will come to a resolution of the remaining difficulties will not be clear until the 2010 Review Conference. The negotiations cover three separate aspects of the crime in the context of the ICC: first, the components of the individual’s conduct in participating in a state’s act of aggression, second, the collective act of state aggression and, third, the conditions for the exercise of the ICC’s jurisdiction.29 26

The 1994 Draft Statute prepared by the ILC, Report of the ILC on the work of its forty-sixth session, UN Doc. A/49/10 (1994)) on which the early negotiations to establish the ICC were based, included aggression within the jurisdiction of a new court but did not provide a definition for this crime – nor for any of the other crimes.

27

Res. F of the Rome Conference required the Prepcom to prepare a definition, Elements and conditions for the exercise of the Court’s jurisdiction for submission to the Assembly of States Parties at a Review Conference ‘with a view to arriving at an acceptable provision on the crime of aggression for inclusion’ in the Statute. For a summary of the negotiations in the Prepcom see S. Fernandez de Gurmendi ‘The Working Group on Aggression at the Preparatory Commission for the International Criminal Court’, 25 Fordham International Law Journal 589 (2002); and see R. Clark, ‘Rethinking Aggression as a Crime and Formulating its Elements: the Final Work-Product of the Preparatory Commission for the International Criminal Court’, 15 Leiden Journal of International Law 859 (2002).

28

The working group, established by ICC-ASP/1/Res.1 of 9 September 2002, is open to states on an equal footing, not simply to states parties to the ICC Statute. It has been holding meetings both during the sessions of the Assembly of States Parties and intersessionally. The discussion paper proposed by the Coordinator of the Working Group in 2002, reissued in the official records of the ASP (ICC-ASP/5/32, Annex II, appendix I), was at first used as the basis for the work in the Special Working Group; the Chairman then issued a discussion paper (‘Chairman’s discussion paper’) (ICC-ASP/5/SWGCA/2) which has now been revised (ICC-ASP/6/SWGCA/2). There is a useful commentary on the negotiations in C. Kreß ‘The Crime of Aggression before the First Review of the ICC Statute’, 20 Leiden Journal of International Law 851 (2007).

29

Before the ICC can exercise its jurisdiction over the crime, there will need to be appropriate amendments to the Statute adding a definition (which includes the first and second aspects

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A.

609

Individual Conduct and Mental Element

There is little significant controversy in the negotiations on this aspect. The nexus between the state’s act of aggression and the act of the individual is described in similar terms in the Nuremberg Charter, the ILC draft Code of Crimes and the Chairman’s revised Discussion Paper in the ICC Working Group.30 The task is to frame accurately the components of the individual’s conduct, keeping to the precedents by and large, and fitting the crime within the existing general principles in the Statute,31 a difficult task but a largely technical one. The crime is committed not by the rank and file but by leaders and high-level policy-makers.32 Somewhere ‘between the Dictator and Supreme Commander of the military forces of the nation and the common soldier is the boundary between the criminal and the excusable participation in the waging of an aggressive war by an individual engaged in it’.33 Unless it is intended to exclude high-level captains of industry who are closely associated with a government and exert policy influence upon it,34 the wording for the ICC Statute may need to be widened from its emphasis on political and military leaders.

above), an addition to the Elements of Crimes, including elements for the crime, and a new provision which sets out the conditions for the exercise of the Court’s jurisdiction. 30

1945 London Charter of the International Military Tribunal, art. 6: ‘planning, preparation, initiation or waging’ of an aggressive war and ‘participation in a common plan or conspiracy’ for the foregoing; the ILC draft Code of Crimes: ‘actively participates in or orders the planning, preparation, initiation or waging’; the Chairman’s revised discussion paper: ‘orders or participates actively in the planning, preparation, initiation or execution’ or ‘(leads) (directs) (organises and/or directs)(engages in)’ as alternatives. Only the Charter has an explicit reference to conspiracy.

31

1998 Rome Statute, art. 28, infra note 38, on superior responsibility will not be applicable to the crime, and since aggression is a leadership crime which typically involves the planning of aggressive acts and of the means of carrying them out it is difficult to apply all of the modes of participation set out in art. 25(3) of the Statute. If the ICC is to determine the question of state responsibility, international law defences such as self-defence will have to be available. But these will be defences to the collective act, not to the individual act of participation, and they will not fit readily within art. 31 of the Statute.

32

The point is well illustrated by Von Leeb and others (German High Command case), American Military Tribunal constituted under Control Council Law No. 10, XII LRTWC 1, at 67, where the defendants, 13 generals and one admiral, were all acquitted (save one who committed suicide) since ‘the criminality which attaches to the waging of an aggressive war should be confined to those who participate in it at the policy level.’ The ILC draft Code of Crimes refers to the ‘leader or organiser’; the Chairman’s revised discussion paper refers to a person ‘in a position effectively to exercise control over or to direct the political or military action of a state’, ICC Doc. ICC-ASP/6/SWGCA/2 (2008).

33

Ibid.

34

See the cases of Krauch and others (IG Farben), X LRTWC 1, 8 TWC 1080 304; and Krupp and others, X LRTWC 69. The Working Group’s terminology has been criticised as drawing back from the references in these cases to persons with ‘power to shape and influence the policy’: see K. J. Heller, ‘Retreat from Nuremberg: The Leadership Requirement in the Crime of Aggression’, 18 European Journal of International Law 477 (2007).

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The mental element will be as in Article 30 of the Statute: the individual must act with intent and knowledge. It has been suggested additionally that a necessary part of the crime of aggression is the aggressive aim of the central leadership, of which the individual perpetrator must be aware. 35 One of the German proposals put forward in the ICC negotiations included this approach; it referred to the unlawful use of force carried out ‘with the object or result of establishing a military occupation of, or annexing’ the foreign territory.36 The choice of those purposes would however exclude acts which might be regarded as properly coming within the criminal category,37 such as aggressive wars to extract economic or political advantages of some kind.

B.

Collective Act of Aggression

The crime of aggression is, perhaps uniquely among those within ICC jurisdiction,38 a crime which can be committed only by an agent of a state.39 The collective act by the state is a necessary reference point for the act of the individual perpetrator; participation in the collective act of the state is what constitutes the crime. It is not easy to resolve what constitutes this collective act for the purpose of determining individual criminality. While, as noted above, customary law probably rests at criminal responsibility for participation in a ‘war’ of aggression, the view that the crime of aggression is wider than this is a common one.40 Declared war is now rare and the term is not employed in the legal regimes of the UN Charter and the Geneva Conventions. While it is possible to give the term content even when it has lost its currency in international relations,41 a definition of the crime of aggression for the purpose of the ICC Statute which relied on the existence of a ‘war’ for its material element would revive old arguments about the meaning of war. 35

This is variously described as a special intent required for participants in aggression, or as a material element of the crime: S. Glaser, ‘Quelques remarques sur la definition de l’aggression en droit international pénal’, in S. Hohenleiner et al. (eds.), Festschrift Theodor Rittler 383 (1957); Brownlie, supra note 1, at 213; Werle, supra note 24, at 395; C. Kreß, ‘The German Chief Federal Prosecutor’s Decision not to Investigate the Alleged Crime of Preparing Aggression against Iraq’, 2 Journal of International Criminal Justice 245, at 256 (2004); and A. Cassese, ‘On Some Problematic Aspects of the Crime of Aggression’, 20 Leiden Journal of International Law 841, at 848 (2007).

36

‘Proposal submitted by Germany: definition of the crime of aggression’, ICC Doc. PCNICC/1999/DP.13; and see note 3 of the Chairman’s revised discussion paper.

37

Clark, supra note 27, at 878.

38

But it would appear that one of the crimes against humanity – ‘the transfer, directly or indirectly, by the Occupying Power of parts of its own civilian population’ into an occupied territory (1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 2187 UNTS 90, art. 6(2) (b)(viii)) – would also be a crime which can be committed only by a state agent.

39

But see infra Part IV.B. regarding the extension of the crime to non-state actors in the Protocol on Non-Aggression and Mutual Defence in the Great Lakes Region.

40

See, e.g., R. Griffiths, ‘International Law, the Crime of Aggression and the Ius Ad Bellum’, 2 International Criminal Law Review 301, at 303, 304 (2002).

41

See, e.g., Dinstein, supra note 1, at 151, 152.

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Of the various alternatives for a definition being considered by the Working Group, some take as their starting point the definition in GA resolution 3314 (‘the use of armed force by a state against the sovereignty, territorial integrity or political independence of another state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the Charter of the United Nations’), with a reference to the list of acts set out in the resolution, whether as examples of acts of aggression or as an exhaustive list. Others prefer aggression to be defined simply as an unlawful use of force or an armed attack, with or without additional qualifications that the act ‘by its character, gravity and scale, constitutes a manifest violation’ of the Charter, or exemplifying ‘in particular, a war of aggression or an act which has the object or result of establishing a military occupation of or annexing the territory of another state or part thereof’. Such qualifications as these seek to ensure that the description of the crime does not include as aggression minor incidents; some would still say that the crime of aggression must only comprise participation in conflicts on the scale of a war. The different arguments for and against proposals such as these are more than merely technical. They reflect political views on which kinds of conflicts should come before the ICC for prosecution of those responsible. Whatever formulation is chosen it should meet the requirements of the principle of legality, and it should reflect the gravity or seriousness of the crime; minor territorial skirmishes should not be included.42 This is after all the ‘supreme international crime’.43

C.

Conditions for the Exercise of the Court’s Jurisdiction

Holding individuals criminally responsible for participation in a state’s act has the effect of condemning the state itself. When the ILC included aggression in their draft Statute, they considered that there was a problem with the ICC’s trying an individual in the absence of a finding of aggression against the state on whose behalf the individual had acted.44 The ILC proposed that, in view of the Security Council’s responsibilities under the UN Charter, the way to resolve the problem was to require that, before the ICC could exercise its jurisdiction, there had to be a prior determination by the Security Council that a state had committed the act of aggression which was the subject of the proceedings.45 There is an echo of the ILC thinking in Article 5(2) of the ICC Statute, which requires that the conditions for the exercise of the Court’s jurisdiction must be ‘consistent with the relevant provisions of the Charter of the United Nations’. This has been interpreted 42

See T. Meron, ‘Defining Aggression for the International Criminal Court’, 25 Suffolk Transnational Law Review 1, at 4 (2001); and A. Cassese, ‘On some Problematic Aspects of the Crime of Aggression’, 20 Leiden Journal of International Law 841, at 845 (2007).

43

Judgment of the Nuremberg Tribunal, 186.

44

J. Crawford, ‘The ILC’s draft Statute for an International Criminal Tribunal’, 88 American Journal of International Law 134, at 147 (1994).

45

1994 ILC Draft Statute for an International Criminal Court, supra note 26, art. 23(2). See Crawford ibid; and J. Crawford, ‘The ILC adopts a Statute for an International Criminal Court’, 89 American Journal of International Law 404, at 411 (1995).

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by some as requiring that in any negotiated amendment to the Statute, there should be a condition that the Security Council determine, prior to ICC prosecution of an individual, that the state concerned has committed aggression.46 The legal argument supporting this view holds that it is the Council, under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, which has exclusive power to determine the existence of an act of aggression by a state. This view is contentious47 and as a legal argument it is weak. It is clear that the Council does not have exclusive responsibility with regard to threats to international peace and security. Its responsibility is exclusive only for the purpose of its powers under Chapter VII which include deciding upon economic sanctions and other responses to breaches of the peace. The General Assembly also has power to make recommendations, provided that the Council is not exercising its functions, and the Assembly has adopted a number of resolutions in which it refers to aggressive acts by states.48 It is undeniable that the International Court of Justice may adjudicate upon questions of aggression and will not be precluded from doing so by the fact that the Council has the question on its agenda: ‘The Council has functions of a political nature assigned to it, whereas the Court exercises purely judicial functions. Both organs can therefore perform their separate but complementary functions with respect to the same events.’49

Another difficulty with the argument for a prior Security Council determination is that the principles of fair trial would be infringed if a decision by a political organ could itself effectively constitute part of the judgment against the accused. The Council inevitably takes decisions for political reasons,50 so, faced with a Council determination, the ICC would have to come to its own conclusions on any international law defences available 46

The UK indicated that this was their understanding in their statement made on adoption of the Statute, UN Doc. A/CONF.183/13 (Vol.II) (1998), at 124. See also Zimmerman, supra note 15, at 106; R. E. Fife ‘Criminalizing individuals for acts of aggression committed by States’, in M. Bergsmo (ed.), Human Rights and Criminal Justice for the Downtrodden 53, at 67 (2003); A. Carpenter, ‘The International Criminal Court and the Crime of Aggression’, 64 Netherlands Journal of International Law 223, at 234 (1995); I. Müller-Schieke, ‘Defining the Crime of Aggression under the Statute of the International Criminal Court’, 14 Leiden Journal of International Law 409, at 423 (2001). The role of the Security Counsil in this regard is set out in new Article 15 bis in the Chairman’s revised discussion paper.

47

E.g., G. Gaja, ‘The Long Journey towards Repressing Aggression’, in A. Cassese et al. (eds.), The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, Vol. I, 427, at 433 (2002); C. Kreß, ‘Versailles-Nuremberg-The Hague: Germany and the International Criminal Law’, 40 The International Lawyer 15, at 38 and n. 133 (2006).

48

1945 Charter of the United Nations, arts. 11(2), 12. See UN General Assembly resolutions listed in ‘Historical review’, PCNICC/2002/WGCA/L.1, at paras. 405-429.

49

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. US), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 26 November 1984, 1984 ICJ Rep. 392, para. 95.

50

As made clear in, for example, Judge Schwebel’s dissenting opinion in Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. US), 1986 ICJ Rep. 259, para. 60 (Judge Schwebel, Dissenting Opinion).

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to the accused with regard to the act of the state concerned. The Nuremberg Tribunal did this, for example, with regard to the self-defence arguments by the defendants concerning the invasion of Norway by Germany.51 If the ICC were to find that aggression had not taken place, contrary to the Council’s determination, the inconsistency would be a necessary price to pay for compliance with the requirements of fair trial. Nevertheless, there are strong arguments that there should be some form of Security Council filter before the ICC can take jurisdiction; these arguments are addresses in Part V below. Other proposals which have been considered in the Working Group negotiations include the alternative of a determination by the General Assembly or the International Court of Justice, and a suggestion that there is no need for any decision in another forum before the Court can take a case.

IV.

Other Developments

A.

The International Court of Justice

Two recent cases in the International Court of Justice illustrate some of the highly controversial points of public international law which may need to be decided by the ICC when aggression cases come before it. In the Case concerning Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (DRC v. Uganda)52 the ICJ considered that the unlawful military intervention by Uganda was ‘of such a magnitude and duration’ that it was a grave violation of Article 2(4) of the Charter.53 In their separate opinions, Judges Elaraby and Simma regretted that the Court did not explicity make a finding of aggression. The DRC had claimed among other things that the Republic of Uganda had violated ‘the principle of non-use of force in international relations, including the prohibition of aggression’. In reaching a decision on this point the Court had to address the question of whether the DRC had given its consent to Uganda’s presence on its territory (it found it had not) and whether the Ugandan assertion of self-defence was justified (it was found not to be). The question whether a state has given consent to the use of its territory raises issues of fact rather than of law. But the invocation of the justification of self-defence may require the determination of very difficult questions of law. What is regarded by many as the classic formulation of the applicable rules in the 1837 Caroline incident is not universally accepted,54 commentators differing in particular as to whether force may be used in anticipatory self-defence.55 As in the case of Military and Paramilitary 51

Judgments of the Nuremberg Tribunal 203-207.

52

Case concerning Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo, supra note 15.

53

Ibid., para. 165.

54

See, e.g., J. Kammerhofer, ‘Armed Activities Case and Non-state Actors in Self-Defence Law’, 20 Leiden Journal of International Law 89, at 99 (2007).

55

See Brownlie, supra note 1, at 275-278; B. Simma et. al. (ed.), The Charter of the United Nations: A Commentary, Vol. 1, 803 (2002) for the view against anticipatory defence; for the

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Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America)56 the ICJ found in the Armed Activities case that it was unnecessary to express a view on this question, since Uganda had said that the military operation concerned was not a use of force against an anticipated attack.57 A further issue touched on in the case is whether there is a right of self-defence against non-state organisations operating from another state. Having decided that the attacks on Uganda by armed bands were not attributable to the DRC, the Court found that the legal and factual circumstances for the exercise of a right of self-defence by Uganda against the DRC were not present.58 This finding has been interpreted59 as firmly slamming the door on the claim that the use of force can be justified in self-defence against armed bands where their actions are not attributed to the state from which they operate. But the Court went on to say, rather obscurely, that it had ‘no need to respond to the contentions of the Parties as to whether and under what conditions contemporary international law provides for a right of self-defence against large-scale attacks by irregular forces’. Presumably this refers to the threshold of such attacks only. The general question has generated a great deal of literature and there are strong arguments supporting the right to self-defence against non-state actors.60 State practice, in particular since 9/11, runs counter to the ICJ ruling insofar as it declares that defence against attacks of non-state actors which are not imputable to a state is

contrary view, H. Waldock, ‘The Regulation of the Use of Force by Individual States in International Law’, 81 Recueil des Cours 455, at 495-505 (1952 II) ; C. Greenwood, ‘International Law and the United States’ Air Operation against Libya’, 89 West Virginia Law Review 933, at 942 (1987). However, the claim to ‘preemptive self-defence’ to prevent a threat emerging is widely rejected as impermissible under international law. The claim appears to be made in the 2002 National Security Strategy of the United States, 41 International Legal Materials 1478 (2002); see C. Greenwood, ‘International Law and the Pre-emptive Use of Force: Afghanistan, Al-Quaida and Iraq’, 4 San Diego International Law Journal 7 (2003); for a contrary view see R. Wedgwood, ‘The Fall of Saddam Hussein: Security Council Mandates and Preemptive Self-Defense’, 97 American Journal of International Law 576, at 582-585 (2003). For a brief reference to the discussion in the German literature see S.Talmon, ‘Changing Views on the Use of Force: the German Position’, 5 Baltic Yearbook of International Law 41, at 63 (2005). 56

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), supra note 15, para. 194

57

Ibid., para. 143.

58

Ibid., para. 147.

59

E.g., J. J. Kammerhofer, ‘Armed Activities Case and Non-state Actors in Self-Defence Law’, 20 Leiden Journal of International Law 89 (2007).

60

E.g., C. Greenwood, ‘International Law and the “War on Terrorism”’, 78 International Affairs 301 (2002); ‘Chatham House Principles of International Law on the Use of Force in Self-Defence’, 55 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 963 (2006); see also S. Murphy, ‘Self-Defence and the Israeli Wall Advisory Opinion: an Ipse Dixit’, 99 American Journal of International Law 62 (2005); for arguments against, see A. Cassese, ‘Terrorism is also Disrupting some Crucial Legal Categories in International Law’, 12 European Journal of International Law 993 (2001).

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unlawful.61 As Judge Kooijmans said in his separate opinion, ‘It would be unreasonable to deny the attacked State the right to self-defence merely because there is no attacker State’. In his view, ‘the Charter does not so require’.62 Of course, the right to use force in self-defence applies only where it is necessary to do so, and that will not be the case unless the territorial state is unable or unwilling to prevent or deal with the threat to the other state. Difficulties of attribution were discussed in another case before the ICJ. In the Case Concerning the Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro)63 the Court had to decide whether the acts of genocide committed at Srebrenica were the responsibility of Serbia and Montenegro. This involved decisions as to whether the acts were perpetrated by persons or entities whose conduct was attributable to Serbia and Montenegro or, if not, whether they were committed by persons who acted on the instructions of, or under the direction or control of, that country. The Court found that the actors were not organs of the state nor did they act in ‘complete dependence’ on the state so as to be equated as state organs. In considering whether they were nevertheless under the direction or control of the state, the Court rejected the respondent’s argument that the correct test to follow was that in the Tadić case64 where the ICTY used the criterion of ‘overall control’. In relation to the divergence of views between the two courts, the ICJ declared that ‘the ICTY was not called upon in the Tadić case, nor is it in general called upon, to rule on questions of State responsibility, since its jurisdiction is criminal and extends over persons only’. It had not been necessary for the Tribunal to decide the question of state responsibility. As for state responsibility ‘the “overall control” test is unsuitable, for it stretches too far, almost to breaking point, the connection which must exist between the conduct of a state’s organs and its international responsibility’.65 A difficult question of international law which has not yet been addressed by the ICJ is the issue of military intervention in another state with the objective of preventing present or imminent humanitarian disaster but without the authorisation of the Security 61

As well as post 9/11 examples, the 2005 Protocol on Non-Aggression and Mutual Defence in the Great Lakes Region, discussed below, appears to give some support to the view that self-defence against non-state actors can be justifiable. Art. 8(10) expressly preserves the right of individual or collective self-defence ‘[…] in the event of an armed attack, or the failure, after notification or request, to intercept and disarm members of an armed group pursued by the defence and security forces of a Member State.’

62

Judge Kooijmans, Separate Opinion, para. 30. See also Judge Kooijmans’ and Judge Simma’s separate opinions (paras. 35 and 12 respectively) on the same point in Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory. Advisory Opinion of 9 July 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 230.

63

Case Concerning the Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro), Judgment of 26 February 2007, General List No. 91.

64

Prosecutor v. Duško Tadić, Judgment of 15 July 1999, Case No. IT-94-1-A.

65

Case Concerning the Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, supra note 63, paras. 403, 406.

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Council. The debate about the legality of interventions such as that in 1991 in northern Iraq and in 1999 by NATO in Kosovo continues.66 Will a military intervention with the purported objective of humanitarian relief ground a prosecution for aggression?67 On these and other undetermined core issues of international law relating to the use of force the ICC may be called upon to take decisions once its Statute has been amended to allow it to try accusations of aggression.

B.

The African Union and the Great Lakes

Out of Africa comes something new on the legal regulation of aggression. The African Union has adopted the following definition of aggression in its Non-Aggression and Common Defence Pact:68 ‘the use, intentionally and knowingly, of armed force or any other hostile act by a State, a group of States, an organization of States or non-State actor(s) or by any foreign or external entity, against the sovereignty, political independence, territorial integrity and human security of the population of a State Party to this Pact, which are incompatible with the Charter of the United Nations or the Constitutive Act of the African Union.’

The definition continues by listing as acts of aggression all the acts given as examples in GA resolution 3314, and adds to them acts of espionage and technological assistance, intelligence and training which could be used for military aggression, as well as support for the commission of terrorist acts against a member state. These additions reflect in part the concerns of AU states about espionage from more technologically advanced countries, coming from ships off the coast or from satellites. The AU definition is followed very closely in the Protocol on Non-Aggression and Mutual Defence in the Great Lakes Region.69 The Protocol is one of ten which form an integral part of the Pact on Security, Stability and Development in the Great Lakes Region, adopted by the member states of the International Conference on the Great

66

The range of views on the legality vel non of such intervention is discussed, for example in J. L. Holzgrefe/R. Keohane (eds.), Humanitarian Intervention (2003); see also B. Simma, ‘NATO, the UN and the Use of Force: Legal Aspects’, 10 European Journal of International Law 1 (1999); N. Krisch, ‘Unilateral Enforcement of the Collective Will: Kosovo, Iraq, and the Security Council’, 3 Max Planck Yearbook of United Nations Law 59 (1999); A. Roberts, ‘The So-called “Right” of Humanitarian Intervention’, 3 Yearbook of International Humanitarian Law 3 (2000).

67

For the view that it will, see K. Kittichaisaree, ‘The NATO Military Action and the Potential Impact of the International Criminal Court’, 4 Singapore Journal of International & Comparative Law 498, at 506, 507 (2000).

68

The African Union Non-Agression and Common Defence Pact was adopted on 31 January 2005.

69

2006 Protocol on Non-Aggression and Mutual Defence in the Great Lakes Region, art. 1(2). The AU Pact requires ratification by 15 member states; the Great Lakes Protocol (integral to the Great Lakes Pact) requires eight.

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Lakes70 on 15 December 2006 with the objective of providing a legal basis for conditions for long-term security, stability, reconstruction and good governance in this region of central Africa.71 The Protocols include obligations on such matters as the prevention and punishment of international crimes and of sexual violence, judicial cooperation, the protection of internally displaced persons, and democracy and human rights. The Non-Aggression Protocol imposes obligations on states regarding the non-use of aggressive force in terms which recall the provisions of the Kellogg-Briand Pact and Article 2(4) of the UN Charter. The Protocol also has two provisions on the crime of aggression. In the first place, states parties undertake ‘to criminalise any act of aggression or subversion against other states by individuals or groups operating in their respective states’.72 In the second place, ‘an act of aggression shall be punishable individually as an international crime against peace as set out in the regional and international legal instruments defining such a crime’.73 The provisions do not sit well together. The second wisely leaves to other legal instruments the task of providing a definition of aggression. But the first provision, taken with the definition of aggression in the Protocol, demands that states go beyond customary law – and the ICC negotiations – in requiring the criminalisation of aggressive acts by persons on behalf of non-state actors and in including in the crime of aggression participation in certain forms of espionage.74 The major change made by the Protocol to the current conception of the crime of aggression is in its extension to persons acting on behalf of non-state actors. It may be argued that this development reflects the current realities of conflict; just as international humanitarian law has developed to apply to non-state actors in civil conflict,75 so too should criminal responsibility in relation to ius ad bellum. And if, as argued above, force may be used in self-defence by states against non-state actors within another state, should not the crime of aggression cover individuals within the non-state grouping? The concern in many African regions about the actions of armed groups is understandable, but it may be doubted whether the characterisation as aggression of 70

Angola, Burundi, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of Congo, Kenya, Republic of Congo, Rwanda, Sudan, Tanzania, Uganda and Zambia.

71

2006 Development Pact for the Great Lakes Region, 46 International Legal Materials 173 (2007), with a useful introductory note by C. Beyani. For the Protocols, see the London School of Economics website, e.g., for the Non-Aggression Protocol http://www.lse.ac.uk/ collections/law/projects/greatlakes/1.%20Peace%20and%20Security/1c.%20Protocols/ Protocol%20-%20Non-Aggression.pdf

72

2006 Protocol on Non-Aggression and Mutual Defence in the Great Lakes Region, art. 3(4).

73

Ibid., art. 5(3).

74

This provision was inserted at the last moment, at the insistence of Uganda; the concern, justified or not, was that Art. 5(3) was not sufficiently strong. (Conversation with C. Beyani).

75

In J-M. Henckaerts / L. Doswald-Beck, Customary International Humanitarian Law (2005), the large majority of the 161 proposed customary law rules are said to be applicable also in non-international conflicts.

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the acts of non-state actors in the Protocol will fulfil more than a political wish. The special purpose of the international crime of aggression as described in the Nuremberg Charter was to ensure that leaders who had taken their countries to war in violation of existing treaties could not escape from punishment; they were responsible for the state’s aggression against other states and should not evade culpability on the ground that the matter was one of state responsibility only. But existing domestic law in countries affected by the acts of foreign armed groups should suffice to enable the persons concerned to be prosecuted.76 Although the possibility of extending the crime to non-state actors has been mentioned from time to time in the ICC context,77 it may be that this part of the African definition of aggression, and the Great Lakes description of the crime, will remain particular to Africa.

C.

National Courts

It was the military intervention in 2003 in Iraq, and the legal justification put forward for it by the states involved,78 which brought the question of aggression before some national courts. Although it has been said that ‘[t]hose most clearly associated with the initiation of recent events in Iraq may … want to avoid holidays in those countries that have criminalised the planning, preparation or conduct of aggressive wars’,79 a trial for aggression of any of those responsible for the intervention may now seem unlikely – except in the theatre.80 However, Spanish prosecuting judge Baltasar Garzón, well-known for his attempted prosecution of former President Pinochet of Chile is reported to have said that the possible criminal responsibility of those concerned should be looked into.81

76

Indeed, the AU Pact, which contains nothing on individual criminal responsibility for aggression, has a provision obliging states parties ‘to arrest and prosecute any irregular armed group(s), mercenaries or terrorist(s) that pose a threat to any Member State’, 2005 African Union Non-Agression and Common Defence Pact, art. 6(2). The question whether the persons can ever be apprehended is a different one.

77

See, e.g., Report of the inter-sessional meeting of the Special Working Group on the Crime of Aggression, ICC-ASP/6/SWGCA/INF.1 (2007), para. 51.

78

The legal (as opposed to the political) justification, put forward consistently by the UK, interpreted UN Security Council Res. 1441 as reviving the authorisation given in Res. 978 to use military action to counter Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in 1990, without the need for any further decision by the Council. UN Doc. S/RES/1441 (2002); UN Doc. S/RES/978 (1991). The argument is widely regarded as having little substance; the subject has generated a great deal of literature, see, e.g., V. Lowe, ‘The Iraq Crisis: What Now?’, 52 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 859 (2003).

79

This is the last sentence of the updated print of P. Sands, Lawless World 283 (2006), which cites Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan as two states which have the crime of aggression in their national law.

80

E.g., in the play ‘Called to Account’ shown in the Tricycle Theatre London in 2007.

81

El Pais, 20 March 2007.

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In the UK, the case of Jones and Milling82 is notable in showing that the courts of this country have now firmly recognised that aggression is a crime under customary international law. The various defendants in the case had either caused damage, or intended to cause damage, on a Royal Air Force base; on being prosecuted, they relied on defences that they were acting to prevent a crime, namely an unlawful attack on Iraq. When the case reached the House of Lords, all their Lordships agreed that aggression was a recognised crime under international law, Lord Bingham stating: ‘As Professor Brownlie has observed (Principles of Public International Law, 5th ed (1998), p 566), “whatever the state of the law in 1945, Article 6 of the Nuremberg Charter has since come to represent general international law”. It was suggested, on behalf of the Crown, that the crime of aggression lacked the certainty of definition required of any criminal offence, particularly a crime of this gravity. This submission was based on the requirement in article 5(2) of the Rome Statute that the crime of aggression be the subject of definition before the international court exercised jurisdiction to try persons accused of that offence. This was an argument which found some favour with the Court of Appeal […] I would not for my part accept it. It is true that some states parties to the Rome statute have sought an extended and more specific definition of aggression. It is also true that there has been protracted discussion of whether a finding of aggression against a state by the Security Council should be a necessary pre-condition of the court’s exercise of jurisdiction to try a national of that state accused of committing the crime. I do not, however, think that either of these points undermines the appellants’ essential proposition that the core elements of the crime of aggression have been understood, at least since 1945, with sufficient clarity to permit the lawful trial (and, on conviction, punishment) of those accused of this most serious crime. It is unhistorical to suppose that the elements of the crime were clear in 1945 but have since become in any way obscure.’83

However, since the court also decided that aggression was not a crime in English domestic law, they were not able to go on to undertake what would no doubt have been an interesting exercise of assessing whether the intervention in Iraq was to be characterised as aggression. In Germany, where aggression is a crime under national law,84 neither of the two well-known instances that have come before the Prosecutor for decision has led to the opening of an investigation. As regards German involvement in the 1999 intervention in relation to Kosovo, the reasoning was that the humanitarian motives of NATO action precluded its characterisation as aggressive war for the purpose of the Criminal

82

The House of Lords (final) stage of the case is cited as R v. Jones, on Appeal from the Court of Appeal (Criminal Division), (2006) EKHL 16.

83

Ibid., paras. 18, 19. For discussion of the case in the Court of Appeal, which held that the crime could not be a part of domestic law because there was not a firmly established international law rule on the crime of aggression, see R. Cryer, ‘Aggression at the Court of Appeal’, 10 Journal of Conflict & Security Law 209 (2005).

84

Basic Law, art. 26; and Criminal Code, s. 80.

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Code.85 As regards various supportive activities by Germany connected with the 2003 intervention in Iraq, including the grant to the US of overflight rights, the Prosecutor took his decision on the basis of a narrow interpretation of the German provision which in itself is narrower than the international law concept.86 But commentators have noted that the reasoning is of interest to international law.87 In particular the Prosecutor gave some support to the argument that a ‘war’ of aggression is narrower than an ‘act’ of aggression: be stated that the collective act for the crime of aggression must be one of unambiguous illegality: and be moved away from the idea that there must be a collective intent to harm international peace. Another recent national incorporation of the crime, but in a very attenuated form, is seen in the Statute of the Iraqi Higher Criminal Court. Article 14(c) includes as one of the crimes within the jurisdiction of the court: ‘The abuse of position and the pursuit of policies that may lead to the threat of war or the use of the armed forces of Iraq against an Arab country, in accordance with Article 1 of Law Number 7 of 1958.’

This provision does not refer to aggression as such, and is limited to the threat of war against Arab States, thereby excluding attacks on Iran and on Israel. No prosecutions have been launched and the provision is mentioned to note what it excludes rather than what it contributes.

V.

International Prosecution?

The Nuremberg proceedings proved that individual participation in the planning and conduct of an aggressive war was a crime that could be prosecuted by an international tribunal. Sixty years on, we have moved to a position of uncertainty about whether and how further international prosecutions will be possible. The expenditure of time and resources devoted to the current intergovernmental negotiations on ICC jurisdiction brings to mind the lengthy debates which led, in a different context, to the adoption of the General Assembly definition of aggression in 1974, a definition which is rarely used. Is this current uncertainty attributable to anything more than concerns about state sovereignty and, in particular, the wish by leaders of powerful states not to have their own engagement in conflict criminalised? There are more legitimate concerns about international prosecution than these. It is said, for example, that there is a risk that investigations undertaken by the ICC, far from assisting with the maintenance of international peace and security, might bring 85

See, e.g, A. L. Paulus, ‘Peace through Justice? The Future of the Crime of Aggression in a Time of Crisis’, 50 Wayne Law Review 1 (2004).

86

C. Kreß, ‘The German Chief Federal Prosecutor’s Decision not to Investigate the Alleged Crime of Preparing Aggression against Iraq’, 2 Journal of International Criminal Justice 245 (2004), from which the information on this case is taken.

87

Ibid.

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about an escalation of a situation.88 It is difficult to think of any case of aggression before the ICC which would not be of great political sensitivity with some impact on international relations.89 Further, opposition to the assertion of jurisdiction by the ICC over the nationals of non-party states will be increased if the ICC is to be given the power to decide whether the leaders of such states have committed acts of aggression. While the Court will be able to try aggression only ‘in respect of’ states parties which have accepted a Statute amendment incorporating a definition and the necessary conditions,90 this ‘opt-in’ system for jurisdiction over aggression has not been provided for states which are not parties.91 If nationals of one state party commit aggression on the territory of another, they may be prosecuted only if the ‘aggressor’ state has agreed to the amendment;92 but nationals of a non-party state may be prosecuted under the same conditions as for the other crimes within the Court’s jurisdiction. ICC prosecutions are likely to be not only politically sensitive, but also legally difficult in having to deal with international law rules on the use of force by states. In Part IV.A. above we touched on some of the legally controversial points which the ICJ has been facing. As we have seen, some modern-day military interventions are given different legal analyses in different parts of the world. This absence of shared standards is partly responsible for the problems in defining aggression in the ICC context, and any definition that is agreed upon is unlikely to deal with the difficulties. The possibility of referring the actions of enemies to the Court will be an additional option in a state’s political armoury, but while the ICC is still at a relatively new stage of development the temptation for states to turn it into a forum for litigating inter-state disputes risks overwhelming the Court. The Court will face difficulties of a kind which may sometimes arise in respect of the other crimes within its jurisdiction but which will be particularly severe in relation to aggression. The constitution and procedures of the ICC are designed for the determination of individual, not state, responsibility. Investigations of the crime will involve questions of the greatest sensitivity for a state’s defence and national security. Except where the documents of a defeated state are available to the international community, as with Germany in World War II – when the

88

See Fife ‘Criminalizing individuals’ supra note 46, at 70-73; A. Zimmerman, ‘The Creation of a Permanent International Criminal Court’, 2 Max Planck Yearbook of International Law 169, at 203 (1998).

89

Perhaps the only exception would be a case against the previous leaders of a state responsible for aggression which was ‘self-referred’ by the new government of the state.

90

ICC Statute, art. 121(5).

91

This difference in treatment has been criticised, e.g., R. Wedgwood, ‘The International Criminal Court: an American View’, 10 European Journal of International Law 93, at 104 (1999), refers to it as an ‘asymmetric immunity for treaty parties’.

92

G. Gaja, ‘The Long Journey towards Repressing Aggression’, in A. Cassese et al. (eds.), The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court 427, at 439 (2002); D. Sarooshi, ‘The Statute of the ICC’, 48 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 387, at 401 (1999). Interpretative arguments to the contrary seem to have been inspired more by a wish of what should be than by a proper reading of the Statute.

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Tribunals had a glut of the defeated governments’ most secret papers93 – there will be severe difficulties of access to evidence. The ICC’s procedures are designed, uniquely for an international court, to allow participation by victims. Where the state, or all of its citizens, is the victim of an aggression, the fit is a difficult one. Considerations such as these have led to doubts being expressed about the inclusion of aggression in the ICC Statute at all,94 and about whether its inclusion will be more than pure symbolism.95 Aggression is indeed within the Court’s jurisdiction but, in the view of this writer, proposals for the introduction of a mechanism to filter cases before they reach the Court should not be easily dismissed, if the Court is to have any chance of success in its early years. The provision of a Security Council filter is not required by the UN Charter provisions on the Council’s role in the maintenance of international peace and security, but it would be compatible with them. There is no need to require a determination by the Council of aggression by a state before a case goes to the ICC. Instead, there might be a requirement, for example, that no case of aggression be tried without a referral of the situation to the Court by the Council, or that the Council be required to give a nihil obstat.96 That would not amount to interference by the Council in the judicial function.97 For some, the ability of the ICC to try the crime of aggression, if that is the result of the intergovernmental negotiations, will crown a lifetime of campaigning with just that goal. Others, however, may consider that lawyers will have created yet another unrealistic procedure with little or no benign effect but with the possibility of prejudicing international peace and security. Anything which might curb the military adventures of doubtful legality and undoubted harm of the past few years must be welcomed. But the lack of international support given to the ICC in its need to arrest suspects in Northern Uganda and Sudan indicates that states’ foreign offices have yet to be thoroughly convinced about the part the Court might play in the bringing about of lasting peace. The hopes voiced by the founders of the Court have yet to be realised.98 The intergovernmental negotiations on aggression touch matters at the 93

In Japan, however, many of the relevant papers had been burnt.

94

E.g., A. Cassese, ‘The Statute of the ICC: Some Preliminary Reflections’, 10 European Journal of International Law 144, at 146 (1999); a suggestion to delete aggression from the Statute is made in M. Schuster, ‘The Rome Statute of an International Criminal Court and the Crime of Aggression: A Gordian Knot in Search of a Sword’, 14 Criminal Law Forum 1 (2003). See also F. Berman, 4 Singapore Journal of International and Comparative Law 479 (2000).

95

Schabas, supra note 3, at 141; and see Zimmerman, supra note 15, at 106.

96

See, e.g., C. Kreß, ‘The Crime of Aggression before the First Review of the ICC Statute’, 20 Leiden Journal of International Law 851, at 864 (2007): ‘[…] a special procedural regime that includes a carefully articulated role for the Security Council may well be devised.’

97

Most common law countries are used to a political mechanism of some kind before certain offences with international connections are prosecuted. In the UK for example, the offence of torture may not be prosecuted under the 1988 Criminal Justice Act without the consent of the Attorney General (s. 135).

98

E.g., ‘The world will never be the same after the establishment of the international criminal court […][T]he ICC will strengthen world order and contribute to world peace and security.’ M. C. Bassiouni at the ceremony for the opening for signature of the ICC Treaty on 18 July

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heart of states’ foreign and defence interests but the importance of the issues may have become obscured in the minutiae of proposal and counter-proposal within discussions continuing for over ten years. No decision should be taken to incorporate the crime within the ICC’s working jurisdiction without the implications for the Court – and the wider international order – being thoroughly examined and without commitment to it by governments at the highest level. The addition of the crime of aggression to those which can be tried by the Court must be done, if it is to be done, in a way which does not prejudice the international criminal justice project as a whole.

1998 reprinted in M. C. Bassiouni, The Statute of the International Criminal Court: A Documentary History, at xxi (1998).

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XX – XXX

CHAPTER VI

Human Rights and Humanitarian Law

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L’application du droit international général par la Cour européenne des droits de l’homme Lucius Caflisch

I.

Introduction

La présente contribution porte sur la relation entre la Cour européenne des droits de l’homme (ci-après : Cour ou Cour EDH), et le droit international général. Cette relation peut être envisagée sous deux angles au moins : la contribution de la pratique internationale aux règles internationales relatives à la protection des droits de l’homme1 et, à l’inverse, l’application du droit international général dans le cadre de la protection des droits de l’homme, notamment par la Cour de Strasbourg. Les observations qui vont suivre seront limitées au second thème2. Une attention particulière sera accordée aux questions d’immunité de juridiction des Etats qui, au long d’une carrière fertile et distinguée, ont particulièrement retenu l’attention du collègue et ami à qui le présent volume est dédié. Comme tout tribunal, la Cour EDH a une tendance naturelle à vouloir appliquer « son » droit, la Convention européenne des droits de l’homme, (ci-après : CEDH) et ses Protocoles, à titre exclusif ou principal, à tel point qu’on a pu penser qu’elle perdait parfois de vue que la Convention elle-même relève du droit international et, notamment, du droit des traités – malgré les différences qui la séparent d’autres types d’accords. Cette tendance vers le particularisme n’a rien de surprenant ; elle se retrouve parmi des professeurs et praticiens du droit des gens. Ainsi des spécialistes du droit du commerce international ont pu affirmer que cet ordre juridique constitue un système à part dont ils sont seuls à pénétrer les mystères ; certains pénalistes voudraient séparer le droit international pénal du droit international général ; et quelques « droitsde-l’hommistes » souhaiteraient en faire autant pour leur domaine de prédilection, 1

Cf. à ce propos N. S. Rodley, « Human Rights and Humanitarian Intervention: The Case-Law of the World Court », 38 ICLQ (1989), p. 321.

2

Pour d’autres études consacrées à ce sujet, voir J. A. Frowein, « Probleme des allgemeinen Völkerrechts vor der Europäischen Kommission für Menschenrechte » in I. von Münch (dir.), Staatsrecht, Völkerrecht, Europarecht. Festschrift für Hans-Jürgen Schlochauer, 1981, p. 289 ; J. G. Merrills, The Development of International Law by the European Court of Human Rights, 1993, pp. 69-97 et 423-457 ; L. Caflisch/A. A. Cançado Trindade, « Les Conventions américaine et européenne des droits de l’homme et le droit international général », 108 RGDIP (2004), p. 5 ; ainsi que la rubrique annuelle de G. Cohen-Jonathan/J.-F. Flauss, « Cour européenne des droits de l’homme et droit international général », 46 AFDI (2000), p. 614 ; id., 47 AFDI (2001), p. 423 ; id., 48 AFDI (2002) p. 675 ; id., 49 Annuaire français de droit international 662 (2003), p. 662 ; id., 50 AFDI (2004), p. 778 ; id., 51 AFDI (2005), p. 675; et id., 52 AFDI (2006), p. 660.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 627-648, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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oubliant que ce sont précisément des instruments internationaux – des traités – qui fondent leurs activités. Ces tendances centrifuges sont devenues si importantes que la Commission du droit international des Nations Unies (CDI) a résolu d’étudier le phénomène de la « fragmentation » du droit des gens3. Il y a cependant tout lieu d’estimer que, malgré les particularités de telle branche ou telle autre du droit des gens, ces domaines ont des racines communes et que les règles spéciales applicables sont complétées par les règles générales du droit international. C’est là une réalité de mieux en mieux perçue au sein de la Cour EDH. D’abord parce que les affaires qui lui sont soumises comportent un nombre croissant de problèmes généraux de droit international, à tel point qu’il ne se passe guère de semaine sans que les chambres de la Cour aient à trancher une ou plusieurs questions générales de droit international. Autre raison, la Cour a été présidée, entre 1998 et 2007, par un ancien professeur de droit constitutionnel et international, et compte dans ses rangs quelques spécialistes de cette dernière discipline. Qui plus est, leurs collègues ont fait preuve de l’ouverture d’esprit nécessaire pour reconnaître que la CEDH, instrument constitutif de la Cour, ne peut être interprétée et appliquée détachée de sa base. Voyons maintenant, à titre d’illustrations, quelques instances où la Cour EDH a dû se pencher sur des problèmes se rapportant à plusieurs domaines du droit international général.

II.

Droit des traités

A.

Interprétation des traités et obligation de les exécuter

La CEDH et ses Protocoles sont des traités internationaux, régis par le droit des traités et, en particulier, les règles codifiées par la Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités du 23 mai 1969 (ci-après : CV)4.Cela étant, la Cour applique, avec des déviations mineures, les articles 31 et 32 de cette Convention relatifs à l’interprétation des traités. Il s’agit là d’opérations de routine qui n’appellent pas de longs développements5. D’autres règles du droit des traités sont également invoquées par la Cour : la règle Pacta sunt servanda (article 26 CV), par exemple, qui dispose notamment qu’un État ne peut se soustraire à ses obligations conventionnelles en prévoyant le contraire dans des traités postérieurs, en particulier des accords transférant à une organisation supranationale des compétences en matière de droits de l’homme garantis par la CEDH. L’article 26 est lié à l’article 27 de la CV qui prescrit qu’un État contractant ne peut invoquer son droit interne pour échapper à ses obligations conventionnelles. C’est pour donner 3

A ce sujet, voir, tout dernièrement, Rapport de la Commission du droit international de sa 58e session, 1 mai-9 juin et 3 juillet-11 août 2006, Nations Unies, document. A/61/10, Supplément No. 10, pp. 419-443.

4

Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités de 1969, Nations Unies, Recueil des traités, vol. 1155, p. 331.

5

Cf. à ce sujet L. Caflisch/A. A. Cançado Trindade, supra note 2, pp. 9-22.

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effet à cette règle fondamentale que l’article 2 de la Convention américaine des droits de l’homme du 22 novembre 19696 enjoint aux États Parties de prendre les mesures législatives ou autres nécessaires pour assurer la jouissance des droits et libertés prévus par la Convention. La CEDH ne renferme pas de règle comparable, ce qui explique pourquoi, jusqu’à une époque récente, certains États Parties n’ont pas incorporé le contenu de la Convention à leurs ordres juridiques internes, la conséquence étant qu’ils ont dû appliquer les règles de leur propre droit relatives au respect des droits de l’homme. Heureusement le contenu de ces règles ne s’écartait pas trop des règles matérielles de la CEDH, de sorte que l’absence d’incorporation de cette dernière au droit interne n’a pas emporté des conséquences dramatiques.

B.

Réserves

Un autre domaine intéressant à la fois la CEDH et le droit des traités est celui des réserves. A titre de comparaison, on peut citer l’article 75 de la Convention américaine des droits de l’homme, d’après lequel des réserves ne peuvent être faites qu’en conformité avec les dispositions de la Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traité, plus précisément les articles 19 et suivants de celle-ci. Il s’agit ici, en apparence, d’une solution relativement libérale en ce sens que l’article 19 de la CV permet en principe la formulation de réserves, à la condition que celles-ci soient compatibles avec « l’objet et le but » du traité en cause. En apparence seulement, car en matière de protection internationale des droits de l’homme, le seuil d’incompatibilité avec l’objet et le but du traité est vite atteint, en principe dès lors que la réserve porte une atteinte significative à un ou plusieurs droits matériels garantis par le traité. Autre point intéressant, la compatibilité d’une réserve avec la Convention sera appréciée, non par les États Parties eux-mêmes, mais par la Cour interaméricaine des droits de l’homme et ce dans le cadre des affaires concrètes portées devant elle ou d’avis consultatifs. Cela a fait disparaître le rituel des déclarations individuelles d’acceptation des réserves et des objections à celles-ci, avec les incertitudes qu’il comporte7. Le système européen paraît plus strict encore. L’article 57 de la CEDH n’autorise un État à formuler une réserve à une disposition de la CEDH que « dans la mesure où une loi alors en vigueur sur son territoire n’est pas conforme à cette disposition ». Ainsi les réserves de caractère général sont interdites ; elles doivent viser des dispositions précises de la Convention. De plus elles doivent être motivées par une législation interne existante contraire aux dispositions conventionnelles en cause. Enfin, les réserves doivent être accompagnées de listes précises des lois internes qui les ont nécessitées. Comme c’est le cas dans le contexte de la Convention américaine des droits de l’homme, la validité des réserves sera appréciée par la Cour elle-même, dans le cadre des affaires concrètes portées devant elle, et non par les Etats contractants, ce qui, ici encore, a en principe mis fin au jeu des déclarations individuelles d’acceptation ou de rejet. 6

Pour le texte de cette Convention, voir Conseil de l’Europe (dir.), Droits de l’homme en droit international. Textes de base, 2002, p. 473.

7

Cf. sur ce point Convention de Vienne sur le droit des traités de 1969, supra note 4, article 20.

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C.

Conclusion

Les règles générales du droit des traités sont appliquées par la Cour EDH dans les domaines mentionnés ci-dessus et dans bien d’autres, comme ceux des obligations conventionnelles concurrentes, de l’extinction des traités8 ou du champ d’application de ceux-ci. Pour ce qui est des réserves, la Cour applique un régime moins tolérant et plus efficace que celui proposé par la CV.

III.

L’immunité des États et des représentations diplomatiques

A.

Généralités

L’immunité de juridiction et d’exécution des Etats est un vieux problème de droit international : dans certains domaines du moins, l’État étranger ne peut être traduit devant une juridiction étatique. Sur le plan international, la question se présente sous plusieurs angles, dont les trois suivants : —

Celui des représentants diplomatiques et des agents consulaires qui, pour être à même d’exercer leurs fonctions, doivent être soustraits à l’emprise des tribunaux locaux. Cette exigence a donné naissance à des règles coutumières codifiées dans les Conventions de Vienne du 18 avril 1961 et du 24 avril 1963 sur les relations diplomatiques et consulaires9.

— Celui du précepte de l’égalité des États, inscrit à l’article 2.1 de la Charte des Nations Unies, qui interdit aux tribunaux d’un État de juger le comportement d’un État étranger (Par in parem non habet imperium) ; ce dernier et ses biens jouissent ainsi de l’immunité de juridiction et d’exécution, matière qui, à présent, est partiellement régie par la Convention sur l’immunité juridictionnelle des États et de leurs biens du 2 décembre 200410. — Celui de l’immunité en principe absolue11 des organisations intergouvernementales. 8

L. Caflisch/A. A. Cançado Trindade, supra note 2, pp. 24-31.

9

Convention de Vienne sur les relations diplomatiques de 1961, Nations Unies, Recueil des traités, vol. 500, p 95 ; Convention de Vienne sur les relations consulaires de 1963, Nations Unies, Recueil des traités, vol. 596, p. 261.

10

Assemblée générale. Rés. 59/38, Nations Unies, document A/RES/59/38 (2004). Pour un commentaire particulièrement autorisé de ce nouvel instrument, voir G. Hafner, « Das Übereinkommen der Vereinten Nationen über die Immunität der Staaten und ihres Vermögens von der Gerichtsbarkeit », 61 Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht (2006), p. 381.

11

Alors que les activités de l’Etat moderne relèvent tantôt du jus imperii, tantôt du jus gestionis – soit de l’exercice d’activités commerciales –, ce n’est qu’exceptionnellement que les organisations intergouvernementales se livrent à des activités de ce dernier type. Pour cette raison, l’immunité de telles organisations revêt en général un caractère absolu.

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La Cour EDH a souvent eu l’occasion de se pencher sur des problèmes d’immunité des Etats, de leurs représentations diplomatiques ou consulaires et des organisations intergouvernementales12. Ci-après, il ne sera question que des deux premiers aspects ; on laissera de côté l’immunité des organisations intergouvernementales telle qu’elle a été reconnue dans les affaires Beer et Regan c. Allemagne et Waite et Kennedy c. Allemagne13.

B.

L’immunité des représentations diplomatiques et consulaires : bâtiments et personnel

1.

Bâtiments

Nombreux sont, dans les nouvelles démocraties, les problèmes touchant aux propriétés privées nationalisées après la Seconde Guerre mondiale, puis vendues ou louées par l’État nationalisant à des missions diplomatiques ou des agences consulaires étrangères. Après l’effondrement du système socialiste, les anciens propriétaires ou leurs héritiers en ont souvent demandé la restitution sur la base de l’article premier du Premier Protocole additionnel à la CEDH14.Vu l’immunité accordée aux représentations ou agences en cause par les Conventions de Vienne de 1961 et 1963 sur les relations diplomatiques et consulaires, la restitution de ces immeubles n’est pas possible, du moins lorsque la propriété est passée à l’État étranger ou tant que la représentation ou agence étrangère bénéficie d’un bail. Souvent le seul remède possible sera donc le paiement d’une indemnité. A ce propos, un premier cas à mentionner est celui de Manoilescu et Dobrescu c. Roumanie et Russie15. L’affaire avait trait à un immeuble nationalisé par l’Etat roumain en 1950, puis cédé par celui-ci à l’Union Soviétique en échange d’un immeuble que possédait cette dernière en Roumanie. Par la suite, l’immeuble cédé fut affecté à l’Ambassade soviétique en Roumanie. En 1996 les héritiers du propriétaire spolié demandèrent et obtinrent des tribunaux roumains la restitution de l’immeuble, mais cette décision ne put être exécutée en raison de l’utilisation des locaux par l’Ambassade de la Fédération de Russie qui avait repris entre-temps l’intégralité des droits et obli12

L. Caflisch/A. A. Cançado Trindade, supra note 2, pp. 48-51.

13

Beer et Regan c. Allemagne, Grande Chambre, arrêt du 18 février 1999, No. 28934/95 ; Waite et Kennedy c. Allemagne, Grande Chambre, arrêt du 18 février 1999, No. 26083/94, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 1999-I, p. 393. Voir dans le même sens la jurisprudence du Tribunal fédéral suisse : République X c. A., arrêt du 17 janvier 2003, 14 Revue suisse de droit international et de droit européen (2004), p. 700 ; A. SA et consorts c. Conseil fédéral, ATF 130 I 312, c. 4.1 (325-326), 15 Revue suisse de droit international et de droit européen (2005), p. 739.

14

Protocole additionnel No.1 à la Convention de sauvegarde des droits de l’homme et des libertés fondamentales, du 20 mars 1952, STE No. 9.

15

Manoilescu et Dobrescu c. Roumanie et Russie, décision sur la recevabilité du 3 mars 2005, No. 60861/00, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2005-VI.

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gations de l’URSS. Les demandeurs se tournèrent alors vers la Cour EDH en alléguant notamment une violation de l’article 6.1 de la CEDH pour non-exécution de la décision de restitution, le droit à obtenir celle-ci revêtant, selon eux, une importance telle qu’elle devrait l’emporter sur les principes du droit international, particulièrement celui de l’immunité des Etats. Dans sa décision déclarant inadmissible la requête, la Cour commence par rappeler que le droit d’accès aux tribunaux garanti par l’article 6.1 de la CEDH (Golder c. Royaume-Uni16) n’est pas absolu mais comporte des limitations inhérentes au droit interne, l’Etat disposant d’une certaine marge d’appréciation en la matière. Ces limitations ne doivent toutefois pas porter atteinte à la substance même du droit garanti ; elles doivent servir un but légitime, et il doit y avoir un rapport raisonnable de proportionnalité entre la restriction et le but visé par elle17. Selon les requérants, leur droit d’obtenir l’exécution de la décision leur reconnaissant un droit de propriété avait une importance telle qu’il devait l’emporter sur les règles du droit international, y compris celle de l’immunité des Etats. La Cour n’a pas partagé cet avis. Dans son raisonnement, elle rappelle l’article 31.3.c de la CV sur le droit des traités selon lequel il faut tenir compte, en interprétant une disposition conventionnelle, de « toute règle pertinente de droit international applicable dans les relations entre les Parties ». Puis la Cour note qu’il faut prendre en considération le caractère spécifique de traité de garantie collective des droits de l’homme que revêt la CEDH aussi bien que les principes pertinents du droit des gens. La Convention, expose la Cour, « doit s’interpréter de manière à se concilier avec les autres règles du droit international, dont elle fait partie intégrante, y compris donc celles relatives à la reconnaissance de l’immunité des Etats »18

Or, poursuit la Cour, les motifs invoqués par les autorités roumaines pour justifier l’inexécution de la décision de restitution reposaient sur les règles relatives à l’immunité telles que contenues à l’article 22 de la Convention de Vienne du 18 avril 1961 sur les relations diplomatiques19, à l’article 23 de la Convention européenne du 16 mai 1972 sur l’immunité des Etats (Convention de Bâle)20,à l’article 19 de la Convention de 2004

16

Golder c. Royaume-Uni, arrêt du 21 février 1975, CEDH, série A, No. 18, §§ 28 à 36.

17

Manoilescu et Dobrescu c. Roumanie et Russie, supra note 15, §§ 66 à 68.

18

Ibid., § 70 ; italiques de l’auteur.

19

Aux termes de cette disposition, les locaux de la mission sont inviolables. Ces locaux, leur ameublement et les autres objets qui s’y trouvent, de même que les moyens de transport de la mission, ne peuvent faire l’objet d’aucune perquisition, réquisition, saisie ou mesure d’exécution, Convention de Vienne sur les relations diplomatiques de 1961, supra note 9, article 22.

20

Cf. Convention de Bâle de 1972, 31 Annuaire suisse de droit international (1975), p. 273. L’article 23 de la Convention interdit les mesures d’exécution forcée sur les biens d’un Etat étranger, sauf si et dans la mesure où celui-ci y a expressément consenti par écrit.

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sur les immunités juridictionnelles des Etats et de leurs biens21, et dans les travaux de l’Institut de droit international22, dont il ressort qu’aucune mesure d’exécution consécutive au jugement ne peut être prise contre les biens d’un Etat étranger affectés aux activités de ses représentations diplomatiques ou consulaires, ni à l’égard d’autres biens appartenant à cet Etat, sauf dans les cas limitativement énumérés à l’article 19 de la Convention de 200423. La Cour avait déjà examiné, notamment dans l’affaire Fogarty étudiée ci-après24, les relations entre les règles relatives à l’immunité et le droit d’accès à un tribunal garanti par l’article 6.1 de la CEDH. Comme on vient de le voir, ce droit comporte des limites qui lui sont inhérentes, notamment celles résultant des règles du droit international concernant l’immunité des Etats. Ces limites ne peuvent en principe être qualifiées de disproportionnées. On ne saurait donc demander au Gouvernement roumain d’enfreindre, contre son gré, la règle générale de l’immunité des Etats, destinée à assurer le meilleur fonctionnement possible des missions diplomatiques et à favoriser, d’une manière générale, la courtoisie et les bonnes relations entre Etats. Ainsi la Cour est amenée à conclure à l’absence de violation de l’article 6.1 de la CEDH25. L’intérêt de l’affaire Manoilescu réside dans les considérations que la Cour a consacrées aux relations entre l’article 6.1 de la CEDH et les autres règles du droit international, conventionnelles ou coutumières, en l’espèce celles relatives à l’immunité des Etats. La contradiction possible entre ces règles est habilement évitée à l’aide de deux éléments. Le premier est l’article 31.3.c de la CV sur le droit des traités qui veut qu’il soit tenu compte, dans l’interprétation de dispositions conventionnelles telles que l’article 6.1 de la CEDH, des « autres règles du droit international applicables entre les 21

Selon la Convention sur les immunités juridictionnelles des Etats et de leurs biens de 2004, article 19, une mesure de contrainte consécutive au jugement ne peut être prise à l’égard des biens d’un Etat étranger, en relation avec une procédure ouverte devant un tribunal local, que si : a) l’Etat étranger y a expressément consenti ; b) cet Etat a réservé ou affecté des biens à la satisfaction de la demande faisant l’objet de la procédure ; c) il a été établi que les biens en cause sont spécifiquement utilisés ou destinés à être utilisés par l’Etat autrement qu’à des fins de service public non commerciales et qu’ils se trouvent sur le territoire de l’Etat du for.

22

Résolution de l’Institut de droit international sur les aspects récents de l’immunité de juridiction et d’exécution des Etats (session de Bâle), 64-I Annuaire de l’Institut (1991), p. 388. Les articles 4 et 5 stipulent l’insaisissabilité des biens appartenant à un Etat étranger, en particulier des biens affectés ou devant être affectés à l’usage des missions diplomatiques, des postes consulaires, des missions spéciales ou des missions auprès des organisations internationales. Demeurent réservés les cas où l’Etat étranger a expressément consenti à l’exercice de la juridiction d’exécution ou a renoncé à son immunité. En 1954 déjà, l’Institut avait adopté une résolution sur l’immunité de juridiction et d’exécution forcée des Etats étrangers (session d’Aix-en-Provence), 45-II Annuaire de l’Institut (1954), p. 293. L’article 5 de ce texte prohibe l’exécution forcée sur les biens appartenant à des Etats étrangers et affectés à l’exercice de la puissance publique.

23

Manoilescu et Dobrescu c. Roumanie et Russie, supra note 15, §§ 71 à 75.

24

Fogarty c. Royaume-Uni, Grande Chambre, arrêt du 21 novembre 2001, No. 37112/97, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2001-XI, p. 177.

25

Manoilescu et Dobrescu c. Roumanie et Russie, supra note 15, §§ 81 à 82.

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Parties » et qui permet ainsi de rétablir l’harmonie là où le conflit menace. Le second élément est l’utilisation à bon escient de la marge d’appréciation concédée à l’Etat : but légitime de la restriction et absence de disproportion significative entre le but poursuivi par les autorités nationales en appliquant la règle du droit international et le bien que l’article pertinent de la Convention veut préserver. L’affaire ici rapportée se caractérise aussi par le fait qu’elle concerne un type particulier de biens d’Etat, protégés par des règles d’immunité particulièrement strictes : les biens affectés à la conduite des relations étrangères. Elle intéresse enfin par le fait qu’elle a porté sur l’immunité d’exécution, plus stricte que l’immunité de juridiction. Vu ces trois éléments, il aurait été difficile pour la Cour de trouver une violation de l’article 6.1 de la CEDH en raison du maintien de l’immunité. Le cas des Frères Treska c. Albanie et Italie26 était similaire à l’affaire précédente. L’enjeu était une propriété confisquée en 1950 par l’Albanie, puis vendue par elle en 1991 à l’Etat italien en vue de servir de résidence à son Ambassadeur à Tirana. Les deux frères, héritiers de l’ancien propriétaire, obtinrent des juridictions albanaises la restitution de l’immeuble, du terrain sur lequel il était bâti et, ultérieurement, des indemnités à verser par l’Italie pour avoir occupé ce terrain. Les autorités albanaises n’étaient toutefois pas en mesure de faire exécuter ces décisions ; et l’Ambassade d’Italie, également sollicitée par les requérants, renvoya ceux-ci aux autorités albanaises. Pour ce qui était de l’indemnité pour l’occupation du terrain par l’Ambassade d’Italie, les requérants tentèrent en vain d’obtenir l’exécution du jugement par les tribunaux italiens. Devant la Cour EDH, les frères Treska alléguaient une violation du droit d’accès à un tribunal garanti par l’article 6.1 de la Convention. Dans sa décision déclarant la requête inadmissible, la Cour reprend le raisonnement tenu par elle dans l’affaire Manoilescu. Cela étant, il est inutile de s’y arrêter longuement. Il suffit de relever que la Cour se réfère à la Convention de 1961 sur les relations diplomatiques et à la Convention de 2004 sur l’immunité juridictionnelle des Etats et de leurs biens ; et, comme dans Manoilescu, l’accent est mis sur l’immunité diplomatique. Or, on l’a déjà noté, cette dernière est particulièrement stricte et laisse peu de place à d’éventuelles dérogations, surtout dans le domaine de l’exécution. Une affaire particulièrement intéressante, Hirschhorn c. Roumanie, avait pour objet la nationalisation d’un immeuble par la Roumanie en 195227. Après 1990, l’immeuble fut revendiqué par le successeur du propriétaire spolié, qui eut gain de cause devant les tribunaux roumains. Le jugement ne pouvait toutefois être exécuté, car l’immeuble avait été loué par l’État roumain au « Peace Corps », une agence gouvernementale américaine. Le bail, il est vrai, était arrivé à terme, mais de fait la location a continué. La question qui s’est posée ici était celle de savoir si le « Peace Corps » exerçait des fonctions qui pouvaient être qualifiées de « diplomatiques » au sens de l’article 3.1 de la Convention

26

Frères Treska c. Albanie et Italie, décision sur la recevabilité du 29 juin 2006, No. 26937/04.

27

Hirschhorn c. Roumanie, arrêt du 26 juillet 2007, No. 29294/02.

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de Vienne de 1961 sur les relations diplomatiques28. En cas de réponse affirmative, il n’y aurait eu aucune possibilité pour le Gouvernement roumain de faire exécuter le jugement tant que l’organisation demeurerait dans les locaux. Dans le cas contraire, les règles de la Convention du 2 décembre 2004 sur l’immunité juridictionnelle des États et de leurs biens, censées codifier le droit existant, seraient devenues applicables, car on se trouverait alors en présence d’un contrat de bail tacite au bénéfice d’un État étranger. Dans cette hypothèse, l’article 19 de cette Convention aurait pu faire bénéficier le « Peace Corps » de l’immunité dont jouissent les Etats-Unis29. Malheureusement la Cour choisit une solution de facilité pour régler l’affaire en décidant que les attributs de la propriété pouvaient être transférés au requérant sans priver le locataire de ses droits.

2.

Personnel

Un premier cas à examiner sous cette rubrique est l’affaire Fogarty c. Royaume-Uni30. La requérante, ressortissante irlandaise, avait été engagée par l’Ambassade des EtatsUnis à Londres comme assistante administrative, puis avait été congédiée. Ce renvoi fut suivi d’une procédure judiciaire devant le Tribunal du travail de Londres-Nord pour discrimination et harcèlement sexuels. Le Gouvernement des Etats-Unis contesta la demande sur le fond mais renonça à invoquer son immunité de juridiction. Mme Fogarty eut gain de cause, obtint réparation et fut ultérieurement réengagée par l’Ambassade à titre temporaire. A la même époque, Mme Fogarty posa sa candidature pour deux postes de secrétaire à cette même Ambassade mais n’obtint ni l’un ni l’autre. Selon elle, cela tenait à la procédure qu’elle avait antérieurement engagée pour discrimination et harcèlement sexuels, qu’elle avait gagnée. Cette fois-ci, le Gouvernement américain invoqua l’immunité, avec succès, faisant valoir qu’aux termes de la Loi britannique de 1978 sur l’immunité des Etats31, la demanderesse avait sollicité des postes relevant du domaine administratif et technique, couverts par l’immunité. Ayant été avisée par un avocat que le Gouvernement des Etats-Unis pouvait à bon droit exciper de l’immunité et qu’elle ne disposait ainsi d’aucun recours sur le plan britannique, Mme Fogarty s’adressa alors à la Cour EDH, où elle se plaignit de

28

Selon la Convention de Vienne sur les relations diplomatiques de 1961, supra note 9, article 3.1, les fonctions d’une mission diplomatique consistent notamment à : représenter l’Etat accréditant auprès de l’Etat accréditaire ; protéger les intérêts de l’Etat accréditant dans l’Etat accréditaire ; négocier avec le gouvernement de ce dernier ; s’informer des conditions et événements dans l’Etat accréditaire et faire rapport à ce sujet au gouvernement de l’Etat accréditant ; promouvoir les relations économiques, culturelles et scientifiques entre les deux Etats.

29

Aux termes de cette disposition, ne sont pas considérés comme étant spécifiquement affectés à des fins de service public les biens autres que ceux affectés à des missions diplomatiques ou consulaires, les biens militaires et les biens appartenant à la banque centrale.

30

Fogarty c. Royaume-Uni, supra note 24.

31

State Immunity Act de 1978, 17 International Legal Materials (1978), p. 1123.

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discrimination (article 14 de la Convention) et d’une violation du droit d’accès à un tribunal (article 6.1). Dans son arrêt du 21 novembre 2001, la Cour a développé un raisonnement identique à celui suivi dans les affaires Manoilescu et Treska32. Se tournant ensuite vers les circonstances du cas qu’elle doit trancher, la Cour admet qu’il peut y avoir, à l’heure actuelle, une tendance à restreindre l’immunité en matière de conflits du travail33. Elle note cependant qu’en l’espèce elle ne se trouve pas devant un différend relatif aux droits contractuels d’une personne actuellement employée par un Etat étranger mais devant des questions de recrutement de collaborateurs d’ambassades et missions, questions susceptibles de faire surgir des problèmes délicats et confidentiels touchant notamment à la politique de l’Etat accréditant. La Cour dit ne percevoir aucune tendance, dans les travaux préparatoires de la Commission du droit international [relatifs à la Convention précitée de 2004 sur l’immunité juridictionnelle des Etats et de leurs biens], allant vers une atténuation de la règle de l’immunité en matière de recrutement de collaborateurs des missions diplomatiques à l’étranger34. Cette constatation trouvera du reste sa confirmation trois ans plus tard, à l’article 11.2 de la Convention de 2004, qui maintient l’immunité dans le cas d’actions ayant pour objet « l’engagement, le renouvellement de l’engagement ou la réintégration d’un candidat ». La Cour parvient donc à la conclusion que le Royaume-Uni n’a pas contrevenu à l’article 6.1 de la CEDH35. Cette attitude est partagée par les juges Caflisch, Costa et Vajić qui, dans leur opinion concordante, attirent l’attention sur l’article 11.1 du projet de la Commission du droit international relatif aux immunités juridictionnelles des Etats et de leurs biens (devenu l’article 11.1 de la Convention de 2004), qui limite ces immunités en précisant qu’elles ne sauraient être invoquées « dans une procédure se rapportant à un contrat de travail entre [l’Etat accréditant] et une personne physique pour un travail accompli ou pouvant être accompli sur le territoire de cet autre Etat ». Mais, poursuivent les trois juges, cette limitation ne s’applique pas – de sorte que l’immunité demeure – lorsque l’action porte sur « l’engagement, le renouvellement de l’engagement ou la réintégration d’un candidate » et que le candidat retenu sera appelé à « s’acquitter de fonctions étroitement liées à l’exercice de la puissance publique », cette dernière expression devant couvrir, selon le commentaire de la Commission relatif à l’article 11 de son projet, toute personne qui sera employée par une mission diplomatique ou un poste consulaire. Cette « exception à une exception » au principe de l’immunité serait justifiée par le fait que le choix de l’ensemble du personnel diplomatique et consulaire doit être dicté par les intérêts, les lois et les procédures de l’Etat accréditant. « Il est inconcevable », précisent les trois juges, « que lorsqu’il nomme les personnes qui le représenteront à l’étranger – y compris le personnel de secrétariat – un Etat doive se soumettre aux normes fixées par les lois et procédures d’un autre Etat, en particulier celles du pays hôte. Dès lors, quand il 32

Fogarty c. Royaume-Uni, supra note 24, §§ 32 à 36.

33

Ibid., § 37.

34

Ibid., § 39.

35

Ibid.

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est amené à choisir les agents de ses services à l’étranger, le premier Etat accomplit à l’évidence un acte de puissance publique, jure imperii, et, ce faisant, est couvert par l’immunité souveraine. »

Et les trois juges soulignent « l’importance primordiale qu’il y a pour tout Etat indépendant à mener librement sa politique étrangère en s’attachant les services de toute personne qu’il juge apte à cette mission. Aussi important soit-il, le droit d’accès à un tribunal ne peut l’emporter sur cet impératif fondamental. »

L’affaire Fogarty n’est pas la seule où la Cour a été confrontée à des questions intéressant le statut du personnel administratif d’une mission diplomatique ou d’un poste consulaire. L’affaire Čudak c. Lituanie36 a pour protagoniste une téléphoniste de l’Ambassade de Pologne en Lituanie, recrutée localement, qui alléguait avoir été la victime d’avances indésirables de la part d’un diplomate membre de l’Ambassade, ce qui, en fin de compte, aurait conduit au licenciement de cette employée. Celle-ci porta son affaire jusqu’à la Cour suprême de Lituanie. Cette dernière refusa de s’en saisir, malgré l’article 6.1 de la CEDH, invoquant l’immunité de juridiction couvrant les représentations diplomatiques étrangères. Si cette affaire, ensuite soumise à la Cour EDH, ne fait pas l’objet d’un règlement amiable, la requérante aura sans doute des chances de l’emporter sous l’angle de l’article 6.1 de la Convention, puisqu’il s’agit d’une employée de nationalité lettonne recrutée localement et faisant partie du personnel administratif et technique (cf. l’article 11 de la Convention précitée de 200437). En effet, les contrats de travail conclus localement avec des ressortissants de l’État hôte sont soustraits à l’immunité dont bénéficient l’État accréditant et ses diplomates, et cela pour une raison très simple : sur le plan pratique, les seules juridictions vers lesquelles l’employé peut raisonnablement se tourner sont celles de l’État hôte. Il est vrai qu’il pourrait également saisir les tribunaux de l’État accréditant, mais cela serait plus compliqué pour lui et, de plus, peu prometteur vu l’hostilité qu’il risque de rencontrer auprès des juridictions de cet État38.

3.

Conclusions

Voilà donc quelques aspects des rapports entre droits de l’homme et règles de l’immunité de juridiction et d’exécution des Etats étrangers, en particulier lorsque les objets litigieux sont affectés à l’exercice de leurs fonctions par les missions diplomatiques ou les postes 36

Čudak c. Lituanie, décision sur la recevabilité du 2 mars 2006, No. 15869/02.

37

La Convention sur les immunités juridictionnelles des Etats et de leurs biens de 2004, supra note 21, article 11, dispose que l’immunité ne peut pas être invoquée par un Etat étranger devant les tribunaux de l’Etat du for lorsqu’il s’agit d’un contrat de travail devant être exécuté, en totalité ou en partie, sur le territoire du second Etat, à moins que l’employé n’ait été engagé pour s’acquitter de fonctions particulières dans l’exercice de la puissance publique.

38

Cf. à ce sujet l’arrêt du Tribunal fédéral suisse précité, supra note 13, en l’affaire République X. c. A.

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consulaires de ces Etats. Concernant ces missions ou postes, la Cour EDH s’en est strictement tenue aux règles classiques du droit des gens reflétées dans les Conventions pertinentes de 1961, 1963 et 2004, particulièrement en matière d’exécution. Elle en a fait de même face à des conflits possibles entre l’article 6.1 de la CEDH (droit d’accès aux tribunaux) et l’immunité de juridiction et d’exécution. Elle a justifié son attitude en constatant que l’Etat du for jouit d’une certaine marge d’appréciation lui permettant d’écarter l’application de la disposition conventionnelle de l’article 6.1. Cependant, une telle mesure ne doit pas vider de son essence le droit consacré par cette disposition ; elle doit viser un but légitime, en l’espèce le maintien des bonnes relations entre Etats ; et il doit y avoir un rapport raisonnable de proportionnalité entre l’inapplication de l’article 6.1 et le but poursuivi par elle. Si ces conditions sont réunies, la Cour recourt à l’article 31.3.c de la CV sur le droit des traités et tient compte de la règle relative à l’immunité comme « règle pertinente de droit international applicable dans les relations entre les Parties ». Cette construction lui permet d’harmoniser l’article 6.1 avec le droit international général en matière d’immunité, l’harmonisation allant dans le sens du respect de l’immunité et aboutissant, par conséquent, à un constat d’absence de violation de l’article 6.1 de la part de l’Etat du for. Il est évident que l’examen des questions d’immunité qui vient d’être conduit n’épuise pas le sujet, comme le prouve la désormais célèbre affaire Al-Adsani c. Royaume-Uni39, étudiée ailleurs40, qui concernait les rapports entre l’article 6.1 de la Convention (invoqué conjointement avec l’article 3 de celle-ci, interdisant la torture) et l’immunité de juridiction des Etats étrangers, ou encore l’affaire McElhinney c. Irlande41, où il s’agissait de savoir si un Etat étranger était protégé par l’immunité de juridiction contre des tentatives individuelles de faire valoir sa responsabilité internationale devant des tribunaux nationaux.

IV.

Responsabilité internationale

A.

Généralités

Normalement les règles relatives à la responsabilité s’appliquent, en droit international, lorsqu’un sujet de ce droit allègue que les organes d’un autre sujet lui ont porté préjudice par des agissements contraires au droit international. Il en va de même 39

Al-Adsani c. Royaume-Uni, Grande Chambre, arrêt du 21 novembre 2001, No. 35763/97, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2001-XI, p. 117.

40

L. Caflisch, « Immunité des Etats et droits de l’homme. Evolution récente », in J. Bröhmer (dir.), Internationale Gemeinschaft und Menschenrechte. Festschrift für Georg Ress, 2005, p. 935, pp. 946-948 ; B. Stern, « Vers une limitation de ‘l’irresponsabilité souveraine’ des Etats et chefs d’Etat en cas de crime de droit international? », in M. G. Kohen (dir.), La promotion de la justice, des droits de l’homme et du règlement des conflits par le droit international. Liber Amicorum Lucius Caflisch, 2007, p. 511, pp. 536-548.

41

McElhinney c. Irlande, Grande Chambre, arrêt du 21 novembre 2001, No. 31253/96, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2001-XI, p. 157.

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dans le domaine des droits de l’homme, sauf qu’un individu qui se prétend lésé peut, après épuisement des recours internes, s’en plaindre directement à une instance internationale. Ainsi l’individu se voit conférer, en ce domaine précis, la qualité de sujet (limité) du droit des gens. Dans le contexte de la responsabilité internationale, des problèmes ont surgi surtout à propos de l’imputabilité et de la réparation.

B.

Imputabilité

La responsabilité d’un Etat pour un fait internationalement illicite, nous apprennent les Articles sur la responsabilité internationale des Etats de la Commission du droit international, dépend de la question de savoir si le fait en cause peut lui être imputé, ce qui est le cas lorsqu’il résulte de l’action ou inaction d’un organe de cet Etat42. Il en va de même dans le cadre de la CEDH, sauf que le fait imputable à l’Etat engage la responsabilité de celui-ci vis-à-vis d’un individu. Il peut cependant y avoir un doute quant à l’identité de l’Etat susceptible de se voir imputer le fait illicite. Cette question peut surgir dans le cadre des relations interétatiques aussi bien que dans celui de la CEDH, comme l’illustre l’affaire Frommelt c. Liechtenstein43. Le requérant, ressortissant liechtensteinois, avait été arrêté, jugé et condamné à une peine d’emprisonnement par les tribunaux de son pays. Ne disposant d’aucun établissement pour faire purger ce type de peines, la Principauté avait conclu avec l’Autriche, Etat voisin, un accord pour que les condamnés puissent subir leur peine dans une prison de cet Etat. L’Accord fut appliqué dans le cas du requérant, qui purgea sa peine en Autriche et qui, pendant son séjour carcéral, se plaignit des conditions de détention auprès de la Cour EDH. Si sa requête avait été déclarée recevable et reconnue fondée sur ce point – ce qui n’a pas été le cas – la Cour aurait eu à décider si la violation était imputable au Liechtenstein, à l’Autriche ou aux deux Etats, et cette question n’aurait pu être résolue qu’en se référant aux règles générales du droit des gens relatives à la responsabilité internationale. Une de ces règles est l’article 8 des Articles de la Commission du droit international qui dispose que : « Le comportement d’un organe mis à la disposition de l’Etat par un autre Etat, pour autant que cet organe agisse dans l’exercice de prérogatives de puissance publique de l’Etat à la disposition duquel il se trouve, est considéré comme un fait du premier Etat d’après le droit international. »44

En vertu de l’Accord austro-liechtensteinois précité, la Cour se serait trouvée face à une relation de mandat, la Principauté étant le mandant et l’Autriche le mandataire. Aux termes de l’article 8 précité, la responsabilité aurait incombée au mandant – le 42

Voir Projet sur la responsabilité de l’Etat pour fait internationalement illicite, Rapport de la Commission du droit international de sa 53e session, 23 avril-1 juin et 2 juillet-10 août 2001, Nations Unies, document A/56/10, Supplément No. 10, articles 4-11, p. 45.

43

Frommelt c. Liechtenstein, décision sur la recevabilité du 15 mai 2003, No. 49158/99, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2003-II, p. 407.

44

Voir supra note 42.

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Liechtenstein ; le requérant semble donc avoir frappé à la bonne porte en dirigeant sa requête contre cet Etat. On peut toutefois se demander si, en raison du caractère de la CEDH comme traité collectif de garantie des droits de l’homme, une responsabilité – du moins subsidiaire – n’aurait pas également pesé sur l’Autriche. Dans le même ordre d’idées, on mentionnera l’affaire Assanidzé c. Géorgie45. L’acteur principal dans ce conflit était l’ancien maire de Batoum, capitale de la « République autonome » d’Adjarie, qui était détenu par les autorités de cette dernière pour avoir commis certains délits et qui continuait à l’être malgré la grâce que lui accorda le Président de la Géorgie dont l’Adjarie faisait et fait toujours partie. L’affaire fut close par un arrêt de la Cour EDH qui constata une violation de l’article 5 (droit à la liberté et à la sûreté) de la Convention, ordonna la libération immédiate du requérant et demanda à la Géorgie le paiement d’une large indemnité à M. Assanidzé. Au cours de l’examen du cas, la question aurait pu se poser de savoir si le comportement de l’Adjarie était imputable à la Géorgie. Cependant, la République de Géorgie s’est abstenue de contester l’imputabilité des actes des autorités adjares, pour la bonne raison qu’une telle argumentation aurait favorisé les poussées indépendantistes au sein de la « République autonome ». L’imputabilité à un Etat contractant d’un comportement prétendument contraire à la CEDH dépend aussi de la règle qui figure à l’article premier de la Convention et qui dispose que les droits et libertés définis au titre premier de celle-ci sont reconnus par les Parties contractantes à « toute personne relevant de leur juridiction ». Autrement dit, ils ne sont pas reconnus, vis-à-vis d’un individu, lorsque l’Etat en cause n’avait aucune emprise – aucune juridiction – à l’égard de cet individu. Cela signifie que la responsabilité pour une conduite ne peut être imputée à un Etat contractant que si, au moment de cette conduite, il exerçait un contrôle effectif sur l’individu. Cette disposition a engendré une importante jurisprudence dont l’essentiel a été étudié ailleurs46. On ajoutera deux autres affaires aux cas déjà examinés. L’affaire Kalogeropoulou et autres c. Grèce et Allemagne47 concernait une action civile dont les requérants avaient saisi les tribunaux grecs en vue d’obtenir des dommages et intérêts de la part de l’Etat allemand pour le préjudice qu’ils avaient subi au cours de la Seconde Guerre mondiale. Les tribunaux grecs tranchèrent en faveur des demandeurs et refusèrent à l’Allemagne l’immunité dont elle s’était prévalue. Par la suite les demandeurs présentèrent le jugement aux autorités allemandes en leur demandant de l’exécuter, ce qu’elles refusèrent. Les demandeurs engagèrent alors la procédure d’exécution forcée prévue par la loi grecque, en dépit du refus du Ministre de la justice grec d’autoriser cette procédure et malgré l’opposition de l’Allemagne. Les 45

Assanidzé c. Géorgie, Grande Chambre, arrêt du 8 avril 2004, No. 71503/01, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2004-II, p. 221.

46

J.-P. Costa, « Qui relève de quel(s) Etat(s) au sens de l’article 1er de la Convention européenne des droits de l’homme? » in L. Condorelli (dir.), Libertés, justice, tolérance. Mélanges en hommage au Doyen Gérard Cohen-Jonathan, 2004, Vol. I, p. 483 ; L. Caflisch, « ‘Jurisdiction’ under Article 1 of the European Court of Human Rights », in International Law of the XXIst Century. For the 80th Anniversary of Professor Igor I. Lukashuk, 2006, p. 560.

47

Kalogeropoulou et autres c. Grèce et Allemagne, décision sur la recevabilité du 12 décembre 2002, No. 59021/00, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2002-X.

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tribunaux grecs reconnurent toutefois l’immunité d’exécution de l’Allemagne. Devant la Cour EDH, l’Allemagne fit valoir que les requérants n’avaient pas démontré relever de la juridiction allemande au sens de l’article premier de la Convention. La Cour EDH rejeta la responsabilité de l’Allemagne pour ce refus en expliquant que « la procédure litigieuse s’est exclusivement déroulée sur le sol grec, et les tribunaux grecs étaient les seules instances à exercer un pouvoir de souveraineté envers les requérants. Il est en effet évident que les juridictions allemandes n’avaient aucun pouvoir de contrôle, ni direct ni indirect, sur les décisions et arrêts rendus en Grèce. … [L]a situation qui fait grief aux requérants, à savoir le refus du Ministre [grec] de la justice d’autoriser la procédure d’exécution forcée et les jugements grecs qui confirmèrent ce refus, ne saurait être imputée à l’Allemagne : cette dernière était l’adversaire des requérants dans le cadre d’un litige civil examiné par les juridictions grecques ; à cet égard elle pouvait être assimilée à une personne privée partie au procès. »

Dans l’affaire Manoilescu et Dobrescu c. Roumanie et Russie, déjà examinée, la requête avait été dirigée, non seulement contre la Roumanie, mais aussi contre la Fédération de Russie, qui détenait l’immeuble litigieux et qui, d’après les requérants, avait porté atteinte à leur droit de propriété en raison de l’impossibilité qu’il y avait, pour eux, d’obtenir l’exécution de la décision définitive de restitution. Citant l’article premier de la Convention, la Cour se demanda si, quoique la procédure relative au bien litigieux ne se fût pas déroulée en territoire russe, celle-ci et l’impossibilité d’exécuter l’arrêt, favorable aux requérants, pouvaient être imputées à la Russie. L’analyse de la Cour débute par un rappel de sa jurisprudence qui confirme que le sens de l’expression « juridiction » figurant à l’article premier de la Convention correspond à celui donné à ce terme par le droit international général : « La Cour rappelle que, du point de vue du droit international public, la compétence juridictionnelle d’un Etat est principalement territoriale. Il ressort en effet de sa jurisprudence que la Cour n’admet qu’exceptionnellement qu’un Etat contractant s’est livré à un exercice extraterritorial de sa compétence : elle ne l’a fait jusqu’ici que lorsque l’Etat défendeur, au travers du contrôle effectif exercé par lui sur un territoire extérieur à ses frontières et sur ses habitants par suite d’une occupation militaire ou en vertu du consentement, de l’invitation ou de l’acquiescement du gouvernement local, assumait l’ensemble ou certains des pouvoirs public relevant normalement des prérogatives de celui-ci (Drozd et Janousek c. France et Espagne, arrêt du 26 juin 1992, série A, n° 240, p. 29, § 91, et Banković et autres c. Belgique et 16 autres Etats contractants (déc.) [GC], n° 52207/99, § 71, CEDH 2001-XII) ; elle a récemment étendu la portée de ce principe en indiquant que même en l’absence de contrôle effectif sur un territoire extérieur à ses frontières, un Etat demeure tenu, en vertu de l’article 1 de la Convention, par l’obligation positive de prendre les mesures qui sont en son pouvoir et en conformité avec le droit international – qu’elles soient d’ordre diplomatique, économique, judiciaire ou autres – afin d’assurer dans le chef des requérants le respect des droits garantis par la Convention (Ilaşcu et d’autres c. Moldova et Russie [GC], n° 48787/99, § 331, CEDH 2004-VII). »48 48

Manoilescu et Dobrescu c. Roumanie et Russie, supra note 15, § 101.

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Citant notamment l’affaire Kalogeropoulou, la Cour constate ensuite que, dans les circonstances de la présente affaire, les requérants ne relevaient pas de la « juridiction » de la Russie au sens de l’article premier de la CEDH : la procédure se déroulait entièrement en territoire roumain, les juridictions roumaines étant seules à exercer un pouvoir de souveraineté sur les requérants ; la Russie n’était pas partie défenderesse dans l’action civile des requérants tendant à obtenir l’exécution de la décision définitive qui leur avait donné gain de cause ; et elle n’était pas intervenue dans la procédure pour exciper de son immunité49. Le refus des autorités roumaines d’exécuter la décision définitive de restitution ne saurait donc être imputé à la Fédération de Russie50. La responsabilité de la Russie n’est pas davantage engagée, en vertu de l’article premier de la CEDH, en raison d’un prétendu manquement à son obligation positive d’assurer le respect des droits garantis par la Convention et revendiqués par les requérants. On ne saurait en effet reprocher à cet Etat d’avoir enfreint ses obligations positives, par exemple en s’étant abstenu d’intervenir dans la procédure interne roumaine d’exécution consécutive à la décision favorable aux requérants ou en ayant omis de consentir d’avance à d’éventuelles mesures de contrainte, car cela aurait équivalu à une renonciation à son immunité. Exiger de la Russie de tels actes serait sans doute contraire à l’ordre public international qui autorise les Etats à se prévaloir de leur immunité, « principe unanimement admis en droit international » visant à sauvegarder la courtoisie et les bonnes relations entre Etats51.

C.

Réparation

Si elle est sans doute importante sous l’angle pratique, la question de la réparation ne revêt pas un intérêt doctrinal particulier dans le contexte de la CEDH. L’article 41 de celle-ci dispose, on le sait, que « si le droit interne de la Haute Partie contractante [défenderesse] ne permet d’effacer qu’imparfaitement les conséquences de [la] violation, la Cour accorde à la partie lésée, s’il y a lieu, une satisfaction équitable ». Comme le montre également la jurisprudence relative à l’article premier du Premier Protocole additionnel à la Convention, qui protège la propriété privée, la restitution est souvent impossible et la satisfaction équitable n’est pas toujours complète. L’article 63.1 de la Convention interaméricaine des droits de l’homme (CADH) est plus explicite et, de ce fait, plus intéressant. Il enjoint à la Cour interaméricaine des droits de l’homme de garantir à la partie lésée la jouissance du droit violé, d’ordonner, le cas échéant, la réparation du préjudice causé par la mesure illicite et de prévoir le versement d’une « juste indemnité ». La formulation relativement ouverte de cette disposition a permis à la Cour d’envisager un large éventail de mesures compensatoires, y compris la réhabilitation des victimes dont le « projet de vie » a subi une atteinte

49

Ibid., § 104.

50

Ibid., §§ 105-106.

51

Ibid., § 107.

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grave du fait de la violation constatée (Loayza Tamayo c. Pérou, réparation52). Dans ce même esprit, la Cour a décidé plus récemment (Cantoral Benavides c. Pérou, réparation53) qu’un requérant victime de torture devait se voir offrir, par l’État défendeur, des moyens et possibilités lui permettant de parachever sa formation dans un établissement réputé.

D.

Conclusion

Les règles relatives à la responsabilité interétatique, notamment en matière d’imputabilité, s’étendent dans une large mesure aux rapports entre individu et Etat dans le cadre des procédures internationales assurant le respect des droits de l’homme. En ce qui concerne plus particulièrement l’imputabilité de faits prétendument illicites, des doutes peuvent surgir quant à l’identité de l’Etat ou des Etats entrant en ligne de compte, comme l’a montré l’affaire Frommelt54. Pour ce qui est des Etats au sein desquels des velléités de sécession se manifestent, on peut être amené à se demander si le comportement dont il s’agit est attribuable à l’Etat central. En principe, la réponse doit être affirmative, car la Convention et ses Protocoles s’appliquent à l’ensemble du territoire de chaque Etat contractant. Mais il y a des situations où cet Etat ne contrôle plus l’intégralité de son territoire ; ainsi, comme cela résulte de l’affaire Ilaşcu et autres c. Moldova et Russie55, la Moldova ne contrôle plus son territoire transnistrien. Cela ne l’exempte pas nécessairement de toute obligation par rapport à ce qui s’y passe. A l’inverse, comme le montre l’affaire Assanidzé56, l’Etat central n’aura pas toujours intérêt à nier sa responsabilité, car un tel refus pourra être interprété comme manifestation de sa volonté d’abandonner ce territoire. L’imputabilité de faits prétendument illicites au regard de la CEDH et de ses Protocoles dépend dans une large mesure de la question de savoir si l’Etat en cause a exercé « juridiction » sur les individus concernés au sens de l’article premier de la Convention. Comme le montre la jurisprudence57, cette « juridiction » est généralement territoriale, mais pas toujours. Encore faut-il établir ce qu’il convient d’entendre par « juridiction territoriale ». Comme le relèvent les deux décisions examinées sous l’angle de la « juridiction », des points de contact avec le territoire de l’Etat directement concerné ne suffisent pas pour créer le lien nécessaire. Et, si l’Etat tiers également impliqué n’offre pas de renoncer à l’immunité, qui lui revient de droit, on ne saurait l’accuser d’avoir manqué à ses obligations positives. 52

Loayza Tamayo c. Pérou, réparation, arrêt du 27 novembre 1998, CADH (Série C), No. 42, § 147.

53

Cantoral Benavides c. Pérou, réparation, arrêt du 3 décembre 2001, CADH (Série C), No. 88, § 80.

54

Voir supra note 43.

55

Ilaşcu et autres c. Moldova et Russie, Grande Chambre, arrêt du 8 juillet 2004, No. 48787/99, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2004-VII, p. 179.

56

Voir supra note 45.

57

Voir les articles cités supra note 46.

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Reste la question de la réparation. Si l’on considère la jurisprudence de la Cour interaméricaine, tenant également compte de ce qui se fait au niveau du droit international général, la question de la réparation paraît relativement peu avancée sur le plan européen. Peut-être ce retard regrettable est-il partiellement compensé par le fait que, contrairement à ce qui semble être le cas sur le continent américain, le mécanisme européen dispose d’un système d’exécution bien rodé.

V.

Droit des conflits armés

Avec la fin de la guerre froide et l’avènement de l’imprescriptibilité de crimes particulièrement graves, un vent de revanche s’est levé. Ce vent ne s’arrêtera pas devant la Cour EDH. Le cas décrit ci-après donne une première idée des affaires de ce type qui pourraient à l’avenir être portées devant la Cour. Dans une requête adressée à celle-ci, V.M. Kononov, citoyen russe, se plaint de sa condamnation par des tribunaux lettons pour crimes de guerre prétendument commis en Lettonie pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale58. Selon ces tribunaux, le requérant avait participé activement à l’opération entreprise dans un village letton envers un groupe de partisans rattachés à l’Armée rouge en représailles contre la prétendue collaboration des habitants du village avec l’armée allemande, collaboration qui aurait permis à celle-ci d’anéantir un autre commando soviétique. Les actes pour lesquels le requérant a été condamné avaient consisté à maltraiter et à tuer neuf civils, dont une femme enceinte, à piller et saccager le village et à brûler deux fermes. Après la fin de la Guerre, le requérant resta en Lettonie, fut décoré de l’ordre de Lénine et rejoignit la police soviétique. En 1998, une instruction puis une procédure ont été ouvertes en Lettonie contre le requérant pour sa participation aux événements relatés. Le 30 avril 2004, la chambre des affaires pénales de la Cour suprême de Lettonie, tenant compte de l’âge et de l’infirmité de l’accusé, a condamné celui-ci pour crimes de guerre à une peine d’un an et huit mois de prison ferme, la durée de cette peine étant englobée dans celle de la détention provisoire subie. Un pourvoi en cassation a été rejeté par un arrêt du Sénat de la Cour suprême du 28 septembre de la même année. Dans leurs arrêts condamnant le requérant, les juridictions lettonnes font état d’une série de traités dans le domaine du droit des conflits armés : la Quatrième Convention de La Haye du 18 octobre 1907 concernant les lois et coutumes de la guerre sur terre (à laquelle la Lettonie n’est du reste jamais devenue Partie)59, la Convention (IV) de Genève du 12 août 1949 relative à la protection des personnes civiles en temps de guerre60, le 58

Kononov c. Lettonie, décision sur la recevabilité du 20 septembre 2007, No. 36376/04.

59

D. Schindler/J. Toman (dir.), Droit des conflits armés : Recueil des conventions, résolutions et autres documents, 1996, No. 8, p. 65, les dispositions invoquées étant les articles 23, 25 et 46. La Lettonie n’est pas davantage Partie à la Convention de 1899, prédécesseur de celle de 1907.

60

Ibid., No. 51, p. 587, les dispositions citées étant les articles 3.1.a et d, 16.1, 32, 33, 43, 53 et 147.

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Protocole I additionnel aux Conventions de Genève de 1949, du 8 juin 1977, relatif à la protection des victimes des conflits armés internationaux61, et le Statut du Tribunal militaire international de Nuremberg joint à l’Accord de Londres du 8 août 194562. Un des griefs formulés par le requérant s’appuie sur l’article 7 de la CEDH, qui a la teneur suivante : « 1. Nul ne peut être condamné pour une action ou une omission qui, au moment où elle a été commise, ne constituait pas une infraction d’après le droit national ou international. De même il n’est infligé aucune peine plus forte que celle qui était applicable au moment où l’infraction a été commise. 2. Le présent article ne portera pas atteinte au jugement et à la punition d’une personne coupable d’une action ou d’une omission qui, au moment où elle a été commise, était criminelle d’après les principes généraux de droit reconnus par les nations civilisées. »

Se fondant sur cette disposition, le requérant allègue qu’au moment des faits incriminés, les traités ayant conduit à sa condamnation n’étaient pas applicables et que les tribunaux lettons ont, par conséquent, enfreint le principe de légalité (Nullum crimen, nulla poena sine lege). Ce grief semble préoccuper la Troisième Section de la Cour EDH qui, le 26 janvier 2006, a posé les questions suivantes au Gouvernement letton : « 1. L’action pour laquelle le requérant a été condamné constituait-elle une infraction d’après le droit national ou international au moment où elle a été commise, au sens de l’article 7 de la Convention? 2. Cette action était-elle couverte par l’exemption prévue à l’article 7. 2 de la Convention? »

L’article 7.1, on l’a vu, proscrit l’application rétroactive des lois pénales, y compris celle des conventions internationales en la matière63 : une personne ne peut être condamnée pour crimes de guerre, par exemple, que si la règle les réprimant était en vigueur au moment de leur commission. De même la peine doit-elle rester dans les limites indiquées par cette même règle, à moins qu’une nouvelle règle, plus favorable à l’accusé, n’ait été adoptée entre-temps (principe de la lex mitior)64.Or il est évident qu’à l’exception des dispositions de la Quatrième Convention de La Haye de 1907, toutes les 61

Ibid., No. 55, p. 755, les dispositions invoquées étant les articles 43, 51.2, 4.a et d, 52 et 75.2.a et d.

62

Ibid., No. 98, p. 1301. C’est l’article 6 du Statut qui est invoqué.

63

Pour l’interprétation de l’article 7.1 de la Convention en général, voir Streletz, Kessler et Krenz c. Allemagne, Grande Chambre, arrêt du 22 mars 2001, Nos. 34044/96, 35532/97 et 4480/98, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2001-II, p. 351, §§ 49 à 108, et K.-H. W. c. Allemagne, Grande Chambre, arrêt portant la même date, No. 37201/97, Recueil des arrêts et décisions 2001-II, p. 463, §§ 44 à 114.

64

Cf. également, à ce sujet, Statut de la Cour pénale internationale du 17 juillet 1998, Nations Unies, document A/CONF.183/9, articles 22 et 23.

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règles conventionnelles invoquées par les tribunaux lettons sont postérieures à l’époque des faits. Il est tout aussi évident que la Lettonie n’est Partie ni à la Convention de 1907 ni à celle de 1898 qui l’a précédée. Ces constatations, toutefois, n’épuisent pas le débat. En effet, si la Convention (IV) de Genève, le Protocole I relatif à la protection des victimes des conflits armés internationaux et le Statut du Tribunal de Nuremberg sont tous postérieurs à 1944, année où les faits incriminés se seraient produits, et s’il est également vrai que la Lettonie ne saurait invoquer les dispositions de la Quatrième Convention de La Haye à titre de règles conventionnelles, il se peut que ces règles aient acquis force de coutume postérieurement à leur adoption en 1907 mais avant 1944 – ce que pourrait tendre à confirmer le contenu du Projet de convention de Tokyo concernant la condition et la protection des civils de nationalité ennemie qui se trouvent sur le territoire d’un belligérant ou sur un territoire occupé65. Il se pourrait même que les dispositions en question reflètent des règles coutumières préexistantes, vu l’apparition, dès la seconde moitié du XIXème siècle, de textes tels que le Code Lieber (1863)66, la Déclaration de Bruxelles (1874)67 et le Manuel d’Oxford (1880)68 qui, tous, protègent la population civile. Pour ce qui est de l’article 7.2 de la CEDH, on admet généralement qu’il avait pour but d’empêcher la remise en cause du verdict de Nuremberg devant la Cour EDH qui allait être établie69. Cela est sans doute vrai, mais le texte de cette disposition, étant formulé de manière générale, ne peut être compris, selon les règles générales d’interprétation des traités, comme ne s’appliquant qu’à ceux qui ont été condamnés à Nuremberg. Reste à savoir ce que les auteurs de l’article 7.2 entendaient par « principes généraux de droit reconnus par les Etats civilisés »70, si de tels principes existaient à l’époque des faits et si ceux-ci pouvaient s’appliquer au comportement du requérant. Ainsi la Cour EDH va devoir se muer pour cette occasion et sans doute d’autres, par la voie détournée de l’article 7 de la Convention, en tribunal pénal international. On attend avec intérêt l’issue qu’elle réservera à la présente affaire. En attendant, on notera

65

D. Schindler/J. Toman, supra note 59, No. 46, p. 449. Voir notamment les articles 23.1, 25, 28, 42, 47 et 50 de ce Projet.

66

Ibid., No. 1, p. 3.

67

Ibid., No. 2, p. 25.

68

Manuel des lois de la guerre sur terre, adopté par l’Institut de droit international le 9 septembre 1880, ibid., No. 3, p. 33, Annuaire de l’Institut, vol. 5 (1881-1882), p. 156.

69

Conseil de l’Europe, Commission européenne des droits de l’homme, Travaux préparatoires de l’article 7 du 21 mai 1957, document DH 57 (6) (Confidentiel), p. 16, § 96.

70

Cette expression a été empruntée à l’article 38.1.c du Statut de la Cour internationale de Justice de 1945, qui l’a lui-même reprise du Statut de la Cour permanente de Justice internationale de 1920. La nature de ces principes est controversée ; la doctrine dominante admet qu’il s’agit de règles de droit civil ou public, matérielles ou procédurales, généralement reconnues in foro domestico et transposables aux relations entre Etats. L’application de tels principes dans le contexte de la protection internationale des droits de l’homme est un domaine mal connu. Pour de plus amples indications, voir L. Caflisch/A. A. Cançado Trindade, supra note 2, pp. 51-59, et les auteurs qui y sont cités.

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que l’affaire Kononov a été transmise à la Grande Chambre de la Cour en application de l’article 30 (dessaisissement) de la CEDH71.

VI.

Conclusion générale

La présente contribution avait pour but de montrer que la Cour EDH ne peut pleinement remplir sa mission sans recourir, en plus des dispositions de la CEDH, aux règles du droit international général. D’abord lorsque surgissent des problèmes touchant à la Convention elle-même (application sur le plan interne, réserves, interprétation). Puis dans les autres domaines évoqués dans cette étude : immunité de juridiction et d’exécution des Etats et de leurs biens, responsabilité internationale et droit des conflits armés. Il ne s’agit là que d’une sélection de domaines du droit international auxquels la Cour a été amenée à s’intéresser. Il y en a bien d’autres : recours aux principes généraux de droit en tant que source du droit international ; compétence territoriale et extraterritoriale de l’Etat ; protection internationale de la propriété privée; protection diplomatique et consulaire ; succession d’Etats ; et nature juridique des mesures provisoires indiquées par les tribunaux internationaux, pour n’en citer que quelques-uns. Dès lors le sujet de la présente étude est loin d’être épuisé. Le nombre d’affaires portées devant la Cour EDH et nécessitant le recours aux règles générales du droit international ne cesse de croître. La Cour a bien fait de ne pas fermer les yeux devant ce phénomène et d’appliquer les règles générales en cause. Il est à espérer qu’elle continuera à le faire, montrant par là que les règles sur la protection internationale des droits de l’homme forment une partie intégrale du droit international public.

71

On signalera, toujours à propos de l’affaire Kononov, un passage figurant dans l’arrêt du Sénat de la Cour suprême de Lituanie du 28 septembre 2004, commentant l’arrêt de sa chambre des affaires pénales du 30 avril de la même année. Dans ce passage il est dit que l’instance précédente, ‘en mentionnant le principe de l’imprescriptibilité, … a observé les obligations découlant des traités internationaux et a décidé de déclarer pénalement responsables les personnes coupables d’avoir commis les crimes en question indépendamment de l’époque où ils ont été perpétrés’ (Exposé des faits du 26 janvier 2006, p. 15). Il semble y avoir confusion ici entre le principe de légalité et la prescription. En réalité, même s’il y a désormais imprescriptibilité du type de crimes ici envisagés en vertu de la Convention du 26 novembre 1968 sur l’imprescriptibilité des crimes de guerre et des crimes contre l’humanité (D. Schindler/J. Toman, supra note 59, No. 101, p. 1315) – encore que l’on puisse se demander si les règles sur la prescription peuvent, vraiment, être modifiées ou abolies ex post facto –, il faudra toujours établir, en outre, que l’acte incriminé était réprimé par la loi au moment de sa perpétration. Il s’agit là de deux questions bien distinctes.

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32

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Nationality and the Protection of Property under the European Convention on Human Rights Ursula Kriebaum

I.

Introduction

Article 1 of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR)1 provides that the Contracting Parties have to secure the rights and freedoms protected by the substantive norms of the Convention and its Protocols for everyone within their jurisdiction. Therefore, the States parties to the Convention have to guarantee the right to peaceful enjoyment of one’s possession as enshrined in Article 1 of the Additional Protocol (AP-1) to the European Convention to everyone within their jurisdiction irrespective of the nationality of the owner of the property. The Commission recognised this repeatedly: ‘[...] it [the State party] undertakes to secure these rights and freedoms not only to its own nationals and those of other High Contracting Parties but also to nationals of States not parties to the Convention and to stateless persons, as the Commission itself has expressly recognised in previous decisions’.2

Therefore, to have a certain nationality is not a requirement for the enjoyment of the protection of property under the Convention. This approach is certainly an advantage compared to general international law and international investment law. Furthermore, international investment law and general international law only protect foreign property against expropriation without compensation. By contrast, the European Convention of Human Rights does not exclude from the jurisdiction of the European Court of Human Rights (‘the Court’) disputes between Contracting States and their own nationals. Rather than being excluded, such disputes form the large majority of cases before the Court. Therefore the question arises whether the nationality of the property owner targeted by an interference with property rights is totally irrelevant with regard to the protection of property under the European Convention on Human Rights. Article 1 of the AP-1 to the ECHR refers, in case of an expropriation, to the conditions provided for by the general principles of international law. There, the nationality of the targeted person could be of importance. The aim of this contribution is to analyze 1

1950 Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (ECHR), ETS No. 5, 213 UNTS 222.

2

Austria v. Italy, ECommHR, Decision of 11 January 1961, Application No. 788/60, 4 Yearbook of the European Convention on Human Rights 116, at 140 (1961).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 649-666, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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the meaning of the reference to the general principles of international law in Article 1 of the AP-1 to the ECHR and to portray the manner in which the Court dealt with the issue of compensation in its case-law. Finally, this paper analyses the case-law dealing with interferences with foreigners’ property.

II.

The Reference to the General Principles of International Law

Article 1 of the Additional Protocol to the European Convention does not contain any explicit reference to the nationality of the property owner. It refers, however, to the conditions provided for by the general principles of international law: ‘No one shall be deprived of his possessions except in the public interest and subject to the conditions provided for by law and by the general principles of international law […].’3

The first question which arises in this context is what is meant by the ‘general principles of international law’? This formula is not found in the list of sources of international law in Article 38 of the Statute of the International Court of Justice. The interpretation provided by the European Commission of Human Rights’ case-law is not very helpful to identify the meaning of this clause. It simply stated that ‘the general principles of international law, referred to in Article I, are the principles which have been established in general international law concerning the confiscation of the property of foreigners’.4

First, this statement is circular. Second, it is problematic, since confiscation is often used as an expression for an unlawful expropriation.5 This would mean that only the rules applicable in case of an illegal act would be applied. Instead of compensation, owed in case of lawful expropriation, damages would be due.6 This cannot possibly be the true meaning of this provision.

3

Emphasis added.

4

Gudmundsson v. Island, ECommHR, Decision of 20 December 1960, Application No. 511/59, 3 Yearbook of the European Convention on Human Rights 394, at 423 et seq. (1969); X v. BRD, ECommHR, Decision of 16 December 1965, Application No. 1870/63, 8 Yearbook of the European Convention on Human Rights 218, at 226 (1965).

5

See, e.g., I. Brownlie, Principles of Public International Law 509 (2003); G. White, Nationalisation of Foreign Property 41 (1961); M. Herdeggen, Internationales Wirtschaftsrecht 219 (2002); W. Peukert, ‘Der Schutz des Eigentums nach Art. 1 des Ersten Zusatzprotokolls zur Europäischen Menschenrechtskonvention’, 8 EuGRZ 97, at 104 (1981); G. Dahm, Völkerrecht, Vol. I, at 514 (1958).

6

See also I. Marboe, ‘Compensation and Damages in International Law. The Limits of “Fair Market Value’’’, 7 The Journal of World Investment & Trade 723 (2006).

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In its case-law, the Court did not take a position concerning the content of the clause. It simply repeated the assertion of the applicants:7 ‘The applicants argued in the alternative that the reference in the second sentence of Article 1 (P1-1) to ‘the general principles of international law’ meant that the international law requirement of, so they asserted, prompt, adequate and effective compensation for the expropriation of property of foreigners also applied to nationals.’8

Brownlie states that ‘the rubric may refer to rules of customary law, to general principles of law as in Article 38(1)(c), or to logical propositions resulting from judicial reasoning on the basis of existing international law and municipal analogies’.9 What apparently was meant by the reference to the general principles of international law was the traditional customary international law rule that in respect of the expropriation of foreign property the payment of prompt, adequate and effective compensation is required. Statements made both during the deliberations (1951, 1952) which led to the adoption of the text of the Protocol as well as in reaction to a reservation by Portugal (1979) clearly show that: ‘[…], the phrase ‘subject to the conditions provided for … by the general principles of international law’ would guarantee compensation to foreigners, even if it were not paid to nationals.’10

Similar language was included in the Committee of Ministers’ Resolution (52) of 19 March 1952: ‘[...] Recognising that, as regards Article 1, the general principles of international law in their present connotation entail the obligation to pay compensation to non-nationals in case of expropriation, […].’11

In 1979, Portugal made the following reservation concerning the obligation to compensate in case of an expropriation: ‘[...] Article 1 of the Protocol will be applied subject to Article 82 of the constitution of the Portuguese Republic, which provides that expropriations of large landowners, big property owners and entrepreneurs of shareholders may be subject to no compensation under the conditions to be laid down by law.’12 7

James and Others v. United Kingdom, Judgement of 21 February 1986, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 98, para. 58; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, Judgement of 8 July 1986, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 102, para. 111.

8

James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 58.

9

Brownlie, supra note 5, at 18.

10

Commentary by the Secretariat-General on the draft Protocol of 18 September 1951, Doc. DH (57) 10, at 157.

11

Tenth Session of the Committee of Ministers of 19 March 1952, Doc. DH (67) 10, at 169.

12

Reservation of Portugal, 21 Yearbook of the European Convention on Human Rights 16 et seq. (1978).

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The United Kingdom, France as well as the Federal Republic of Germany all declared that this reservation cannot affect the general principles of international law, which require the payment of prompt, adequate and effective compensation in respect of the expropriation of foreign property: ‘[…] I have been instructed to re-affirm the view of the Government of the United Kingdom that the general principles of international law require the payment of prompt, adequate and effective compensation in respect of the expropriation of foreign property.13 In the opinion of the French Government, this reservation cannot affect the general principles of international law which require prompt, adequate and effective compensation in respect of the expropriation of foreign property.14 [T]he reservation made by Portugal cannot affect the general principles of international law which require prompt, adequate and effective compensation in respect of the expropriation of foreign property.’15

The statements in the travaux préparatoires to Article 1 of the Protocol to the Convention predate UN General Assembly Resolution 3171 of 197316 as well as the Charter of Economic Rights and Duties of States of 1974.17 Both provide that the expropriating 13

Reaction of the United Kingdom of 7 February 1979, 22 Yearbook of the European Convention on Human Rights 16 (1979).

14

Reaction of France of 4 December 1979, 22 Yearbook of the European Convention on Human Rights 20 (1979).

15

Reaction of the Federal Republic of Germany of 17 July 1979, 22 Yearbook of the European Convention on Human Rights 18 (1979).

16

Permanent Sovereignty over Natural Resources, UN. Doc. A/RES/3171 (XXVIII) 3. Affirms that the application of the principle of nationalization carried out by States, as an expression of their sovereignty in order to safeguard their natural resources, implies that each State is entitled to determine the amount of possible compensation and the mode of payment, and that any disputes which might arise should be settled in accordance with the national legislation of each State carrying out such measures. (Emphases added).

17

1984 Charter of Economic Rights and Duties of States, Un. Doc. A/RES/3281 (XXIX): Art. 2(2) 2. Each State has the right: […] (c) To nationalize, expropriate or transfer ownership of foreign property in which case appropriate compensation should be paid by the State adopting such measures, taking into account its relevant laws and regulations and all circumstances that the State considers pertinent. In any case where the question of compensation gives rise to a controversy, it shall be settled under the domestic law of the nationalizing State and by its tribunals, unless it is freely and mutually agreed by all States concerned that other peaceful means be sought on the basis of the sovereign equality of States and in accordance with the principle of free choice of means. (Emphases added).

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State is entitled to determine the amount of possible compensation in accordance with its national law. Both were highly controversial.18 By contrast, the declarations of the United Kingdom, France and Germany concerning the Portuguese reservation of 1979 were made after these UN General Assembly resolutions had been passed at a time, when at a universal level, there was no longer agreement on the requirement to pay prompt, adequate and effective compensation in case of an expropriation of foreign property. This is all the more remarkable given the fact that in 1951 the delegates of the UK were the strongest opponents to the inclusion into the text of the Protocol of a general requirement of compensation in case of an expropriation.19 Therefore, contrary to the development on the global level, the States parties to the ECHR apparently stuck to the classical formula of customary international law. Who can rely on the general principles of international law mentioned in Article 1 of the AP-1 to the ECHR? The Commission20 and the Court21 stated that the nationals of the interfering State cannot profit from these principles. For this interpretation, the Court relied on Article 31 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties: the ordinary meaning of the text would not suggest extending the applicability of the principles to nationals. The Court also relied on the travaux préparatoires of the Protocol which confirmed this interpretation. Therefore, the Court treats the reference to the general principles of international law as including not only their substantive protection but also the requirement of foreign nationality for their application. In other words, according to the Court foreigners are protected by these general principles of international law while nationals are not.22 See, e.g., J. Castaneda, ‘La Charte des Droits et Devoirs Economiques des Etats’, 1974 AFDI 31; I. Brownlie, ‘Legal Status of Natural Resources in International Law (Some Aspects)’, 162 RdC 245, at 255 et seq. (1979/I); B. Weston, ‘The Charter of Economic Rights and Duties of States and the Deprivation of Foreign-Owned Wealth’, 75 AJIL 437 (1981); R. Dolzer, Eigentum, Enteignung und Entschädigung im geltenden Völkerrecht 24 et seq. (1985), with further references. 18

During the vote article by article in the Second Committee of the UN General Assembly 104 States voted in favour of art. 2(2)c, 16 (Austria, Belgium, Canada, Denmark, France, FRG, Ireland, Italy, Japan, Luxemburg, Netherlands, Norway, Spain, Sweden, United Kingdom and United States) voted against and six (Australia, Barbados, Finland, Israel, New Zeeland and Portugal) abstained.

19

See, e.g., Draft Report of the Committee of Experts to the Committee of Ministers of 22 February 1951, Doc. DH (57) 10, 130.: […] Differences of view were expressed on the question whether the Convention should establish the principle of compensation in the case of expropriation in the public interest. The majority of the Committee were in favour of establishing this principle. Only the Delegation of the United Kingdom categorically opposed to this viewpoint.

20

Gudmundsson v. Island, supra note 4, at 423 et seq.; X v. BRD, supra note 4, at 226.

21

James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, paras. 59-66; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, paras. 111-119.

22

See on this issue, e.g., K. Gelinsky, Der Schutz des Eigentums gemäß Art. 1 des Ersten Zusatzprotokolls zur Europäischen Menschenrechtskonvention 109 (1996); J. A. Frowein, ‘Der Eigentumsschutz in der Europäischen Menschenrechtskonvention’, in G. Pfeiffer/G.

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III.

The Proportionality Principle and the Requirement of Compensation in Case of an Expropriation

After all this, one could expect that States may expropriate their nationals without compensation and would not violate the Convention by doing so. One could therefore expect that the nationality of an expropriated person would have a major impact on the obligation of a State party to compensate for an expropriation. But this is not so. According to the Court’s interpretation of Article 1 of AP-1, the payment of compensation as a necessary condition for the lawful taking of property of anyone within the jurisdiction of a Contracting State is implied by the article itself. It is by now well established in the Court’s case-law that the terms of compensation are an important factor in assessing whether an interference imposed a disproportionate burden on the applicant. 23 The Court has developed this requirement out of the proportionality principle, which it found to be inherent in the Convention as a whole and also reflected in the structure of Article 1 of the Additional Protocol. In addition, the Court relied on the national legal systems of the Contracting States. It observed in that context: ‘[T]hat under the legal systems of the Contracting States, the taking of property in the public interest without payment of compensation is treated as justifiable only in exceptional circumstances … . As far as Article 1 (P1-1) is concerned, the protection of the right of property it affords would be largely illusory and ineffective in the absence of any equivalent principle. Clearly, compensation terms are material to the assessment whether the

Wiese/K. Zimmermann (eds.), Festschrift für Heinz Rowedder zum 75. Geburtstag 49 at 56 et seq. (1994); I. Seidl-Hohenveldern, ‘Eigentumsschutz nach der EMRK und nach allgemeinem Völkerrecht im Lichte der EGMR-Entscheidungen in den Fällen James und Lithgow’, in M. Nowak/D. Steurer/H. Tretter (eds.), Fortschritt im Bewusstsein der Grund- und Menschenrechte. Festschrift für Felix Ermacora 181 et seq. (1988); E. Riedel, ‘Entschädigung für Eigentumsentzug nach Artikel 1 des Ersten Zusatzprotokolls zur Europäischen Menschenrechtskonvention’, 15 EuGRZ 333, at 336 et seq. (1988); R. Dolzer, ‘Eigentumsschutz als Abwägungsgebot’, in W. Fürst/R. Herzog/D. C. Umbach (eds.), Festschrift für Wolfgang Zeidler 1677, at 1685 et seq. (1987); Peukert, supra note 5, at 107 et seq. 23

See, e.g., James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 54; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 120; See also The Holy Monasteries v. Greece, Judgment of 9 December 1994, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 301-A, para. 71; Pressos Compania Naviera S.A. and Others v. Belgium, Judgment of 20 November 1995, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 332, para. 38; The Former King of Greece and Others v. Greece, Grand Chamber, Judgment of 23 November 2000, 2000-XII ECHR, para. 89; Platakou v. Greece, Judgment of 11 January 2001, 2001-I ECHR, para. 55; Malama v. Greece, Judgment of 1 March 2001, 2001-II ECHR, para. 48; Zvolský and Zvolska v. Czech Republic, Judgment of 12 November 2002, 2002-IX ECHR, para. 70; Jahn and Others v. Germany, ECHR, Grand Chamber, Judgment of 30 June 2005, Application Nos. 46720/99, 72203/01, 72552/01, para. 94; Straĭn and Others v. Romania, ECHR, Judgment of 21 July 2005, Application No. 57001/00, para. 52; Draon v. France, ECHR, Grand Chamber, Judgment of 6 October 2005, Application No. 1513/03, para. 79.

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contested legislation respects a fair balance between the various interests at stake and, notably, whether it does not impose a disproportionate burden on the applicants (…).’24

As far as the amount of compensation required is concerned, the Court regularly states that in principle it must be reasonably related to the value of the property taken:25 ‘[T]he taking of property without payment of an amount reasonably related to its value would normally constitute a disproportionate interference which could not be considered justifiable under Article 1 (P1-1). Article 1 (P1-1) does not, however, guarantee a right to full compensation in all circumstances.’26 [W]hile it is true that even in many cases of lawful expropriation, such as a distinct taking of land for road construction or other public purposes, only full compensation may be regarded as reasonably related to the value of the property, this rule is not without exceptions.’27

There are exceptions to this rule if there is a special interest of the State to expropriate and if, at the same time, less compensation than the fair market value causes no excessive burden for the individual.28 However, a total lack of compensation is only justifiable in exceptional circumstances.29 Furthermore, just like in international

24

James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 54.

25

See, e.g., ibid.; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 121; The Holy Monasteries v. Greece, supra note 23, para. 71; Pressos Compania Naviera S.A. and Others v. Belgium, supra note 23, para. 38; The Former King of Greece and Others v. Greece, supra note 23, para. 89; Lallement v. France, ECHR, Judgment of 11 April 2002, Application No. 46044/99, para. 18; Motais de Narbonne v. France, ECHR, Judgment of 2 July 2002, Application No. 48161/99, para. 19; Pincová and Pinc v. Czech Republic, Judgment of 5 November 2002, 2002-VIII ECHR, para. 53; Broniowski v. Polen, ECHR, Grand Chamber, Judgment of 22 June 2004, Application No. 31443/96, 2004-V ECHR, para. 176; Jahn and Others v. Germany, supra note 23, para. 94; Straĭn and Others v. Rumania, supra note 23, para. 52; Draon v. France, supra note 23, para. 79.

26

James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 54.

27

The Former King of Greece and Others v. Greece, ECHR, Grand Chamber, Article 41 Judgment of 28 November 2002, Application No. 25701/94, para. 78.

28

For cases where the Court found that there is such an exceptional situation see, e.g., James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 54; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 121; The Former King of Greece and Others v. Greece, supra note 27, para. 78; Senkspiel v. Germany, Decision of 12 January 2006, Application No. 77207/01. For cases where the Court found the compensation to be disproportionally low see, e.g., Platakou v. Greece, supra note 23, paras. 56, 57; Pincová and Pinc v. Czech Republic, supra note 25, para. 61; Scordino v. Italy (no. 1), Grand Chamber, Judgment of 29 March 2006, Application No. 36813/97, paras. 103, 104.

29

The Holy Monasteries v. Greece, supra note 23, para. 71; see also, e.g., Pressos Compania Naviera S.A. and Others v. Belgium, supra note 23, para. 38; The Former King of Greece and Others v. Greece, supra note 23, para. 89; Malama v. Greece, supra note 23, para. 48; Zvolský and Zvolska v. Czech Republic, supra note 23, para. 70; Broniowski v. Poland, supra note 25, para. 176; I.R.S. v. Turkey, Judgment of 20 July 2004, Application No. 26338/95, para. 49;

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investment law and general international law the Court distinguishes between lawful and unlawful expropriations:30 ‘The unlawfulness of such a dispossession inevitably affects the criteria to be used for determining the reparation owed by the respondent State, since the pecuniary consequences of a lawful expropriation cannot be assimilated to those of an unlawful dispossession.’31

In case of an unlawful expropriation, the person concerned has to be put in a situation equivalent to the one in which it would have been in had a breach of Article 1 of the Additional Protocol not occurred.32 The Court bases the compensation requirement in case of an expropriation on the concept of proportionality inherent in the substantive guarantees of the Convention. This concept was developed in cases where nationals of the intervening State were targeted by the expropriation. For this reason, it is by now undisputed that, in principle, states cannot expropriate their nationals without offering compensation. Lack of compensation will in most cases constitute a violation of Article 1 of AP-1 to the ECHR. This development in the case-law of the Court mitigates any potential impact of the nationality of an expropriated person on the requirement of compensation for an expropriation. A comparison between the approach of the Court with regard to compensation for expropriations of nationals with the general international law rules applicable to expropriations of foreigners’ shows that a difference arise only in cases of lawful expropriations. Even then, the difference arises only in those exceptional situations where two conditions are met: 1. There is a special interest of the State to expropriate and at the same time. 2. Less than full compensation does not cause an excessive burden for the expropriated individual. In general international law and international investment law no such exception exists. Both require always full compensation in case of an expropriation. However, general international law and

Jahn and Others v. Germany, supra note 23, para. 94; Straĭn and Others v. Rumania, supra note 23, para. 52; Draon v. France, supra note 23, para. 79. In the case of Jahn and Others v. Germany, supra note 23, the Court surprisingly accepted the lack of any compensation because of the exceptional circumstances prevailing in the unique context of German reunification. It stressed the fact that the expropriation had been taken for reasons of social justice and the lack of legitimate expectations of the applicants with regard to the continuance of their ownership position concerning the expropriated land. 30

See, M. Pellonpää, ‘Does the European Convention on Human Rights Require “Prompt, Adequate and Effective” Compensation for Deprivation of Possessions?’, in M. Tupamäki (ed.) Liber Amicorum Bengt Broms 374, at 383 et seq. (1999).

31

Papamichalopoulos and Others v. Greece, Article 50 Judgment of 31 October 1995, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 330-B, para. 36.

32

Ibid.; Hentrich v. France, Judgment of 22 September 1994, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 296-A, para. 71; Hentrich v. France, Article 50 Judgment of 3 July 1995, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 320-A, para. 11; Bimer S.A. v. Moldova, Judgment of 10 July 2007, Application No. 15084/03, paras. 59, 69-72.

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international investment law do not protect nationals against expropriations without compensation.

IV.

Interferences With Property Rights which target Foreigners

Only a handful of cases so far decided by the Court and the Commission targeting foreigners, concerned interferences with property rights.33 The Commission and the Court disposed of these cases in three ways. In one group the Court refused to decide whether the interference was an expropriation (first paragraph, second sentence of Article 1 of the Additional Protocol), a control of use (second paragraph of Article 1) or another interference into property rights (first paragraph, first sentence of Article 1). In another group the Court held that the interferences were ‘control of use’ and not expropriations. In a third group the Commission decided that an expropriation of a foreigner had occurred but the Court held that the measure corresponded to ‘securing the payment of taxes’, which falls under the rule in the second paragraph of Article 1. The Court elaborated on the consequences of the reference to the general principles of international law in two cases which concerned expropriations of nationals. In none of the cases did the Court find that a foreigner had been expropriated. Therefore, it never applied the nationality element inherent in the reference to the general principles of international law in practice. The Commission held in one case that a foreigner had been expropriated but strangely enough was of the opinion that the general principles of international law were not applicable to the case at issue.

A.

Refusal to Classify

In the case Beyeler v. Italy34 the applicant, a Swiss national, bought a Vincent Van Gogh painting in 1977 through an intermediary, a Rome antiques dealer, from an art collector living in Rome. In 1954, the painting had been declared a work of historical and 33

But see also the judgement in Anheuser-Busch v. Portugal (Anheuser-Busch Inc. v. Portugal, ECHR, Grand Chamber, Judgment of 11 January 2007, Application No. 73049/01). There the Grand Chamber of the Court found that the applicant company’s legal position as an applicant for the registration of a trade mark came within Article 1 of Protocol No. 1, since it gave rise to interests of a proprietary nature recognised under Portuguese law, even though they could be revoked under certain conditions (paras. 66-78). However, rather surprisingly, the Grand Chamber did not find that any interference into the rights guaranteed by Article 1 of Protocol No. 1 of the ECHR had occurred although the trade mark was not registered. It therefore held that no violation had taken place. Judges Caflisch and Cabral Barreto in their dissenting opinion were of the opinion that an interference had occurred. They stressed in that context, that the fact that the applicant is a foreigner and therefore protected by the ‘general principles of international law’ should not be disregarded. They hinted at the applicability of the principle of non-discrimination and the rule requiring prompt, adequate and effective compensation (para. 87).

34

Beyeler v. Italy, Judgment of 5 January 2000, 2000-I ECHR.

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artistic interest within the meaning of the applicable Italian Law of 1939. This 1939 law provided for a right of pre-emption for the Italian Ministry of Cultural Heritage with a two-month time limit. The applicant did not disclose to the vendor that the painting was being purchased on his behalf. The obligatory declaration of sale filed with the Italian Ministry of Cultural Heritage did not mention Mr. Beyeler as the purchaser. In 1983, the Ministry learned that Mr. Beyeler was the actual purchaser. Only in November 1988 did Italy exercise its right of pre-emption and purchased the painting at the 1977 sales price. The Italian Courts, where the applicant had challenged the exercise of the right to pre-emption by the Italian State, characterized the exercise of the right to pre-emption as amounting to an expropriation.35 Nevertheless, the Italian Courts did not remedy the situation, since they did not grant an adjustment of the sum paid in 1988. The European Court, however, instead of classifying the interference in a precise category (expropriation/control of use/other interference) decided to examine the case under the general principles set forth in of the first sentence of Article 1 (other interference – a ‘catch all clause’) because of the complexity of the factual and legal position: ‘[T]he Court does not consider it necessary to rule on whether the second sentence of the first paragraph of Article 1 applies in this case. The complexity of the factual and legal position prevents its being classified in a precise category. … Nor does the Court need to rule on the issue whether under Italian law the applicant should be considered the real owner of the painting (…). Moreover, the situation envisaged in the second sentence of the first paragraph of Article 1 is only a particular instance of interference with the right to peaceful enjoyment of property as guaranteed by the general rule set forth in the first sentence (…). The Court therefore considers that it should examine the situation complained of in the light of that general rule.’36

This unwillingness to decide on the nature of the interference was rightly criticized in doctrine.37 By applying this approach, the Court deprived Beyeler, a foreigner, of the protection granted to foreign nationals by the rule on expropriation, namely the reference to the ‘general principles of international law’. As a consequence the Court did not even mention that Beyeler was a foreigner in its deliberations on the merits. As regards the compensation actually awarded, this approach apparently did not create any disadvantages for Beyeler. His claim for restitution was rejected since the Court pointed out that the pre-emption had not been unlawful as such. The Court had held, however, that the conditions in which the right of pre-emption had been exercised violated the Convention. It decided that Beyeler should be compensated for the loss sustained as a result of being paid the same price without any adjustment in 1988 as he had paid in 1977, as well as for the ancillary costs he had incurred between 1984 and 1988 in determining the legal position with regard to the painting.

35

Ibid., paras. 51, 102.

36

Ibid., para. 106.

37

See, B. Rudolf, ‘Beyerler v. Italy, European Court of Human Rights decision on retroactive exercise of a state’s right to preemt a sale of a work of art’, 94 AJIL 736 (2000).

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The Court applied the same approach in Sovtransavto Holding v. Ukraine.38 The applicant was a Russian company. It held 49% of the shares in a Ukrainian company. The applicant alleged that the managing director of the Ukrainian company had unlawfully increased the company’s share capital three times, thereby reducing the applicant’s shareholding from 49% to 20.7%. As a result, the applicant lost some of the powers it exercised as a shareholder, namely its ability to run the company and control its assets. The applicant unsuccessfully brought proceedings in the Ukrainian courts to have the amendments to the Articles of Association and the decisions approving them declared null and void. The applicant alleged violations of Article 1 of Protocol No. 1, contending that it had lost control over the management and assets of the Ukrainian company. It contended that the compensation it had received after the liquidation of the company was not commensurate with its original share in the Ukrainian company’s share capital. The Court considered it impossible to classify the interference but examined it in the light of the catch all clause derived from the general rule set forth in the first sentence of Article 1 Article: ‘In the light of the circumstances of the case and having regard to the special nature of the applicant company’s possessions, the Court considers that owing to the factual and legal complexity of the present case it cannot be classified in any specific category within Article 1 of Protocol No. 1. Accordingly, it considers it necessary to examine the case in the light of the general rule set out in that Article.’39

Therefore, the Court once again did not decide whether the interference was an expropriation and again potentially deprived a foreign company of the special protection granted to foreigners by the reference to the ‘general principles of international law’. The Court held that the Ukraine had violated its positive obligation under Article 1 of the Additional Protocol. The manner in which the proceedings in issue had been conducted in the Ukraine and the uncertainty faced by the applicant company had upset the required fair balance between the general interest and the need to protect the applicant company’s right to the peaceful enjoyment of its possessions. In its judgement on just satisfaction,40 the Court held that because of the nature of the violation, the compensation due could not be directly based on the value of the shares but that the applicant had suffered a loss of opportunities. To assess the amount due the Court took into consideration the value of the shares and the situation of the applicant resulting from the loss of control: ‘La nature de la violation constatée par la Cour du droit de la requérante au respect de ses biens se répercute par la force des choses sur les critères à employer pour déterminer la réparation due par l’Etat défendeur. D’un côté, la Cour ne saurait spéculer 38

Sovtransavto Holding v. Ukraine, Judgment of 25 July 2002, Application No. 48553/99, 2002-VII ECHR.

39

Ibid., para. 93.

40

Sovtransavto Holding v. Ukraine, Article 41 Judgment of 2 October 2003, Application No. 48553/99.

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sur ce qu’eût été l’issue du procès si l’Etat avait respecté ses obligations positives sous l’angle de l’article 1 du Protocole no 1. Par conséquent, le montant de la réparation ne peut se fonder directement sur la valeur des actions que détenait la requérante. D’un autre côté, compte tenu de la gravité des violations intervenues dans la procédure litigieuse, la Cour n’estime pas déraisonnable de penser que la requérante a subi une perte de chances réelles […]. Dès lors, la Cour, constatant qu’une perte de chances réelles ne peut être évaluée, d’une façon directe, sur la base de la valeur des actions que détenait la requérante, prendra en compte cette valeur comme référence. La Cour prendra également en compte la situation dans laquelle s’est trouvée la requérante à la suite de la diminution de sa participation au capital de SovtransavtoLougansk.’41

There is no indication that the amount granted as damages by the Court was less than full compensation. However, the Court did not apply the reference to the general principles of international law as it did not consider the interference to be an expropriation. Therefore it ignored that a foreigner’s property was the object of the violation of the Ukraine’s positive obligations under Article 1 of the Additional Protocol. Even if in the result the applicants were apparently not disadvantaged by the approach chosen by the Court, the two cases were a missed opportunity for the Court to elaborate on the content of the general principles of international law in relation to foreigners. Furthermore, the Court set a bad precedent by not deciding whether an expropriation had occurred. As will become clear form the elaboration on the Gasus case below, the decision whether the interference was an expropriation or not could have made a big difference in a case where a foreigner was targeted by the interference, if the reference to the general principles of international law had been applied correctly by the Commission.

B.

Control of Use

The three cases analysed in this group concerned typical foreign investments.42 In Rosenzweig v. Poland43 the applicants were a German national and his company. The Polish authorities deprived the applicant company of a licence to run a bonded warehouse and of a permit to export merchandise. The Court held that the withdrawal

41

Ibid., paras. 55-57.

42

Two other cases also concerned foreign property: Agosi v. United Kingdom, Judgment of 22 September 1986, ECHR (Ser. A) no. 108 and Air Canada v. United Kingdom, Judgment of 5 May 1995, ECHR (Ser. A) no. 316-A. In both cases foreign property was seized to enforce an import prohibition of illegal goods. In both cases the Court held that no expropriation had occurred. It did not address the issue that the companies were foreign companies and did not apply the reference to the general principles of international law.

43

Rosenzweig and Bonded Warehouses Ltd. v. Poland, Judgment of 28 July 2005, Application No. 51728/99.

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of valid permits to run a business was not an expropriation but a measure of control of the use of property.44 The Court held that there had been a violation of Article 1 of Protocol No. 1 and reserved the question of just satisfaction to a later date. Once again, since the Court did not find that an expropriation had occurred, it did not address the issue that Mr. Rosenzweig was a German national and hence a foreigner and so did not apply the reference to the general principles of international law. In Zlínsat, Spol. S R.O. v. Bulgaria45 the applicant was a foreign limited liability company incorporated under Czech law. In May 1997, the applicant company entered into a contract for the purchase of a hotel from the Sofia City Council. The Sofia City Prosecutor’s Office ordered the suspension of the contract in July 1997 because of an alleged breach of the Privatisation Act. At that time, the Council had already handed over possession of the hotel to the applicant company. The Prosecutor’s Office considered that the Council was in breach of the law. It ordered the police to evict the company from the hotel and to seize its paperwork. The applicant company learned of the Prosecutor’s Office decision only when the police arrived at the hotel to enforce the decision. The Prosecutor’s Office brought a civil action against the Council and the applicant company seeking the annulment of the contract. The action was dismissed by the City Court and the Prosecutor’s Office’s appeals were finally rejected by the Supreme Court of Cassation. In October 1999, the Prosecutor’s Office notified the police that, following the Supreme Court of Cassation’s judgment, its decisions were no longer enforceable. The enforcement was stopped. The applicant was unable to use the hotel until 5 October 1997 i.e. for two years. The European Court of Human Rights was of the opinion that this interference was a control of the use of the property and no expropriation as the restriction was only temporary: ‘The Court notes that the company’s eviction from the hotel amounted to a temporary restriction on its use and did not entail a transfer of ownership. It does not therefore consider that the case involves a deprivation of property. [I]t amounted to a control of the use of property. It is therefore the second paragraph of Article 1 of Protocol No. 1 which is applicable in the present case […].’46

The Court found that the interference was unlawful and that there had been a violation of Article 1 of Protocol No. 1. It held that the minimum degree of legal protection to which individuals and legal entities are entitled under the rule of law in a democratic society was lacking. Having found that the interference was unlawful the Court granted the claimant damages in an amount of 300.000€. The Court considered that ‘the reparation should aim at putting the applicant company in the position in which it would have

44

Ibid., para. 49.

45

Zlínsat, Spol. S.R.O. v. Bulgaria, Judgment of 15 June 2006, Application No. 57785/00.

46

Ibid., paras. 95, 96.

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been had the violation not occurred’.47 This is the standard applied by the PCIJ in its judgement in Chorzów Factory which is by now the accepted standard of reparation in cases of a violation of international law.48 Yet again, the Court did not address the issue that the applicant company was a foreigner and did not apply the reference to the general principles of international law as it considered the interference not to be an expropriation. However, the fact that the Court did not consider the interference to be an expropriation and did not raise the issue of the owner’s nationality and therefore did not apply the reference to the general principles of international law was apparently of no practical consequence. In Bimer S.A. v. Moldova,49 it is unclear whether the Court would have been willing to apply the reference to the general principles of international law had it found the existence of an expropriation. The reason for the doubt is that the applicant, Bimer S.A., was a company incorporated in the Republic of Moldova. However, from the moment of incorporation its shares were owned by Moldovan, American and Bahamian investors. Bimer S.A. qualified as a company owned by foreign investors and thus benefited from special incentives and guarantees under the Moldavian Law on Foreign Investments.50 The applicant was prevented by an order of the Customs Department from continuing to operate its duty-free business for which it had previously obtained a licence. The licence to carry on duty-free business was thereby terminated. In accordance with its case-law, the Court held the interference to be a measure of control of use of property.51 It observed that the interference with the applicant’s property in the present case was unlawful and that there was therefore a violation of Article 1 of Protocol No. 1.52 Once again, the Court did not raise the issue of the owner’s nationality and hence the relevance of the general principles of international law. There is no indication that the amount granted53 by the Court as damages was less than full compensation. Thus the fact that the Court did not consider the interference to be an expropriation and did not raise the issue of the owner’s nationality and therefore did not apply the reference to the general principles of international law was apparently of no practical consequence. 47

Zlínsat, Spol. S.R.O. v. Bulgaria, ECHR, Judgment on just satisfaction of 10 January 2008, Application No. 57785/00, para. 39

48

There the PCIJ held that: The essential principle contained in the actual notion of an illegal act – a principle which seems to be established by international practice and in particular by decision of arbitral tribunals – is that reparation must, as far as possible, wipe out all the consequences of the illegal act and re-establish the situation which would, in all probability, have existed if that act had not been committed. (Factory at Chorzów, Indemnity, Judgment of 13 September 1928, 1928 PCIJ (Ser. A) No. 17, Order, at 47). See, I. Marboe, ‘Compensation and Damages in International Law, The Limits of “Fair Market Value”’, 7 The Journal of World Investment & Trade, at 732 et seq. (2006).

49

Bimer S.A. v. Moldova, supra note 32.

50

Ibid., para. 7.

51

Ibid., para. 51.

52

Ibid., paras. 59, 60.

53

Ibid., paras. 70, 71.

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This judgment can serve as example for a case in which the European Convention on Human Rights served as an efficient investment protection instrument even though the Court did not apply the reference to the general principles of international law.

C.

Expropriation of a Foreigner but the General Principles of International Law Still not Applied

A further case which concerned an interference with property rights of a foreigner was Gasus Fördertechnik GmbH v. The Netherlands.54 The application was lodged by a limited liability company possessing legal personality under German law. It sold a concrete-mixer and ancillary equipment to a Netherlands company but retained ownership of the goods delivered until all amounts due were settled in full. The machine was installed on the premises of the Netherlands company by Gasus. Gasus had not received full payment by the Netherlands company. The Netherlands Tax Bailiff seized all the movable assets on the premises of the Netherlands company for forced sale in pursuance of three writs of execution issued by the Netherlands Collector of Direct Taxes. Notice of the seizure was served on the Netherlands company but not on Gasus. All legal remedies in the Netherlands failed and Gasus obtained neither its outstanding money due nor the concrete-mixer’s restitution. The Commission held that the property right of a foreign company had been expropriated in the case at issue: ‘This measure falls under the second sentence of the first paragraph of Article 1 of Protocol No. 1 (P1-1), and the Commission must therefore determine whether the conditions laid down in that provision were satisfied or, in other words, whether the deprivation of property was effected in the public interest and subject to the conditions provided for by law and by the general principles of international law.’55

The Commission determined that the expropriation was in the public interest, lawful and justified. With regard to the fact that property rights of a foreign company had been targeted, the Commission stated that the deprivation of property at issue was not the same as an expropriation of foreign property covered by the general rules of international law which require adequate compensation: ‘It is true that in the present case the property right at issue was that of a foreign company. Nevertheless, the deprivation of property which occurred cannot be compared to those measures of confiscation, nationalisation or expropriation in regard to which international law provides special protection to foreign citizens and companies.’56

Why the expropriation of a concrete-mixer should not be covered by the protection against uncompensated expropriations in international law remains unclear. ICSID57 54

Gasus Fördertechnik GmbH v. The Netherlands, ECommHR, Article 31 Report of 21 October 1993, ECHR (Ser. A) No. 306-B.

55

Ibid., para. 57.

56

Ibid., para. 63.

57

International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes.

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awards as well as the case-law of the Iran-US Claims Tribunal clearly show that the expropriation of individual objects is covered by the property protection of public international law.58 The Court did not address this issue. It held that the interference complained of was undertaken in the exercise of the powers of the tax authorities to secure the payment of taxes and was therefore no expropriation.59 The Court came to the conclusion that the requirement of proportionality had been satisfied and that the Convention had not been violated.60 Since it was of the opinion that no expropriation had occurred it once again did not raise the issue of the owner’s nationality and the relevance of the general principles of international law. This case shows the importance of the decision which of the three types of interference (expropriation, ‘control of use’ or other interference) occurred in cases where foreign property is targeted. Since the Court denied the occurrence of an expropriation it did not need to tackle the issue of the applicability of the general principles of international law to foreign property. The finding of the Commission that the general principles do not cover the facts at issue is absolutely unconvincing and it would therefore have been useful had the Court at least commented on the issue in an obiter dictum.

D.

The Court’s View on the General Principles of International Law

The European Court of Human Rights has stated twice that the reference to the general principles of international law is not superfluous. It did so in the James and Lithgow cases.61 Both concerned takings of property of nationals in the context of large scale social or economic reforms. The Court set out that in this context a differentiation between foreigners and nationals with regard to the compensation due can be justified. As mentioned above,62 the Court requires in its case-law that in principle the amount of compensation for an expropriation must be reasonably related to the value of the

58

See, e.g., Middle East Cement Shipping and Handling Co. S.A. v. Arab Republic of Egypt, Award of 12 April 2002, 7 ICSID Rep. 178, para. 144 (2003); Dames and Moore v. Islamic Republic of Iran, Award No. 97-54-3 of 20 December 1983, 4 IUSCTR 212, at 221 (1983); William L. Pereira Associates, Iran v. Islamic Republic of Iran, Award No. 116-1-3 of 19 March 1984, 5 IUSCTR 198, at 226 et seq. (1984); Sedco, Inc. v. National Iranian Oil Company, Interlocutory Award No. ITL 55-129-3 of 28 October 1985, 9 IUSCTR 248, at 266 (1985); Oil Field of Texas, Inc. v. Islamic Republic of Iran, No. 258-43-1 of 8 October 1986, 12 IUSCTR 308, at 318 et seq. (1986); Harold Birnbaum v. Islamic Republic of Iran, Award No. 549-967-2 of 6 July 1993, 29 IUSCTR 260, at 275 et seq. (1993).

59

Gasus Fördertechnik GmbH v. The Netherlands, Judgment of 23 February 1995, no. 306-B ECHR (Ser. A), para. 59.

60

Ibid., paras. 66-74.

61

James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 7. See on these judgments, Seidl-Hohenveldern, supra note 22, at 181-193.

62

See, p. 655.

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property taken.63 The judgements in James and Lithgow both concerned cases where the Court found that the takings occurred in a situation justifying an exception to this rule. This is the case if there is a special interest of the State to expropriate and if at the same time compensation less than the fair market value causes no excessive burden for the individual.64 As regards the issue of nationality of the expropriated person, the Court stated in these judgments that in cases of a taking of property in the context of large scale social or economic reforms there can be reasons for a distinction between nationals and foreigners. It justified this, by observing that foreigners are more vulnerable since they are not involved in the political process. Furthermore, there may be legitimate reasons for imposing a greater burden in the public interest on nationals than on foreigners: ‘Especially as regards a taking of property effected in the context of a social reform [or an economic restructuring]65, there may well be good grounds for drawing a distinction between nationals and non-nationals as far as compensation is concerned. To begin with, non-nationals are more vulnerable to domestic legislation: unlike nationals, they will generally have played no part in the election or designation of its authors nor have been consulted on its adoption. Secondly, although a taking of property must always be effected in the public interest, different considerations may apply to nationals and non-nationals and there may well be legitimate reason for requiring nationals to bear a greater burden in the public interest than non-nationals.’66

The first reason invoked by the Court can at best be valid as an explanation in the European context of the Convention. It can hardly be argued that it is valid on a global level. There are too many countries where nationals have no possibility to participate in meaningful elections and are perhaps even less consulted than some foreign investors on measures adopted by the national government. The Court made no explicit statement on the content of the general principles of international law on issues of expropriation of foreign nationals. Nevertheless, in view

63

See, e.g., James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 54; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 121; The Holy Monasteries v. Greece, supra note 23, para. 71; Pressos Compania Naviera S.A. and Others v. Belgium, supra note 23, para. 38; The Former King of Greece and Others v. Greece, supra note 23, para. 89; Lallement v. France, supra note 25, para. 18; Motais de Narbonne v. France, supra note 25, para. 19; Pincová and Pinc v. Czech Republic, supra note 25, para. 53 Broniowski v. Poland, supra note 25, para. 176; Jahn and Others v. Germany, supra note 23, para. 94; Straĭn and Others v. Rumania, supra note 23, para. 52; Draon v. France, supra note 23, para. 79.

64

For cases where the Court found that there is such an exceptional situation see, e.g., James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 54; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 121; The Former King of Greece and Others v. Greece, supra note 27, para. 78; Senkspiel v. Germany, supra note 28. For cases where the Court found the compensation to be disproportionally low see, e.g., Platakou v. Greece, supra note 23, paras. 56, 57; Pincová and Pinc v. Czech Republic, supra note 25, para. 61; Scordino v. Italy, supra note 28, paras. 103, 104.

65

The formula in square brackets was only used in Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 21.

66

James and Others v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 63; Lithgow v. United Kingdom, supra note 7, para. 116.

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of what has been said earlier, the States Parties to the European Convention on Human Rights, contrary to the development on a global level, apparently still understand prompt, adequate and effective compensation by this formula. The conclusion which can be drawn from the statements of the Court in these two cases is that the reference to the general principles of international law is of particular importance in cases where there is a special interest of the State to expropriate and to pay less compensation than the fair market value. Apparently whilst this exception is applicable to nationals in such a situation, it would either not apply at all, or to a lesser extent, to foreigners.

V.

Conclusions

As has been demonstrated the nationality of a property owner is neither a requirement for successful applications nor has the nationality of a person deprived of his or her property had any practical influence on the outcome of a case so far. Nevertheless, the case-law also shows that especially in cases where the Court allows for less than full compensation because of a special interest of the expropriating state in the interfering measure, the nationality of the person targeted might be of relevance. The Court expressly stated that in such cases there may be legitimate reasons for imposing less economic burden on foreigners than the sacrifice required from nationals in the public interest. Furthermore, the cases show that the decision whether a particular interference is an expropriation or not can be of crucial importance in the case of a foreigner. A non-liquet, and as a consequence, a sidestep to the general catch all clause in such situations should therefore be avoided. It is unlikely that the Court would have reached the same result in the Gasus-case, had it considered the interference to be an expropriation.

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Vom Weltstrafrecht zum Weltzivilrecht oder vom Internationalen Strafgerichtshof zum Internationalen Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte? Überlegungen am Beispiel der Folterbekämpfung Manfred Nowak

I.

Einleitung

Im Zeitalter der Globalisierung rückt der Nationalstaat auch hinsichtlich der Menschenrechte allmählich in den Hintergrund. Neben staatlichen Hoheitsträgern werden zunehmend auch nicht-staatliche Rechtsträger – von internationalen Organisationen und Finanzinstitutionen über transnationale Konzerne bis zu Individuen – für den Schutz und die Verletzung von Menschenrechten verantwortlich gemacht. Verantwortung heißt zum einen, dass nicht-staatliche Rechtsträger Menschenrechtsverletzungen begehen können und für diese rechtlich haftbar sind, und zum anderen, dass nicht-staatliche Rechtsträger in die Pflicht genommen werden, Menschenrechte zu achten, zu schützen und zu gewährleisten. Wenn die Vereinten Nationen in einer Übergangssituation Hoheitsgewalt über ein bestimmtes Territorium ausüben, wie zum Beispiel im Fall der Übergangsverwaltungen in Osttimor (1999 bis 2002) oder im Kosovo (seit 1999), so übernehmen sie dort die Hauptverantwortung für den Aufbau rechtsstaatlicher Strukturen zum Schutz der Menschenrechte in einer postKonflikt-Situation, aber sie müssen dafür auch akzeptieren, dass sie wie Staaten vor internationalen Menschenrechtsorganen für Verletzungen ihrer Pflicht zur Achtung oder Gewährleistung konkreter Menschenrechte verantwortlich gemacht werden. Wenn transnationale Konzerne heute oft mächtiger sind und über ein höheres Budget verfügen als die Regierungen jener Staaten, in deren Territorien sie operieren, so wäre es verfehlt, am Dogma der ausschließlichen staatlichen Verantwortung von Staaten für Menschenrechtsverletzungen festhalten zu wollen. Transnationale Konzerne können für Menschenrechtsverletzungen wie Zwangs- und Kinderarbeit oder willkürliche Tötungen von Demonstranten, die sie durch ihre Sicherheitskräfte begangen haben, haftbar gemacht werden und tragen im Rahmen ihrer direkten Einflusssphäre auch eine gewisse soziale Mitverantwortung (Corporate Social Responsibility) für den Schutz und die Gewährleistung von Menschenrechten. Wenn Unternehmen beispielsweise in einem Gebiet investieren, Produktionsstätten errichten und Profite machen, in denen die Menschen in absoluter Armut leben, an Hunger sterben und keinen Zugang zu

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 667-700, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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medizinischer Versorgung haben, so entsteht eine soziale Mitverantwortung für die Gewährleistung der Rechte auf Nahrung und Gesundheit dieser Menschen.1 Obwohl diese Verlagerung der Verantwortung für Menschenrechte von staatlichen auf nicht-staatliche Träger von Rechten und Pflichten heute zunehmend anerkannt wird, mangelt es weitgehend an entsprechenden Organen und Verfahren zur Durchsetzung der mit dieser Verantwortung einhergehenden Pflichten. Selbst im Fall der direkten Übernahme staatlicher Hoheitsfunktionen durch Übergangsverwaltungen der Vereinten Nationen im Kosovo dauerte es einige Zeit, bis das Rechtsbüro der Vereinten Nationen anerkannte, dass die UNMIK den Sonderberichterstattern der UNO-Menschenrechtskommission (jetzt Menschenrechtsrat) gegenüber rechenschaftspflichtig ist und dass nicht mehr Serbien, sondern die UNMIK zur Vorlage von Staatenberichten an den Menschenrechtsausschuss verpflichtet ist.2 Noch schwieriger ist es, die bloß freiwillige Verantwortung transnationaler Konzerne in rechtlich einklagbare Pflichten umzuwandeln.3 Demgegenüber sind im Bereich der individuellen strafrechtlichen Verantwortung für schwere Menschenrechtsverletzungen mit der Schaffung des Weltstrafrechtsprinzips in der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter 1984 und der Einsetzung eines Internationalen Strafgerichtshofs auf der Basis des Statuts von Rom 1998 Meilensteine gesetzt worden, deren Bedeutung für einen Paradigmenwechsel im internationalen Menschenrechtsschutz nicht hoch genug eingeschätzt werden kann. Der Internationale Strafgerichtshof ist ein Musterbeispiel für eine von den Staaten weitgehend unabhängige globale Institution zur Durchsetzung der Menschenrechte und des humanitären Völkerrechts und könnte als Vorbild für ähnliche Einrichtungen, wie einen Internationalen Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte, dienen. Gerhard Hafner, dem diese Festschrift gewidmet ist, hat sich durch seine aktive Rolle bei der Ausarbeitung des Statuts von Rom große

1

Vgl. zu dieser Problematik z. B. M. K. Addo, Human Rights Standards and the Responsibility of Transnational Corporations (1999); K. de Feyter, Human Rights – Social Justice in the Age of the Market (2005).

2

Erst ein Rechtsgutachten des Rechtsbüros der UNO musste klarstellen, dass Beschwerden der UNO-Arbeitsgruppe über Verschwundene betreffend den Kosovo nicht von der serbischen Regierung in Belgrad, sondern von der UNMIK in Pristina zu behandeln waren. Siehe auch die Berichte der UNMIK an den Menschenrechtsausschuss gemäß Art. 40 des Paktes über Bürgerliche und Politische Rechte, UN Dok. CCPR/C/UNK/1.

3

Siehe die Normen der Unterkommission, „Norms on the responsibilities of transnational corporations and other business enterprises with regard to human rights“, UN Dok. E/CN.4/Sub.2/2003/12/Rev.2 (2003); und die Berichte von J. Ruggie, Special Representative of the Secretary-General on the issue of human rights and transnational corporations and other business enterprises, UN Dok. A/HRC/4/74 (2007), UN Dok. A/ HRC/4/35 (2007), UN Dok. A/HRC/4/35/Add.1 (2007), UN Dok. A/HRC/4/35/Add.2 (2007), UN Dok. A/HRC/4/35/Add.3 (2007), UN Dok. A/HRC/4/35/Add.4 (2007), UN Dok. A/HRC/8/5 (2008); Siehe auch Ph. Alston (Hrsg.), Non-State Actors and Human Rights (2005); O. de Schutter (Hrsg.), Transnational Corporations and Human Rights (2006); R. Mares (Hrsg.), Business and Human Rights – A Compilation of Documents (2004); J. A. Zerk, Multinationals and Corporate Social Responsibility (2006).

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Verdienste erworben und verschiedentlich zu Fragen des Völkerstrafrechts publiziert.4 Der folgende Beitrag versucht, auf der Basis der bisherigen Erfahrungen mit dem internationalen Strafrecht Überlegungen anzustellen, wie diese für die Ausgestaltung des internationalen Zivilrechts zum Schutz der Menschenrechte, und insbesondere des Rechts, nicht gefoltert zu werden, fruchtbar gemacht werden können.

II.

Individuelle strafrechtliche Verantwortung für schwere Menschenrechtsverletzungen

Das Völkerstrafrecht hat sich ursprünglich im Hinblick auf Verbrechen entwickelt, die außerhalb des Territoriums einzelner Staaten begangen wurden, insbesondere auf Hoher See. Folglich ist das klassische Beispiel eines Verbrechens, für dessen Ahndung nicht einzelne Staaten, sondern die Völkergemeinschaft verantwortlich ist, die Piraterie. Später kamen die Luftpiraterie und andere Beispiele terroristischer Verbrechen sowie Kriegsverbrechen, die im Rahmen internationaler bewaffneter Konflikte begangen wurden, hinzu. Im Gegensatz zu diesen klassischen Verletzungen des (humanitären) Völkerrechts handelt es sich bei Menschenrechtsverletzungen typischer Weise um innerstaatliche Vorgänge, die noch dazu nicht durch private Täter, sondern durch staatliche Organe begangen werden. Folglich gab es lange Zeit kaum Verbindungen zwischen Menschenrechten und Völkerstrafrecht. Die erste menschenrechtliche Konvention mit einem strafrechtlichen Aspekt ist die Sklavereikonvention des Völkerbunds aus dem Jahr 1926.5 Darin verpflichten sich die Vertragsstaaten, den Sklavenhandel mit allen ihnen zur Verfügung stehenden Mitteln zu verhindern und zu unterdrücken, sowie die völlige Abschaffung der Sklaverei in all ihren Formen voranzutreiben. In Artikel 6 verpflichten sich die Vertragsstaaten ausdrücklich, die notwendigen Maßnahmen zu setzen, damit Sklaverei und Sklavenhandel mit strengen Strafen geahndet werden. Allerdings konnte man auch bei der 4

Gerhard Hafner hat als Leiter der österreichischen Delegation bei den Verhandlungen über das Statut von Rom eine Reihe wichtiger Initiativen ergriffen und durchgesetzt. Als das Statut schließlich am 17. Juli 1998 angenommen wurde, übte Österreich erstmals den Ratsvorsitz in der Europäischen Union aus, deren Rolle für die Einsetzung des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofs essentiell war. Siehe weiters die wissenschaftlichen Beiträge Prof. Hafners zum Thema, z. B. G. Hafner, „Limits to the Procedural Powers of the International Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia“, in K. Wellens (Hrsg.), International Law: Theory and Practice. Essays in Honour of Eric Suy 651 (1998); id., „Der Internationale Gerichtshof und der Internationale Strafgerichtshof: Konkurrenz oder Ergänzung?“, in N. Ando et al. (Hrsg.), Liber Amicorum Judge Shigeru Oda 587 (2002); id., „An Attempt to Explain the Position of the USA towards the ICC“, 3 Journal of International Criminal Justice 323 (2005); id. „The Issue of Reservations and Declarations to the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court“, in M. G. Kohen (Hrsg.), Promoting Justice, Human Rights and Conflict Resolution through International Law, Liber Amicorum Lucius Caflisch 213 (2007).

5

1926 Slavery Convention, 212 UNTS 17; K. Bales/P. T. Robbins, „‚No One Shall Be Held in Slavery or Servitude‘: A Critical Analysis of International Slavery Agreements and Concepts of Slavery“, 2 Human Rights Review 18 (2001).

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Sklaverei argumentieren, dass es sich um eine untypische Menschenrechtsverletzung handelte. Zum einen waren die Täter in der Regel Privatpersonen, zum anderen fand der Sklavenhandel wie die Piraterie nicht selten in internationalen Gewässern statt. Nach dem 2. Weltkrieg und der Einsetzung der Kriegsverbrechertribunale von Nürnberg und Tokio wurde mit der UNO-Konvention zur Verhütung und Bestrafung des Verbrechens des Völkermordes aus dem Jahr 1948 erstmals eine menschenrechtliche Konvention verabschiedet, in deren Zentrum der Einsatz des Strafrechtes steht.6 In Artikel I bekräftigen die Vertragsstaaten, dass Völkermord unabhängig davon, ob er in Friedens- oder Kriegszeiten begangen wird, ein völkerrechtliches Verbrechen darstellt, zu dessen Verhütung und Bestrafung sie sich verpflichten. Gemäß Artikel IV sollen alle für Völkermord verantwortlichen individuellen Täter bestraft werden, und zwar unabhängig davon, ob es sich dabei um verfassungsmäßig verantwortliche Regierungsorgane, sonstige öffentliche Organe oder um Privatpersonen handelt. Sie sollen gemäß Artikel VI entweder vor einem Strafgericht jenes Staates angeklagt werden, in dem der Völkermord begangen wurde, oder vor einem internationalen Strafgericht, dessen Zuständigkeit sich auf Völkermord erstreckt. Die Völkermordkonvention wurde in der Zwischenzeit von 140 Staaten ratifiziert, deren innerstaatliche Gerichte folglich zur Ahndung dieser besonders schweren Menschenrechtsverletzung verpflichtet sind. Obwohl der Internationale Strafgerichtshof (International Criminal Court, ICC) bereits in der Völkermordkonvention in Aussicht gestellt wurde, dauerte es weitere 50 Jahre, bis dieser mit dem Statut von Rom 1998 von der Staatengemeinschaft mit 120 gegen 7 Stimmen (China, Irak, Israel, Jemen, Katar, Libyen und USA) bei 21 Enthaltungen eingerichtet wurde und im Jahr 2002 schließlich in Den Haag seine Arbeit aufnahm.7 Neben Kriegsverbrechen und Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit sowie (in Zukunft) dem Verbrechen der Aggression ist der ICC gemäß den Artikeln 5 und 6 des Statuts auch für die Bestrafung des Völkermords zuständig. Aber auch in den Statuten der vom Sicherheitsrat der Vereinten Nationen eingerichteten ad-hoc

6

1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide; W. A. Schabas, Genocide in International Law (2003); J. B. Quigley, The Genocide Convention; An International Law Analysis (2006).

7

1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 90 UNTS 2187; siehe z. B. Ch. Bassiouni, The Statute of the International Criminal Court: A Documentary History (1998); O. Triffterer (Hrsg.), Commentary on the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (1999); M. Politi, The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court: A Challenge to Impunity (2001); A. Cassese et al. (Hrsg.), The Rome Statute for an International Criminal Court – A Commentary (2002); W. A. Schabas, An Introduction to the International Criminal Court (2007); R. S. Lee, The International Criminal Court – The Making of the Rome Statute (1999); L. N. Sadat, The International Criminal Court and the Transformation of International Law (2002); N. Strapatsas, „Universal Jurisdiction and the International Criminal Court“, 29 Manitoba Law Journal 1 (2002).

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Tribunale für das ehemalige Jugoslawien (ICTY)8 und Ruanda (ICTR)9 sowie im Vertrag über die Ahndung der Khmer Rouge Verbrechen in den Jahren 1975 bis 1979 vor Sondergerichten (Extraordinary Chambers) in Kambodscha10 spielt die Ahndung des Völkermords eine zentrale Rolle. In ähnlicher Weise hat die Internationale Konvention über die Unterdrückung und Bestrafung des Verbrechens der Apartheid aus dem Jahr 1973 Apartheid als ein Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit bezeichnet und die Vertragsstaaten verpflichtet, alle für das Verbrechen der Apartheid verantwortlichen Täter vor Gericht zu bringen, und zwar unabhängig davon, ob sie sich in dem Staat aufhalten, in dem das Verbrechen der Apartheid begangen wurde und unabhängig von der Nationalität der Täter.11 Gemäß Artikel V sind für die Ahndung des Verbrechens der Apartheid entweder die nationalen Strafgerichte in den Vertragsstaaten oder internationale Strafgerichte zuständig, deren diesbezügliche Jurisdiktion von den Vertragsstaaten anerkannt wurde. Allerdings wurde die Apartheid-Konvention der Vereinten Nationen nur von 107 Staaten ratifiziert und hat mit dem Ende des Apartheid-Regimes in Südafrika weitgehend an Bedeutung verloren. Dessen ungeachtet wurde das Verbrechen der Apartheid im Statut von Rom ausdrücklich in den Katalog der einzelnen Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit aufgenommen, deren Ahndung in die Zuständigkeit des ICC fällt.12 Andere Menschenrechtskonventionen enthalten nur vereinzelt die Verpflichtung der Vertragsstaaten, gegen die Täter konkreter Menschenrechtsverletzungen mit

8

Updated Statute of the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia, UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 827, UN Dok. S/RES/827 (1993), idF der UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 1660, UN Dok. S/RES/1660 (2006), Art. 4. Siehe auch M. R. von Sternberg, „A comparison of the Yugoslavian and Rwandan War Crimes Tribunals: Universal Jurisdiction and the elementary dictates of humanity“, 22 Brooklyn Journal of International Law 111 (1996); G. Boas/W. Schabas, International Criminal Law Developments in the Case Law of the ICTY (2003); R. Lord, „The Liability of Non-State Actors for Torture in Violation of International Humanitarian Law: An Assessment of the Jurisprudence of the ICTY“, 4 Melbourne Journal of International Law 112 (2003). A. Cassesse, „The ICTY: A Living and Vital Reality“, 2 Journal of International Criminal Justice 585 (2004); N. Kandič, „The ICTY Trials and Transitional Justice in Former Yougoslavia“, 38 Cornell International Law Journal 789 (2005).

9

Statute of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 955, UN Dok. S/RES/955 (1994), Art. 2. Siehe auch International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, Basic Documents and Law, Tanzania, 1995-2000. V. Morris/M. P. Scharf, The International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (1997); L. J. von Deutterik, The Contribution of the Rwanda Tribunal to the Development of International Law (2005); V. Peskin, “International Justice and Domestic Rebuilding: An Analysis of the Role of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda”, The Journal of Humanitarian Assistance 28 (2000).

10

2003 Agreement between the United Nations and the Royal Government of Cambodia Concerning the Prosecution under Cambodian Law of Crimes Committed During the Period of Democratic Kampuchea, Art. 9; siehe T. Urs, „Imagining Locally-Motivated Accountability for Mass Atrocities: Voices from Cambodia“, 7 SUR International Journal of Human Rights 61 (2007).

11

1973 International Convention on the Suppression and Punishment of the Crime of Apartheid, UN Generalversammlung Res. 3068, UN Dok. A/RES/3068 (XXVIII), Art. I und IV(b).

12

1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, supra Fn. 7, Art. 7(1)(j) und 7(2)(h).

672

MANFRED NOWAK

Mitteln des Strafrechts vorzugehen. Beispielsweise sieht Artikel 4 der UNO-Rassendiskriminierungskonvention aus dem Jahr 1965 die Verpflichtung der derzeit 173 Vertragsstaaten vor, jegliche Form rassistischer Verhetzung, des Aufrufs zu rassistischer Gewalt und der Mitwirkung in rassistischen Organisationen strafrechtlich zu verfolgen.13 Interessanter Weise enthält die UNO-Konvention über die Beseitigung aller Formen der Diskriminierung von Frauen aus dem Jahr 1979 keine vergleichbare Verpflichtung zur Kriminalisierung sexistischer Verhetzung und Gewalt. Auch die beiden Menschenrechtspakte aus dem Jahr 1966 enthalten keinerlei generelle Verpflichtung, die für schwere Menschenrechtsverletzungen verantwortlichen Individuen strafrechtlich zu verfolgen. Wohl aber wird das Verbot der Kriegspropaganda sowie der nationalistischen, rassistischen und religiösen Verhetzung in Artikel 20 des Internationalen Pakts über Bürgerliche und Politische Rechte primär als Verpflichtung zu strafrechtlicher Verfolgung interpretiert.14 Besondere Bedeutung für die weitere Entwicklung des Verhältnisses zwischen Menschenrechten und Völkerstrafrecht kommt der UNOKonvention gegen die Folter aus dem Jahr 1984 zu, in der das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip – erstmals in einem menschenrechtlichen Vertrag – ausdrücklich als Verpflichtung der Vertragsstaaten normiert wurde.15 Diese Konvention, die in der Folge eingehender behandelt werden soll, fungierte auch als Vorbild für die Inter-Amerikanische Konvention über die Verhütung und Bestrafung der Folter aus dem Jahr 1985,16 die Inter-Amerikanische Konvention über das erzwungene Verschwindenlassen 199417 und die UNO-Konvention über den Schutz aller Personen gegen das erzwungene Verschwindenlassen aus dem Jahr 2006.18 13

1965 International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination, Gerneralversammlung Res. 2106, UN Dok. A/RES/2106 (XX). Siehe auch N. Marschik, Die Rassendiskriminierungskonvention der Vereinten Nationen im österreichischen Recht (1999).

14

Siehe z. B. W. Kreuzer, Das Verbot der Kriegspropaganda in Art. 20 Abs. 1 der UN-Konvention über staatsbürgerliche und politische Rechte und seine Folgen für die innerstaatliche Gesetzgebung, Dissertation an der Universität Regensburg, Erlangen 226 (1974); M. Nowak, U.N. Covenant on Civil and Political Rights – CCPR Commentary 474 (2005).

15

1984 Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (1984 CAT), UN Generalversammlung Res. 39/46, UN Dok. A/RES/39/46 (1984). Siehe H. Burgers/H. Danelius, The United Nations Convention against Torture: Handbook on the Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (1988); A. Boulesbaa, The U.N. Convention on Torture and the Prospects for Enforcement (1999): Ch. Ingelse, The UN Committee against Torture: An Assessment (2001); M. Nowak/E. McArthur, The United Nations Convention Against Torture – A Commentary (2008).

16

1985 Inter-American Convention to Prevent and Punish Torture.

17

1994 Inter-American Convention on the Forced Disappearance of Persons. Siehe dazu M. Nowak, Report submitted in quality of independent expert charged with examining the existing international criminal and human rights framework for the protection of persons from enforced or involuntary disappearances, pursuant to paragraph 11 of Commission resolution 2001/46, UN Dok. E/CN.4/2002/71 (2002).

18

2006 Convention on the Protection of All persons from Enforced Disappearance, UN Generalversammlung Res. 61/177, UN Dok. A/RES/61/177 (2006). Siehe auch T. Scovazzi/G. Citroni,

33 – VOM WELTSTRAFRECHT ZUM WELTZIVILRECHT

III.

673

Das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip: Kein sicherer Hafen für Folterer

Die Konvention gegen die Folter und andere grausame, unmenschliche oder erniedrigende Behandlung oder Strafe (CAT) wurde von den Vereinten Nationen 1984 in Reaktion auf die systematische Praxis der Folter in vielen Staaten der Welt, insbesondere in den Militärdiktaturen Lateinamerikas, angenommen. In Anbetracht der Tatsache, dass das Verbot der Folter und anderer Formen der Misshandlung bereits in verschiedenen generellen Menschenrechtskonventionen der Vereinten Nationen und regionaler Organisationen als absolutes und notstandsfestes Menschenrecht verankert war, konzentrierten sich die Staaten bei der Ausarbeitung der Konvention auf bestimmte, und zum Teil durchaus innovative, Methoden zur Bekämpfung der Folter. Dabei handelt es sich erstens um die Verhütung der Folter durch ein absolutes Verbot des Refoulement und der Verwertung von Geständnissen und Informationen, die durch Folter erpresst wurden, sowie durch andere präventive Vertragspflichten wie die Ausbildung von Sicherheitskräften oder die regelmäßige Überprüfung und Verbesserung von Verhörmethoden und Haftstandards. Die präventive Komponente der Konvention wurde im Jahr 2002 durch die Annahme eines Fakultativprotokolls (OPCAT) ergänzt, das nach dem Vorbild der Europäischen Konvention zur Verhütung der Folter 198919 präventive Haftbesuche durch einen Unterausschuss zur Verhütung der Folter und so genannte „Nationale Präventionsmechanismen“ in den Vertragsstaaten vorsieht.20 Zweitens geht es um die ausdrückliche Verankerung eines Rechtes des Folteropfers auf Rechtsschutz durch eine unverzügliche und unabhängige Untersuchung aller Foltervorwürfe sowie auf Wiedergutmachung. Dieser Opferschutz und die Frage, ob sich aus Artikel 14 der Konvention Ansätze für ein Weltzivilrechtsprinzip ableiten lassen, wird unten noch näher behandelt werden. Im Vordergrund der Konvention gegen die Folter steht allerdings der Kampf gegen die Straflosigkeit des Folterers. Artikel 4 verpflichtet alle Vertragsstaaten sicherzustellen, dass Folter einschließlich des Versuchs und der Beihilfe im innerstaatlichen Strafrecht als ein Verbrechen

The Struggle against Enforced Dissappearance and the 2007 United Nations Convention (2007). 19

1987 European Convention for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, ETS Nr. 126. Siehe U. Kriebaum, Folterprävention in Europa: Die Europäische Konvention zur Verhütung von Folter und unmenschlicher oder erniedrigender Behandlung oder Bestrafung (2000); R. Morgan/M. D. Evans (Hrsg.), Protecting Prisoners: The Standards of the European Committee for the Prevention of Torture (1999).

20

2002 Optional Protocol to the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (OPCAT), UN Generalversammlung Res. 57/199, UN Dok. A/RES/57/199 (2002). Siehe K. Buchinger, From Repression to Prevention – The Optional Protocol to the International Convention Against Torture, Dissertation 2007 (Publikation in Vorbereitung); Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15; Association for the Prevention of Torture (APT) Establishment and Designation of National Preventive Mechanisms under the Optional Protocol to the UN Convention against Torture (Geneva, 2006); Association for the Prevention of Torture (APT) and Inter-American Institute of Human Rights (IIHR), Optional Protocol to the United Nations Convention against Torture and other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment: A Manual for Prevention (Geneva, 2005).

674

MANFRED NOWAK

verankert wird, das mit einer der Schwere dieser Straftat angemessenen Sanktion bestraft werden soll. Nach der Praxis des UNO-Ausschusses gegen die Folter bedeutet diese angemessene Sanktion jedenfalls eine mehrjährige Haftstrafe, und zwar auch dann, wenn die Folter zu keiner Körperverletzung geführt hat.21 Die Verwerflichkeit der Folter gründet sich nämlich nicht primär in den langfristigen Folgen, sondern in der intentionalen Zufügung schwerer physischer oder psychischer Schmerzen oder Leiden gegenüber einer wehrlosen Person zu einem bestimmten Zweck, wie der Erpressung eines Geständnisses oder von Informationen.22 Falls die Folter zu einer schweren Körperverletzung oder gar zum Tod des Opfers führt, ist die Strafe natürlich entsprechend zu verschärfen. In Artikel 5 der Konvention werden die Staaten verpflichtet, ihre innerstaatliche Gerichtsbarkeit für das Verbrechen der Folter in Übereinstimmung mit den vier folgenden Prinzipien zu begründen: dem Territorialitäts- und Flaggenprinzip, dem aktiven Personalitätsprinzip sowie dem Weltstrafrechtsprinzip. Lediglich hinsichtlich des passiven Personalitätsprinzips sieht Artikel 5(1)(c) eine bloße Ermächtigung, aber keine Verpflichtung vor. Mit anderen Worten: Alle 145 Vertragsstaaten der Konvention sind verpflichtet, bei dem Verdacht, dass auf ihrem Territorium oder in einem Schiff oder Flugzeug, das in diesem Staat registriert ist, oder durch eine(n) Staatsangehörige(n) dieses Staates irgendwo auf der Welt begangen wurde, strafrechtliche Ermittlungen einzuleiten und die verdächtige Person vor ihre Gerichte zu bringen. Falls der Staat auch das passive Personalitätsprinzip anerkennt, sind seine Strafbehörden darüber hinaus verpflichtet, in Fällen zu ermitteln, in denen seine Staatsangehörigen, wo immer auf der Welt, zu Folteropfern wurden. Diese Ermittlungen müssen unabhängig davon erfolgen, ob sich die der Folter verdächtige Person auf dem Territorium des betreffenden Vertragsstaates befindet oder nicht. Zusätzlich zu diesen Fällen sind die Vertragsstaaten auf Grund des in Artikel 5(2) der Konvention verankerten Weltstrafrechtsprinzips (universal criminal jurisdiction) auch verpflichtet, strafrechtliche Ermittlungen gegen jede der Folter verdächtige Person einzuleiten, die sich – aus welchen Gründen immer – in ihrem Territorium befindet, und zwar unabhängig vom Ort der Tat sowie von der Nationalität des Täters oder Opfers. Die einzige Voraussetzung für die Begründung der Zuständigkeit des Staates ist die Anwesenheit der verdächtigen Person. Alle anderen Voraussetzungen, wie beispielsweise ein Auslieferungsansuchen eines anderen Staates, wurden im Zuge der Ausarbeitung der Konvention bewusst aus dem Text des Artikel 5 gestrichen.23 21

Ingelse, supra Fn. 15, 342, kam nach sorgfältiger Analyse der Praxis des Ausschusses im Staatenberichtsprüfungsverfahren zum Schluss, dass ein Strafrahmen zwischen 6 und 20 Jahren angemessen wäre.

22

Zur Definition von Folter vgl. Nowak/Mc Arthur, supra Fn. 15, 74-77, mwN. Siehe auch M. D. Evans, „Getting to Grips with Torture“, 51 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 365 (2002); N. S. Rodley „The Definition(s) of Torture in International Law“, 55 Current Legal Problems 467 (2002); M. Nowak, „Challenges to the Absolute Nature of the Prohibition of Torture and Ill-Treatment“, 23 Netherlands Quarterly of Human Rights 674 (2005); ders., „What Practices constitute Torture? US and UN Standards“, 28 Human Rights Quarterly 809 (2006).

23

Zu den travaux préparatoires von Art. 5 CAT siehe Burgers/Danelius und Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15, 257-274.

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Diese Interpretation wurde auch in der Judikatur bestätigt. Beispielsweise hat der UNO-Ausschuss gegen die Folter im Habré-Fall entschieden, dass Senegal Artikel 5 der Konvention dadurch verletzt hat, dass Hissène Habré, der Ex-Diktator des Tschad, der seit seinem Sturz im Senegal lebt und für systematische Folter an Staatsangehörigen des Tschad in diesem Land verantwortlich gemacht wird, nicht vor ein Gericht im Senegal gestellt wurde.24 Sobald sich eine der Folter verdächtige Person im Hoheitsgebiet eines Vertragsstaates aufhält, sind dessen Behörden gemäß Artikel 6 der Konvention verpflichtet, diese Person festzunehmen, unverzüglich eine strafrechtliche Untersuchung einzuleiten und andere zuständige Staaten (insbesondere Territorial- und Personalstaat) zu informieren. Das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip basiert auf dem Grundsatz „aut dedere aut iudicare“ in der in Artikel 7 festgelegten Form. Dies bedeutet, dass jener Staat, in dessen Hoheitsgebiet die verdächtige Person anwesend ist und festgenommen wurde (der Forum-Staat) das Wahlrecht hat, diese Person entweder an jenen Staat, wo die Folter stattgefunden hat (Territorialstaat) oder an jenen Staat, dessen Staatsangehörigkeit die verdächtige Person oder ein mutmaßliches Folteropfer hat (aktiver und passiver Personalstaat), auszuliefern oder selbst die Gerichtsbarkeit auszuüben. Allerdings ist kein Staat (auch nicht der Territorialstaat) verpflichtet, ein Auslieferungsansuchen zu stellen. Mit anderen Worten: Falls keiner der (auch) zuständigen Staaten binnen einer angemessenen Frist die Auslieferung verlangt, ist der Forum-Staat gemäß Artikel 7(1) verpflichtet, den Fall den eigenen Behörden zum Zweck der Durchführung des Strafverfahrens zu übermitteln. Die Artikel 8 und 9 enthalten verschiedene Bestimmungen betreffend die Erleichterung der Auslieferung und die Verpflichtung der Vertragsstaaten zur Zusammenarbeit, d.h. insbesondere zur Bereitstellung von Beweismitteln. Falls der Territorial- oder Personalstaat ein Auslieferungsansuchen stellt, ist der Forum-Staat natürlich verpflichtet zu überprüfen, ob etwaige Auslieferungshindernisse wie das Refoulement-Verbot oder fehlender politischer Wille des ersuchenden Staates, die verdächtige Person vor Gericht zu bringen, der Auslieferung entgegenstehen. Falls dies nicht der Fall ist, hat er ein echtes Wahlrecht – im Zweifel muss er das Strafverfahren selbst durchführen. In der Praxis gibt es bisher nur sehr wenige Fälle, in denen Vertragsstaaten ihrer Verpflichtung zur Ausübung des Weltstrafrechtsprinzips gemäß der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter wirklich nachgekommen sind. Am bekanntesten ist die Entscheidung des britischen House of Lords vom 24. März 1999 im Pinochet-Fall.25 Darin entschieden 24

Suleymane Guengueng et al. v. Senegal, Nr. 181/2001, § 10. Vgl. R. Brody, „The Prosecution of Hissein Habré – An ‚African Pinochet‘“, 35 New England Law Review 321 (2001).

25

Regina v. Bartle and the Commissioner of Police for the Metropolis and others EX Parte Pinochet (on appeal from a Divisional Court of the Queen’s Bench Division), House of Lords, Urteil vom 24. März 1999; Regina v. Evans and another and the Commissioner of Police for the Metropolis and others EX Parte Pinochet (on appeal from a Divisional Court of the Queen’s Bench Division), House of Lords, Urteil vom 24. März 1999; J. C. Baker/P. R. Ghandi, „The Pinochet Judgement: Analysis and Implications“, 40 Indian Journal of International Law 657 (2000); J. Craig et al., „The Future of Former Head of State Immunity after ex parte Pinochet“, 48 International and Comparative Law Quarterly 937 (1999); R. Brody/M. Ratner (Hrsg.), The Pinochet Papers: The Case of Augusto Pinochet in Spain and Britain (2000).

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MANFRED NOWAK

die Law Lords, dass der Ex-Diktator von Chile als ehemaliges Staatsoberhaupt nicht durch Immunität gegen gerichtliche Verfolgung auf der Grundlage des in der UNOKonvention gegen Folter verankerten Weltstrafrechtsprinzips geschützt sei. Da die Konvention aber erst im Dezember 1988 für das Vereinigte Königreich in Kraft getreten war, konnte General Pinochet nur für Verbrechen zur Verantwortung gezogen werden, die er nach diesem Datum begangen hatte. Die britischen Behörden entschieden schließlich, ihn weder vor ein britisches Gericht zu stellen noch nach Spanien auszuliefern, sondern ihn aus gesundheitlichen Gründen nach Chile zu überstellen, wo er schließlich während eines gegen ihn laufenden Strafverfahrens im Dezember 2006 verstorben ist. Der erste erfolgreiche Fall der Ausübung des Weltstrafrechtsprinzips in Durchführung der Konvention gegen die Folter im Vereinigten Königreich erfolgte mehr als fünf Jahre nach der Pinochet-Entscheidung: Im Zardad-Fall wurde ein ehemaliger afghanischer Milizenführer von dem Londoner Strafgericht (Old Bailey) wegen mehrfacher Folter, die er zwischen 1991 und 1996 in Afghanistan begangen hatte, zu 20 Jahren Haft verurteilt.26 Nach der bereits erwähnten Entscheidung des UNO-Ausschusses gegen die Folter im Habré-Fall dürfte es nicht mehr allzu lange dauern, bis der Ex-Diktator des Tschad wegen systematischer Folter in den 1980er Jahren endlich vor ein Strafgericht im Senegal gestellt wird.27 Auch wenn es sich bei diesen wenigen Fällen um positive Präzedenzfälle handelt, so wird es noch eine Weile dauern, bis die Vertragsstaaten der Konvention gegen die Folter ihre völkerrechtliche Pflicht zur Durchführung von Strafverfahren in Übereinstimmung mit dem Weltstrafrechtsprinzip so ernst nehmen, dass die unzähligen Folterknechte dieser Welt keinen sicheren Hafen mehr finden.

IV.

Die strafrechtliche Verfolgung von Folterern durch internationale Tribunale

Wie bereits erwähnt, wurden nach Ende des Kalten Kriegs zuerst durch den Sicherheitsrat der Vereinten Nationen und später auf völkervertragsrechtlicher Basis verschiedene internationale Strafgerichte eingerichtet, die über völkerrechtliche Verbrechen entscheiden.28 Das Verbot der Folter ist in den Statuten dieser Tribunale 26

R v. Zardad, High Court,Urteil vom 19. Juli 2005. Siehe dazu Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15, 305-308.

27

Vgl. R. Brody, supra Fn. 24; S. P. Marks, „The Hissene Habré Case: The Law and Politics of Universal Jurisdiction“, in St. Macedo (Hrsg.), Universal Jurisdiction: National Courts and the Prosecution of Serious Crimes Under International Law (2005) 131; P. Gaeta, „Rationae Materiae Immunities of Former Heads of State and International Crimes: The Hissène Habré Case“, 1 Journal of International Criminal Justice 186 (2003).

28

Neben dem Jugoslawien-Tribunal (ICTY), dem Ruanda-Tribunal (ICTR), dem Internationalen Strafgerichtshof (ICC) und den Sondergerichten (Extraordinary Chambers) in Kambodscha, supra Fn. 10, ist diesbezüglich vor allem das Sondergericht (Special Court) für Sierra Leone zu nennen, das auf einem Abkommen zwischen den Vereinten Nationen und der Regierung von Sierra Leone (unterzeichnet am 16. Januar 2002 in Erfüllung der UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 1315, UN Dok. S/RES/1315 (2000)) beruht.

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als Kriegsverbrechen29 und als Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit30 verankert. Denn Folter ist im humanitären Völkerrecht – als eine schwere Verletzung der Genfer Konventionen in internationalen bewaffneten Konflikten und als Verletzung des gemeinsamen Artikel 3 sowie des 2. Zusatzprotokolls zu den Genfer Konventionen in innerstaatlichen bewaffneten Konflikten – ebenso verpönt wie im Rahmen des völkerrechtlichen Menschenrechtsschutzes. Als Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit kann Folter vor einem internationalen Tribunal allerdings nicht als Einzeltat verfolgt werden, sondern nur, wenn sie als Teil eines weit verbreiteten oder systematischen Angriffs auf die Zivilbevölkerung mit Wissen dieses Angriffs verübt wurde.31 Dies kann auch in Friedenszeiten der Fall sein. Lediglich im Statut des Jugoslawien-Tribunals wird die Verfolgung von Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit auf Zeiten eines internationalen oder innerstaatlichen bewaffneten Konflikts beschränkt.32 Im Statut von Rom wird Folter etwas anders definiert als in der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter.33 Zum einen scheint die Definition insofern enger zu sein, als sich das Opfer in Haft oder unter der Kontrolle des Täters befinden muss. In Wahrheit

29

Siehe 1993 ICTY-Statut, supra Fn. 8, Art. 2 (Grave breaches of the Geneva Conventions of 1949), para. b (torture or inhuman treatment, including biological experiments), Art. 3 (Violations of the laws or customs of war); 1994 ICTR-Statut, supra Fn. 9, Art. 4 (Violations of Article 3 common to the Geneva Conventions and of Additional Protocol II), para. a (violence to life, health and physical or mental well-being of persons, in particular murder as well as cruel treatment such as torture, mutilation or any form of corporal punishment); 2002 SCSLStatut, supra Fn. 28, Art. 3 (Violations of Article 3 common to the Geneva Conventions and of Additional Protocol II), para. a (violence to life, health and physical or mental well-being of persons, in particular murder as well as cruel treatment such as torture, mutilation or any form of corporal punishment); 1998 ICC-Statut, supra Fn. 7, Art. 8 (War crimes), paras. (2)(a) (ii) (torture or inhuman treatment, including biological experiments) und (2)(c)(i) (violence to life and person, in particular murder of all kinds, mutilation, cruel treatment and torture); Cambodia Agreement, supra Fn. 10, Art. 9 (grave breaches of the 1949 Geneva Conventions).

30

Siehe 1993 ICTY-Statut, supra Fn. 8, Art. 5 (Crimes against humanity), para. f (torture); 1994 ICTR-Statut, supra Fn. 9, Art. 3 (Crimes against Humanity), para f (torture); 2002 SCSL-Statut, supra Fn. 28, Art. 2 (Crimes against humanity), para. f (torture); 1998 ICCStatut, supra Fn. 7, Art. 7 (Crimes against humanity), para. f (torture); Cambodia Agreement, supra Fn. 10, Art. 9 (crimes against humanity as defined in the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court).

31

Vgl. 1998 ICC-Statut, Art. 7(1): „For the purpose of this Statute, ‚crime against humanity‘ means any of the following acts when committed as part of a widespread or systematic attack directed against any civilian population, with knowledge of the attack.“

32

1993 ICTY-Statut, Art. 5: „The International tribunal shall have the power to prosecute persons responsible for the following crimes when committed in armed conflict, whether international or internal in character, and directed against any civilian population.“ Das ICTY verlangt allerdings nicht, dass die konkreten Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit Teil von Kriegshandlungen sein müssen. Es genügt, dass ein gewisser Bezug zu dem bewaffneten Konflikt besteht. Siehe z. B. The Prosecutor v. Tihomir Blaskic, Trial Chamber, Entscheidung vom 3. März 2000, Fall Nr. IT-95-14, § 69.

33

1998 ICC-Statut, Art. 7(2)(e): „‚Torture‘ means the intentional infliction of severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, upon a person in the custody or under the control of the accused.“

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muss diese Wehrlosigkeit (powerlessness) aber auch bei der Definition der Folter in Artikel 1 der Konvention mitgedacht werden, so dass diesbezüglich kein Unterschied besteht.34 Die Definition im Statut von Rom ist insofern weiter, als Folter auch von einer privaten Person begangen werden kann und keinem bestimmten Zweck wie dem Erpressen eines Geständnisses dienen muss. Durch den Kontext des Verbrechens gegen die Menschlichkeit, also den weit verbreiteten oder systematischen Angriff auf eine Zivilbevölkerung, wird die Verfolgung vor einem internationalen Straftribunal jedoch auf schwere Fälle einer systematischen Praxis der Folter eingeschränkt. Der einzelne Folterknecht kann nur dann verurteilt werden, wenn ihm diese systematische Praxis bewusst war und er die Folterhandlung als Teil dieses Angriffs auf eine bestimmte Personengruppe, die sich in der Regel durch ethnische, religiöse, nationale, politische, soziale oder sonstige Merkmale vom Rest der Zivilbevölkerung unterscheidet, begangen hat. Insbesondere trifft diese Definition auf Personen zu, die in einer Führungsposition für die systematische oder weit verbreitete Praxis der Folter Verantwortung tragen. In der Praxis haben die beiden ad hoc-Tribunale zum ehemaligen Jugoslawien (ICTY) und zu Ruanda (ICTR) eine größere Anzahl von Personen wegen des Verbrechens der Folter (als Kriegsverbrechen und als Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit) verurteilt.35 Das Jugoslawien-Tribunal hat inzwischen mehr als 20 Personen in erster oder zweiter Instanz wegen des Verbrechens der Folter verurteilt, wobei wegen des engen Konnexes zum bewaffneten Konflikt in der Mehrzahl der Fälle die Anklage der Folter als Kriegsverbrechen gemäß den Artikeln 2 und 3 des ICTY-Statuts den Verurteilungen zugrunde liegt.36 Im November 1998 wurden im Fall des von bosnischen Moslems verwalteten Gefangenenlagers Celebici mehrere Personen wegen Folterungen verurteilt, wobei sich das Tribunal auf die in Artikel 1 der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter enthaltene Definition stützte und das Folterverbot ausdrücklich als eine Norm des ius cogens qualifizierte.37 Diese Feststellung wurde im Furundzia-Fall, der die Folterung und Vergewaltigung einer moslemischen Frau durch Angehörige einer Spezialeinheit der bosnisch-kroatischen Armee HVO betraf, bekräftigt.38 Als Norm des ius cogens mit Wirkung erga omnes nehme das Folterverbot den höchsten Rang im Völkerrecht ein

34

Vgl. M. Nowak, „Challenges to the Absolute Nature of the Prohibition of Torture and IllTreatment“ 23 NQHR 674 (2005); ders., „What Practices constitute Torture? US and UN Standards“, 28 HRQ 809 (2006); Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15, 74-77.

35

Siehe dazu z. B. W. A.Schabas, „The Crime of Torture and the International Criminal Tribunals“, 37 Case Western Reserve Journal of International Law 349 (2005).

36

Siehe z. B. die folgenden Fälle: Prosecutor v. Tadić, Fall Nr. IT-94-1; Prosecutor v. Nikolić, Fall Nr. IT-94-2; Prosecutor v. Simić et al., Fall Nr. IT-95-9; Prosecutor v. Simić, Fall Nr. IT-95-9/2; Prosecutor v. Martić, Fall Nr. IT-95-11; Prosecutor v. Mrkšić et al., Fall Nr. IT-95-13/1; Prosecutor v. Bralo, Fall Nr. IT-95-17; Prosecutor v. Furundžija, Fall Nr. IT95-17/1; Prosecutor v. Mucić et al., Fall Nr. IT-96-21; Prosecutor v. Kunarac et al., Fall Nr. IT-96-23&23/1; Prosecutor v. Zelenović, Fall Nr. IT-96-23/2; Prosecutor v. Krnojelac, Fall Nr. IT-97-25; Prosecutor v. Kvocka et al., Fall Nr. IT-98-30/1; Prosecutor v. Naletilić and Martinović, Fall Nr. IT-98-34; Prosecutor v. Brđanin and Župljanin, Fall Nr. IT-99-36.

37

Prosecutor v. Delalic, Urteil vom 16. November 1998, Fall Nr. IT-96-21-T, § 454.

38

Prosecutor v. Furundžija, Urteil vom 10. Dezember 1998, Fall Nr. IT-95-17/1-T, §§ 144, 151 ff.

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und den daraus ableitbaren Pflichten könne daher in keinem Fall derogiert werden. Obwohl sich das Tribunal ursprünglich an der Definition der Folter in Artikel 1 der UNOKonvention gegen die Folter orientierte, die eine aktive Mitwirkung eines staatlichen Organs voraussetzt, hat es in späteren Fällen festgestellt, dass dieser staatliche Bezug kein notwendiges Erfordernis des Verbrechens der Folter unter völkerrechtlichem Gewohnheitsrecht darstelle. Diese Abweichung von seiner früheren Rechtsprechung erfolgte erstmals im Kunarac-Fall, der Folter im berüchtigten Lager der bosnischen Serben in Foca betraf.39 In dieser Berufungsentscheidung vom Juni 2002 führte das Tribunal auch aus, dass eine Vergewaltigung unter diesen Umständen jedenfalls den Definitionskriterien der Folter entspricht, da sie intensive Schmerzen und Leiden verursacht und diskriminiert.40 Für die Einschätzung der Intensität der Schmerzen und Leiden sind sowohl die objektiven Umstände als auch subjektive Kriterien wie der Gesundheitszustand, die Wehrlosigkeit, das Alter und Geschlecht des Opfers ausschlaggebend.41 Dass die Folter zu keinen physischen Gesundheitsschädigungen führen muss, wurde zum Beispiel im Kvocka-Fall bestätigt, wo der Zwang, die Vergewaltigung einer Freundin mit ansehen zu müssen, als psychische Folter qualifiziert wurde.42 Auch das Ruanda-Tribunal hat in mehreren Fällen Personen wegen Folter verurteilt.43 Am besten bekannt ist der Fall des Hutu-Bürgermeisters von Taba, Jean-Paul Akayesu, der wegen verschiedener Verbrechen, einschließlich der Folter als Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit, zu lebenslanger Freiheitsstrafe verurteilt wurde. Insbesondere wurden massive Todesdrohungen im Zuge des Verhörs einer Frau unter den besonderen Umständen des Völkermords an den Tutsi als Folter qualifiziert.44 Im Semanza-Fall ging es um den ehemaligen Bürgermeister von Bicumi, Laurent Semanza, der unter anderem für seine Mittäterschaft im Genozid, seine Beihilfe zu Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit in den Massakern von Musha Church und Mwulire Hill sowie für Folter als Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit zu insgesamt 25 Jahren Haft verurteilt wurde.45 Obwohl der Internationale Strafgerichtshof noch keine Verurteilung ausgesprochen hat, werden von der Anklagebehörde derzeit bereits eine Reihe von konkreten Foltervorwürfen untersucht.46 Beispielsweise haben Opfer des Bürgerkriegs im östlichen Teil der Demokratischen Republik Kongo vor dem Gerichtshof ausgesagt, gefoltert worden

39

Prosecutor v. Kunarac, Urteil vom 12. Juni 2002, Fall Nr. IT-96-23/1-A, § 148.

40

Ibid., §§ 149 ff.

41

Prosecutor v. Krnojelac, Urteil vom 15. März 2002, Fall Nr. IT-97-25-T, § 182.

42

Prosecutor v. Kvocka, Urteil vom 2. November 2001, Fall Nr. IT-98-30/1-T, § 149.

43

Siehe z. B. Prosecutor v. Akayesu, Fall Nr. ICTR-96-4-T; Prosecutor v. Bisengimana, Fall Nr. ICTR 00-60-T; Prosecutor v. Ntagerura et al., Fall Nr. ICTR-99-46-T; Prosecutor v. Semanza, Fall Nr. ICTR-97-20-T, ICTR-97-20-A; Prosecutor v. Serushago, Fall Nr. ICTR-98-39-S, ICTR-98-39-A.

44

Prosecutor v. Akayesu, Urteil vom 2. September 1998, Fall Nr. ICTR-96-4-T, § 682.

45

Prosecutor v. Semanza, Urteil vom 15. Mai 2003, Fall Nr. ICTR-97-20-T, § 585 ff.

46

Vgl. Schabas, supra Fn. 35, 363.

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zu sein.47 Auch der Bericht der Untersuchungskommission zur Situation in Darfur, der die Grundlage für die erste Überweisung eines Falles durch den Sicherheitsrat der Vereinten Nationen bildet,48 enthält mehrere Foltervorwürfe.49

V.

Das Recht des Folteropfers auf Wiedergutmachung

Am 16. Dezember 2005 hat die Generalversammlung der Vereinten Nationen nach langen Diskussionen in der Menschenrechtskommission und ihrer Unterkommission die Grundprinzipien und Richtlinien über das Recht von Opfern schwerer Verletzungen internationaler Menschenrechte und des humanitären Völkerrechts auf Rechtsschutz und Wiedergutmachung angenommen.50 Diese Richtlinien unterscheiden zwischen dem prozeduralen Recht der Opfer auf Rechtsschutz, also auf gleichen und wirksamen Zugang zur Justiz und nicht-gerichtsförmigen Rechtsschutzeinrichtungen, und dem materiellen Recht auf Wiedergutmachung für schwere Menschenrechtsverletzungen.51 Die Wiedergutmachung (Reparation) soll in einem angemessenen Verhältnis zur Schwere der Menschenrechtsverletzung und des damit verbundenen Leides stehen und stellt eine Verpflichtung von Staaten und nicht-staatlichen Akteuren gleichermaßen dar.52 Falls 47

Siehe den Fall betreffend die Situation in der Demokratischen Republik Kongo, Fall Nr. ICC-01/04.

48

UN Sicherheitsrat Res. 1593, UN Dok. S/RES/1593 (2005).

49

UN Dok. S/2005/60 (2005), §§ 96, 116, 186, 341, 362 ff.

50

Basic Principles and Guidelines on the Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Victims of Gross Violations of International Human Rights Law and Serious Violations of International Humanitarian Law, UN Generalversammlung Res. 60/147, UN Dok. A/RES/60/147 (2005). Siehe zu diesen nach ihren Autoren oft als „van Boven/Bassiouni Principles and Guidelines“ benannten Richtlinien und ihrer Entstehungsgeschichte z.B. Th. van Boven, Final Report on the Right to Restitution, Compensation and Rehabilitation for Victims of Gross Violations of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms, UN Dok. E/CN.4/Sub.2/1993/8 (1993); M. Nowak, „The Right of Victims of Gross Human Rights Violations to Reparation“, in F. Coomans et al. (Hrsg.), Rendering Justice to the Vulnerable 203 (2000); G. Ulrich/L. Krabbe Boserup (Hrsg.), Reparations: Redressing Past Wrongs, Human Rights in Development Yearbook 2001 (2003); D. Shelton, „The United Nations Principles and Guidelines on Reparations: Context and Contents“, in K. de Feyter et al. (Hrsg.), Out of the Ashes: Reparation for Victims of Gross and Systematic Human Rights Violations 11 (2005); International Commission of Jurists, The Right to a Remedy and Reparation for Gross Human Rights Violations – A Practitioner’s Guide (2006).

51

Der ursprüngliche Entwurf Theo van Bovens und der Unterkommission, UN Dok. E/ CN.4/1997/104 (1997), Appendix, bezog sich ausschließlich auf Menschenrechtsverletzungen. Durch die Einbeziehung von Cherif Bassiouni als Experten der Menschenrechtskommission, UN Dok. E/CN.4/2000/62 (2000), beziehen sich die Richtlinien nunmehr auch auf Verletzungen des humanitären Völkerrechts, was von manchen Staaten wie Deutschland und den USA massiv kritisiert wurde. Siehe Shelton, supra Fn. 50, 18. Im vorliegenden Zusammenhang interessiert allerdings vor allem der erstgenannte Aspekt.

52

UN Richtlinien über Wiedergutmachung, supra Fn. 50, § 15: „In cases where a person, a legal person, or other entity is found liable for reparation to a victim, such party should provide

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die für die Zufügung der Menschenrechtsverletzung und des Leides verantwortliche Partei allerdings unfähig oder unwillig ist, Wiedergutmachung zu leisten, so trifft den Staat die subsidiäre Pflicht, nationale Programme für Wiedergutmachung und andere Formen der Unterstützung der Opfer einzurichten.53 Außerdem sollen Staaten wirksame Maßnahmen zur zwangsweisen Durchsetzung in-und ausländischer Urteile ergreifen, mit denen Wiedergutmachung zugesprochen wurde.54 Inhaltlich gesehen unterscheiden die UN Richtlinien verschiedene Formen der Wiedergutmachung: Restitution, Kompensation, Rehabilitation, Genugtuung (Satisfaction) und Garantien, dass die erfolgte Menschenrechtsverletzung sich nicht wiederholt.55 Im Fall der Folter ist Restitution (restitutio in integrum) kaum möglich. Im Vordergrund steht für die Folteropfer daher die Rehabilitierung in ihren verschiedenen Ausprägungen, von der medizinischen und psychologischen über die soziale bis zur rechtlichen Rehabilitierung. Die diversen privaten und staatlichen Maßnahmen in dafür eigens eingerichteten Rehabilitierungszentren für Folteropfer sind allerdings so kostenintensiv, dass für Folteropfer auch die finanzielle Entschädigung (Kompensation) in der Praxis eine große Rolle spielt. Entschädigt soll freilich nicht nur der durch die – oft für viele Jahre erforderlichen – medizinischen und sonstigen Rehabilitierungsmaßnahmen entstandene materielle Schaden, sondern gerade auch der durch die Folter verursachte enorme immaterielle Schaden werden, durch Zuerkennung von Schmerzensgeld. Für Folteropfer sind in der Regel auch andere Formen der Genugtuung eine wichtige Form der Wiedergutmachung und Gerechtigkeit. Dazu gehört die wirksame Untersuchung der Foltervorwürfe, einschließlich forensischer Expertise, die Wahrheitsfindung, verbunden mit einer Anerkennung dieser Wahrheit durch die Verantwortlichen in Form einer öffentlichen Entschuldigung oder eines förmlichen Tributs an die Opfer. Dies kann je nach dem Ausmaß der Menschenrechtsverletzung und dem Gerechtigkeitsempfinden der Opfer und der jeweiligen Gesellschaft in Form einer Wahrheits- und Versöhnungskommission, durch Gedenktage, Denkmäler und ähnliche Formen der Vergangenheitsbewältigung stattfinden. Schließlich ist natürlich auch die strafrechtliche Verfolgung der Täter eine wichtige Form der Genugtuung und Wiedergutmachung für die Opfer, worin sich zeigt, dass der Einsatz des Strafrechts nicht nur dem Kampf gegen die Straflosigkeit und der Prävention der Folter dient, sondern auch dem Recht der Opfer auf Rechtsschutz und Wiedergutmachung. Die Durchsetzung des Rechts der Folteropfer auf Rechtsschutz und Wiedergutmachung findet sich als eine spezifische völkerrechtliche Verpflichtung der Vertragsstaaten in den Artikeln 13 und 14 der UNO-Konvention gegen Folter. Artikel 13 gewährt jedem Menschen, der behauptet, gefoltert worden zu sein, ein prozedurales Recht auf wirk-

reparation to the victim or compensate the State if the State has already provided reparation to the victim.“ 53

Ibid, § 16: „States should endeavor to establish national programmes for reparation and other assistance to victims in the event that the party liable for the harm suffered is unable or unwilling to meet their obligations.“

54

Ibid., § 17.

55

Ibid., §§ 18-22.

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same Beschwerde, verbunden mit dem ausdrücklichen Schutz der Beschwerdeführer und allfälliger Zeugen gegen Einschüchterung und Misshandlung als Konsequenz dieser Beschwerde oder Zeugenaussage. Diesem subjektiven Beschwerderecht, das die amtswegige Verpflichtung zur Untersuchung im Falle des Verdachts auf Folter in Artikel 12 ergänzt,56 entspricht die Verpflichtung jenes Vertragsstaates, in dessen Territorium die behauptete Folter stattgefunden hat, eine unverzügliche und unparteiische Untersuchung durch eine zuständige Behörde durchzuführen. Bei dieser Behörde muss es sich nicht um ein Gericht handeln. Vielmehr kann eine wirksame Untersuchung auch einer speziellen Einrichtung zur Überprüfung der Sicherheitsbehörden, häufig „Polizei-Polizei“ genannt, übertragen werden, die allerdings mit allen polizeilichen Ermittlungsbefugnissen ausgestattet und von den Tätern und ihren Vorgesetzten unabhängig sein sollte. Falls sich die Vorwürfe als berechtigt herausstellen, müsste dann eine strafprozessuale Untersuchung und Verfolgung der Täter in Übereinstimmung mit den Artikeln 5 bis 9 der Konvention anschließen. Das materielle Recht der Folteropfer auf Wiedergutmachung findet sich in Artikel 14. Danach soll jeder Vertragsstaat in seiner Rechtsordnung gewährleisten, dass dem Folteropfer Wiedergutmachung (Redress) und ein durchsetzbares Recht auf eine gerechte und angemessene Entschädigung, einschließlich von Maßnahmen für eine möglichst vollständige Rehabilitierung, eingeräumt wird. Falls das Opfer zu Tode gefoltert wurde, steht den Angehörigen ein Recht auf Entschädigung zu. Auch wenn die Terminologie aus einer früheren Zeit stammt und nicht völlig mit jener in den UN Richtlinien über Wiedergutmachung übereinstimmt, so wird doch deutlich, dass die medizinische, psychologische, soziale und rechtliche Rehabilitierung der Folteropfer sowie das Recht auf finanzielle Entschädigung für materiellen und immateriellen Schaden im Vordergrund des Rechtes der Folteropfer auf Wiedergutmachung steht. Sobald eine zuständige Behörde im Sinne der Artikel 12 und 13 festgestellt hat, dass eine bestimmte Person Opfer von Folter oder einer anderen Form der grausamen, unmenschlichen oder erniedrigenden Behandlung wurde,57 sind der betreffende Staat, die verantwortliche Behörde und die individuellen Folterer verpflichtet, dem Opfer entsprechende Wiedergutmachung zu leisten. Dafür ist weder die strafrechtliche Verurteilung der Täter Voraussetzung noch eine zivilgerichtliche Klage des Opfers erforderlich. Natürlich kann sich das Opfer als Privatbeteiligte(r) im Strafverfahren gegen die Täter anschließen oder eine zivilrechtliche, Amtshaftungs- oder Staatshaftungs-Klage gegen die individuellen Täter, die belangte Behörde oder den Staat einreichen, aber im Prinzip trifft den Staat die primäre Verpflichtung, dem Opfer von Amts wegen Wiedergutmachung zu leisten. Dies kann in einem förmlichen Verwaltungsverfahren, aber auch formfrei erfolgen.

56

Zum Zusammenhang dieser beiden Bestimmungen siehe Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15, Art. 22, 43-438.

57

Zur Anwendbarkeit des Rechtes auf Wiedergutmachung auf andere Formen der Misshandlung siehe Art. 16 CAT; siehe Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15, Art.14, at 485-487; siehe im Ergebnis auch die Entscheidung des Ausschusses gegen die Folter in Dzemajl et al. v. Yugoslavia, Fall Nr. 161/2000, § 9.6.

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Da es sich bei dem Recht auf Wiedergutmachung, wie der Name bereits sagt, primär um einen Anspruch des Opfers gegenüber dem für die Folter verantwortlichen Staat handelt, das verursachte Leiden und den entstandenen Schaden wieder gut zu machen ist es nahe liegend, dass diese völkerrechtliche Verpflichtung ausschließlich den Folterstaat trifft. Dem steht allerdings die Erfahrung gegenüber, dass Opfer schwerer und systematischer Folter in der Regel keine Möglichkeit haben, rechtlich wirksame Maßnahmen gegen den Folterstaat zu ergreifen. Häufig fliehen sie aus dem Folterstaat und suchen als Flüchtlinge in anderen Ländern Schutz vor Verfolgung. Durch Folter traumatisierte Personen benötigen allerdings nicht nur Asyl, sondern auch dringend medizinische und psychologische Betreuung, die häufig nur in eigenen Rehabilitierungszentren für Folteropfer auf professionelle Weise zur Verfügung steht. Solche Rehabilitierungszentren werden meist von privaten Rechtsträgern betrieben und sind vergleichsweise kostenintensiv. Da ins Ausland geflüchtete Folteropfer in der Regel wenig begütert sind, stellt sich freilich die Frage, wer für diese Kosten aufkommen soll. In der Praxis werden diese Rehabilitierungszentren durch private Initiativen und Spenden finanziert, durch Zuschüsse der EU und von Staaten, die meist nicht selbst für Folter verantwortlich sind, sowie aus eigenen Fonds wie dem UN Voluntary Fund for Victims of Torture gespeist, die ihr Budget ebenfalls nicht primär von Folterstaaten erhalten. In einer Zeit restriktiver Asylpolitik und knapper Ressourcen erhebt sich die Frage, ob diese Privatinitiativen ausreichen, dem Recht der Folteropfer auf Wiedergutmachung Genüge zu tun. Erst kürzlich hat die EU-Kommission, einer der wichtigsten Financiers von Rehabilitierungszentren für Folteropfer, dem International Rehabilitation Council for Torture Victims (IRCT), dem größten Netzwerk von Folter-Rehabilitierungszentren mit Sitz in Kopenhagen, mitgeteilt, dass für die Finanzierung dieser Zentren in Europa eigentlich nicht die Kommission, sondern die Mitgliedstaaten der EU verantwortlich seien. Viele EU-Mitgliedstaaten kommen dieser Verantwortung allerdings nicht nach und verlassen sich lieber auf Privatinitiativen der Zivilgesellschaft und die finanzielle Unterstützung durch die EU. In der Folge soll daher die Frage untersucht werden, ob sich aus Artikel 14 der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter in Übereinstimmung mit dem generellen Recht der Opfer schwerer Menschenrechtsverletzungen auf Rechtsschutz und Wiedergutmachung eine völkerrechtliche Verpflichtung von Vertragsstaaten ableiten lässt, die nicht selbst für Folter verantwortlich sind. Bei dieser Frage geht es zum einen um die Anwendbarkeit des Personalitäts- und Weltzivilrechtsprinzips, zum anderen um die Frage einer eventuellen direkten Verantwortung aller Vertragsstaaten, Folteropfern, die sich in ihrem Hoheitsgebiet befinden, entsprechende Unterstützung für Zwecke der Rehabilitierung und sonstige Wiedergutmachung zu leisten.

VI.

Interpretation von Artikel 14 der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter

Artikel 14 verpflichtet die Vertragsstaaten, im Rahmen ihrer Rechtsordnung dafür zu sorgen, dass Folteropfern Wiedergutmachung, insbesondere in Form finanzieller

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Entschädigung und umfassender Rehabilitierung, geleistet wird.58 Im Unterschied zu Artikel 13 und anderen Bestimmungen der Konvention fehlt ein ausdrücklicher Hinweis, dass sich diese Verpflichtung nur auf Personen bezieht, die im Hoheitsgebiet des betreffenden Vertragsstaates („in any territory under its jurisdiction“) gefoltert wurden. Während der Ausarbeitung von Artikel 14 in der Arbeitsgruppe der Menschenrechtskommission schien den Delegierten diese Frage durchaus bewusst gewesen zu sein.59 Denn im ursprünglichen schwedischen Entwurf vom Jänner 1978 war vorgesehen gewesen, dass Vertragsstaaten nur dann Wiedergutmachung leisten sollten, wenn die Folter oder Misshandlung durch ihre öffentlich Bediensteten begangen wurde.60 Da der revidierte schwedische Entwurf vom Februar 1979 kürzer formuliert war,61 akzeptierte die Arbeitsgruppe im Jahr 1981 einen niederländischen Vorschlag, wodurch die Worte „committed in any territory under its jurisdiction“ nach dem Wort „torture“ eingefügt wurden.62 Dieser Satzteil blieb bis 1982 im Entwurf der Arbeitsgruppe und wurde danach gestrichen, ohne dass aus den travaux préparatoires ersichtlich wäre, warum das geschehen ist.63 Anlässlich der Ratifizierung der Konvention erklärten die USA, dass ihrer Auffassung nach Artikel 14 die Vertragsstaaten nur dazu verpflichtet, Entschädigungsforderungen von Folteropfern anzuerkennen, wenn die Folter auf ihrem Hoheitsgebiet begangen wurde.64 Die travaux préparatoires können folglich ebenso wie der Wortlaut von Artikel 14 in zweierlei Weise interpretiert werden: dass die Streichung der Worte „committed in any territory under its jurisdiction“ bewusst erfolgt ist, um den Anwendungsbereich dieser Bestimmung auch auf Opfer von Folter außerhalb des Territoriums des betreffenden Staates zu erweitern, oder dass die Streichung, wie von den USA behauptet, auf einem Missverständnis beruhte.65 Die systematische Interpretation führt eher zum Ergebnis, dass nur jene Bestimmungen der Konvention, welche die Formulierung „in 58

Siehe 1984 CAT, supra Fn. 15, Art. 14: „Each State Party shall ensure in its legal system that the victim of an act of torture obtains redress and has an enforceable right to fair and adequate compensation, including the means for as full rehabilitation as possible.“

59

Siehe dazu Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15, Art. 14 CAT, 2, 457, para.15.

60

Original Swedish Draft, UN Dok. E/CN.4/1285 (1978), Art. 12: „Each State Party shall guarantee an enforceable right to compensation to the victim of an act of torture or other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment committed by or at the instigation of its public officials.“ Siehe in diesem Sinn auch den Entwurf der USA in UN Dok. E/CN.4/1314 (1978), 18.

61

Revised Swedish Draft, UN Dok. E/CN.4/WG.1/WP.1 (1979), Art. 14.

62

Siehe Burgers/Danelius supra Fn. 15, 74; UN Dok. E/CN.4/L.1576 (1981).

63

Vgl. auch A. Byrnes, „Civil Remedies for Torture Committed Abroad. An Obligation under the Convention against Torture?“, in C. Scott (Hrsg.), Torture as Tort Comparative Perspectives on the Development of Transnational Human Rights Litigation 537 (545 f.) (2001); K. Parlett, „Universal Civil Jurisdiction for Torture“, 4 European Human Rights Law Review 385-403 (2007).

64

„It is the understanding of the United States that article 14 requires a State Party to provide a private right of action for damages only for acts of torture committed in territory under the jurisdiction of that State Party“, vgl. 12 HRLJ 276 (1991).

65

Siehe in diesem Sinn auch Byrnes, supra Fn. 63, 546.

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any territory under its jurisdiction“ enthalten, insbesondere die Artikel 2, 5, 11, 12, 13 und 16, in diesem engen Sinn zu verstehen sind, während andere Bestimmungen, wie insbesondere die Artikel 14 und 15, im Sinn einer extraterritorialen Anwendbarkeit interpretiert werden können. Diese Frage war im Hinblick auf Artikel 15 längere Zeit umstritten, doch hat das britische House of Lords zutreffend festgestellt, dass in einem Verfahren vor britischen Gerichten Informationen auch dann nicht verwertet werden dürfen, wenn sie von ausländischen Geheimdiensten durch Folter erpresst wurden.66 Dieses Urteil würde eher dafür sprechen, dass auch Artikel 14 in einem weiteren Sinn zu verstehen ist und sich sein Anwendungsbereich nicht nur auf Opfer von Folter, die auf dem Territorium des betreffenden Vertragsstaates begangen wurde, bezieht. Noch schwieriger ist eine teleologische Interpretation, die den wahren Zweck dieser Bestimmung ergründen will. Zum einen wurde mit Recht argumentiert, dass die Konvention ausgearbeitet und verabschiedet wurde, um den Kampf gegen die Folter weltweit effektiver zu machen67 und durch das Prinzip des Weltstrafrechts eine globale Verantwortung der Staaten für die Ahndung des Verbrechens der Folter zu schaffen. Schließlich greift das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip viel stärker in den Grundsatz der staatlichen Souveränität ein als eine globale Verantwortung zur Wiedergutmachung für Folteropfer. Wenn die Konvention sogar die Staaten verpflichtet, auf ihre Kosten umfangreiche Ermittlungen und Gerichtsverfahren durchzuführen, um Folterer aus anderen Staaten strafrechtlich zur Verantwortung zu ziehen,68 warum sollen sie dann nicht auch verpflichtet werden, Folteropfern, die sich auf ihrem Hoheitsgebiet befinden, die erforderliche medizinische und psychologische Behandlung und Rehabilitierung zu gewähren? Ist die Sorge um die Opfer der Folter nicht ebenso wichtig wie die Verurteilung der Täter?69 Dieser an sich überzeugenden Argumentation steht allerdings die Tatsache gegenüber, dass das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip ausführlich und in einer sehr kontroversiellen Weise diskutiert wurde und schließlich im vollen Bewusstsein über seine Tragweite mit ausdrücklichen und unzweideutigen Formulierungen in den Artikeln 5 bis 9, insbesondere in Artikel 5(2) und 7(1), verankert wurde, während die Frage einer globalen Verantwortung für Folteropfer weder im Detail diskutiert wurde noch sich 66

A and others v. Secretary of State for the Home Department, House of Lords, Urteil vom 8. Dezember 2005, 2005 UKHL 71.

67

Vgl. 1984 CAT, supra Fn. 15, Präambel: „The States Parties to this Convention, […]. Desiring to make more effective the struggle against torture and other cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment throughout the world […].”

68

Beispielsweise haben die umfangreichen Ermittlungen, die das britische Crown Prosecution Service in Afghanistan durchgeführt hat, um den afghanischen Milizenführer Faryadi Sarwar Zardad vor dem Londoner Strafgericht (Old Bailey) anzuklagen, sowie das gerichtliche Verfahren, das schließlich zu seiner Verurteilung zu 20 Jahren Freiheitsstrafe geführt hat, nicht weniger als 3 Millionen Pfund gekostet. Siehe R v. Zardad, High Court, Urteil vom 19. Juli 2005, supra Fn. 26; sowie Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15, Art. 5 CAT, 4.9, 305-308.

69

Vgl. in diesem Sinn z. B. D. F. Donovan/A. Roberts, „The Emerging Recognition of Universal Civil Jurisdiction“, 100 American Journal of International Law 162 (2006); L. Reydams, „Universal Jurisdiction over Atrocities in Rwanda: Theory and Practice“, 4 European Journal of Crime, Criminal Law and Criminal Justice 2 (1996).

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klar aus dem Wortlaut von Artikel 14 ergibt. Wenn die Staaten eine so weitgehende Verpflichtung hätten statuieren wollen, so hätten sie das wohl explizit zum Ausdruck gebracht. Schließlich deuten auch die Ausdrücke Wiedergutmachung („redress“) und Entschädigung („compensation“) auf ein Rechtsmittel zur Beseitigung bzw. Wiedergutmachung eines Fehlverhaltens hin, das eben nur gegenüber dem Täter bzw. einer Institution zur Anwendung kommt, die für das Handeln des Täters rechtlich verantwortlich gemacht werden kann. Eine globale Verantwortung jenes Staates, in dem sich das Opfer gerade zufällig befindet, für das Fehlverhalten eines anderen Staates kann daher ohne ausdrückliche vertragsrechtliche Verpflichtung schwer begründet werden. Dass die Entwicklung des Völkerrechts allerdings zunehmend in die Richtung der Anerkennung globaler Verantwortung von Staaten, internationalen Organisationen und nicht-staatlichen Akteuren wie Transnationalen Konzernen für den Schutz und die Gewährleistung essentieller Menschenrechte tendiert, soll keineswegs verkannt werden.70 Dieses Ergebnis schließt natürlich nicht aus, dass der Aufenthaltsstaat eines Folteropfers auf Grund anderer völkerrechtlicher Verträge verpflichtet ist, dem Folteropfer Schutz und Unterstützung zu gewähren. Beispielsweise sieht Artikel 15 des Internationalen Pakts über Wirtschaftliche, Soziale und Kulturelle Rechte eine Pflicht zur Gewährleistung des Rechtes auf physische und psychische Gesundheit vor, das für alle Menschen gilt, die sich auf dem Hoheitsgebiet eines Vertragsstaates befinden. Auch sieht die Genfer Flüchtlingskonvention besondere Verpflichtungen im Hinblick auf anerkannte Flüchtlinge und Asylwerber vor, die sich rechtmäßig im Hoheitsgebiet eines Vertragsstaates aufhalten. Darüber hinaus beziehen sich die oben angeführten Überlegungen nur auf die Frage, ob die Aufenthaltsstaaten von Folteropfern zu direkten Wiedergutmachungsleistungen an die Opfer von Folter in anderen Staaten verpflichtet sind. Die Frage des Weltzivilrechts ist jedoch davon zu unterscheiden und wird in der Folge näher behandelt.

VII. Das Weltzivilrechtsprinzip Als ein US amerikanisches Berufungsgericht 1980 im Fall Filartiga v. Pena-Irala den zivilrechtlichen Anspruch eines Folteropfers aus Paraguay, das in Paraguay von dortigen staatlichen Funktionären gefoltert worden war, anerkannte und den beklagten Folterer zur Zahlung einer Entschädigung in der Höhe von $ 10,4 Millionen verurteilte,71 sahen viele Beobachter das Zeitalter des Weltzivilrechts für schwere 70

Vgl. in diesem Sinn auch UN Richtlinien für Wiedergutmachung, supra Fn. 50, § 16, wonach alle Staaten nationale Programme für die Wiedergutmachung und Unterstützung von Opfern schwerer Menschenrechtsverletzungen einrichten sollen, wenn die dafür verantwortlichen Parteien (einschließlich anderer Staaten) nicht fähig oder willens sind, ihre Verpflichtungen zu erfüllen.

71

Filártiga v. Pena-Irala, United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, Urteil vom 30. Juni 1980, 630 F.2d 876 (C.A., 2d Cir. 1980). Siehe dazu M. Swan, „International Human Rights Tort Claims and the Experience of United States Courts: An Introduction to the US

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Menschenrechtsverletzungen angebrochen. Das amerikanische Gericht hatte sich auf ein viele Jahre unbeachtetes Bundesgesetz aus dem Jahr 1789 gestützt, den Alien Tort Claims Act (ATCA).72 Dieses Gesetz begründet die Zuständigkeit von amerikanischen Bundesgerichten für zivilrechtliche Klagen, mit denen Schadenersatz für ziviles Unrecht eingefordert wird, das in Verletzung des Völkergewohnheitsrechts oder eines völkerrechtlichen Vertrages begangen wurde, dessen Vertragspartei die USA sind. Diese Zuständigkeit besteht unabhängig vom Territorialitäts- und Personalitätsprinzip. Das Gericht hatte seine Zuständigkeit im konkreten Fall damit begründet, dass der Folterer, wie früher der Pirat oder der Sklavenhändler, ein Feind der Menschheit (hostis humani generis) geworden sei.73 Bei der Anwendung des Weltzivilrechtsprinzips (universal civil jurisdiction) stützten sich amerikanische Bundesgerichte später auch auf das Restatement (Third) of the Foreign Relations Law of the United States aus dem Jahr 1987, worin zwar anerkannt ist, dass sich die Gerichtsbarkeit auf der Grundlage universeller Interessen primär auf das Strafrecht bezieht, dass das Völkerrecht aber zivilrechtliche Schadenersatzansprüche, z.B. zum Schutz von Opfern der Piraterie, nicht ausschließe.74 Der erste Fall, in dem sich der Oberste Gerichtshof der Vereinigten Staaten mit dem Alien Tort Claims Act auseinandersetzte, ist Sosa v. Alvarez-Machain.75 Obwohl die Klage schließlich abgewiesen wurde,76 hat der Gerichtshof dennoch seine grundsätzliche

Case Law, Key Statutes and Doctrines“, in C. Scott (Hrsg.), Torture as Tort 65 ff. (2001); J. Terry, „Taking Filártiga on the Road: Why Courts Outside the United States Should Accept Jurisdiction Over Actions Involving Torture Committed Abroad“, in C. Scott (Hrsg.), Torture as Tort 109 (2001); B. Stephens/M. Ratner, International Human Rights Litigation in U.S. Courts (1996); R. B. Lillich, „Damages for Gross Violations of International Human Rights Awarded by US Courts“, 15 HRQ 207 (1993). 72

2000 Alien Tort Claims Act, 28 U.S.C. § 1350 (2000) in Scott, supra Fn 63, Appendix 2, 711.

73

Filartiga v. Pena-Irala, supra Fn. 71, 630 F.2d 876, 890.

74

Restatement (Third) of the Foreign Relations Law of the United States, § 403 (1987): „In general, jurisdiction on the basis of universal interests has been exercised in the form of criminal law, but international law does not preclude the application of non-criminal law on this basis, for example, by providing a remedy in tort or restitution for victims of piracy“. Vgl. z. B. Kadic v. Karadzic, Fall Nr. 70 F.3d 232, 236 (C.A. 2d Cir. 1995), der sich auf schwere Menschenrechtsverletzungen durch die bosnischen Serben in Bosnien und Herzegovina bezieht. Siehe auch Donovan/Roberts, supra Fn 69, 146 (2006).

75

Sosa v. Alvarez-Machain, US Supreme Court, Urteil vom 29. Juni 2004, 542 U.S. 692 (2004).

76

Der Mexikaner Jose Francisco Sosa (Sosa) hatte im Auftrag der Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) der USA den Mexikaner Alvarez-Machain (Alvarez) von Mexiko in die USA entführt, damit dieser in den USA für Mord und Folter an einem DEA Agenten vor Gericht gebracht werden konnte. Nach seinem Freispruch hat Alvarez die USA für falsche Verhaftung unter dem Federal Tort Claims Act (FTCA) und Sosa für Verletzung des Völkerrechts unter dem Alien Tort Claims Act (ATCA) angeklagt. Der zuständige District Court hat die Klage unter dem FTCA abgelehnt, aber Alvarez Schadenersatz gemäß seiner Klage basierend auf dem ATCA zugesprochen. Der Ninth Circuit Court hat dieses ATCA Urteil bestätigt, aber die Ablehnung des District Court bezüglich der FTCA Klage aufgehoben. Der Oberste Gerichtshof

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Zuständigkeit bejaht. In einem zustimmenden Separatvotum hat Richter Stephen Breyer die Anerkennung des Weltzivilrechtsprinzips unter anderem damit begründet, dass dieses die staatliche Souveränität weniger bedrohe als das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip.77 In einer Stellungnahme als amicus curiae hatte die Europäische Kommission die Rechtsauffassung vertreten, dass Staaten ihren Gerichten die Ausübung des Weltzivilrechtsprinzips nur gestatten sollten, wenn sich die Verletzung auf ein Menschenrecht bezieht, für das auch das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip anerkannt ist, und wenn das Opfer andernfalls keine Möglichkeit hat, seine Ansprüche vor einem staatlichen oder internationalen Gericht durchzusetzen.78 In Hinblick auf das Recht von Folteropfern auf Wiedergutmachung stellt sich daher die Frage, ob das Weltzivilrechtsprinzip in Widerspruch zu Artikel 14 steht und, falls dies nicht der Fall ist, ob diesbezüglich eine Verpflichtung der Vertragsstaaten der Konvention besteht. Die erste Frage ist bereits im Hinblick auf die Günstigkeitsklausel in Artikel 14(2) eindeutig zu verneinen. Die zweite Frage ist schwieriger zu beantworten. Auch wenn, wie oben ausgeführt, eine Verpflichtung der Vertragsstaaten zur direkten Unterstützung von Opfern der Folter, die in einem anderen Staat verübt wurde, nicht abgeleitet werden kann, so ist diese Argumentation nicht auf das Weltzivilrechtsprinzip anwendbar. Wenn ein Folteropfer aus Paraguay gegen seinen Folterer aus Paraguay eine Klage vor einem US-amerikanischen Gericht einbringt, so handelt es sich dabei zweifellos um den Versuch, das Recht auf Wiedergutmachung gegenüber dem verantwortlichen Täter durchzusetzen. Man kann also keinesfalls davon sprechen, dass hier bloß die globale Verantwortung eines Vertragsstaates für die Folter in einem anderen Land angesprochen wird. Es geht also vielmehr darum, wie weit die Verpflichtung der Vertragsstaaten gemäß Artikel 14 der Konvention reicht, ihre Zuständigkeit in Zivilrechtssachen für Klagen von Folteropfern gegen die für die Folter verantwortlichen Personen oder Institutionen zu begründen. Wie bereits oben ausgeführt, verpflichten sich die Vertragsstaaten in dieser Bestimmung, sicherzustellen, dass ihre Rechtsordnung Folteropfern ein durchsetzbares Recht auf Wiedergutmachung und Entschädigung gewährt. Die Bestimmung sagt nicht, wem gegenüber dieses Recht bestehen und durchgesetzt werden soll. Da es sich beim Recht auf Wiedergutmachung und Entschädigung für das durch die Folter verursachte Leiden um einen typischen schuldrechtlichen Anspruch handelt, der vor Zivilgerichten eingeklagt wird, ist es nahe liegend, dass dieser Anspruch primär gegenüber dem Folterer besteht. Die nächste Frage ist, woran sich die innerstaatliche Jurisdiktion knüpfen soll: an das Territorialitätsprinzip, das aktive oder passive Personalitätsprinzip oder auch an das Weltzivilrechtsprinzip? Hinsichtlich des Territorialitätsprinzips dürfte die Antwort eindeutig sein. Wenn jemand in Österreich gefoltert wurde, so hat er oder sie das Recht,

hat schließlich die Entscheidung des Ninth Circuit Court bezüglich der Haftbarkeit unter dem FCTA and ATCA aufgehoben. 77

Ibid., 762 f.

78

Amicus Curiae Brief of the European Commission, 17-22, 542 U.S. 692 (No. 03-339). Siehe Donovan/Roberts, supra Fn. 69, 147 (2006).

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den Folterknecht vor einem österreichischen Zivilgericht auf Entschädigung zu klagen, und zwar unabhängig von der Staatsangehörigkeit des Opfers und des Täters. Selbst wenn der österreichische Täter ins Ausland geflüchtet ist und keinen Wohnsitz mehr in Österreich hat, bleibt die österreichische Gerichtsbarkeit gemäß § 92a Juridiktionsnorm (Gerichtstand der Schadenszufügung) aufrecht. Was ist, wenn der österreichische Täter die Folter nicht in Österreich, sondern im Ausland verübt hat? Dann ist das Territorialitätsprinzip nicht mehr anwendbar, wohl aber das aktive Personalitätsprinzip. Österreich müsste gegen ihn auf Grund dieses Prinzips gemäß Artikel 5(1)(b) der Konvention ermitteln, ihn vor einem österreichischen Strafgericht anklagen und um seine Auslieferung ersuchen, wenn der Territorialstaat keine Anstalten trifft, ihn zu verfolgen. Die Folteropfer könnten sich bei diesem Strafverfahren als Privatbeteiligte anschließen, um ihre zivilrechtlichen Ansprüche durchzusetzen. Falls die Folteropfer aber das strafgerichtliche Verfahren nicht abwarten wollen und eine Zivilklage vor einem österreichischen Gericht einbringen, so müsste meiner Meinung nach dennoch die Zuständigkeit des Gerichts gegeben sein. Denn der UNO-Ausschuss gegen die Folter hat wiederholt betont, dass die Vertragsstaaten das Recht auf Wiedergutmachung nicht vom Ergebnis des Strafverfahrens abhängig machen dürfen.79 Was ist, wenn die Tat von ausländischen Folterern im Ausland begangen wurde, das Opfer aber die österreichische Staatsangehörigkeit hat, nach Österreich zurückkehrt und nun seine Folterer klagen will? Die Chancen auf einen Erfolg vor Gerichten des Folterstaates sind denkbar gering. Strafrechtlich gesehen ist Österreich nicht verpflichtet, Ermittlungen einzuleiten, solange es von seiner in Artikel 5(1)(c) der Konvention enthaltenen Ermächtigung zur Wahrnehmung des passiven Personalitätsprinzips nicht Gebrauch gemacht hat. Sobald dieses Prinzip jedoch im österreichischen Strafrecht verankert ist, sind die österreichischen Behörden zur Ermittlung und gegebenenfalls auch zur Durchführung des Strafverfahrens verpflichtet. In diesem Fall könnte sich das österreichische Opfer ebenfalls als Privatbeteiligter anschließen, so dass sich wie im oben geschilderten Fall die berechtigte Frage stellt, ob hier nicht auch eine Verpflichtung zur Wahrnehmung der Zuständigkeit durch die Zivilgerichte besteht. Oder wären diese nur zuständig, wenn der ausländische Folterer seinen Wohnsitz nach Österreich verlegt und dadurch den allgemeinen Gerichtsstand als beklagte Partei in Österreich im Sinne der §§ 65 ff Juridiktionsnorm begründet? Die zuletzt gestellte Frage führt uns direkt zur Problematik des Weltzivilrechtsprinzips. Gemäß Artikel 5(2), 6(1) und 6(2) der Konvention ist Österreich verpflichtet, strafgerichtliche Ermittlungen einzuleiten und Verfolgungshandlungen wie die Festnahme zu setzen, sobald sich eine Person in Österreich befindet, die dringend der Folter verdächtig ist – und zwar unabhängig vom Ort der Tat und von der Staatsangehörigkeit des Täters und der Opfer. Mit anderen Worten: die Zuständigkeit österreichischer Strafgerichte auf Grund des Weltstrafrechtsprinzips gründet sich ausschließlich auf die Anwesenheit des vermuteten Folterers. Wenn die österreichischen 79

Siehe z. B. die Entscheidungen des Ausschusses in den Fällen Dimitrov v. Serbia and Montenegro, Fall Nr. 171/2000, § 7.3; Danilo Dimitrijevic v. Serbia and Montenegro, Fall Nr. 172/2000, § 7.4; Dragan Dimitrijevic v. Serbia and Montenegro, Fall Nr. 207/2002, § 5.5.

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Behörden ihre völkerrechtlichen Pflichten hinsichtlich der Konvention in Zukunft – im Unterschied zu dem bekannten Fall des damaligen irakischen Vize-Präsidenten Izzat Ibrahim Khalil Al Duri anno 199980 – ernster nehmen und diesen nach wie vor flüchtigen mutmaßlichen Folterer bei seinem nächsten Besuch in Wien festnehmen und vor ein österreichisches Strafgericht stellen sollten, so könnten die irakischen Folteropfer ebenfalls als Privatbeteiligte ihre zivilrechtlichen Ansprüche in Österreich geltend machen. Angenommen, Al Duri kommt nicht nur wie im Sommer 1999 zur medizinischen Behandlung in eine Döblinger Privatklinik, sondern begründet seinen Wohnsitz in Österreich, ohne dass strafrechtliche Ermittlungen gegen ihn eingeleitet werden: Sollten dann nicht in Österreich lebende irakische Folteropfer die Möglichkeit haben, diesen hostis humani generis vor österreichischen Zivilgerichten auf Wiedergutmachung zu klagen? Würde andernfalls Österreich nicht seine Verpflichtung gemäß Artikel 14 der Konvention verletzen, in seiner Rechtsordnung allen Folteropfern ein durchsetzbares Recht auf Entschädigung zu gewährleisten? Nach geltendem österreichischem Recht (§§ 65 ff JN) wäre die Zuständigkeit österreichischer Gerichte auf der Basis des allgemeinen Gerichtstands (Wohnsitz oder gewöhnlicher Aufenthalt), eventuell auch auf der Grundlage des Gerichtstandes des Vermögens (§§ 99 JN) gegeben. Gemäß § 48 Abs 1 IPRG müssten die österreichischen Gerichte irakisches Recht anwenden, weil das „Schaden verursachende Verhalten“ im Irak gesetzt worden ist. Eine derartige Zuständigkeit bedeutet jedoch im Ergebnis die Anerkennung eines Weltzivilrechtsprinzips, wie dies die USA mit dem Alien Tort Claims Act 1789 und – zum Zweck der Umsetzung ihrer Verpflichtungen auf Grund der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter – dem Torture Victim Protection Act 1991 ausdrücklich getan haben.81 In diesem Zusammenhang erscheint es allerdings paradox, dass gerade jener Staat, der mit diesen beiden Gesetzen die Verpflichtung gemäß Artikel 14 in geradezu vorbildlicher Weise umgesetzt hat,82 anlässlich der Ratifizierung der Konvention eine interpretative Erklärung abgegeben hat, in der diese Verpflichtung ausdrücklich in Abrede gestellt wurde.83 Diese Überlegungen zeigen, dass die Verpflichtung zur Begründung zivilgerichtlicher Zuständigkeiten zum Schutz für Folteropfer gemäß Artikel 14 schon auf Grund der Möglichkeit der Privatbeteiligung eng mit der Verpflichtung zur Begründung strafgerichtlicher Zuständigkeiten gemäß Artikel 5 der Konvention zusammenhängt.84 80

Siehe dazu M. Nowak, „Ministerielle Verwirrungen“, Falter, 27. August 1999, 5; „Green Party official files criminal complaint against ailing Iraqi official“, Associated Press Worldstream, 16. August 1999; „Schlögl verteidigt Visum aus humanitären Gründen – Grüne zeigen Saddam Husseins Stellvertreter an“, Der Standard, 17. August 1999; J. Lancaster, „U.S. Steps Up Efforts to Prosecute Top Iraqis“, Washington Post, 28. Oktober 1999.

81

1991 Torture Victim Protection Act, 28 U.S.C. § 1350. Siehe dazu Donovan/Roberts supra Fn 69, 147.

82

Siehe in diesem Sinn auch das Lob des UNO Ausschusses gegen die Folter, UN Dok. A/55/44, §§ 175-180.

83

Siehe supra Fn. 64.

84

Siehe in diesem Sinn auch die zustimmende Meinung von US Richter Stephen Breyer in Sosa v. Alvarez-Machain, 542 U.S. 692 (2004), 762 f.; Vgl. auch Donovan/Roberts supra Fn. 69, 148; B. R. Roth, „Case Report: Sosa v. Alvarez-Machain“, 98 AJIL 798 (2004).

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Dieser Zusammenhang wurde auch von der Europäischen Kommission in ihrem amicus curiae brief im Sosa Fall vor dem Obersten Gerichtshof der Vereinigten Staaten hervorgehoben. Sie betonte, Staaten sollten ihren Gerichten die Möglichkeit der Zuständigkeitsbegründung nach dem Weltzivilrechtsprinzip nur hinsichtlich solcher Menschenrechtsverletzungen einräumen, für die auch das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip völkerrechtlich anerkannt ist.85 Dass diese Voraussetzung im Fall der Folter gegeben ist, steht wohl außer Zweifel. Ich würde allerdings noch einen Schritt weiter gehen und meinen, dass die Vertragsstaaten der Konvention durch Artikel 14 nicht nur ermächtigt, sondern auch verpflichtet sind, den Opfern von Folter die Möglichkeit zur Einklagung zivilrechtlicher Wiedergutmachungsansprüche gegen ihre Folterer im gleichen Ausmaß einzuräumen wie ihre Behörden zur strafgerichtlichen Verfolgung verpflichtet sind. Mit anderen Worten: die Möglichkeit zur Durchsetzung dieser Ansprüche muss nach dem Territorialitäts- und aktiven Personalitätsprinzip immer gegeben sein, nach dem passiven Personalitätsprinzip nur, wenn dieses auch für das Strafrecht anerkannt ist, und nach dem Weltzivilrechtsprinzip nur, wenn sich der Täter im Hoheitsgebiet des betreffenden Staates aufhält. Wo eine derartige Zuständigkeit im nationalen bzw. internationalen Privatrecht noch nicht gegeben ist, haben die Vertragsstaaten der Konvention folglich die Verpflichtung, durch innerstaatliche Gesetze eine entsprechende zivilgerichtliche Zuständigkeit zum Schutz von Folteropfern zu begründen. Neben den erwähnten US amerikanischen Gesetzen sind diesbezüglich insbesondere die Bemühungen zur Schaffung eines Torture Damages Act im britischen Parlament zu nennen.86 Von der Verpflichtung zur Begründung einer zivilgerichtlichen Zuständigkeit zum Schutz von Folteropfern ist freilich die Frage möglicher Immunität zu trennen. Ohne auf die vielfältigen Probleme dieses völkerrechtlich höchst umstrittenen und sich in rasanter Entwicklung befindlichen Rechtsgebietes im vorliegenden Zusammenhang näher eingehen zu wollen, können wir im Prinzip davon ausgehen, dass hinsichtlich der zivilrechtlichen Verantwortung individueller Folterer diesbezüglich die gleichen Grundsätze anzulegen sind wie bei der individuellen strafrechtlichen Verantwortlichkeit. Unter analoger Heranziehung der einschlägigen Judikatur, wie insbesondere der Entscheidungen des britischen House of Lords im Pinochet-Fall und des Internationalen Gerichtshofs im belgisch-kongolesischen Arrest Warrant Fall, lässt sich mit Sicherheit lediglich feststellen, dass im Amt befindliche Staats- und Regierungschefs, Außenminister und von der Wiener Konvention über Diplomatische Beziehungen 1961 geschützte Diplomaten Immunität gegen straf- wie zivilrechtliche Verfolgung genießen.87 Alle anderen Personen, die der Folter üblicher Weise direkt oder indirekt 85

Siehe, supra Fn. 78.

86

Siehe Nowak/McArthur, supra Fn. 15, Art. 14 CAT, 4.6., 501 para. 120; sowie http://www. redress.org/documents/RTBBill.pdf.

87

Urteil des House of Lords vom 24. März 1999 in Ex Parte Pinochet, supra Fn 25; Case Concerning the Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000 (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Belgium), Urteil vom 14. Februar 2002, 2002 ICJ Rep. 3. Ch. M. Bassiouni, „Universal Jurisdiction Unrevisited: The International Court of Justice Decision in Case Concerning the Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000 (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Belgium)“, 12 Palestine Yearbook of

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bezichtigt werden, also vor allem Angehörige der Polizei-, Militär-, Geheimdienst- und sonstigen Sicherheitskräfte sowie die für diese letztlich verantwortlichen Innen-, Sicherheits- und Verteidigungsminister sind von dieser persönlichen Immunität im Prinzip nicht geschützt. Im Unterschied zur individuellen strafrechtlichen Verantwortung stellt sich bei der zivilrechtlichen Verantwortung notwendigerweise auch die Frage der staatlichen Immunität. Da Artikel 14 der Konvention nicht festlegt, gegen wen Folteropfern ein durchsetzbares Recht auf Wiedergutmachung eingeräumt ist, und da Folter in der Regel von staatlichen Organen angewandt wird, muss diese Bestimmung auch dahingehend interpretiert werden, dass sie einen Rechtsanspruch gegen den Staat bzw. gegen staatliche Behörden inkludiert. In vielen Staaten werden solche Ansprüche im Wege von Amts- oder Staatshaftungsklagen durchgesetzt, wobei es dem betreffenden Staat natürlich frei steht, danach gegenüber den individuellen Tätern Regressansprüche geltend zu machen.88 Die Möglichkeit von Amts- oder Staatshaftungsklagen ist für Folteropfer besonders wichtig, weil ihnen die Identität der Folterer oft nicht bekannt ist und diese häufig nicht über die finanziellen Mittel verfügen, die für eine volle medizinische und psychologische Rehabilitierung der Opfer aufgewendet werden müssen oder als Schmerzengeld für die erlittenen Folterqualen angemessen wären. Auf der Basis des Territorialitätsprinzips erhobene Wiedergutmachungsansprüche gegen einen Vertragsstaat vor dessen Zivilgerichten sind daher jedenfalls auch von der Verpflichtung in Artikel 14 umfasst. Sobald einer Klage jedoch das Personalitäts- oder gar das Weltzivilrechtsprinzip zugrunde liegt, müsste die Klage vor einem Gericht des Staates A gegen den Staat B erhoben wird. Einer solchen Klage steht allerdings die staatliche Immunität des Staates B entgegen, solange diese nicht durch völkerrechtliches Gewohnheitsrecht oder Völkervertragsrecht explizit ausgeschlossen ist. Für eine derart weitgehende Interpretation ist der Wortlaut von Artikel 14 jedoch nicht zugänglich. Hätte man die innerstaatlichen Gerichte der Vertragsstaaten ermächtigen oder gar verpflichten wollen, über Amts- oder Staatshaftungsklagen von Folteropfern gegen andere Staaten zu entscheiden, so hätte dafür eine ausdrückliche Rechtsgrundlage geschaffen werden müssen. Nichts deutet darauf hin, dass das intendiert war. In der bisher vorliegenden Judikatur zu dieser Problematik wurden die unterschiedlichen Rechtsfragen leider nicht immer sauber getrennt. Zum einen muss, wie der IGH im Arrest Warrant Fall klar betont hat, die Frage der Jurisdiktion von jener der Immunität getrennt werden,89 zum anderen muss zwischen der Immunität von Individuen und jener von Staaten unterschieden werden. Wenn der Europäische Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte im Fall Al Adsani v. United Kingdom ausführte, dass International Law 27 (2002-2003); A. Cassese, „When May Senior State Officials Be Tried for International Crimes? Some Comments on the Congo v. Belgium Case“, 13 European Journal of International Law 853 (2002); J. Wouters/L. de Smet, „The ICJ’s Judgment in the Case Concerning the Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000: Some Critical Observations“, 4 Yearbook of International Humanitarian Law 373 (2004). Siehe dazu Nowak/Mc Arthur, supra Fn 15, Art. 5 CAT, 4.2., 4.7. und 7. mit weiteren Hinweisen, 292-295, 301-305, 321-327. 88

Vgl. in diesem Sinn auch UNO Richtlinien für Wiedergutmachung, supra Fn. 50, § 15.

89

Siehe Case Concerning the Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000, supra Fn. 87, § 59.

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Staaten (in diesem Fall Kuweit) gegenüber zivilrechtlichen Klagen von Folteropfern (in diesem Fall einem britisch/kuwaitischen Staatsangehörigen) vor Gerichten in anderen Staaten ihre Immunität geltend machen können und folglich das Vereinigte Königreich durch die Zurückweisung der Klage in diesem Fall nicht seine Verpflichtungen gemäß Artikel 6 EMRK verletzt habe, so bezieht sich dieser Rechtssatz ausschließlich auf die staatliche Immunität.90 Das gleiche gilt für die Entscheidung eines kanadischen Berufungsgerichts, das die Klage eines iranischen Folteropfers gegen den Iran im Hinblick auf die staatliche Immunität zurückgewiesen hatte.91 Dies wurde meines Erachtens vom britischen Court of Appeal im Fall Jones v. Ministry of the Interior of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia richtig erkannt. Dabei handelte es sich um die Klage von vier britischen Staatsangehörigen, die behaupteten, in Saudi Arabien gefoltert worden zu sein, gegen das saudische Innenministerium (d.h. den Staat Saudi Arabien) und einzelne saudische Staatsfunktionäre einschließlich des Innenministers. Das Berufungsgericht unterschied klar zwischen der staatlichen Immunität Saudi Arabiens und der persönlichen Immunität seiner Bediensteten. Folglich wurde die Klage gegen den Staat zurückgewiesen, während hinsichtlich der beklagten Individuen die Zuständigkeit der britischen Gerichte anerkannt wurde. Denn, wie Lord Mance ausführte, die Folter könne nicht als ein Akt der Ausübung staatlicher Hoheitsgewalt qualifiziert werden, für den staatliche Immunität geltend gemacht werden könne.92 Lord Phillips ergänzte, dass das Urteil des Europäischen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte im Al Adsani-Fall nur als Präzedenzfall für staatliche Immunität gelten könne und dass die Grosse Kammer des Gerichtshofs sicher eine Verletzung von Artikel 6 EMRK festgestellt hätte, wenn die Klage nicht gegen den Staat Kuweit, sondern seine individuellen Organwalter gerichtet gewesen wäre.93 Leider wurde diese meines Erachtens zutreffende Unterscheidung vom britischen House of Lords wieder rückgängig gemacht.94 Lord Bingham argumentierte ausführlich, dass hinsichtlich der staatlichen Immunität keine Unterscheidung zwischen dem Staat Saudi Arabien und seinen Bediensteten gemacht werden dürfe,95 und dass Artikel 14 der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter auf Grund seiner natürlichen Bedeutung („natural reading“) nur im Sinne des Territorialitätsprinzips interpretiert werden könne.96 Lord Hoffmann ergänzte, dass Folterhandlungen immer offizielle staatliche Handlungen

90

Al Adsani v. United Kingdom, Urteil vom 21. November 2001, Appl. No. 35763/97, 34 EHHR 11 (2001), § 66.

91

Bouzari v. Iran, Court of Appeal for Ontario, Urteil vom 30. Juni 2004, Fall Nr. C38295, (2004) O.J. 2800, §§ 81 ff.

92

Jones v. Ministry of the Interior of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, UK Court of Appeal, Urteil vom 24. Oktober 2004, (2004) EWCA Civ 1394, §§ 27 und 92 ff.

93

Ibid., § 134.

94

Jones et al. v. Saudi Arabia et al., House of Lords, Urteil vom 14. Juni 2006, (2006) UKHL 26.

95

Ibid., §§ 7-13.

96

Ibid., § 25.

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seien, für die eben staatliche Immunität gelte.97 Folglich gab das House of Lords der Berufung gegen das Urteil des Court of Appeal statt und wies auch die Klagen gegen die individuellen saudischen Folterer wegen deren angeblicher Immunität zurück. Meiner Meinung nach beruht dieses Urteil auf einer unzulässigen Vermischung staatlicher und persönlicher Immunität und auf einer zu engen Interpretation von Artikel 14 der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter.98

VIII. Schutz für Folteropfer: Weltzivilrechtsprinzip oder Internationaler Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte? Mit Bezug auf die neueren Entwicklungen des Völkerstrafrechts wird nicht selten die Frage gestellt, welches Verfahren dem Ziel, sichere Häfen für Folterknechte zu verhindern, besser dient: das Weltstrafrechtsprinzip oder Internationale Straftribunale? Da internationale Tribunale nur für Fälle systematischer Folterpraktiken zuständig sind und sich durch ihre beschränkten Kapazitäten lediglich auf die Verfolgung weniger, in der Regel höherrangiger, Individuen konzentrieren können, werden hinsichtlich der großen Mehrheit der Folterer, die von den dafür verantwortlichen Folterstaaten aus politischen Gründen nicht verfolgt werden, dem Weltstrafrechtsprinzip in der Regel bessere Erfolgschancen eingeräumt. Dem steht allerdings die Erfahrung gegenüber, dass die völkerrechtliche Verpflichtung von 145 Vertragsstaaten der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter, die Zuständigkeit ihrer nationalen Strafgerichte zur weltweiten Verfolgung von Folterern zu begründen und auszuüben, nur in den seltensten Fällen umgesetzt wurde. Die hohen Erwartungen, die nach Verabschiedung der Konvention an dieses neue Instrument zwischenstaatlicher Zusammenarbeit gerichtet waren, haben sich in den 20 Jahren seit ihrem Inkrafttreten nicht erfüllt – es sind nur in vereinzelten Ausnahmefällen wie des afghanischen Milizenführers Zardad Personen wegen Folter in Erfüllung des Weltstrafrechtsprinzips letztlich verurteilt worden.99 Demgegenüber hat alleine das Jugoslawien-Tribunal trotz seiner beschränkten Res97

Ibid., § 83: „The acts of torture are either official acts or they are not. The Torture Convention does not “lend” them an official character; they must be official to come within the Convention in the first place. And if they are official enough to come within the Convention, I cannot see why they are not official enough to attract immunity.“ Auch der österreichische Oberste Gerichtshof verneint die inländische Gerichtsbarkeit aufgrund der staatlichen Immunität, wenn die Organe des ausländischen Staates den Schaden in Ausübung ihrer hoheitlichen Funktion zugefügt haben: siehe z. B. die Entscheidung des OGH vom 11. April 1995, 10 Ob 525/94, IPRax 1996/41 (Bombardierung des Flughafens von Ljubljana durch die jugoslawische Volksarmee). Es stellt sich allerdings die Frage, ob die Folter wirklich als hohheitliches Handeln qualifiziert werden kann. Diesbezüglich ist keine Entscheidung des OGH bekannt.

98

Siehe auch die Kritik von Interights, „UK House of Lords Upholds State Immunity for Torture“ (2006); L. Barrett, „The Stubborn Pursuit of Justice: Extraterritorial Redress for Torture“, in European Master’s Degree in Human Rights and Democratisation, Awarded Theses of the Year 2006/2007 (2008).

99

Siehe supra Kapitel III.; siehe z. B. R v. Zardad, supra Fn. 26.

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sourcen und seiner auf bewaffnete Konflikte im ehemaligen Jugoslawien ab dem Jahr 1991 limitierten Zuständigkeit mehr Personen wegen systematischer Folter angeklagt und verurteilt als alle nationalen Strafgerichte der 145 Vertragsstaaten auf der Basis des Weltstrafrechtsprinzips gemeinsam. Diese Zurückhaltung der staatlichen Ermittlungsbehörden und Strafgerichte spiegelt die generelle Skepsis der Staaten wider, sich ohne Verfolgung eigener Interessen in die innerstaatlichen Angelegenheiten anderer Staaten einzumischen, also lediglich zum Schutz von Menschenrechten. Auch wenn die Staatengemeinschaft Folterknechte zu „Feinden der Menschheit“ erklärt hat, so hat dieser hehre Grundsatz wenig dazu beigetragen, die tief verwurzelte Abneigung staatlicher Funktionsträger gegen diplomatische Verwicklungen und politische Schwierigkeiten zu überwinden, die mit der strafrechtlichen Verfolgung ausländischer Folterer vor eigenen Gerichten zwangsläufig verbunden sind. Die Staaten scheinen eher geneigt zu sein, diese Verantwortung unabhängigen, wenn auch teuren, internationalen Gerichten übertragen zu wollen als sie selbst wahrzunehmen. Lassen sich diese Erfahrungen auf das Zivilrecht übertragen? Diesbezüglich stehen wir erst am Beginn einer Entwicklung, weil das Zivilrecht bisher nur am Rande für den Schutz der Menschenrechte fruchtbar gemacht wurde. Da Grund- und Menschenrechte seit dem 19. Jahrhundert primär als subjektive öffentliche Rechte gegenüber Staaten und ihren Organen definiert wurden, sind menschenrechtliche Individualbeschwerde vor innerstaatlichen wie internationalen Instanzen als öffentlich-rechtliche Verfahren konzipiert worden. Im Individualbeschwerdeverfahren vor Verfassungsgerichten oder dem Europäischen Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte geht es primär um das öffentliche Interesse an der Feststellung einer Menschenrechtsverletzung durch den betreffenden Staat oder die jeweils belangte Behörde und weniger um den Anspruch der Opfer auf eine angemessene Wiedergutmachung. Erst in den letzten Jahren ist das Opfer stärker ins Zentrum der Aufmerksamkeit gerückt, und zwar im Strafrecht ebenso wie beim Schutz der Menschenrechte.100 Die UNO Richtlinien über Wiedergutmachung für Opfer schwerer Menschenrechtsverletzungen sind sichtbarster Ausdruck dieser Entwicklung. Ansprüche auf Wiedergutmachung für erlittenes Unrecht sind ihrem Inhalt nach zivilrechtliche Ansprüche zur Durchsetzung privater Interessen der Opfer. Sie richten sich gegen die Verursacher der Menschenrechtsverletzung, also in der Regel staatliche Funktionäre. Im Wege der Amts- oder Staatshaftung können auch die Behörden oder der Staat direkt belangt werden, doch handelt es sich dabei ebenfalls um zivilrechtliche Ansprüche, zu deren Durchsetzung in der Regel die Zivilgerichte zuständig sind. Artikel 14 der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter stellt eine der seltenen Bestimmungen in einer Menschenrechtskonvention dar, in der den Opfern ausdrücklich ein spezifisches Recht auf Wiedergutmachung eingeräumt und die Vertragsstaaten verpflichtet werden, zur wirksamen Durchsetzung dieser Ansprüche ihre Rechtsordnung entsprechend auszugestalten, also eine zivilrechtliche Zuständigkeit für Klagen der Folteropfer gegen ihre

100

Vgl. zu dieser Parallelentwicklung M. Nowak, „Strafrechtspflege und Menschenrechte: Gedanken zu einer lebendigen Schnittstellenproblematik“, in Bundesministerium für Justiz (Hrsg.), Strafverfahren – Menschenrechte – Effektivität 1 (2001).

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Folterer zu begründen.101 Wie oben näher dargelegt wurde, führt eine systematische und teleologische Interpretation dieser Bestimmung zum Ergebnis, dass die Vertragsstaaten hinsichtlich der individuellen Folterer verpflichtet sind, ihre Zivilgerichtsbarkeit auch im Sinne des Personalitätsprinzips sowie, falls sich die der Folter verdächtige Person in ihrem Hoheitsgebiet aufhält, des Weltzivilrechtsprinzips zu begründen.102 Klagen gegen andere Staaten steht freilich das Prinzip der staatlichen Immunität entgegen, solange diese nicht ausdrücklich für konkrete Fälle eingeschränkt oder aufgehoben wird. Auch direkte Verpflichtungen von Staaten zur amtswegigen Rehabilitierung von Folteropfern und zur Leistung von anderen Formen der Wiedergutmachung beziehen sich ausschließlich auf den Territorialstaat, also jenen Vertragsstaat, in dessen Hoheitsgebiet die Folter verübt wurde. Im Hinblick auf die skeptische Haltung der Staaten zum Weltzivilrechtsprinzip und die restriktive Judikatur nationaler Gerichte in dieser Frage103 spricht auch hier vieles für die These, dass es noch sehr lange dauern wird, bis die Folteropfer ihre Wiedergutmachungsansprüche gegen ihre Folterer vor ausländischen Gerichten wirklich durchsetzen können. Es stellt sich daher die Frage, ob die Schaffung eines Internationalen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte, vor dem die Opfer schwerer Menschenrechtsverletzungen nicht nur die Feststellung einer derartigen Verletzung, sondern auch ihre zivilrechtlichen Wiedergutmachungsansprüche einklagen können, nicht eine eher Erfolg versprechende Alternative wäre. Obwohl es in Europa, Amerika und Afrika regionale Menschenrechtsgerichtshöfe gibt, scheint die Forderung nach einem Internationalen Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte auf der Ebene der Vereinten Nationen nach wie vor ein Tabu zu sein.104 Die Diskussion konzentriert sich vielmehr weiterhin auf die Frage, ob die diversen Expertenorgane, die von den wichtigsten Menschenrechtsverträgen der Weltgemeinschaft zur Überwachung der Einhaltung der entsprechenden Vertragspflichten eingesetzt wurden, nicht durch ein einziges „Superkomitee“ ersetzt werden sollen, dem jedoch nach wie vor nicht die Kompetenz zur Erlassung völkerrechtlich verbindlicher Entscheidungen zuerkannt wird.105 Diese 101

Vergleichbare Verpflichtungen ergeben sich z. B. aus den Art. 9(5) und 14(6) des Internationalen Paktes über Bürgerliche und Politische Rechte, 999 UNTS 171; Art. 5 der Europäischen Menschenrechtskonvention, 213 UNTS 222, Art. 3 des 7. Zusatzprotokolls zur EMRK, nämlich Rechte der Opfer eines willkürlichen Freiheitsentzugs oder einer willkürlichen strafrechtlichen Verurteilung auf angemessene Entschädigung.

102

Siehe supra Kapitel VII. Siehe auch T. Willhelmi, Das Weltrechtsprinzip im internationalen Privat- und Strafrecht 462 (2007).

103

Siehe z. B. Jones et al. v. Saudi Arabia et al., supra Fn. 94.

104

Vgl. zu dieser Diskussion M. Nowak, „The Need for a World Court of Human Rights“, 7 Human Rights Law Review 251 (2007); M. Scheinin, „The Proposed Optional Protocol to the Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights: A Blueprint for UN Human Rights Treaty Body Reform – Without Amending the Existing Treaties“, 6 Human Rights Law Review 131 (2006).

105

Vgl dazu Ph. Alston/J. Crawford (Hrsg.), The Future of UN Human Rights Treaty Monitoring (2000); Vorschlag der UNO Hochkommissärin für Menschenrechte zur Schaffung eines „Unified Standing Treaty Body“ in Plan of Action, UN Dok. A/59/2005/Add.3 (2005), para. 14; Report von Ph. Alston, Concept Paper on the High Commissioner’s Proposal for a united

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697

Zurückhaltung der UNO und ihrer Mitgliedstaaten dürfte damit zusammenhängen, dass das Verfahren zur Prüfung von Staatenberichten, und nicht das Individualbeschwerdeverfahren, nach wie vor als das zentrale Verfahren zur internationalen Überwachung und Durchsetzung der Menschenrechte auf universeller Ebene angesehen wird.106 Aus dem Blickwinkel der Opfer schwerer Menschenrechtsverletzungen steht jedoch die Möglichkeit der Individualbeschwerde im Vordergrund, und zwar nicht nur zur Durchsetzung öffentlich-rechtlicher Ansprüche gegen Staaten, sondern auch zur Durchsetzung zivilrechtlicher Wiedergutmachungsansprüche gegen Staaten, individuelle staatliche Funktionäre und nicht-staatliche Rechtsträger, von internationalen Organisationen über transnationale Konzerne bis zu Privatpersonen. Die klassische Individualbeschwerde vor dem Europäischen oder Inter-Amerikanischen Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte deckt nur die öffentlich-rechtlichen Ansprüche gegenüber den Vertragsstaaten der jeweiligen Konventionen ab, wiewohl eingeräumt werden soll, dass gerade der Inter-Amerikanische Gerichtshof bemüht ist, den individuellen Beschwerdeführern auch ein Recht auf Wiedergutmachung zuzuerkennen.107 Auch in der Rechtsprechung der Menschenrechtskammer für Bosnien und Herzegovina spielte die durch das Friedensabkommen von Dayton vom Dezember 1995 ausdrücklich normierte Kompetenz dieses internationalen Menschenrechtsgerichts zur rechtsverbindlichen Anordnung bestimmter Maßnahmen der Wiedergutmachung gegenüber den Opfern eine zentrale und innovative Rolle für den Aufbau rechtsstaatlicher Strukturen nach Jahren des Kriegs, der ethnischen Säuberungen und völligen Willkür.108 Die Schaffung eines Internationalen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte müsste nach dem Vorbild des Internationalen Strafgerichtshofs durch einen eigenen völkerrechtlichen Vertrag, ein Statut, erfolgen. Im Statut sollten die Kompetenzen des Gerichtshofs genau festgelegt werden: Neben rechtsverbindlichen Entscheidungen, ob in einem konkreten Fall Menschenrechte verletzt wurden oder nicht, sollte der Gerichtshof auch für bindende einstweilige Verfügungen und im Fall einer Menschenrechtsverletzung auch für rechtsverbindliche Entscheidungen über zivilrechtliche Wiedergutmachungsansprüche des Opfers zuständig gemacht werden. Neben Individuen sollten auch juristische Personen beschwerdeberechtigt sein. Jene Menschenrechte, über deren behauptete Verletzung der Gerichtshof entscheiden soll, könnten entweder im Statut selbst oder durch Verweisung auf bestehende Menschenrechtsverträge festgelegt werden. Natürlich wäre der Gerichtshof nur zuständig, über die Verletzung jener Menschenrechte zu entscheiden, die Teil des Völkergewohnheitsrechts sind oder durch die Ratifizierung entsprechender Menschenrechtsverträge von dem betreffenden Vertragsstaat als verbindlich anerkannt standing body, UN Dok. HRI/MC/2006/2 (2006); A. F. Bayefsky, The UN Human Rights Treaty System: Universality at the Crossroads (2001). 106

Vgl. auch M. Nowak, Introduction to the International Human Rights Regime (2003), 97 ff., 265 ff. und 273 ff.

107

Vgl. dazu D. Cassel, „The Expanding Scope and Impact of Reparations Awarded by the Inter-American Court of Human Rights“, in de Feyter et al., supra Fn. 50, 191.

108

Vgl. M. Nowak, „Reparation by the Human Rights Chamber for Bosnia and Herzegovina“, in de Feyter et al. supra Fn. 50, 245.

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wurden. Wie der Internationale Strafgerichtshof nur zuständig ist, über Völkermord, Kriegsverbrechen und Verbrechen gegen die Menschlichkeit zu urteilen, so könnte auch die Zuständigkeit des Internationalen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte auf besonders schwere Menschenrechtsverletzungen beschränkt werden. Aber es wäre auch ein à la carte System denkbar, wonach jeder Vertragsstaat bei der Ratifizierung des Statuts bestimmte Menschenrechtsverträge von der Jurisdiktion des Gerichtshofs ausnehmen kann oder ausdrücklich jene Menschenrechtsverträge aufzählt, die von der Jurisdiktion des Gerichtshofs umfasst sein sollen. Um Doppelzuständigkeiten zu vermeiden, sollte dann gleichzeitig die fakultative Zuständigkeit der in den jeweiligen Verträgen vorgesehenen Vertragsüberwachungsorgane (z.B. Menschenrechtsausschuss oder Ausschuss gegen die Folter) zur Entscheidung über Individualbeschwerden aufgekündigt werden.109 Im Prinzip könnte das Statut auch für die Ratifizierung durch nicht-staatliche Rechtsträger wie internationale Organisationen oder transnationale Konzerne geöffnet werden.110 Beispielsweise könnten die Vereinten Nationen durch die Ratifizierung des Statuts die Zuständigkeit des Gerichtshofs anerkennen, über Beschwerden, mit denen die Verletzung von Menschenrechten durch Organe der Vereinten Nationen im Rahmen von UNO-Übergangsverwaltungen, wie im Kosovo, oder sonstiger Friedensmissionen behauptet wird, abzusprechen. Das gleiche gilt für die EU, OSZE, NATO und vergleichbare zwischenstaatliche Organisationen. Aber auch transnationale Unternehmen, die Mitglieder des Global Compact der Vereinten Nationen sind, könnten sich im Wege der Ratifizierung des Statuts verpflichten, die Zuständigkeit des Gerichtshofs anzuerkennen, über behauptete Verletzungen der ILO Konvention über die schlimmsten Formen der Kinderarbeit, der ILO Konventionen gegen die Zwangsarbeit oder über gleiche Entlohnung, der Sklavereikonvention, der Konvention gegen die Diskriminierung der Frauen oder sonstiger Konventionen der Vereinten Nationen zu entscheiden. Es wäre aber auch denkbar, dass die Ratifizierung durch Staaten dem Gerichtshof gleichzeitig bestimmte Kompetenzen in Bezug auf nicht-staatliche Akteure überträgt. Wie die Staaten dem Internationalen Strafgerichtshof jene Kompetenzen (im Rahmen des Prinzips der komplementären Jurisdiktion) übertragen, die ihren nationalen Strafgerichten auf der Grundlage des Territorialitäts- und Personalitätsprinzips zustehen, so können sie auch dem Internationalen Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte jene Kompetenzen übertragen, die ihren nationalen Verfassungs-, Verwaltungs- oder Zivilgerichten zustehen. Wenn also US amerikanische Gerichte auf Grund des Alien Tort Claims Act zuständig sind, über zivilrechtliche Klagen von Opfern von Menschenrechtsverletzungen gegen transnationale Konzerne wie Unocal wegen behaupteter Verletzungen des Sklavereiverbots in Myanmar zu entscheiden,111 so können die USA diese Zuständigkeit natürlich auch einem internationalen Gericht übertragen.

109

Vgl. dazu Nowak, supra Fn. 104, 255.

110

Ibid., 256.

111

National Coalition Government of the Union of Burma v. Unocal, 176. F.R.D. 329 (1997), C.D. Cal. (9th Cir.). Siehe dazu Swan, in Scott, supra Fn. 71, 65 (102). Zum ATCA siehe supra Kapitel VII..

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Das gleiche gilt für individuelle Folterer. Mit der Anerkennung der Zuständigkeit des Internationalen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte, über behauptete Verletzungen der UNO-Konvention gegen die Folter zu entscheiden, würden die Vertragsstaaten dem Gerichtshof auch die Kompetenz übertragen, über die zivilrechtlichen Ansprüche der Folteropfer auf Wiedergutmachung gegenüber den für die Folter verantwortlichen Tätern gemäß Artikel 14 der Konvention in rechtsverbindlicher Weise zu entscheiden. Die konkrete Durchsetzung der Urteile des Gerichtshofs einschließlich der als rechtsverbindlich anerkannten Wiedergutmachungsansprüche der Opfer würde natürlich weiterhin den Staaten und ihren nationalen Gerichten und Exekutionsbehörden obliegen. Wie die bisherige Erfahrung mit internationalen Straftribunalen zeigt, sind die meisten Staaten letztlich durchaus bereit, die rechtsverbindlichen Anordnungen dieser Gerichte zu befolgen und mit diesen zu kooperieren. Abschließend sei hervorgehoben, dass das Prinzip der universellen Jurisdiktion durch innerstaatliche Gerichte und die Schaffung internationaler Gerichte einander keineswegs ausschließen. Die Errichtung internationaler Straftribunale hat keineswegs dazu geführt, dass die staatlichen Strafgerichte ihre Verantwortung zur innerstaatlichen Verfolgung von Personen, die Menschenrechtsverbrechen oder sonstige Verletzungen des Völkerstrafrechts begangen haben, sei es auf der Basis des Territorialitäts-, Personalitäts- oder Weltstrafrechtsprinzips, weniger oder nicht mehr wahrnehmen. Im Gegenteil, das in den Artikeln 1 und 17 des ICC-Statuts verankerte Prinzip der komplementären Gerichtsbarkeit sollte eher dazu beitragen, dass die staatlichen Strafverfolgungsbehörden und Gerichte ihre Verpflichtung zur Verfolgung der im Völkerstrafrecht normierten Verbrechen ernster als bisher nehmen. Schließlich können internationale Straftribunale schon auf Grund ihrer beschränkten Ressourcen nur die Hauptverantwortlichen für völkerrechtliche Verbrechen zur Verantwortung ziehen. Gerade die Erfahrungen im ehemaligen Jugoslawien und in Ruanda zeigen, dass die große Mehrheit der Täter vor innerstaatlichen Gerichten belangt wurde bzw. noch zu belangen sein wird. Aber die innerstaatlichen Gerichte sind aufgefordert, sich an der Rechtsprechung der jeweiligen internationalen Tribunale zu orientieren bzw. sich von diesen inspirieren zu lassen. Gleiches gilt für die menschenrechtlichen Anliegen der Opfer, in ihrem Leiden ernst genommen zu werden und ihre zivilrechtlichen Ansprüche auf Wiedergutmachung durchsetzen zu können. Die Errichtung eines Internationalen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte mit weit reichenden Kompetenzen zur Entscheidung über die Begründetheit konkreter Menschenrechtsbeschwerden wie über die zivilrechtlichen Ansprüche auf Wiedergutmachung würde einen Meilenstein in der Entwicklung des völkerrechtlichen Menschenrechtsschutzes darstellen und könnte nationale Gesetzgebungsorgane und Zivilgerichte inspirieren, dem Schutz der Opfer von Folter und anderen schweren Menschenrechtsverletzungen mehr Aufmerksamkeit als bisher zu widmen.

700

MANFRED NOWAK

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De-Regulating Humanitarian Aid: The Need for New Norms and Interpretations Jordan J. Paust

I.

Introduction

When food and medicine are used as part of an economic weapon against a regime in a particular country, such as North Korea, who is most likely to suffer, the political elite that the weapon is designed to influence or the poorest of the poor in such a country? If the United States and private aid groups wish to send food, medicine, and humanitarian aid workers to help ease the desperate plight of some three and one half million displaced persons and refugees in Darfur, Sudan, are there inhibiting laws and security restraints that need to be corrected? Should private individuals and corporations with purely humanitarian intentions be able to supply food, medicine, and medical services even to known terrorist organizations? During actual war, should food, like medicine, be neutral property that cannot be lawfully targeted and that must be allowed to reach even enemy combatants? These questions raise merely some of the important concerns implicated when states seek to control or inhibit humanitarian aid. In my view, there is one overarching and compelling concern from a religious, political, and humanitarian perspective – that food and medicine should never be used as part of an economic weapon. The harshest consequences from their denial are often felt by women and children, especially those who least enjoy the sharing of power or wealth.

II.

Sanctions Against North Korea

Sanctions against North Korea and the humanitarian crisis in the Sudan have both implicated significant and necessary powers of the United Nations Security Council under Article 39 of the United Nations Charter to make decisions concerning ‘threats to the peace’ and to authorize or mandate sanctions, including economic sanctions under Article 41 and military sanctions under Article 42 of the Charter. With respect to North Korea, the Security Council has mandated several types of economic sanction, including a ban on luxury goods;1 but the flow of food and medicine are not directly impacted,2 nor should they be. 1

See UN Security Council Res. 1718, UN Doc. S/RES/1718 (2006), para. 8(a).

2

See ibid., para. 9(a). The freezing of financial or other assets or resources in para. 8(d) does not apply to those deemed ‘necessary for basic expenses, including payment for foodstuffs, [...] medicines and medical treatment [...].’

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 701-710, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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More generally, the United Nations and each organ of the UN have an obligation under Article 55(c) of the UN Charter that mirrors a major conditioning purpose of the UN process in Article 1, paragraphs 2 and 3, to respect and to observe self-determination of peoples and human rights.3 For example, Article 55 of the United Nations Charter sets forth two relevant mandates for the United Nations and its organs in the following terms: ‘With a view to the creation of conditions of stability and well-being which are necessary for peaceful and friendly relations among nations based on respect for the principle of equal rights and self-determination of peoples, the United Nations shall promote: c. universal respect for, and observance of, human rights and fundamental freedoms for all without distinction as to race, sex, language, or religion.’4

Thus, the obligation in Article 55 requires respect for self-determination of peoples as well as universal respect for and observance of human rights. The need to respect such precepts also finds expression in the fundamental purposes and principles of the United Nations proclaimed in Article 1, paragraphs 2 and 3 of the United Nations Charter – which are declared more precisely as follows: ‘(2) To develop friendly relations among nations based on respect for the principle of equal rights and self-determination of peoples,’ [and] ‘(3) To achieve international co-operation ... in promoting and encouraging respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms for all [...].’5

Indeed, the International Court of Justice has recognized that ‘a denial of fundamental human rights is a flagrant violation of the purposes and principles of the Charter.’6 The Court has also recognized that the need to serve the right of a people to self-determination is an obligatio erga omnes,7 or a customary international legal obligation owing by all of humankind. Since relevant human rights instruments, such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights,8 identify the right of every person to an adequate ‘standard of health and

3

Cf. 1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 55(c) with ibid., art. 1(3).

4

Ibid., art. 55 (emphasis added).

5

Ibid., arts. 1(2)-(3).

6

Legal Consequences for States of the Continued Presence of South Africa in Namibia (South West Africa) notwithstanding Security Council Resolution 276 (1970), Advisory Opinion of 21 June 1971, 1971 ICJ Rep. 3, at 57.

7

See East Timor (Portugal v. Australia), Judgment of 30 June 1995, 1995 ICJ Rep. 90.

8

UN General Assembly Res. 217A, UN Doc. A/810 (1948), at 71. The Universal Declaration has often been used to provide authoritative identification and clarification of human rights guaranteed to all persons through arts. 55(c) and 56 of the United Nations Charter. See, e.g., M. S. McDougal/H. D. Lasswell/L.-C. Chen, Human Rights and World Public Order 274, 302, 325-327 (1980); Filartiga v. Pena-Irala, 630 F.2d 876, at 882 (2d Cir. 1980); see also UN General Assembly Res. 59/191, UN Doc. A/RES/59/191 (2005), preamble: ‘Stressing that

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well-being [...], including food ... [and] medical care’,9 it is not difficult to realize that UN-based economic sanctions must respect and not violate rights of persons to adequate food and health care. Indeed, in addition to the general limitation of UN authority set forth in Article 55 of the Charter lawful powers of the Security Council are limited under Articles 24(2) and 25 to action taken in accordance with the Purposes and Principles of the United Nations Charter.10 Therefore, actions violative of or ‘not in accordance with’ the purposes and principles of the Charter are necessarily ultra vires. With respect to United States sanctions against North Korea imposed by the United States, US legislation prohibits any governmental foreign assistance ‘to any Communist country’, subject to waiver, as restricted in the legislation, by the President. Among listed communist countries are the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, the People’s Republic of China, the Republic of Cuba, the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, and Tibet.11 In my opinion, such laws should not restrict the flow of food and medicine. These should be considered to be neutral property and, as mentioned, their denial to a civilian population tends to harm merely the poorest of the poor. Denial also tends to increase malnutrition, starvation, and the spread of disease that can reach across national boundaries – in short, unnecessary and inhumane human suffering. The consequences of deprivation can also impact negatively on local efforts within targeted states to gain democratic freedoms – outcomes that are relevant to self-determination of peoples and

everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms recognized in the Universal Declaration […].’ (emphasis in original); J. J. Paust, ‘Executive Plans and Authorizations to Violate International Law Concerning Treatment and Interrogation of Detainees’, 43 Columbia Journal of Transnational Law 811, at 822, n. 40 (2005), US Executive recognition that rights and duties reflected in several articles in the Declaration are customary international law. 9

Universal Declaration of Human Rights, supra note 8, art. 25(1); see also 1966 International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, 993 UNTS 3 (1966), art. 11, recognizing the ‘right of everyone to [...] adequate food’, ‘recognizing the fundamental right of everyone to be free from hunger’, and declaring that states ‘shall take [...] measures [...] which are needed [...] [t]aking into account the problems of both food-importing and food-exporting countries, to ensure an equitable distribution of world food supplies in relation to need.’; 1989 Convention on the Rights of the Child, 1577 UNTS 3, art. 22(1), regarding children who are refugees or who seek such status, states ‘shall take appropriate measures to ensure that [...] [the children] receive appropriate protection and humanitarian assistance’, and art. 24, regarding the right of each child to enjoyment of health and the duty of states to ‘combat disease and malnutrition [...] through, inter alia, [...] the provision of adequate nutritious foods and clean drinking water’ (emphasis in original), and art. 27(1), regarding the right of every child to an adequate standard of living, and art. 27(3), states ‘shall in case of need provide material assistance [...], particularly with regard to nutrition [...].’

10

See 1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 24(2), ‘In discharging [...] [its] duties the Security Council shall act in accordance with the Purposes and Principles of the United Nations.’; art. 25, ‘The Members of the United Nations agree to accept and carry out the decisions of the Security Council in accordance with the present Charter.’ Depending on one’s interpretation of art. 25, either the members need only carry out decisions of the Council made in accordance with the Charter or the members must carry out decisions in accordance with the Charter – ultimately producing the same result.

11

22 USC § 2370(f)(1).

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human rights and that, therefore, are relevant to duties of the United States and other members of the United Nations under Article 56 of the Charter.12 There are US governmental regulations that permit certain exceptions to trade, assistance and travel bans that can be complex. One exception concerning Cuba exempts the ‘[d]onation of food’ with respect to ‘transactions incident to the donation of food to nongovernmental organizations or individuals in Cuba’.13 Another exemption allows specific licences ‘on a case-by-case basis authorizing travel-related transactions [...] directly incident to certain humanitarian projects in or related to Cuba’, which ‘may include […] medical and health-related projects, [...] projects that are related to agricultural and rural development that promote independent activity, and projects to meet basis human needs’.14 In my opinion, such measures are serving of human rights and should be extended by the US to other countries that are under US trade or transportation bans. If similar limitations exist in the domestic law of other countries, the limitations should be changed or reinterpreted in order to assure compliance with the duty set forth in Article 56 of the UN Charter to take separate action, joint action, and action in cooperation with the United Nations to respect and observe human rights of all persons to adequate food and medicine.

III.

The Humanitarian Crisis in Darfur

The humanitarian crisis in Darfur has clearly been exacerbated by the violence between militia groups and the Government of National Unity and by attacks on aid workers and hundreds of thousands of other civilians. More than two million persons have been displaced and some three and one half persons depend on aid for their survival. In Resolution 1706, the UN Security Council reaffirmed its commitment to the ‘sovereignty, unity, independence, and territorial integrity of the Sudan’ and its determination ‘to work with the Government [...], in full respect of its sovereignty, to assist in tackling […] various problems’.15 Nonetheless, the Sudanese Government has been part of the problem and the Security Council has rightly expressed ‘its deep concern for the security of humanitarian aid workers and their access to populations in need’ and has, thus, called upon ‘all parties, in particular the Government of National Unity, to ensure, in accordance with relevant provisions of international law, the full, safe and unhindered access of relief personnel to all those in need in Darfur, as well as the delivery of humani

12

See 1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 56: ‘All members pledge themselves to take joint and separate action in cooperation with the Organization for the achievement of the purposes set forth in Article 55.’, which include the serving of self-determination and ‘universal respect for, and observance of, human rights’.

13

The exemption is set forth by the US Office of Foreign Assets Control, Department of the Treasury in 3 CFR § 515.206.

14

Ibid.

15

UN Security Council Res. 1706, UN Doc. S/RES/1706 (2006), preamble.

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tarian assistance’.16 The Council reiterated ‘its strong condemnation of all violations of human rights and international humanitarian law in Darfur’, especially ‘gender-based violence’, and decided that ‘the situation in the Sudan continues to constitute a threat to international peace and security’17; and that a UN Mission (UNMIS), with a mandate to support implementation of a peace agreement, ‘shall be strengthened up to 17,300 military personnel and by an appropriate civilian component including up to 3,300 civilian police personnel’18 and ‘shall deploy to Darfur’.19 ‘Acting under Chapter VII of the Charter’20 with respect to threats to peace and security, the Council also decided that UNMIS is ‘authorized to use all necessary means’21 (a phrase that is understood to include the use of military force22), ‘in the areas of deployment of its forces and as it deems within its capabilities: – to protect United Nations personnel, facilities, installations and equipment, to ensure the security and freedom of movement of United Nations personnel, humanitarian workers, assessment and evaluation commission personnel, to prevent disruption of the implementation of the Darfur Peace Agreement by armed groups, [...] to protect civilians under the threat of physical violence, [and, among other things,] to prevent attacks and threats against civilians’.23

The Security Council also reiterated its intention to take ‘strong and effective measures, such as an asset freeze or travel ban, against any individual or group that violates or attempts to block the implementation of the [Peace] Agreement or commits human rights violations’.24 In my opinion, Resolution 1706 sought to provide needed protection for humanitarian aid workers with a broad delegation of authority to UNMIS – including authority to use selective military and police force at the discretion of the UNMIS commander – and sought to provide needed protection for the flow of humanitarian aid in ways that should be followed in the future when social violence threatens international peace and security as well as the provision of humanitarian aid by foreign governments and private aid groups. Part of the international law supporting such outside military and 16

Ibid., preamble.

17

Ibid., preamble.

18

Ibid., para. 3.

19

Ibid., para. 1.

20

Ibid., para. 12.

21

Ibid., para. 12(a).

22

Cf. UN Security Council Res. 678, UN Doc. S/RES/678 (1990), para. 2,. See also J. J. Paust, ‘Use of Armed Force against Terrorists in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Beyond’, 35 Cornell International Law Journal 533, at 544-545 (2002).

23

UN Security Council Res. 1706, supra note 15, para. 12(a). Para. 9(a) of the resolution decided further that the broad UNMIS mandate includes help ‘[…] to establish the necessary security conditions in Darfur.’

24

Ibid., para. 14.

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police protection and assistance is based in Articles 39 and 42 of the UN Charter. Clearly relevant as well is the duty of all members of the United Nations under Article 56 of the Charter to take joint and separate action to achieve universal respect for and observance of human rights – especially human rights of the victims of violence, displaced persons, and refugees to adequate and available food and medical treatment,25 personal security,26 and human dignity.27 Unfortunately, in April, 2007, the Security Council recognized that the deployment of UNMIS had occurred in southern Sudan, but expressed ‘concern over the restrictions and bureaucratic impediments placed on UNMIS movements and material’, expressed ‘grave concern over the continued deterioration of the humanitarian situation’, condemned ‘continued violent attacks on civilians’, and expressed concern over treatment of UN and other personnel arrested or detained in south Darfur.28 Clearly, UNMIS should have been more active in implementing its broad mandate to use force for security purposes.

IV.

Humanitarian Aid to ‘Terrorist’ Organizations

Within United States law, one finds a federal statute that prohibits the provision of ‘material assistance’ to an organization designated by the US Executive as a ‘Foreign Terrorist Organization’ (FTO).29 In 2007, there were some 42 designated FTOs.30 The US statute declares that ‘[w]hoever, within the United States or subject to the jurisdiction of the United States,31 knowingly provides material support or resources to a foreign terrorist organization [...] shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not

25

See supra note 9.

26

See 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), 999 UNTS 171, art. 9(1): ‘Everyone has the right to liberty and security of person [...].’; Universal Declaration of Human Rights, supra note 8, art. 3; ‘Everyone has the right to life, liberty and the security of person.’; Convention on the Rights of the Child, supra note 9, arts. 19, 22(1), 34-37.

27

See Universal Declaration of Human Rights, supra note 8, preamble, recognizing ‘the inherent dignity and [...] the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family’, and art. 1: ‘All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights [...].’ See also ICCPR, supra note 26, preamble, recognizing ‘the inherent dignity and [...] equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family’ and ‘the inherent dignity of the human person’; Convention on the Rights of the Child, supra note 9, preamble.

28

See UN Security Council Res. 1755, UN Doc. S/RES/1755 (2007).

29

18 USC § 2339B.

30

See J. J. Paust et al. (eds.), International Criminal Law 887-888 (2007).

31

The word ‘jurisdiction’ can be interpreted to include prescriptive jurisdictional competence of the United States under customary international law and, therefore, can include extraterritorial prescriptive jurisdiction under nationality, protective, and universal jurisdiction. It is understood that words or phrases in a federal statute are to be interpreted consistently with relevant international law. See J. J. Paust/J. M. Van Dyke/L. A. Malone, International Law and Litigation in the U.S. 155-156 (2005).

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more than 10 years, or both’.32 The person ‘must have knowledge that the organization is a designated terrorist organization’ or that the organization has engaged or engages in terrorist activity or terrorism as defined in other federal statutes,33 which often define ‘terrorism’ in an overly broad manner that does not require that a perpetrator intend to produce terror and that terror (or intense fear and anxiety) actually occur.34 An inclusive list of types of proscribed ‘material support or resources’ is also set forth in the US statute.35 The list expressly excludes ‘medicine or religious materials’,36 but otherwise includes ‘any property, tangible or intangible, or service’, including money and ‘expert advice or assistance’.37 Thus, the US legislative ban includes the provision of food and humanitarian or medical services as opposed to medicine. US federal cases have determined that any material support is proscribed, even if it is provided for a humanitarian purpose or without knowledge of use by the FTO for any unlawful purpose.38 In my opinion, food and purely humanitarian and medical service should be considered to be neutral and the provision of food and purely humanitarian and medical service should not be proscribed by the US or any other domestic legislation.

V.

Law of War Restraints on Targeting and Controlling Food and Medicine

During actual wars, such as those in Afghanistan and Iraq, the laws of war restrict the targeting of medicine, medical supplies, and food. Medicine and medical supplies are considered to be neutral property even if they are in the hands of or are being sent to enemy combatants.39 Such prohibitions are also relevant to the conflict with North Korea, since ‘war’ technically has not ended and the parties involved in the Korean War are merely under a cease fire agreement.

32

18 USC § 2339B.

33

See Paust et al., supra note 30, at 886-887.

34

See, generally, ibid., 832-843. See also J. J. Paust, ‘Terrorism as an International Crime’, in G. Nesi (ed.), International Cooperation in Counter Terrorism 25 (2006), demonstrating that an objective definition of ‘terrorism’ must include the need for a ‘terror’ outcome. In this regard, the following definition is offered: ‘terrorism’ involves the intentional use of violence or a weapon, or the threat of violence or use of a weapon, by a precipitator (the accused) against an instrumental target in order to communicate to a primary target a threat of future violence, so as to coerce the primary target through intense fear or anxiety in connection with a demanded political outcome.

35

See 18 USC § 2339(A)(b)(1).

36

Ibid.

37

Ibid.

38

See Paust et al., supra note 30, at 875-878, 881-884.

39

See J. J. Paust, ‘The Human Rights to Food, Medicine and Medical Supplies, and Freedom from Arbitrary and Inhumane Detention and Controls in Sri Lanka’, 31 Vanderbilt Journal of Transnational Law 617, at 634 and n. 91 (1998).

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Under Article 23 of the 1949 Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War,40 each party to the treaty ‘shall allow the free passage of all consignments of medical and hospital stores [...] intended only for civilians of another’ party, ‘even if the latter is its adversary. It shall likewise permit the free passage of all consignments of essential foodstuffs, clothing and tonics intended for children under fifteen, expectant mothers and maternity cases’.41 Under Article 55, an occupying power has a duty ‘[t]o the fullest extent of the means available to it’ to ensure needed ‘food and medical supplies of the population’ and ‘should, in particular, bring in the necessary foodstuffs, medical stores and other articles if the resources of the occupied territory are inadequate’.42 Article 54 of Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions43 affirms that ‘starvation of civilians as a method of warfare is prohibited’.44 It is also prohibited ‘to attack, destroy, remove or render useless objects indispensable to the survival of the civilian population, such as foodstuffs, agricultural areas for the production of foodstuffs, crops, livestock, drinking water installations and supplies and irrigation works for the specific purpose of depriving them for their sustenance value to the civilian population or to the adverse Party, whatever the motive, whether in order to starve out civilians, to cause them to move away [...]’45 However, such food and water used by the adverse Party ‘solely for the members of its armed forces’ is not immune.46 They are also not immune if they will be used ‘in direct support of military action, provided, however, that in no event shall actions against these objects be taken which may be expected to leave the civilian population with such inadequate food or water as to cause its starvation or force its movement’.47 Therefore, if food or water might be used by both civilians and enemy combatants, they are to be left alone or allowed free passage and in no case should the civilian population be left with ‘such inadequate food or water as to cause its starvation or force its movement’. A policy of denial and neglect involving starvation can also constitute other violations of humanitarian law when used wantonly or in reckless disregard of consequences. The indiscriminate use of food as a weapon is covered under Articles 51(4) (‘[i]ndiscriminate attacks’) and 54(1) (‘[s]tarvation of civilians as a method of warfare’) 40

1949 Geneva Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War, 75 UNTS 287.

41

Ibid., art. 23.

42

Ibid., art. 55.

43

1977 Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions, 1125 UNTS 3.

44

Ibid., art. 54(1). The prohibition is also reflected in the customary 1919 List of War Crimes, created by the Commission on the Responsibility of the Authors of the War and on Enforcement of Penalties, presented to the Preliminary Peace Conference in Paris on 29 March 1919, crime No. 4, ‘Deliberate starvation of civilians’; see also ibid., crime No. 32, ‘Poisoning of wells’, reprinted in Paust et al., supra note 30, at 36. For additional proscriptions of the poisoning of food, crops, and water by any means and other relevant tactics, see ibid., 695.

45

Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions, supra note 43, art. 54(2).

46

Ibid., art. 54(3)(a).

47

Ibid., art. 54(3)(b).

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and, especially, 54(2) of Protocol I,48 as well as under Article 14(1) of Protocol II to the Geneva Conventions.49 A policy of denial and neglect involving starvation can also result in violations, for example, of Articles 3,50 16,51 23,52 24,53 and 14754 of the Geneva Civilian Convention. Such a policy should also be prosecutable by the International Criminal Court, for example, under Article 8 (2) (a) (ii), (iv), (b) (x), (xi), (xiii), (xvi), (xxi), (c) (i)-(ii), and (e) (v), (ix), (xi), and (xii) of the Rome Statute55 even if starvation is not intentional. In my opinion, food and water, like medicine should always be immune and the laws of war should be changed.56 It is often too difficult for military personnel to tell whether food or water is to be used ‘solely’ for enemy military and, instead of needlessly endangering soldiers with respect to possible war crime responsibility, food and water should always be treated as neutral property. Starvation of even enemy combatants would necessarily be inhumane and involve unnecessary and lingering death and suffering.

VI.

Conclusion

Human malnutrition and starvation are serious enough without the exacerbation created when states or other entities use food or medicine as part of economic sanctions. Often the poorest of the poor, and mostly children, are the direct victims of the use of such strategies. It is time to recognize a ban on the use of food or medicine as part of economic sanction strategies and to de-regulate purely humanitarian aid.

48

Supra note 43.

49

1977 Additional Protocol II to the Geneva Conventions, 1125 UNTS 609.

50

For example, in a given case such can result in torture, cruel treatment, and inhumane treatment within the language of art. 3.

51

With respect to ‘[t]he wounded and sick, as well as the infirm and expectant mothers [...] or persons exposed to grave danger’, who are entitled to special protection under art. 16.

52

See supra note 41 and accompanying text.

53

With respect to special protections for ‘children under fifteen, who are orphaned or are separated from their families as a result of the war’.

54

For example, in a given case a policy of denial can result in ‘wilful killings, torture or inhuman treatment [...], [or conduct] wilfully causing great suffering or serious injury to body or health’ within the language of art. 147.

55

1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 2187 UNTS 90.

56

See Paust et al., supra note 30, at 695-696; Paust, supra note 39.

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35 – THE CONCEPT OF ‘RESPONSIBILITY TO PROTECT’

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The Concept of ‘Responsibility to Protect’ as an Emerging Norm Versus ‘Humanitarian Intervention’ Árpád Prandler*

I.

Introduction

From among the rather meagre results of the World Summit Outcome (WSO) which was adopted by the General Assembly of the United Nations in September 2005 at the level of Heads of State and Government,1 the reaffirmation of the concept of the ‘responsibility to protect’ stands out – in this author’s view – as one of the major achievements in the field of human rights and the rule of law. It should further be noted that the relevant part of the document on the ‘responsibility to protect’ was dealt with and adopted in the framework of Chapter IV of the WSO dealing with ‘human rights and the rule of law’ and not under Chapter II of the same resolution, entitled Peace and Collective Security. This is significant in itself because the nature of this issue might have militated for its treatment under Chapter II as well. Under the heading, Responsibility to protect populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity, one finds two important tasks and obligations which are to be undertaken by the Member States of the UN and by the international community, respectively: — In paragraph 138 the WSO addresses itself to the States themselves when it underlines, ‘Each individual State has the responsibility to protect its populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity. This responsibility entails the prevention of such crimes, including their incitement, through appropriate and necessary means. We accept this responsibility and will act in accordance with it.’2

— In paragraph 139 the WSO addresses itself to the international community when it says,

*

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed herein are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the ICTY.

1

World Summit Outcome, UN Doc. A/RES/60/1.

2

Ibid., at 1.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 711-728, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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‘The international community, through the United Nations, also has the responsibility to use appropriate diplomatic, humanitarian and other peaceful means, in accordance with Chapters VI and VIII of the Charter, to help to protect populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity. In this context, we are prepared to take collective action, in a timely and decisive manner, through the Security Council, in accordance with the Charter, including Chapter VII, on a case-by-case basis and in cooperation with relevant regional organizations as appropriate, should peaceful means be inadequate and national authorities are manifestly failing to protect their populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity. We stress the need for the General Assembly to continue consideration of the responsibility to protect populations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity and its implications, bearing in mind the principles of the Charter and international law.’3

These are the two major tenets of the concept of the ‘responsibility to protect’ (Hereinafter: RTP). Even without entering now into a very detailed analysis of the concept and its possible application we should note the following major characteristics: — During the first stage of a given crisis where negative and horrifying consequences might be imminent, ‘appropriate’ diplomatic, humanitarian and other peaceful means are to be undertaken in accordance with Chapter VI (Pacific Settlement of Disputes) and Chapter VIII (Regional Arrangements) of the Charter. Here we should note the importance which is attached by the WSO resolution to regional organizations and arrangements. — Afterwards, if necessary and ‘should peaceful means be inadequate and national authorities are manifestly failing to protect’4 their population, the Member States are prepared to take collective action through the Security Council under Chapter VII of the Charter (Action with Respect to Threats to the Peace, Breaches of the Peace, and Acts of Aggression). — Furthermore, in this author’s view, there is a third characteristic which should also be pointed out, and it is the following: the resolution ‘[...]stresses the need for the General Assembly to continue consideration of the responsibility to protect populations from genocide, bearing in mind the principles of the Charter and international law, etc’.5 In my view this third element of the resolution goes a bit further than the traditional interpretation of the Charter, concerning the competence of the General Assembly under Chapter IV of the Charter as contained, in particular, in its Articles 11-14. This reference to the tasks of the General Assembly could be interpreted in a way as a request 3

See World Summit Outcome, supra note 1.

4

See World Summit Outcome, supra note 1.

5

See World Summit Outcome, supra note 1.

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conveyed by the Security Council and, hopefully, with the general consent, or at least with an ‘acquiescence’ of its permanent members (the P5) attributing to the General Assembly a more active role in those emergency situations. It should be added that such an enhanced role of the General Assembly could only be envisaged with an active participation in and contribution to the solution of the given crisis by the Secretary-General of the United Nations. Furthermore, I would like to deal with the following points: — What have been the antecedents, the major milestones and the underlying principles of the process of the formulation and adoption of the concept of the RTP? ; — Which kinds of events have been characterised as ‘humanitarian interventions’ in the past and how are they viewed and assessed by the international community and the doctrine of international law? — Conclusions: Prospects of the acceptance of the RTP as an emerging norm of international law.

II.

The International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS)

The end of the Cold War by the late 1980s brought about a more positive atmosphere and a possibility of radical changes in international relations in the right direction. At the same time, as pointed out in numerous writings on these years, new conflicts have also emerged partly due to the disappearance of the ‘discipline’ of the cold war and partly due to the humanitarian catastrophes in certain countries. Suffice it to mention Liberia, Northern Iraq, Haiti, Somalia, Sierra Leone, Rwanda, the former Yugoslavia, Afghanistan, East Timor, etc. In the aftermath of the NATO intervention in Kosovo (1999) the political and legal debate on the possible justification of such actions has sharply increased.6 The government of Canada should indeed be credited for initiating and establishing an International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS) co-chaired by Gareth Evans and Mohamed Sahnoun. Gareth Evans is a former Foreign Minister of Australia and Mohamed Sahnoun is a former senior diplomat of Algeria and a former Special Adviser to the Secretary-General of the UN on Africa. The members of the Commission represented all the continents on the level of high-ranking diplomats, statesmen and academics. The initiative of the establishment of the ICISS was announced by the then Canadian Prime Minister, Jean Chretien, at the Millennium Assembly of the United Nations in September 2000. The Commission worked very hard in 2001, holding eleven 6

G. Evans/M. Sahnoun, ‘The Responsibility to Protect’, 81 Foreign Affairs 99 (2002).

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regional roundtables and national consultations, inter alia, in London, Washington, Cairo, Paris, New Delhi, Beijing and St Petersburg. The report of the Commission was adopted, as envisaged, in September 2001, and was made available to governments and to the General Assembly of the United Nations.7

A.

The Major Characteristics of the Report

The first major innovation of the Report is the title itself, i.e. Responsibility to Protect instead of ‘Right to Intervene’. Although, at first glance, this seems to be only a matter of pure semantics, as will be explained in more detail later on, it represents a radical and deliberate change for not using the formula of ‘humanitarian intervention’. As the Report itself says, ‘we have made a deliberate decision not to adopt this terminology – i.e. humanitarian intervention – preferring to refer either to “intervention”, or as appropriate “military intervention” for humanitarian purposes’. And the Report continues to state, ‘We have responded in this respect to the very strong opposition expressed by humanitarian agencies, humanitarian organizations and humanitarian workers towards any militarization of the word ‘humanitarian’: whatever the motives of those engaging in the intervention, it is anathema for the humanitarian relief and assistance sector to have this word appropriated to describe any kind of military action.’8

Let me add that one of the distinguished members of the Commission, Mr. Cornelio Sommaruga, was a former president of the International Committee of the Red Cross, and we should know that the ICRC has always been resolutely opposed to the use of ‘humanitarian intervention’ in a political and/or legal context.

B.

The Core Principles of the Report

Where a population is suffering serious harm and the state in question is unwilling or unable to put an end to the suffering, the principle of non-intervention yields to the international responsibility to protect. The foundations of the responsibility to protect are based upon, inter alia, the obligations inherent in the concept of sovereignty, the primary responsibility of the Security Council, under Article 24 of the Charter, and the specific legal obligations under human rights, international humanitarian law and national law. The responsibility contains three major elements: the responsibility to prevent, the responsibility to react and the responsibility to rebuild. The third element is again a new one if we compare it to previous practice. Under the principles of military intervention one may find the ‘just cause threshold’, i.e. the large scale loss of life or the large scale of ethnic cleansing, as well as ‘precau7

See more about the work of the Commission in ‘The Responsibility to Protect’, Report of the ICISS, at 81 (2001).

8

Ibid., at 7.

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tionary principles’ such as the right intention, the last resort, proportional means and reasonable prospects. And then we come to the heart of the matter, at least according to this author’s view, i.e. to the question of ‘right authority’. The opening sentence of this part says: ‘There is no better or more appropriate body than the United Nations Security Council to authorize military intervention for human protection purposes.’9 This author wishes to emphasise that although the gist of this sentence could be fully endorsed, he does not agree with using the term ‘military intervention’ when referring to a decision of the Security Council under Chapter VII simply because in this case this action is not an intervention proper in the traditional meaning of the word but an international enforcement measure. Furthermore, according to the Report of the ICISS, the Security Council should deal promptly with any request for authority to intervene where there are allegations of large scale loss of human life or ethnic cleansing. As the co-chairmen of the Commission rightly explained it in their article on the question of sovereignty and responsibility: ‘Indeed, even the strongest supporters of state sovereignty will admit today that no state holds unlimited power to do what it wants to its own people […] Sovereignty as responsibility has become the minimum content of good international citizenship. Although this new principle cannot be said to be international customary law yet, it is sufficiently accepted in practice to be regarded a de facto emerging norm: the responsibility to protect.’10

Last but not least, the Report then examines those situations when the Security Council either rejects a proposal to take action in a given situation or ‘fails to deal with it in a reasonable time’.11 In these cases the Report offers the following alternative options which, because of their importance I quote in full: ‘Consideration of the matter by the General Assembly in Emergency Special Session under the ‘Uniting for Peace’ procedure […] Action within the area of jurisdiction by regional or sub-regional organizations under Chapter VIII of the Charter, subject to their seeking subsequent authorization from the Security Council.’12

The second option, if we take it with certain optimism and flexibility, corresponds to a great extent to the wording of Chapter VIII, as well as to the current practice of the Security Council and the regional organizations during the last couple of years. The first option, i.e. the ‘Uniting for Peace’ procedure, however, has been and has become a bone of contention since its adoption by the General Assembly back in 1950 during the Korean War and therefore it would be worthwhile to take a closer look at it. There is of course no doubt that the ‘Uniting for Peace’ procedure has been used on a number of occasions. Apart from the adoption of resolutions of the General Assembly 9

See Report of the ICISS, supra note 7.

10

Ibid.

11

Ibid.

12

Ibid.

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ÁRPÁD PRANDLER

concerning the Korean War in 1951 and afterwards, the Uniting for Peace Resolution has mainly served as an authorisation for the convocation of special emergency sessions, such as on the occasion of the Suez crisis and the Hungarian crisis in 1956 as well as concerning the situation in the Lebanon in 1958 and in the Congo in 1960. It was also used until the early 1980s (see, as an example, the debates in, and the resolutions adopted by the General Assembly on the Soviet intervention in Afghanistan). It should nevertheless be borne in mind that its adoption and most of its uses have been initiated and prompted during the time of the cold war confrontations and approaches. That is why one of the most recent and authoritative commentary on the UN Charter states as follows: ‘Subsequent practice has shown, however, the idea of collective security as practised by the GA in the Korean Crisis could not be applied in later conflict situations […] it can therefore be concluded that the security system laid down in the Uniting for Peace Resolution has not asserted itself.’13

It is therefore not surprising that the above-cited element of the Report of the ICISS i.e. the ‘Uniting for Peace’ procedure has not been incorporated into the World Summit Outcome resolution.

C.

The ICSS Report and the United Nations

The ICISS Report was submitted by the Government of Canada to the Member States of the United Nations and to the Secretary General, as well as to the academic community for their consideration. It could be safely said that its impact played a role in the initiative of the then Secretary-General, Kofi Annan, when he appointed a ‘High-Level Panel (HLP) on Threats, Challenges and Change’ in 2003 which submitted its report by the end of the next year. This High-Level Panel made a number of important proposals, such as in paragraph 203 of its Report, in which it endorsed a collective international responsibility to protect when sovereign governments have proved powerless or unwilling to prevent genocide, large-scale killings, and similar atrocities. At the same time the HLP has also established precautionary principles, similar to the precautionary principles of the ICISS Report. These principles are, as follows:14 — The principle of the seriousness of the threat; — The proper purpose principle: is it clear that the primary purpose of the military action is to stop the humanitarian catastrophe? — The principle of last resort, i.e. has every non-military option been explored?

13

B. Simma (ed.), Charter of the United Nations – a Commentary, Vol. I, at 266 (2002).

14

Report of the Secretary-General’s High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, UN Doc. A/59/565.

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— The proportionality principle: is the use of force proportionate to the objectives sought? — And finally, ‘the balance of consequences principle’: is the intervention likely to be successful, and the consequences of the action not likely to be worse than the consequences of inaction? Encouraged by both the ICISS and the High-Level Panel reports, the Secretary-General prepared and submitted his own report in 2005.15 Basing himself on the findings and conclusions of the two reports mentioned above the Secretary-General summarized his views on the present subject matter in Chapter IV (Freedom to Live in Dignity), Section A (Rule of Law) of his report as follows: ‘135. The International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty and more recently the High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, with its 16 members from all around the world, endorsed what they described as an “emerging norm” that there is a collective responsibility to protect.’16

While I am well aware of the sensitivities involved in this issue, I strongly agree with this approach. I believe that we must embrace the responsibility to protect, and, when necessary, we must act on it. This responsibility lies, first and foremost, with each individual State, whose primary raison d’être and duty is to protect its population. But if national authorities are unable or unwilling to protect their citizens, then the responsibility shifts to the international community to use diplomatic, humanitarian and other methods to help protect the human rights and well-being of civilian populations. When such methods appear insufficient, the Security Council may out of necessity decide to take action under the Charter of the United Nations, including enforcement action, if so required. In this case, as in others, it should follow the principles set out in section III above.’17 After a long process of informal and formal discussions, preparations of a number of compromise documents and bargaining under the authority of the President of the 59th Session of the United Nations General Assembly, M. Jean Ping, the World Summit Outcome, as adopted,18 contained only a compromise and watered-down version of the previously mentioned three documents.19 One may ask, of course, what the major reasons were to adopt a text which was obviously weaker than the one submitted by

15

In Larger Freedom: Towards Development, Security and Human Rights for All, UN Doc. A/59/2005.

16

Our Shared Responsibility: Collective Security in the 21st Century, UN Doc. A/59/565.

17

See In Larger Freedom, supra note 15.

18

See World Summit Outcome, supra note 1.

19

P. Hilpold, ‘The Duty to Protect and the Reform of the United Nations – A new Step in the Development of International Law?’, 10 Max Planck Yearbook of the United Nations Law 37 (2006).

718

ÁRPÁD PRANDLER

the Secretary-General? The answer is provided, at least according to my view, by the following circumstances: The permanent members of the Security Council, since the establishment of the United Nations, have consistently insisted on preserving and upholding the basic provisions of the UN Charter concerning the prerogatives of the Security Council, and its permanent members, in accordance with Chapters V, VI and VII. In this connection it should also be noted that the Secretary-General was rather cautious himself when he addressed the modalities of the use of force in his report: ‘As to genocide, ethnic cleansing and other such crimes against humanity, are they not also threats to international peace and security, against which humanity should be able to look to the Security Council for protection?’20

And then he continued in the following paragraph (126): ‘The task is not to find alternatives to the Security Council as a source of authority but to make it work better.’21 As a logical sequence, however, he concluded with the following proposal, ‘I therefore recommend that the Security Council adopt a resolution setting out these principles and expressing its intention to be guided by them when deciding whether to authorise or mandate the use of force.’22

And here we should underline that actually he had in mind those principles which had been elaborated in the reports of the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty as well as that of the High-Level Panel. To mention some of them: the proper purpose of the proposed military action, whether the military option is proportional to the threat at hand, whether there is a reasonable chance of success, etc. Although in my view this approach has undoubtedly been very cautious, I venture to say that the sheer mentioning of the elaboration of a resolution containing certain guidelines for the Security Council, including its permanent members, prescribing how they should take action in a given situation would have been considered by some of the major powers concerned as an attempt to restrict their room for manoeuvre. That is the reason, in my view, why the World Summit Outcome does not speak about the principles or guidelines to be used in such circumstances, and therefore paragraph 139 only reaffirms that, ‘[…] we are prepared to take collective action, in a timely and decisive manner, through the Security Council, in accordance with the Charter, including Chapter VII, on a case-by-case basis […]’23 While speaking about the reluctance of the permanent members of the Security Council to go beyond the well-established framework of the Charter provisions, we should not forget that, at the same time, there has also been reluctance to accept some

20

See In Larger Freedom, supra note 15.

21

See ibid.

22

See ibid.

23

See World Summit Outcome, supra note 1.

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radical formulations made by a great number of developing, mainly middle-sized or smaller countries. This group of countries, viewing the issue of the responsibility to protect from another angle, did not wish to provide the principal organs of the United Nations with more power to follow more closely, and in their view eventually to interfere with matters which these countries still conceive as ‘matters which are essentially within the domestic jurisdiction of any state‘ in accordance with Article 2, paragraph 7 the Charter of the United Nations. As a consequence of the two considerations and pressures mentioned above, the results on the very formulation and characteristics of ‘the responsibility to protect’ were rather modest at the World Summit. One could, nevertheless, safely say that they still represent a solid basis on which to construct a system of multilateral safeguards. But we have to come back to this issue at a later stage. As a next step we have to have a look at the concept of ‘humanitarian intervention’ and to find out why this concept was dropped completely from the vocabulary of the World Summit Outcome.

III.

The Concept of Humanitarian Intervention

According to the Encyclopaedia of Public International Law ‘the “classical” concept of humanitarian intervention which traces back to the ancient times of international law encompasses any use of armed force by a State against another State for the purpose of protecting the life and liberty of the citizens of the latter State unwilling or unable to do so itself. A variant of this type of humanitarian intervention may be seen in any use of armed force by a State for the purpose of protecting the life and liberty of the citizens of its own nationals or those of third States threatened abroad.’24

As we know, the most often cited example of the first ‘classical humanitarian intervention’ was the one which intended to defend the Greek Christian citizens by European powers against the Ottoman Empire, in the first half of the 19th century. According to one of the experts of this question, in the second half of that century: ‘it is questionable whether (most of) the armed interventions made by members of the European Concert for the protection of Christian minorities in the Near or Middle East really have a claim to be ranked as “humanitarian intervention” in a true legal sense, as it has often been done in the literature.’25

However, it should be noted that in the period before World War I the majority of the writers on international law accepted the idea of lawful humanitarian intervention.

24

U. Beyerlin, ‘Humanitarian Intervention’ in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopaedia of Public International Law, Vol. II, at 926 (1995).

25

W. D. Verwey, ‘Humanitarian Intervention’, in A. Cassese (ed.), The Current Legal Regulation of the Use of Force (1986).

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ÁRPÁD PRANDLER

After the establishment of the League of Nations, and the adoption of its Covenant in 1919, and especially after 1928, by the adoption of the ‘Kellogg-Briand Pact’, also known as the ‘Pact of Paris’, the official title of which is Treaty for the Renunciation of War, and which entered into force in 1929, spelling out the principle and providing for their renunciation of war as an instrument of national policy, it has become more difficult to justify the notion of humanitarian intervention as an institution under international customary law. At the same time we have to admit that, during this epoch, the majority of international lawyers were still in favour of such an approach, i.e. the acceptance of the doctrine of the humanitarian intervention. On the other hand, as far as state practice and the system of the League of Nations are concerned, it could be safely stated that the institution of humanitarian intervention was not clearly established under international customary law before World War II.26 With regard to the post-World War II, period, it is the deep conviction of this writer that the concept of ‘humanitarian intervention’ has become and continues to be in a clear-cut conflict with the prohibition of the use or the threat of use of force as enshrined by the Charter, namely: ‘All Members shall refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the Purposes of the United Nations.’27

It is also well-known that there are two exceptions to the absolute scope of this prohibition: the first exception is the principle of self-defence under Article 51 of the Charter. The second exception is based upon the primary responsibility of the Security Council for the maintenance of international peace and security, which was conferred on the Council by Article 24 of the Charter: ‘In order to ensure prompt and effective action by the United Nations, its Members confer on the Security Council’s primary responsibility for the maintenance of international peace and security and agree that in carrying out its duties under this responsibility the Security Council acts on their behalf.’28

In accordance with this mandate, Article 39 spells out the following rule, which is of basic importance, ‘The Security Council shall determine the existence of any threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression and shall make recommendations, or decide what measures shall be taken in accordance with Articles 41 and 42, to maintain or restore international peace and security.’29

26

See ibid.

27

1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 2, para. 4.

28

Ibid., art. 24.

29

Ibid., art. 39.

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In accordance with this provision the Security Council may decide to adopt various measures, relating to diplomatic and economic (trade) relations, as well as communications, and as a last resort, military measures and sanctions. Speaking about the exceptions to the rule of non-use of force, one first of all has to note that, apart from these two exceptions referred to above, there is nothing in the Charter which could be interpreted as a basis for humanitarian intervention, even though this concept was neither referred to nor mentioned in the Charter at all. At the same time one cannot but inevitably ask the following question: if, according to the Charter of the United Nations, it is so clear that humanitarian interventions are legally not permissible, why were a number of military actions, characterized by their principle protagonists as being of humanitarian nature, taken during the past decades? The answer could be found in two important phenomena of the post- World-War II history. To put it briefly: firstly, it was mainly due to the failure of the Security Council, in consequence to the deadlock created by the deep antagonism of the Cold War, to act decisively as envisaged by the founding fathers. Secondly, when the states acted unilaterally and intervened in other countries, without the proper authorisation of the Security Council, they tried to enlist political and moral support for their eventual acts of intervention by invoking humanitarian and moral causes. Keeping in mind this historical context as outlined above I should first of all mention a number of armed interventions which have generally been characterized by the states concerned as responding to humanitarian challenges.30 Afterwards, I will attempt to summarise briefly the views of some of the leading authorities of the doctrine of international law on the concept of ‘humanitarian intervention’. In 1948, a number of Arab states intervened in Palestine after the resolution of the United Nations on the establishment of the State of Israel. Some of the arguments for the intervention, such as the statement of Egypt, stressed that ‘her forces had entered Palestine to protect the lives and property of the Arab inhabitants of Palestine […]’.31 As Professor Verwey notes, ‘the political objectives involved, just as in the case of Israeli counter-interventions aimed (among other objectives) at protecting Jews in Arab countries, are too well-known, however, and need no comment’.32 The argument for the protection of their nationals was also recalled by the United Kingdom and France in the course of the Suez crisis in 1956. Similar arguments were used by the United States concerning Lebanon in 1958.33

30

See U. Beyerlin, supra note 24, at 928-929; P. Hilpold, ‘Humanitarian Intervention: Is there a Need for a Legal Reappraisal?’, 12 European Journal of International Law 437-467 (2001); W. D.Verwey, ‘Humanitarian Intervention’, in A. Cassese (ed.), The Current Regulation of the Use of Force 61-66 (1986).

31

See Verwey, supra note 25, at 61.

32

Ibid., at 30.

33

See supra note 24, at 928.

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ÁRPÁD PRANDLER

In 1960, Belgium intervened in the Congo to protect Belgian and other European nationals. As one of the outstanding authors on these issues, Professor Verwey points out: ‘It has never become quite clear which and how many foreigners were to be saved. Clear was, however, that the Belgian troops stayed on […] and took active part in the civil war on the side of the Katangese rebels who, Belgium hoped, would respect Belgian commercial interests […].’34

Similar action was taken in the Congo in 1964, when Congolese rebel forces took more than 500 Belgian and almost 300 Greek, Italian, American, Canadian and British nationals hostage. Belgium and the United States informed the UN, through its Secretary- General of their plans and afterwards intervened. They also rescued several hundred Asian and Congolese nationals. According to Verwey, this action can be taken as a ‘true’ humanitarian intervention and should be viewed as lawful in character.35 One should add that in this case the legal government of the Congo also agreed to this action. In 1965 US marines landed in the Dominican Republic in order to ‘protect the lives of Americans and the nationals of other countries […]’ Later on, with the consent of the Organization of the American States (OAS), about 20,000 American soldiers landed and stayed on the island. As Professor Verwey puts it: ‘President Johnson revealed the real objectives of the intervention in an address in which he spoke the famous words, the “American nation cannot, must not and will not permit the establishment of another communist government in the Western hemisphere”.’36

As for the 1970s and 1980s, it is worth referring to the arguments advanced by Peter Hilpold. After mentioning India’s side-taking in the independence war of Bangladesh against Pakistan in 1971, Vietnam’s intervention in Kampuchea in 1978 and 1979, Tanzania’s intervention in Idi Amin’s Uganda in 1979, and the US interventions in Grenada in 1983 and in Panama in 1989-1990, he points out the following: ‘In none of these cases can it be denied that the intervention provided – to a greater or a lesser degree – some humanitarian relief. At the same time it must be acknowledged that additional – in most cases prevailing – elements were always present that prompted the interventor to act.’37

It must be added that, interestingly enough, neither Vietnam nor Tanzania have put forward arguments concerning their military action as being based on humanitarian grounds, although the elimination of both the Pol Pot regime, which committed large34

See Verwey, supra note 25, at 61.

35

See Verwey, supra note 25, at 62.

36

Ibid., at 34.

37

See Hilpold, supra note 19, at 444.

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scale genocide, and the dictatorial and inhumane regime of Idi Amin could have evoked certain sympathy from various quarters. If we would like to draw a well-considered conclusion from the events which have been referred to above, this author could share the following position expressed by Peter Hilpold: ‘Thus, it could be inferred from these events and reactions that the necessary elements for the formation of a customary rule allowing measures of humanitarian intervention were not only not present but relevant state practice was a thorough confirmation of the rule which excludes the permissibility of such interventions.’38

It should be stressed that after the end of the Cold War in 1989-1990, the international community had to face a new situation in this field as well, i.e. how to respond to grave crises created by constant and mass violations of human rights and humanitarian principles. The first years of the early 1990s produced both positive and negative results. On the negative side, the Security Council and the international community as such did neither have the determination nor the means to stop the unfolding tragedy in the former Yugoslavia and later on the genocide in Rwanda. Only after years of hesitation and delays was some decisive action taken, such as the establishment of the ICTY and the ICTR. On the positive side, one may note the following developments mainly related to Iraq, Somalia, Rwanda and Haiti: ‘The Security Council, in its resolution 688 (1991), called upon Iraq to end suppressive measures against its population and against the Kurds. Although the resolution was not adopted with a clear intention to act under Chapter VII of the Charter, it nevertheless referred to the existence of a “threat to international peace and security in the region”.’39

Several other resolutions followed this one, which led to certain coercive measures as well. Similar resolutions were adopted by the Security Council: Resolution 794 (1992) concerning the situation in Somalia, Resolution 940 (1994) concerning the situation in Haiti and Resolution 929 (1994) concerning the situation in Rwanda. It goes without saying that even a brief review of the developments of the 1990s cannot be complete without mentioning Kosovo. Since the historical background and the political intricacies of the Kosovo crisis have been in the forefront of world attention during the last two decades we can limit ourselves to sketch a few salient facts and events here: The Constitution of the Socialist Federative Republic of Yugoslavia of 1974 established two autonomous provinces within the Republic of Serbia, i.e. Vojvodina in the north and Kosovo in the south. Due to the nationalistic and intransigent policies of the Milosevic regime the autonomous status of both provinces was revoked in 1989. The great Serbian ethnic repression of the Albanian majority was continuously strengthened 38

See ibid., at 445.

39

Security Council Res. 688, UN Doc. S/RES/688 (1991).

724

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in the 1990s which has, on its part, contributed to an increasingly violent response from the Albanian side pushing back the more moderate policies of Ibrahim Rugova. From early 1998 the Serbian police and security forces started an offensive campaign against the Albanian population, which resulted in a number of atrocities. The Security Council adopted several resolutions in that year on the situation in Kosovo. Resolution 1199 (1998) called on the Yugoslav authorities to proceed to negotiating an equitable arrangement, but to no avail. In its resolution 1203 (1998), the Council reaffirmed that the deterioration of the situation in Kosovo posed a threat to peace and security in the region. After the failure of several diplomatic initiatives and efforts exerted for a peaceful settlement (Balkan Contact Group, talks at Rambouillet between the representatives of the FRY (Federal Republic of Yugoslavia) and the (Kosovar) Albanians, steps taken by the Organization for the Security and Cooperation in Europe, American and Russian mediation efforts, and of course, United Nations efforts as well), and after the largescale attack by the Yugoslav forces against the Kosovo-Albanians, with clear signs of ethnic cleansing and forceful expulsions, NATO decided to launch its air strikes against Yugoslavia on 24 March 1999. After almost 3 months of air strikes, Yugoslavia accepted a peace plan and the Security Council adopted its Resolution 1244 on 10 June 1999. It is not my intention to thoroughly analyse all the aspects of the resolution including its possible bearing on the recent unilateral declaration of the independence of Kosovo. I will, nevertheless, make an attempt to briefly summarize the impact of this NATO intervention in general and the provisions of the United Nations Charter concerning the use of force in particular. To start with, the most interesting feature of Resolution 1244 has definitely been that it does not refer to the military action of the NATO against Yugoslavia at all. This was the result of a compromise which reflected two important aspects. Firstly, the military action of NATO has been neither approved ex post facto, nor condemned afterwards. Secondly, there was an urgent and overriding need to agree on the peaceful reconstruction of and a transitional period in Kosovo, under the auspices of the United Nations and the European organizations concerned, without continuing to discuss the conflicting political and legal arguments. As for the political and legal arguments, the following positions, taken mainly by the permanent members of the Security Council, could be briefly summarised as follows : — The leading powers of the NATO coalition, especially the United States and the United Kingdom, mainly emphasised the overriding considerations of the humanitarian aspects and the grave and continuous violations of human rights; — France mainly argued with the non-compliance of the Yugoslav authorities with the resolutions of the Security Council and with their refusal to accept and implement the agreements worked out in Rambouillet with a substantial French contribution; — The Russian Federation and China, as well as the leading proponents of the non-aligned movement, e.g. India, did not accept the military intervention,

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which, in their view, was a clear-cut violation of the relevant provisions of the United Nations Charter.40 Harris, the author of the book just referred to, put forward the following conclusion: From the State practice in the NATO intervention in Kosovo case, it has to be deduced that it is not generally accepted by states that unilateral or collective humanitarian intervention without authorization by the UN is lawful.41 Undoubtedly, the enumeration of arguments – both pro and against the military intervention – could be still continued. But it is very important that a great number of states, among them several members of NATO, have argued forcefully that the military action, i.e. the air strikes, did not constitute a precedent but an exception to the rule, in view of the extraordinary humanitarian crisis. This was stated by the then foreign minister of Germany, Joschka Fischer, on 22 September 1999 at the Plenary meeting of the General Assembly of the United Nations: ‘Cette démarche que seul justifie, cette situation particulière ne doit toutefois pas créer de précédent qui affaiblirait le monopole détenu par le Conseil de sécurité pour autoriser l’emploi de la force à des fins légales a l’échelon international.’42

Regarding the above, let me finally recall the summit meeting of NATO held in Washington in 1999 on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the establishment of the Organization. The air strikes against the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia were still going on. At the same time, the declaration, adopted on this festive occasion, did not make any reference which would have purportedly endorsed any kind of new rules concerning ‘humanitarian intervention’. On the contrary, the declaration firmly reconfirmed the basic provisions of the UN Charter concerning the use of force in general and the primary responsibility of the Security Council in maintaining international peace and security in particular. As for the recent developments and efforts exerted by the international community, mainly in the framework of the United Nations, on the increase of the timeliness and efficiency of responses to international crisis situations, we have already drawn attention to the following important developments: the Report of the High-Level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Changes43 as well as to the Report of the Secretary-General entitled: In Larger Freedom: Towards Development, Security and Human Rights for All44 ,with its subtitle Follow- up to the outcome of the Millennium Summit, and finally, of course, the World Summit Outcome itself.

40

D. J. Harris, Cases and Materials on International Law 955 (2004).

41

Ibid., at 39.

42

F. Dubuisson/O. Corten, ‘L‘hypothèse d’une règle émergente fondant une intervention militaire sur “une autorisation implicite” du Conseil de sécurité’, 104 Revue générale du droit international publique 889 (2000).

43

See Our Shared Responsibility, supra note 16.

44

See In Larger Freedom, supra note 15.

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With regard to the Security Council, one may make the following observations: There is an increasing tendency by the Council to focus on major violations of human rights and humanitarian catastrophes and to qualify them as a possible and eventual threat to peace and security and thus deal with them in the orbit of Chapter VII of the Charter. We have seen the promising signs of this approach in various cases: from Somalia to Haiti, from Sierra Leone and Liberia to East Timor, etc. This author believes that it is a very important and positive tendency. We should remain hopeful that we will be able to see a more resolute and efficient continuation of this approach in the future as well. At the same time we cannot entertain too many illusions. Unfortunately, there are examples on the negative side as well. It is sufficient to mention only the examples of Darfur and, more recently, Myanmar. In both cases, and especially in the first one, we can see the survival of old reflexes concerning power politics and a narrow interpretation of Article 2, paragraph 7 of the Charter. Having reviewed some of the developments of the last decades concerning measures related to crisis situations in the world, we may conclude as follows: Although all these events and the related resolutions referred to above do contain certain responses as to dealing with crisis situations in relation to human rights and humanitarian consequences, and although nobody questions the importance of this development, they cannot be considered evidence of the acceptance and confirmation of the doctrine of ‘humanitarian intervention’. On the contrary, they should be considered as being an ongoing and positive process of the practical interpretation of the Charter of the United Nations,, as a sign of the reaffirmation of the inherent powers of the Security Council to adapt the provisions of the Charter to the ever-changing realities of international relations.

IV.

Concluding Remarks

There should not be any doubt that we could entertain illusions concerning the imminent and immediate application and implementation of the rules concerning the ‘responsibility to protect’ as contained in the World Summit Outcome.45 As stated above, the unfolding tragedy in Darfur has been and continues to be a very threatening sign of the inertia of the relevant international and regional organisations concerned, as well as the international community as such, to prevent further suffering and tragedy. At the same time one cannot expect very threatening and complex situations and controversies to disappear immediately with the wave of some magic wand. Politicians, experts and writers on questions of international law who would like to see a more resolute and timely response to human suffering very often criticise the Security Council for a lack of more resolute and efficient action in this field. In this

45

See World Summit Outcome, supra note 1.

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connection let me recall the opinion of two outstanding architects of the ICISS Report, namely, Gareth Evans and Mohamed Sahnoun, who argued as follows: ‘There are many reasons to be dissatisfied with the role that the Security Council usually plays […] But there is no better or more appropriate body than the Security Council to deal with military intervention issues for human protection purposes. The political reality […] is that if international consensus is ever to be reached about how military intervention should happen, the Security Council will clearly have to be at the heart of that consensus.’46

And in another context they emphasised: ‘The task is not to find alternatives to the Security Council as a source of authority, but to make the council work better than it has.’47 Finally I would like to stress that, living in an imperfect world, unfortunately one cannot expect quick responses to major crisis situations in the years to come. The elaboration and adoption of the concept of the ‘responsibility to protect’ does not offer a panacea to solve all present and future crises. Therefore, it should be viewed as a very modest step forward in the path of achieving a stable international order while reducing human suffering. This emerging concept sends, nevertheless, a positive message, around which a real consensus has been built by the World Summit of 2005. Even this modest achievement should be cherished, and, if possible, strengthened in the future. This modest achievement, in my humble submission, offers much more for the future than the controversial and much debated notion of ‘humanitarian intervention’, which is in contradiction with a number of basic provisions of the Charter, and especially with the prohibition of the use of force. That is why I cannot but agree with the conclusions on the notion of humanitarian intervention reached by one of the leading experts on this question and I quote: ‘The unilateral recourse to force to end a grave humanitarian crisis can hardly be disapproved of morally, but there is no point in attributing to it legal status, revitalizing an instrument of the nineteenth century that would – in a completely different legal setting – do more harm than good and thus threaten those traits of a still imperfect system that it seems valid to maintain in the ultimate interest of the individual.’48

46

See Evans/Sahnoun, supra note 6, at 107.

47

Ibid., at 106.

48

P. Hilpold, ‘Humanitarian Intervention: Is There a Need for a Legal Reappraisal?’, 12 European Journal of International Law 467 (2001)

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36

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729

Der Einfluss der Menschenrechte auf das Völkerrecht: ein Entwurf Bruno Simma

I.

Einführende Bemerkungen

Im November 1996 wurden Gerhard Hafner und ich von der Generalversammlung in die Völkerrechtskommission der Vereinten Nationen gewählt – Gerhard übrigens mit dem besten Abstimmungsergebnis aller Kandidaten. Wir haben der Kommission gemeinsam von 1997 bis 2001 angehört. Während dieser fünf Jahre hatte ich immer wieder Gelegenheit, Gerhards Energie, Verhandlungsgeschick und Einfallsreichtum zu bewundern. Am markantesten hat er die Arbeit der Völkerrechtskommission wohl in zwei ganz verschiedenen Bereichen geprägt. Zum einen übernahm Gerhard im Sommer 1999 den Vorsitz einer Arbeitsgruppe zum Thema „Jurisdictional Immunities of States and Their Property“, deren Bildung die Generalversammlung im Jahr zuvor angeregt hatte, um eine Einigung in einer Reihe noch ungelöster Streitfragen bei der Kodifikation dieses für die Praxis höchst bedeutsamen Themas voranzutreiben. Diese Auseinandersetzungen hatten sich an Artikelentwürfen entsponnen, die von der Kommission bereits 1991 der Generalversammlung vorgelegt und von dieser seither hin- und her gewendet worden waren.1 Gerhard unterzog sich der so beschriebenen Aufgabe mit der üblichen Bravour; die von ihm geleitete Arbeitsgruppe legte noch im selben Jahr ihren Bericht vor; deren Vorschläge wurden von der Kommission angenommen und der Generalversammlung übermittelt. Gerhard hatte dann bekanntlich auch nach seinem Ausscheiden aus der Kommission Gelegenheit, zum schlieβlichen Erfolg des Kodifikationsvorhabens zum Thema Staatenimmunität maßgeblich beizutragen.2 Während Gerhards Einsatz zu diesem ersten Thema durch mit Hartnäckigkeit gepaartes diplomatisches Geschick gekennzeichnet war, stach sein Beitrag zu einem weiteren Bereich der Kommissionsarbeit durch Initiative und besondere Originalität hervor. Die Völkerrechtskommission berät mögliche Gegenstände ihrer künftigen Arbeit zuerst in einer „Working group on the long-term programme of work“. Dieser Arbeitsgruppe schlug Gerhard das Thema „Risks ensuing from fragmentation of international law“ vor, das von der Kommission in der Folge als für eine Untersuchung geeignet angesehen wurde – wenngleich auf anderen als den in der Kommissionsarbeit

1

Vgl. Völkerrechtskommission, Kommissionsbericht 1999, UN Dok. A/54/10 (1999), 360 ff.

2

Als Vorsitzender des ad hoc-Ausschusses, in dem der ILC-Entwurf anschließend bis 2003 behandelt wurde, um dann von der Generalversammlung 2004 als Konventionstext angenommen zu werden.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 729-746, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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üblichen Wegen und von der Charakterisierung als „Risiko“ befreit.3 Die Generalversammlung gab ihrerseits im Jahre 2001 grünes Licht für die Behandlung des Themas und ich hatte im Jahr darauf Gelegenheit, die Arbeit daran in Gang zu bringen.4 Das Projekt ist dann schließlich mit einem umfangreichen Bericht der Kommission unter Federführung von Martti Koskenniemi erfolgreich abgeschlossen worden.5 Das Stichwort „Fragmentierung“ hat aber nicht nur zu Arbeiten der Kommission Anlass gegeben, sondern in der Völkerrechtsliteratur eine – maßgeblich von unserem Jubilar losgetretene – Lawine von Publikationen ausgelöst, die diesen Begriff, gemeinsam mit denjenigen der „Proliferation“ internationaler Gerichte und der „Konstitutionalisierung“ des Völkerrechts insgesamt, zu einem „heißen“ Thema erhoben haben. Der Leser dieser Zeilen wird sich fragen, was Staatenimmunität und mögliche Fragmentierung des Völkerrechts mit meinem eigenen Thema des Einflusses der Menschenrechte auf das Völkerrecht zu tun haben. Nun, was diese beiden Schwerpunkte der Arbeit Gerhard Hafners gemeinsam haben, ist, dass wir sie beide von der Hinwendung des modernen Völkerrechts zum Schutz des Menschen unabhängig vom Medium der Staatsangehörigkeit betroffen finden – auf eine Art und Weise, die in der Literatur überaus kontrovers diskutiert wird. Was die Staatenimmunität angeht, so wandte sich die von Gerhard Hafner geleitete Arbeitsgruppe 1999 zusätzlich zu den Problemen, über die in der Generalversammlung noch keine Einigung erzielt worden und die der ILC daher gleichsam „von oben“ zugewiesen worden waren, aus eigener Initiative der Frage zu, ob der Grundsatz der Immunität der Staaten und ihrer Organe in Fällen der Verletzung von völkerrechtlichem jus cogens in Gestalt von schweren Menschenrechtsverletzungen durch staatliche Organe, insbesondere des Verbotes der Folter, im Lichte jüngster Entwicklungen vor allem in der Judikatur nationaler Gerichte, eine Ausnahme erfahren sollte. Die Antwort der Arbeitsgruppe zeugt von großer Zurückhaltung gegenüber dieser Tendenz: sie ist in einem eigenen Appendix zum Bericht der Arbeitsgruppe enthalten (wohl wegen der Ansteckungsgefahr) und enthält sich jeden irgendwie operativen Vorschlags an die Adresse der Generalversammlung, schließt aber immerhin mit dem Satz, dass die beschriebene Entwicklung „should not be ignored“.6 Diese Schüchternheit liefert mir ein gutes Fallbeispiel für eine Beobachtung, die im Mittelpunkt meiner folgenden Untersuchung stehen wird, nämlich die Zurückhaltung des „Mainstream“ der Völkerrechtspraxis, für den die ILC repräsentativ ist, wenn es um den Einfluss menschenrechtlichen Denkens auf gewisse traditionelle Institute, wie eben desjenigen der Staatenimmunität, geht.7 3

Vgl. Völkerrechtskommission, Working Paper im Kommissionsbericht 2000, UN Dok. A/55/10 (2000), 321 ff.

4

Völkerrechtskommission, Kommissionsbericht 2002, UN Dok. A/57/10 (2002), 237 ff.

5

Völkerrechtskommission, Conclusion of the Work of the Study Group on the Fragmentation of International Law: Difficulties arising from the Diversification and Expansion of International Law, Kommissionsbericht 2006, UN Dok. A/61/10 (2006), 400 ff.

6

Völkerrechtskommission, supra Fn. 1, 416.

7

Andererseits ist in der Programmplanung der Kommission während des Quinquenniums 1997-2001 der Versuch unternommen worden, inhaltliche Aspekte der völkerrechtlich

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Der menschenrechtliche Anknüpfungspunkt beim Thema der „Fragmentierung“ des Völkerrechts sieht anders aus. Hier handelt es sich um die Frage, ob und gegebenenfalls inwiefern sich Völkerrechtsnormen zum Schutz der Menschenrechte, vor allem die sich daraus ergebenden Pflichten für die staatlichen Adressaten dieser Normen, vom klassisch strukturierten Völkerrecht und dessen Funktionieren unterscheiden. Dabei liegt das Schwergewicht unter dem Gesichtspunkt der Fragmentierung wohl auf der Problematik der Durchsetzung menschenrechtlicher Verpflichtungen, deren Eigenarten einige Autoren dazu getrieben hat, etwa einschlägige Verträge als „self-contained regimes“ zu kennzeichnen und sie aus den Mechanismen des allgemeinen Völkerrechts weitgehend herauszulösen. Um Missverständnisse zu vermeiden: diesen Schritt hat Gerhard Hafner nicht getan. Ich hoffe, damit eine plausible Verbindung zwischen Gerhards Arbeit in der Völkerrechtskommission und meinem Festschriftbeitrag hergestellt zu haben: einem völkerrechtlichen Laborbericht sozusagen; einer Beobachtung der Auswirkungen, die der Gebrauch völkerrechtlicher Normierungen und Rechtsinstitute zum Schutz der Menschenrechte auf das solchermaßen eingesetzte Völkerrecht hat, welche Änderungen sich zeigen, welche davon sich durchzusetzen scheinen, wo das „ancien régime“ des Völkerrecht sich gegen neue Tendenzen zu behaupten weiß oder wo das souveränitätsgeprägte Imperium gar zurückschlägt. Der vorliegende Beitrag kann dieses Thema nur flüchtig und skizzenhaft beleuchten; er gibt Gedanken wieder, die mich teilweise schon lange beschäftigen8 oder die ich demnächst ausführlicher zu behandeln Gelegenheit haben werde.9

II.

Mein Ausgangspunkt: Menschenrechte als juristische Unruhestifter

Die Hinwendung des Völkerrechts zum Schutz der Menschenrechte und die damit verbundene Lockerung des Souveränitätsdogmas hat nicht in allen Lagern Begeisterung ausgelöst. Ich erinnere mich aus meinen frühen Jahren als Professor in München noch an manche Gespräche, in denen Diplomaten aus Deutschland wie Österreich aus ihrer Meinung kein Hehl machten, beim internationalen Schutz der Menschenrechte handle es sich um eine Modeerscheinung, um eine westliche Propagandawaffe im Kalten Krieg, für die einen ein nicht ernst zu nehmendes Pseudorecht, für andere ein verankerten Menschenrechte, wie etwa das Diskriminierungsverbot, zum Gegenstand einer Kodifikation zu wählen – ein Vorhaben, das ich im Licht des beruflichen „Stammbaums“ des Großteils der ILC-Mitglieder und der Erfahrungen mit der Diskussion des Themas der Vorbehalte zu Menschenrechtsverträgen (dazu näher im Text) als für die Menschenrechte eher kontraproduktiv ansah. Die Kommission ist dem dann auch nicht näher getreten. 8

Vgl. zuerst B. Simma, „International Human Rights and General International Law; A Comparative Analysis“, Collected Courses of the Academy of European Law, Vol. IV, Book 2 (1995), 153 ff.

9

In meinem General Course an der Hague Academy of International Law im Sommer 2009 zum Thema „The Impact of Human Rights on International Law“.

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trojanisches Pferd vor den Toren dessen, was ihnen am traditionellen, von Souveränität und Reziprozität gesteuerten Völkerrecht bewahrenswert erschien. Stimmen in diese Richtungen sind inzwischen weitgehend verstummt, aber es gibt immer noch den einen oder anderen Vertreter unseres Faches, der davor warnt, den Einfluss der Befassung des Völkerrechts mit dem Menschenrechtsschutz zu überschätzen, sich von dieser moralischen Aufwertung des bisher kalten, staatsorientierten Rechts berauschen zu lassen und in diesem Rausch bewährte juristische Grundsätze fahrlässig und vorschnell über Bord zu werfen. Gerhard wird sich noch an die lebhaften Diskussionen in der Völkerrechtskommission zum Thema der Vorbehalte zu Menschenrechtsverträgen erinnern, in deren Verlauf Alain Pellet meinte, gegenüber dem Chor der Menschenrechtler (darunter Vertretern des Faches vom Kaliber Rosalyn Higgins) die (d.h. seine als die) „Stimme des Völkerrechts“ erheben zu müssen10 und John Dugard wie auch mich (nicht dagegen Gerhard) als „droits-de-l’hommistes“11 titulierte, die vor menschenrechtlichem Elan schon manchmal von allen guten fachlichen Geistern verlassen würden. Derartige Aufforderungen, einen kühlen Kopf zu bewahren, nehme ich natürlich ernst und meine alemannische Herkunft erleichtert mir dies auch immer wieder. Dennoch halte ich an der Auffassung fest, dass die Entwicklung der internationalen Normen zum Schutz der Menschenrechte heute bereits einen maßgeblichen Einfluss auf die Völkerrechtsdoktrin ausgeübt, eine eindrucksvolle Anzahl gewichtiger Grundprinzipien, konkreter Rechtsinstitute und Verlaufsmuster des Völkerrechts umgestaltet und Prozesse eingeleitet hat, die diese Entwicklungen trotz unbestreitbarer Rückschläge weiter voran treiben werden. Der menschenrechtliche Geist ist nun einmal aus der Flasche. Um bei meiner Metapher des völkerrechtlichen Laborberichts zu bleiben: Die Erhebung der Menschenrechte zu „matters of international concern“ und ihre Bewehrung auch mit völkerrechtlichen Mitteln bringt eine hochinteressante Antinomie, ja vielleicht sogar ein Paradoxon, an die Oberfläche: einerseits hat die Verrechtlichung der Menschenrechte gleichsam das Innerste der Staaten nach außen gekehrt und Vorgänge zum Gegenstand internationaler Diskussion, Überwachung und in einigen Fällen echter Durchsetzung erhoben, die noch vor wenigen Jahrzehnten zum harten Kern der „domestic jurisdiction“ der Staaten gehörten, in die sich einzumischen nicht nur politisch riskant, sondern auch rechtlich unzulässig war. Aber ebendiese völkerrechtlichen Verbürgungen der Menschenrechte treten nun den Staaten, die sie im Einvernehmen geschaffen haben, regelmäßig auch als Hindernisse in den Weg – Hindernisse, die auch rechtsstaatlichen Demokratien beschwerlich werden können, die sich aber für andere Herrschaftssysteme zu echten Existenzproblemen auswachsen. So nimmt es nicht wunder, dass der internationale Menschenrechtsschutz

10

Vgl. seinen Vorschlag aus dem Jahre 1996, in eine Resolution der ILC zum Thema der Vorbehalte zu multilateralen „normativen“ Verträgen einen Absatz mit folgendem Wortlaut in die Präambel aufzunehmen: „The International Law Commission, [...] desiring that the voice of international law be heard in this discussion“, A. Pellet, Second Report on Reservations to Treaties, UN Dok. A/CN.4/477/Add.1, 89 (1996).

11

Siehe dann A. Pellet, „‚Human Rightism” and International Law“, 10 Italian Yearbook of International Law (2000), 3 ff.

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in besonderem Maß von der „Rache des Politischen“,12 mehr oder weniger offenen Abwehrmaβnahmen, Halbherzigkeiten, Scheinheiligkeit, von einem beständigen „Wasch’ mir den Pelz, aber mach mich nicht nass!“ gezeichnet ist. Diese Spannung schlägt sich auch in dem den Menschenrechten gewidmeten Völkerrecht nieder. Dazu tritt noch der Umstand, dass diese Normierungen ja in das traditionelle, auch von der tatsächlichen Interessenlage her echt zwischen-staatlich strukturierte Völkerrecht, in dessen „ancien régime“ also, eingebettet bleiben. Im Ergebnis zeigt sich so ein Laborbefund, der, neben vielen Lichtblicken, die nicht geleugnet werden sollen, den Menschenrechtsaktivisten unbefriedigt lässt, ja vielleicht empört, die am Fortschritt der Menschenrechte interessierten völkerrechtlichen Generalisten, zu denen ich mich zählen möchte, aber – auch – faszinieren muss. Hier trifft das neue Völkerrecht auf das alte, befruchtet es und belastet es gleichzeitig; die Menschenrechte „modernisieren“ das Völkerrecht, verlieren im Gegenzug aber auch viel von ihrer Spannung. Ich möchte diesen Befund im Folgenden dadurch illustrieren, dass ich – im Bild meines Labors verbleibend – die Substanz Menschenrechte gleichsam in eine Anzahl traditionelles völkerrechtliches Rechtsdenken enthaltender Reagenzgläser fülle und die Folgen dieses Aufeinandertreffens schildere.

III.

Die Menschenrechte treffen auf die traditionelle Völkerrechtsdoktrin

A.

Völkerrechtssubjektivität

Der erste Schauplatz (oder, um in meinem Bild zu bleiben, das erste Reagenzglas) ist die Frage der Völkerrechtssubjektivität, das Thema des Einzelmenschen als Trägers völkerrechtlicher Rechte (und Pflichten). Über dieses Thema ist von allen Aspekten meines Untersuchungsgegenstandes ohne Zweifel am meisten geschrieben worden, wobei der interessanteste Teil der Literatur aus der Zeit ummittelbar oder bald nach Ende des Zweiten Weltkrieges stammt, vom Schock der humanitären Katastrophen der unmittelbaren Vergangenheit gezeichnet und vom Impetus der Schaffung eines „International Bill of Rights“ getragen. Aber auch in allerjüngster Vergangenheit ist die Erhebung des Menschen zum Träger von völkerrechtlichen Rechten und Pflichten als Krönung völkerrechtlichen Fortschritts gefeiert worden.13 Während Gerhards und meiner gemeinsamen Zeit in der Völkerrechtskommission war dort viel vom Bedeutungsverlust des diplomatischen Schutzes (als Gegenstand eines inzwischen erfolgreich abgeschlossenen Kodifikationsprojekts) infolge der Entwicklung des internationalen Schutzes der Menschenrechte die Rede. Meines Erachtens hängt die Beurteilung des Gewichts der durch den Menschenrechtsschutz begründeten Völkerrechtssubjektivität des Einzelnen entscheidend davon ab, wie 12

F. Berber, Lehrbuch des Völkerrechts, Bd. I (1975), 29.

13

Representativ: A. A. Cancado Trindade, „International Law for Humankind: Towards a New Jus Gentium“, 2005 Recueil des Cours 316, 203 ff.

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anspruchsvoll wir den Begriff der Rechtspersönlichkeit fassen. Wem es zur Erfüllung der Bedingungen zur Verwirklichung dieses Merkmals genügt, dass in völkerrechtlichen Normen den Menschen Rechte zugesprochen werden, ohne dass solchen materiellrechtlichen Verbürgungen verfahrensrechtliche Möglichkeiten zur Seite stehen müssen, diese Berechtigungen gegenüber den verpflichteten Staaten notfalls auch gegen deren Willen durchzusetzen, der kann mit dem heutigen Stand der Dinge in der Tat zufrieden sein. Wer dagegen gerade in dieser Frage auf dem Grundsatz „no right without a remedy“ beharrt und die entsprechenden Verträge auf universeller wie regionaler Ebene unter diesem Gesichtspunkt untersucht, wird feststellen, dass ein dem Einzelnen auf internationaler Ebene regelmäßig zur Verfügung stehendes objektives Verfahren zur rechtsverbindlichen Feststellung von Menschenrechtsverletzungen und deren Abhilfe „nur“ in der Europäischen Menschenrechtskonvention zu finden ist – „nur“, weil dieses Vertragssystem natürlich eindrucksvoll genug ist. Aber von unserer rechtstechnischanalytischen Warte aus gesehen stellt die Europäische Konvention immer noch eine im wahrsten Sinn des Wortes einsame Spitze dar, die aus einer großen Zahl von Verträgen hervorragt, deren materiellrechtliche Bestimmungen wir auf überstaatlicher Ebene von keinen Durchsetzungsmechanismen im eigentlichen Sinn des Wortes untermauert sehen. Zu dieser Masse gehört das gesamte vertragliche Menschenrechtsregime der Vereinten Nationen. Ich möchte in diesem Punkt nicht missverstanden werden. Ich habe selbst zehn Jahre lang einem Organ der menschenrechtlichen Vertragskontrolle im Rahmen der Vereinten Nationen angehört und mitgeholfen, dem Verfahren der Prüfung von Staatenberichten mehr „Biss“ zu verleihen. Von derartigen Verfahren, und noch mehr von anspruchsvolleren Entwicklungen wie derjenigen der Individualbeschwerde, profitieren die begünstigten Menschen selbstverständlich – aber das macht sie noch nicht zu Trägern völkerrechtlicher Rechte14. So ist die Beobachtung (der ich voll zustimme), dass die Bedürfnisse der Menschen ganz allgemein immer stärker in den Mittelpunkt völkerrechtlicher Anstrengungen rücken, scharf von der Behauptung zu unterscheiden, dass damit das Zeitalter der Völkerrechtssubjektivität des Einzelnen angebrochen ist – jedenfalls in dem (zugegebenermaßen „traditionellen“) Sinn, den ich diesem Begriff zugrunde lege. Aus pragmatischer (d.h. typisch Vorarlberger) Sicht kommt es auf dieses formale Kriterium aber auch nicht entscheidend an. Entscheidend ist vielmehr, ob sich die Position von der Staatsgewalt zu Unrecht verfolgter oder vernachlässigter Menschen durch die Entwicklung des völkerrechtlichen Schutzes ihrer Rechte verbessert hat oder nicht, und diese Frage wird man mit einem nach Gegenstand und Ort abgestuften vorsichtigen „Ja“ beantworten dürfen. Damit ist eine bedeutsame Fortentwicklung des Völkerrechts nachgewiesen, wenngleich dieser Fortschritt in der Frage der völkerrechtlichen Rechtspersönlichkeit des Menschen noch zu keinem Sprung von der Quantität unmittelbar dessen Interessen dienender Normen zur Qualität umfassender Völkerrechtssubjektivität geführt hat.

14

A. Verdross/B. Simma, Universelles Völkerrecht. Theorie und Praxis (3. Aufl. 1984), 255 ff.

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B.

Völkerrechtsquellen

1.

Vertragsrecht

735

In diesem Bereich hat die Hinwendung des Völkerrechts zum Schutz der Menschenrechte wohl die zahlreichsten und praktisch bedeutsamsten Auswirkungen gehabt. Damit meine ich im nunmehrigen Zusammenhang weniger das gerade erwähnte zahlenmäßige Wachstum einschlägiger Verträge als eine ganze Reihe dogmatischer Besonderheiten, die sich um das völkerrechtliche Regime solcher Verträge tatsächlich oder angeblich entwickelt haben. Im Rahmen des vorliegenden Beitrages muss ich mich mit wenig mehr als einigen Andeutungen zu diesen Fragen begnügen. Auch hier ist zwischen rechtstatsächlichen und rechtsdogmatischen Entwicklungen zu unterscheiden. Zu den ersteren gehört, dass die sog. „Zivilgesellschaft“, in unserem Fall in Gestalt von non-governmental organizations (NGOs), in besonderem Masse am Zustandekommen von Verträgen zum Schutz der Menschenrechte beteiligt ist, indem NGOs dazu politische Anstöße geben, die Ausarbeitung durch Bereitstellung von Expertise vorantreiben und schließlich die Staaten durch ihre Lobbyarbeit zu rasche(re)r Ratifikation veranlassen. In der Regel stehen diese NGOs dann „ihren“ Verträgen auch später zur Seite, indem sie die Kontrolle der Vertragserfüllung durch die entsprechenden „treaty bodies“ auf eine Art und Weise unterstützen, von der die nicht solcherart von nichtstaatlicher Seite begleiteten Vertragsorgane nur träumen können.15 Die Kinderrechtskonvention (CRC) und in gewissem Maß auch die Frauenrechtskonvention (CEDAW) der VN bieten Beispiele für diese organisierte Anteilnahme nichtstaatlicher Kräfte am Zustandekommen und weiteren Erfolg, ggf. auch an der verfahrensrechtlichen Weiterentwicklung, von Menschenrechtsverträgen. So bedeutsam diese Anteilnahme aus praktisch-politischer Sicht ist, so dringt sie doch nicht in den Bereich des eigentlichen Law of Treaties i.S. der Wiener Konvention von 1969 vor – dort sind die Staaten, ob individuell oder als Mitglieder der Vereinten Nationen, wieder unter sich: sie verabschieden die Vertragstexte, unterzeichnen und ratifizieren die Verträge oder entscheiden über einen Beitritt, legen Vorbehalte ein, legen die Verträge aus, führen deren Inhalte innerstaatlich durch, usw. usw. Hier treffen wir dann auf die eigentlich juristischen Besonderheiten der Menschenrechtsverträge. Unter diesen soll der Umstand, dass im zusammengesetzten Verfahren des Abschlusses solcher Verträge zwischenstaatliche internationale Organisationen – auf universeller Ebene die Vereinten Nationen – eine bedeutsame Rolle spielen, nur kurz erwähnt werden; etwa dass die Ausarbeitung der Vertragstexte in aller Regel in bestimmten Spezialorganen (in den bisherigen Fällen der VN-Konventionen in der vor kurzem durch den Menschenrechtsrat ersetzten Menschenrechtskommission) vor sich geht 15

Diese Erfahrung habe ich persönlich während meiner Mitgliedschaft im UN-Ausschuss für wirtschaftliche, soziale und kulturelle Rechte in den Jahren 1987 – 1996 gemacht; inwiefern sich die Situation seither geändert haben könnte, vermag ich nicht zu beurteilen, obwohl ich den Eindruck habe, dass die NGO-Community das Projekt eines Fakultativprotokolls zum entsprechenden UN-Pakt mit einem individuellen Beschwerderecht für unterstützenswerter hält als die Prüfung von Staatenberichten durch den Ausschuss.

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oder eine Resolution der VN- Generalversammlung die Annahme des Vertragstextes durch den Beschluss einer diplomatischen Konferenz ersetzt.16 Von ungleich größerem praktischem Gewicht – und in dezidiert kritischer Weise– stellen sich die Besonderheiten der Vorbehalte zu Menschenrechtsverträgen dar. Sie sind in den beiden letzten Jahrzehnten – leider verdientermaßen – zu einem Lieblingsthema der völkerrechtlichen Literatur geworden. Kein anderer Gegenstand vertraglicher Normierung als eben die Menschenrechte hat mehr Vorbehalte angezogen;17 in keinem anderen Bereich stellt sich die Frage, ob ein Vorbehalt noch mit Ziel und Zweck eines Vertrages vereinbar ist, mit größerer Dringlichkeit; in keinem anderen Bereich führt diese Prüfung so häufig zu einem bedenklichen Ergebnis. Dieser Stand der Dinge, der insbesondere unter den Parteien der Frauenrechtskonvention (CEDAW) mit muslimischen Bevölkerungsmehrheiten, dann aber auch angesichts der systematischen „Entschärfung“ des Internationalen Pakts über bürgerliche und politische Rechte bei der Ratifikation durch die USA einen Tiefpunkt erreichte, brachte vor ca. 15 Jahren in der menschenrechtlichen „community“ das Fass zum Überlaufen und veranlasste das Kontrollorgan dieses Pakts, das Human Rights Committee, im November 1994 dazu, General Comment No. 24(52) zu verabschieden, in dem der Ausschuss für sich ein Recht zur Überprüfung von Vorbehalten nach einem von den Straßburger Instanzen für die Europäische Menschenrechtskommission entwickelten Muster mit der Begründung in Anspruch nahm, die Staaten seien für eine derartige Prüfung der Vorbehalte ihrer Vertragspartner ungeeignet.18 Sollte der Ausschuss einen Vorbehalt mit Sinn und Zweck des Vertrages unvereinbar finden, so werde er den Vorbehalt als unwirksam betrachten, den Vertragsstaat also auch als an die vorbehaltenen Bestimmungen gebunden ansehen.19 Diese Haltung löste nicht nur ungewöhnlich deutliche Kritik seitens einiger wichtiger Parteien des Pakts, sondern auch die entschiedene Opposition des gegenwärtigen ILCBerichterstatters zum Thema der Vorbehalte zu multilateralen Verträgen, Alain Pellet, aus, der allerdings in dem Punkt zu folgen ist, dass in erster Linie immer noch die anderen Vertragsparteien dazu berufen sind, unzulässigen Vorbehalten entgegenzutreten. Die traurige Wahrheit ist nur, dass dies allzu selten, und noch seltener mit Nachdruck und unparteiisch, geschieht. Angesichts dieses Befunds scheint sich auch der Widerstand Alain Pellets gegen eine robustere Rolle der „treaty bodies“ bei der Vorbehaltsprüfung, der während Gerhards und meiner Mitgliedschaft in der Völkerrechtskommission, 16

Die mangelnde Vertrautheit vieler akademischer Beobachter mit dieser nun schon über ein halbes Jahrhundert andauernden Praxis zeigt sich etwa in dem – auch in „gestandenen“ völkerrechtlichen Lehrbüchern anzutreffenden – Fehler, die beiden UN-Menschenrechtspakte mit dem 16., statt dem 19. Dezember 1966 zu datieren.

17

Zu den Gründen dafür vgl. meine Florentiner Vorlesung, supra Fn. 8, 176 ff.

18

Human Rights Committee, General Comment No. 24(52) (1994), para. 18: „It necessarily falls to the Committee to determine whether a specific reservation is compatible with the object and purpose of the Covenant. This is in part because, [...], it is an inappropriate task for States parties in relation to human rights treaties, and in part because it is a task that the Committee cannot avoid in the performance of its functions.“

19

Ibid.

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insbesondere im Sommer 1997, zu erbitterten Diskussionen führte, langsam etwas aufzuweichen; ich erwarte eine definitive Aussage dazu im Sommer 2008. Angesichts dieser Tendenz muss es verwundern, dass der Menschenrechtsausschuss selbst seit 1994 seinen energischen Worten wenig Taten folgen ließ – ich würde nicht ausschließen, dass er nach dem Wechsel von Rosalyn Higgins von Genf nach Den Haag Angst vor der eigenen Courage bekam. Aber vielleicht hat diese Zurückhaltung auch ihr Gutes und führt zu einer sachliche(re)n Diskussion der angemessenen Arbeitsteilung zwischen Vertragsstaaten und Kontrollinstanzen. Was jedenfalls für mich feststeht, ist, dass das Vorbehaltsregime der Wiener Vertragsrechtskonvention bezogen auf die Verträge zum Schutz der Menschenrechte nur ganz ungenügende Regelungen bereithält. Dieses Regime ist auf multilaterale Verträge zugeschnitten, in denen, auf verschiedene Weise, aber doch regelmäßig, eine Interaktion der Parteien einen Austausch von Leistung und Gegenleistung vollzieht und damit Reziprozität ihre prägende und stabilisierende Kraft entfalten kann. Dieses Element einer echten, den Vertragsvollzug vorantreibenden, Zwischen-Staatlichkeit reduziert sich bei den Menschenrechtsverträgen auf einige strukturell-formale Aspekte, die bei den Vertragsstaaten aber kein ausgeprägtes Eigeninteresse an der Durchsetzung der vertraglichen Verpflichtungen durch die Partner hervorrufen können. So laufen die auf Reziprozität aufbauenden, und auf Reziprozität bauenden, Regeln der Wiener Konvention schlicht und einfach leer und die Entwicklung effektiverer leges speciales tut not. Die heute wohl herrschende Lehre zum Thema, entwickelt vor allem in der Rechtsprechung der Menschenrechtsgerichte, hat aus dem gerade geschilderten Mangel einschlägiger Vertragspflichten an zwischenstaatlicher Interaktion und Gegenseitigkeit den Schluss gezogen, dass es sich bei diesen Pflichten um „objektive“ Verpflichtungen handle, die nicht eigentlich zwischen den Staaten, sondern, etwa so wie im innerstaatlichen öffentlichen Recht, gegenüber der – im allgemeinen Völkerrecht aber nicht weiter institutionalisierten – Gemeinschaft gelten sollen.20 Solange diese Auffassung auf menschenrechtliche Vertragssysteme beschränkt bleibt, die, wie im Fall der Europäischen Menschenrechtskonvention, tatsächlich die Garantie einer Durchsetzung durch Organe ebendieser Gemeinschaft bieten, halte ich sie für diskutabel. Eine Schwalbe macht aber noch keinen Sommer. Ohne eine solche institutionelle Verankerung halte ich die Theorie der „objektiven“ Vertragspflichten und die Konsequenzen, die daraus gezogen werden, allerdings für fahrlässig, vor allem, wenn die betroffenen Verträge dazu noch zu „self-contained regimes“ erklärt und damit auch noch die letzten Verbindungen zu den „secondary rules“ der Staatenverantwortlichkeit und der Selbstdurchsetzung gekappt werden.21 So möchte ich an meiner seit langem vertretenen Auffassung festhalten, dass man de lege lata wie auch de lege ferenda mit guten Gründen davon ausgehen sollte, dass Menschenrechtsverträge – jedenfalls auch – echt zwischen-staatliche

20

Dazu B. Simma, „From Bilateralism to Community Interest in International Law“, 1994-VI Recueil des Cours 250, 364 ff.

21

Dazu zuletzt B. Simma/D. Pulkowski, „Of Planets and the Universe: Self-contained Regimes in International Law“, 17 European Journal of International Law (2006), 483 ff.

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Verpflichtungen begründen, deren Erfüllung notfalls, ich betone notfalls, auch von anderen Vertragsparteien mit den friedlichen Mitteln betrieben werden kann, die das Völkerrecht der Staatenverantwortlichkeit als „countermeasures“ zur Verfügung stellt. Ein weiteres Gebiet, in das die Menschenrechte Bewegung gebracht haben, ist dasjenige der Auslegung völkerrechtlicher Verträge. Hier haben die Menschenrechtsverträge einer besonderen Spielart der teleologischen Auslegung zur Blüte verholfen, nämlich der sog. „evolutionären“ oder „dynamischen“ Interpretation. Sie geht davon aus, dass sich der Inhalt bestimmter in solchen Verträgen verwendeter Begriffe, wie desjenigen der „Menschenwürde“ oder der „unmenschlichen oder erniedrigenden Behandlung“, durch Weiterentwicklung der in einer Rechtsgemeinschaft herrschenden Wertungen und Auffassungen wandelt, was sowohl vom Interpreten als auch vom Rechtsanwender laufend zu berücksichtigen ist. Soweit diese Aufgabe den Vertragsparteien selbst überlassen bleibt, liegt darin nichts Aufregendes und der betreffende Vertrag wird weiter ein weitgehend „statisches“ Bild zeigen. Obliegt die Auslegung aber – auch – einem Vertragsorgan, das die Kompetenz besitzt, seine Auffassung über den Inhalt einer Vertragsnorm den Parteien gegenüber mit verbindlicher Wirkung zu statuieren, und das von dieser Kompetenz auch in unabhängigem Geist und aktiv Gebrauch macht, dann können die Vertragsstaaten ihre blauen Wunder erleben und die Erfahrung machen, dass sie die Geister, die sie mit dem Vertrag und dessen Kontrollorgan riefen, nun nicht mehr loswerden. Vor allem die Judikatur des Europäischen Gerichtshof für Menschenrechte bietet zahlreiche, teilweise recht drastische, Beispiele für diese Emanzipation vom ursprünglichen Willen der Vertragschlieβenden.22 Sie begegnet uns auch in anderen als menschenrechtlichen Zusammenhängen, doch stellen die mit „treaty bodies“ oder gar Gerichten bewehrten Menschenrechtsverträge ohne Zweifel ihr hauptsächliches Wirkungsfeld. Zwei weitere Eigenarten dieser Verträge erscheinen gegenüber den gerade geschilderten Besonderheiten als weniger gesichert, wenngleich sie von der Menschenrechts„community“ mit Nachdruck behauptet werden. Die erste soll darin bestehen, dass im Falle einer Staatennachfolge ein automatischer Übergang der Verpflichtungen aus den vom Gebietsvorgänger abgeschlossenen Verträgen zum Schutz der Menschenrechte auf den oder die Nachfolgestaaten erfolgen soll, weil derartige Verträge nicht eigentlich die beteiligten Staaten, sondern die Menschen unter deren Jurisdiktion begünstigen wie berechtigen. Diese Meinung wird nicht nur im Grossteil der einschlägigen Literatur, sondern auch vom bereits im Zusammenhang mit dem Thema Vorbehalte erwähnten Menschenrechtsausschuss vertreten.23 Ich habe zu einem Zeitpunkt, als sich die Fälle der Staatennachfolge in die ehemalige Sowjetunion oder in das ehemalige Jugoslawien gerade erst abgespielt hatten, eine zurückhaltend-abwartende Haltung eingenommen – auf der Grundlage der Beobachtung, dass es mir in der Analyse der Staatenpraxis beinahe unmöglich erschien, zwischen 22

Eine Entwicklung, die manchen Mitgliedstaaten sehr zu schaffen gemacht hat, darunter nicht zuletzt auch Österreich; vgl. das in meiner Florentiner Vorlesung, supra Fn. 8, 177 ff., geschilderte Beispiel.

23

Human Rights Committee, General Comment No. 26 (1997).

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einer konstitutiven Wirkung entsprechender Erklärungen von Nachfolgestaaten, der Erstattung von Berichten durch diese Staaten an vertragliche Kontrollinstanzen usw., die gegen die Theorie der automatischen Sukzession sprechen würde, und bloß deklaratorischen Absichten hinter derartigen Akten zu unterscheiden. Ein gewisses Wunschdenken schien mir hier am Werk zu sein. Wir dürfen ja auch nicht den politischen Kontext dieser Akte vergessen – das große Interesse der Nachfolgestaaten an einer raschen Anerkennung, das dazu verleiten mag, zu bestimmten Fragen Ja und Amen zu sagen, ohne feine Unterscheidungen zu treffen. Der Internationale Gerichtshof hat in den Jugoslawienfällen jedenfalls eine Stellungnahme zu diesem Thema – ich meine, aus gutem Grund – vermieden. Die zweite noch nicht als gesichert anzusehende Eigenart der Verträge zum Schutz der Menschenrechte ist ihre Unkündbarkeit in Abwesenheit einer die Kündigung erlaubenden Klausel. Auch dieser Grundsatz ist – vor allem aus Anlass des von Nordkorea im Jahre 1997 angedrohten Rücktritts vom Internationalen Pakt über bürgerliche und politische Rechte – dezidiert als herrschende Meinung vertreten worden, unter anderem von der Rechtsabteilung der VN24 und, wiederum, vom Menschenrechtsausschuss.25 De lege lata geht es dabei um die Frage, ob ein Recht zum Rücktritt oder zur Kündigung bei unseren Verträgen nach deren Natur ausgeschlossen ist oder sich vielmehr daraus geradezu ergibt (Art. 56 der Wiener Vertragsrechtskonvention 1969); der (menschenrechtlichen) political correctness entspricht die erstgenannte Auffassung, gegenüber der ich mir aber, zumindest de lege ferenda, den Einwand erlauben möchte, ob es wirklich Sinn macht, einen hartnäckig auf Kollisionskurs steuernden Staat am Austritt zu hindern. Hier wird es letztlich auf die Umstände jedes Einzelfalles ankommen.

2.

Völkergewohnheitsrecht

Was unseren „Laborbericht“ hier auszeichnet, ist der Umstand, dass der Einzug der Menschenrechte in das Wirkungsfeld des Völkergewohnheitsrechts auf ebendort bestehende allgemeine Verunsicherung26 trifft – eine Situation, mit der ich mich bereits in einer Reihe früherer Veröffentlichungen auseinandergesetzt habe, darunter in einem Festschriftbeitrag für Gerhard Hafners akademischen Lehrer,27 sodass es mir verziehen sei, an dieser Stelle nur ein paar kurze Bemerkungen anzufügen. Ich meine, dass mein früherer Befund 24

Das die Rechtsauffassung der UN enthaltende Gutachten wurde in der Form eines aidemémoire allen Vertragsstaaten des Pakts zusammen mit dem Text der nordkoreanischen Notifizierung der bevorstehenden Kündigung mit Note C.N.1997.TREATIES-10 vom 12. November 1997 zur Kenntnis gebracht. Der Volltext befindet sich in meinem Besitz.

25

Human Rights Committee, General Comment No. 26 (1997).

26

Vgl. B. Simma, „Die Erzeugung ungeschriebenen Völkerrechts: Allgemeine Verunsicherung – klärende Beiträge Karl Zemaneks“, in K. Ginther et al. (Hrsg.), Völkerrecht zwischen normativem Anspruch und politischer Realität. Festschrift für Karl Zemanek zum 65. Geburtstag (1994), 95 ff. Ob die musikalische Anspielung im Titel meines Beitrages jüngeren Lesern nach 14 Jahren noch etwas sagt, vermag ich nicht zu beurteilen, aber der verwilderte Zustand der völkerrechtlichen Doktrin zum Gewohnheitsrecht hat sich nicht verändert.

27

Ibid.

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nach wie vor gilt: im akademischen Schrifttum befindet sich die Theorie (oder Dogmatik) des Völkergewohnheitsrechts im Zustand der Auflösung; eine beispiellose Verwilderung der Sitten um den Gebrauch und Stellenwert der Elemente Staatenpraxis und Rechtsüberzeugung hat dort um sich gegriffen; Wunschdenken regiert weithin das Feld. Das Bemühen der menschenrechtsaktivistischen Zunft, ihren empfindlichen Kreaturen neben der vertraglichen Verwurzelung noch einen weiteren Stammbaum im allgemein anerkannten Völkerrecht zu geben, hat zu diesem Krisenzustand entscheidend beigetragen – man muss sich nur einmal die Unbekümmertheit ansehen, mit der (auch) prominente Vertreter unserer Disziplin schon kurz nach der Verabschiedung der Allgemeinen Erklärung der Menschenrechte deren gewohnheitsrechtliche Verankerung behaupteten, und zwar mehr oder weniger en bloc. Während es sich bei solchen Stimmen aber um nichts mehr als eben um Behauptungen handelte, verdient die Auffassung mehr Respekt, die bei Annahme der Völkermordkonvention durch die UN-Generalversammlung geäußert wurde, dass nämlich die Begehung von Völkermord bereits unabhängig von diesem Vertrag als völkerrechtliches Verbrechen auch von Staaten anzusehen sei. Die Frage nach der quellentheoretischen Einordnung eines solchermaßen existierenden Verbots führt nämlich unmittelbar an die Grenze des Verständnisses von gewohnheitsrechtlich verankerten Staatenpflichten zum Respekt und Schutz der Menschenrechte im traditionellen völkerrechtlichen Denkschema – jedenfalls, was die fundamentalen Menschenrechte anbetrifft. Nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg hat sich das Verbot des Völkermordes oder der Folter unabhängig von Verträgen nicht in den herkömmlichen Verfahren der Entstehung von Völkergewohnheitsrecht herausgebildet, also durch eine irgendwie zustandegekommene schlieβliche Akkumulierung von Staatenpraxis und Rechtsüberzeugung. Ich meine vielmehr, dass sich derartige Normen unter dem moralischen Schock der Verbrechen der unmittelbaren Vergangenheit in einem Prozess der spontanen Rechtserzeugung etabliert haben – wenn man will, durch eine überwältigende opinio juris, bei der es auf nachfolgende Praxis gar nicht mehr ankommt; sollte eine derartige Praxis von der konstitutiven Rechtsüberzeugung abweichen, wird sie von vornherein als Verletzung der Norm verworfen. Natürlich kann sich dieser spontane rechtsschöpferische Schub auch unmittelbar in einem Vertrag niederschlagen, wie etwa das umfassende Gewaltverbot in der Charta der Vereinten Nationen.28 Auf dem Gebiet der Menschenrechte aber ist er den „Prinzipienweg“ gegangen; über die Allgemeine Erklärung „als das von allen Völkern und Nationen zu erreichende gemeinsame Ideal“ weiter zu den Menschenrechtspakten und zahlreichen spezielleren Verträgen. Für lege artis verstandenes Gewohnheitsrecht blieb hier, wenn überhaupt, nur wenig Raum. In früheren Veröffentlichungen habe ich die Möglichkeit angedeutet, die damit skizzierte Entwicklung menschenrechtlicher Staatenpflichten als deduktiven Prozess der Herausbildung von „allgemeinen Rechtsgrundsätzen“ zu verstehen.29 Sinn macht dies aber nur, wenn man die in Art. 38 des IGH- Statuts aufgezählten formellen 28

Vgl. Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Merits, Urteil vom 27 Juni 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14 ff., 98, paras. 185-186.

29

A. Verdross/B.Simma, supra Fn. 14, 386 f.; B. Simma/Ph. Alston, „The Sources of Human Rights Law: Custom, Jus Cogens, and General Principles“, 17 Australian Yearbook of International Law (1992), 82 ff.

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Völkerrechtsquellen als erschöpfend ansieht, was ich sicherlich nicht tue. Meine (zugestandenermaßen nicht sehr erfolgreiche) Absicht hinter der Deutung des spontanen Konsenses i. S. von Art. 38(1)lit.c war einmal, diesen für den Positivisten verdaulicher zu machen. Zum anderen bietet die Theorie menschenrechtlicher Verpflichtungen aus allgemeinen Rechtsgrundsätzen den Vorteil, dass sie einen Weg aus dem Dilemma weist, in dem sich die gewohnheitsrechtliche Schule sofort verfängt: der Diskrepanz zwischen den Bekenntnissen der Staaten zum Respekt vor den Menschenrechten und ihrem tatsächlichen Verhalten, das dazu so oft im Widerspruch steht. Der „mainstream“ der Verfechter einer gewohnheitsrechtlichen Verankerung der Menschenrechte versucht dem durch eine einfache Verengung des Blicks zu entkommen – was für sie zählt, und zwar auch als Staatenpraxis, ist ganz einfach nur das, was die Staaten als ihre Haltung und als ihr Verhalten behaupten, während entgegenstehende Fakten entweder als für den Bestand von Gewohnheitsrecht irrelevant oder bereits als Verletzung existierender Verpflichtungen gedeutet werden. Das ist, wie ich oben geschildert habe, eine durchaus probate Methode, nur passt sie nicht auf Völkergewohnheitsrecht, dem eine grundsätzliche Übereinstimmung zwischen Worten und Taten immanent ist (und bleiben sollte). Der Prinzipienweg über die allgemeinen Rechtgrundsätze dagegen wird, jedenfalls in meinen Augen, durch die Diskrepanz zwischen Behauptungen und tatsächlichem Verhalten bei weitem nicht im selben Maß desavouiert, weil die Annahme, dass die Staatengemeinschaft bestimmte menschenrechtliche Verpflichtungen bereits im Grundsatz – nicht nur als moralische, sondern auch als Rechtspflichten – akzeptiert hat, während die Praxis der Beteiligten noch alle Mühe hat, diesen Grundsatz gleichsam „einzuholen“ , von Augenauswischerei frei ist. Gerhard wird mir vielleicht zustimmen, dass die damit bekräftigte Auffassung von der Entstehung allgemein-völkerrechtlicher Pflichten zum Schutz fundamentaler Menschenrechte durch spontane Bildung von Rechtsüberzeugung, über den Bereich der Menschenrechte hinaus, aber sich mit diesem überschneidend, auch eine plausiblere Deutung der Entstehung des völkerrechtlichen jus cogens bietet, als dies die gewohnheitsrechtliche Schule zu leisten vermag. Einen Anhaltspunkt für ganz traditionell verstandenes Gewohnheitsrecht auf dem Gebiet des internationalen Menschenrechtsschutzes vermag übrigens auch ich zu erkennen. Die seit Jahrzehnten im zwischenstaatlichen Verhältnis und im Rahmen internationaler Organisationen eingespielten Verfahren, in Gestalt derer der durch die VN-Charta begründete und legitimierte „international concern“ mit den Menschenrechten nach dem Motto „Steter Tropfen höhlt den Stein“ den traditionellen Souveränitätspanzer der Staaten zu zersetzen im Begriff ist, die Rechtsbehauptungen der Initiatoren dieser Verfahren wie auch das Verhalten der allermeisten Zielstaaten, entsprechen voll und ganz den Voraussetzungen an die beiden Elemente Staatenpraxis und Rechtsüberzeugung im Sinne der hergebrachten Theorie des Völkergewohnheitsrechts. So meine ich, dass die Mittel und Wege, in denen heute ein „droit de regard“ an der Respektierung menschenrechtlicher Mindeststandards auf bi- wie auf multilateraler Ebene zum Tragen kommt, als im Völkergewohnheitsrecht verankert angesehen werden kann, ohne dass dies denknotwendig auch für die Substanz dieser Mindeststandards zutreffen muss.

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BRUNO SIMMA

Staatenverantwortlichkeit

Dieses Feld des Völkerrechts bildet einen besonders bemerkenswerten Schauplatz der Vermischung konservativer Souveränitätsbetonung mit menschenrechtlichem Gedankengut.30 Was mir hier auffällt, ist allerdings, dass sich die Auseinandersetzung über die prägende Wirkung der Menschenrechte auf diesen Rechtsbereich im wissenschaftlichen Schrifttum wie auch am Sitz der modernen „herrschenden Völkerrechtslehre“, nämlich in der Völkerrechtskommission, bereits vor vielen Jahren entsponnen hat, die praktische Handhabung von Fragen der Staatenverantwortlichkeit durch Staatskanzleien und internationale Instanzen aber davon noch wenig berührt worden zu sein scheint. Noch immer scheint hier die Auffassung, dass es bei der Staatenverantwortlichkeit um eine Abwandlung zivilrechtlicher Haftungsprinzipien auf der Basis eines strikten Bilateralismus geht, herrschend zu sein. Sie ist mir auch am Internationalen Gerichtshof begegnet; hier allerdings viel ausgeprägter, ja geradezu apodiktisch, in zwischenstaatlichen Streitverfahren (deren Gegenstand von den Prozessparteien bestimmt wird), und zwar auch dort, wo durchaus humanitäre und Gemeinschaftsinteressen zur Diskussion stehen;31 während sich das Gericht im Gutachtenverfahren offenbar leichter tut, seine fortschrittliche Seite zu zeigen, vor allem natürlich, wenn sich eine solche Haltung mit der in den Vereinten Nationen bestimmten „political correctness“ deckt. Wie dem auch sei, die nicht zuletzt vom Einfluss der Menschenrechte geprägte Entwicklung des Völkerrechts der Staatenverantwortlichkeit in der Theorie scheint der einschlägigen Praxis gegenwärtig weit vorauszueilen. Für die Theorie stehen hier die jahrzehntelangen Arbeiten der Völkerrechtskommission, die im Jahre 2001 in definitive Artikel-„entwürfe“ (Draft articles)32 mündeten, die von der Generalversammlung zur Kenntnis genommen und der Staatenpraxis ans Herz gelegt wurden.33 Die Bahn für eine adäquate Normierung der Haftung der Staaten für Verletzungen menschenrechtlicher Verpflichtungen machten die Draft articles durch die Grundentscheidung frei, das 30

Vgl. meine früheren Beiträge zum Einfluss der Menschenrechte auf dieses Rechtsgebiet: B. Simma, „Staatenverantwortlichkeit und Menschenrechte im ILC-Entwurf 2001“, in J. Abr. Frowein et al. (Hrsg.), Verhandeln für den Frieden. Negotiating for Peace. Liber Amicorum Tono Eitel (2003), 423 ff.; ders., „Human Rights and State Responsibility“, in A. Reinisch/U. Kriebaum (Hrsg.), The Law of International Relations. Liber amicorum Hanspeter Neuhold (2007), 359 ff.

31

Vgl. meine Separate Opinion im Case concerning Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Uganda), Urteil vom 19. Dezember 2005, paras. 32 ff (Richter Simma, Separate Opinion).

32

ILC, Draft Articles on the Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, Anhang zu UN Generalversammlung Res. 56/83, UN Dok. A/RES/56/83 (2001).

33

Hier dürfen wir uns in Bezug auf den Stellenwert menschenrechtlicher Gesichtspunkte bei der Gestaltung der Draft articles nicht von dem Umstand täuschen lassen, dass letztere den Begriff „Menschenrechte“ nur an einer einzigen Stelle (und zwar in Art. 50(1)(b) unter den Verpflichtungen, die nicht zum Gegenstand von „countermeasures“ gemacht werden dürfen) ausdrücklich erwähnen. Gerhard und ich sind Zeugen dafür, dass sich die Berücksichtigung menschenrechtlicher Aspekte jedenfalls im Prozess der Zweiten Lesung der Artikel wie der sprichwörtliche rote Faden durch die Beratungen zog.

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Rechtsregime der Staatenverantwortlichkeit gleichsam zu „verobjektivieren“. Darunter verstehe ich im gegenwärtigen Zusammenhang nicht den grundsätzlichen Verzicht des ILC-Entwurfs auf Verschulden als Voraussetzung der Staatenverantwortlichkeit34, sondern eine Konstruktion, die den Eintritt der Verantwortlichkeit vom Vorliegen einer (subjektiven) Schädigung löst und demgemäß als konstitutive Elemente der Staatenverantwortlichkeit nur mehr eine (in diesem Sinn objektive) Völkerrechtsverletzung und deren Zurechenbarkeit zu einem Staat voraussetzt. Mit anderen Worten: die Draft articles lassen für das Eintreten der Staatenverantwortlichkeit genügen, dass ein bestimmtes staatliches Verhalten eine völkerrechtliche Verpflichtung gegenüber einem anderen Staat verletzt hat und dem Verletzerstaat zurechenbar ist; bereits dadurch gilt der andere Staat als verletzt („injured“), kann Wiedergutmachung fordern und gegebenenfalls zur Selbsthilfe greifen. Der Eintritt eines Schadens ist dafür nicht erforderlich, sein Vorliegen kann allenfalls zum Eintritt zusätzlicher Rechtsfolgen führen. Aber damit nicht genug: die Draft articles sehen auch die Möglichkeit vor, dass Staaten, die nicht einmal im gerade geklärten, gegenüber dem herkömmlichen, zivilrechtlich geprägten Denken bereits reichlich ephemeren, Sinn „verletzt“ sind, auf Völkerrechtsverletzungen – gleichsam in Verfolgung der Interessen einer Staatengemeinschaft – reagieren dürfen,35 dies allerdings in beschränkterem Umfang. Ich hoffe, dass ich mit dieser kurzen Beschreibung zwei Charakteristika des ILC-Entwurfs deutlich gemacht habe: zum einen den Wandel weg von einem zivil-/deliktsrechtlichen Haftungsmodell zu einem Modell gleichsam öffentlichrechtlicher Verantwortlichkeit; zum zweiten die Eröffnung der Möglichkeit, auf staatlicherseits begangene Menschenrechtsverletzungen auch im zwischenstaatlichen Verhältnis angemessen zu reagieren. Wie bereits angedeutet: diese besonders fortschrittlichen, d.h. menschenrechtsfreundlichen, Merkmale der Draft articles warten noch darauf, in der Rechtswirklichkeit umfassend umgesetzt zu werden, wenngleich sich in der Staatenpraxis der letzten Jahrzehnte eine beträchtliche Anzahl von Fällen findet, in denen Staaten nicht nur auf Verletzungen unmittelbar und ausschließlich ihnen gegenüber geschuldeter Verpflichtungen, sondern auch auf Verletzungen von Völkerrechtspflichten erga omnes mit Maßnahmen des Beugezwangs reagiert haben, deren Rechtsnatur allerdings sehr umstritten ist.36 An konkreten Regelungen des ILC-Artikelentwurfs, bei denen Überlegungen der Durchsetzung völkerrechtlich verbriefter Menschenrechte Pate standen, wären neben den bereits besprochenen Grundsatzentscheidungen etwa die Art. 40 und 41 zu nennen, der bescheidene Rest des ehemals (d.h. noch nach der der Ersten Lesung) umfangreicheren und tieferreichenden Regimes der berühmt-berüchtigten „international crimes of States“, an denen trotz aller Bemühungen ihrer Verfechter immer ein strafrechtlicher Geruch haften blieb und für Verwirrung wie Ablehnung sorgte. Art. 40 führt jetzt nur mehr schwere Verletzungen von Verpflichtungen an, die aus jus cogens- Normen entstehen, doch wird aus Zusammenhang und Entstehungsgeschichte 34

Genauer gesagt, auf die Verlagerung der Antwort auf die Frage, ob gegebenenfalls von Schuld- oder aber von Erfolgs-(d.h. objektiver) Haftung auszugehen ist, von der Ebene der „secondary rules“ des Entwurfs auf diejenige der „primary rules“.

35

Vgl. dazu ILC, supra Fn. 32, Art. 33.

36

Dazu Ch. Tams, Enforcing Obligations Erga Omnes in International Law (2005), 207 ff.

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klar, dass hier menschenrechtliche Verpflichtungen immer eine zentrale Rolle gespielt haben. Völlig offen liegt eine menschenrechtliche raison d’être dem Art. 48 zugrunde, welcher der „invocation of responsibility by a State other than an injured State“ gewidmet ist. Mit dieser Kategorisierung von Staaten, die auf eine Völkerrechtsverletzung reagieren, obwohl sie dadurch nicht in ihren eigenen Rechten „verletzt“ worden sind, sind zwei Fälle angesprochen. Der erste davon, der uns hier allein interessieren soll, hat den Bruch von Verpflichtungen zum Gegenstand, die von einer Gruppe von Staaten in deren gemeinschaftlichem Interesse eingegangen worden sind. In diesem Fall dürfen alle Mitglieder dieser Staatengruppe, gemeinsam oder ut singuli, Wiedergutmachung fordern. Der Kommentar der ILC zu Art. 48 führt als Beispiele regionale Vertragssysteme zum Schutz der Menschenrechte an.37 Die Unrechtsfolgen, die hier eingeleitet werden dürfen, umfassen alle Forderungen, die einem i.S. des ILC-Entwurfs „verletzten“ Staat zur Verfügung stehen; von dem Verlangen, die Völkerrechtsverletzung einzustellen über die Einforderung von Zusagen der Nichtwiederholung bis hin zur Wiedergutmachung in all ihren im Einzelfall gebotenen Formen. Letztere muss in unserem menschenrechtlichen Zusammenhang selbstverständlich „in the interest of […] the beneficiaries of the obligation breached“, erfolgen, also die in ihren Rechten verletzten Menschen zum schlieβlichen Empfänger haben. Diese Verpflichtung zur Berücksichtigung der Rechte und Interessen nichtstaatlicher Opfer stellt einen besonders bemerkenswerten Beleg für die Offenheit der Draft articles über rein zwischenstaatliche Sachverhalte hinaus dar, ist aber nicht unmittelbar anwendbar, sondern hat eher Prinzipiencharakter. Dies bringt mich zum Thema der Durchsetzung der Rechtsfolgen von Menschenrechtsverletzungen nach dem Paradigma des Entwurfs. Dafür sieht er die sog. „Gegenmaβnahmen“ (Countermeasures) vor, wie die (nicht-militärischen) Repressalien heute in einem unangebrachten Anfall von Schamhaftigkeit allgemein genannt werden. Von meinem heutigen Blickpunkt aus betrachtet, verdienen die einschlägigen Artikel des Entwurfs in zwei Punkten Beachtung. Zum ersten führen sie die Menschenrechte unter den Schranken an, die bei der Ausübung von Beugezwang durch „countermeasures“ zu respektieren sind (Art. 50(b)). Bemerkenswerter ist aber, welche Haltung der Entwurf zur zwangsweisen Durchsetzung der Menschenrechte selbst einnimmt. Vielleicht sollte ich sagen, welche Haltung der Entwurf „schlieβlich“ einnimmt, denn in unserem Punkt hat er eine Entwicklung erfahren, die den Betrachter zwiespältig stimmt. Der ILC-Redaktionsausschuss hatte im Sommer 2000 einen Text ausgearbeitet, der in Abweichung vom üblichen modus operandi ohne Annahme im Plenum der Kommission an den Sechsten Ausschuss der Generalversammlung zur Stellungnahme weitergeleitet wurde. Gemäß dessen Art. 54 sollte im Falle eines (oben beschriebenen und wie dort erwähnt, von menschenrechtlichem Gedankengut geprägten) „international crime of State“ jeder andere Staat das Recht zur Ergreifung von „countermeasures“ haben, allerdings nur „in the interest of the beneficiaries of the obligation breached“ – eine Beschränkung, die im Zusammenhang mit Maßnahmen des Beugezwangs schwerer zu beurteilen gewesen wäre, als bei der Frage der Ziel-

37

ILC, supra Fn. 32, Kommentar zu Art. 48, para. 7.

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richtung von Wiedergutmachung – und unter einer gewissen Pflicht zur Kooperation mitGleichgesinnten. Dieser Vorschlag traf in New York auf z.T. so heftige Kritik, dass die Kommission ein Scheitern des gesamten Kodifikationsvorhabens befürchten musste, sollte sie Art. 54 nicht die Zähne ziehen. So beschloss die ILC im Jahr darauf, in der Schlussrunde ihrer Arbeit am Entwurf, aus Angst vor der eigenen Courage, die ausdrückliche Befugnis zu Gegenmaβnahmen seitens (i.S. von Art. 48) nur ideell betroffener Staaten zu eliminieren und Art. 54 durch eine bloße „saving clause“ zu ersetzen, nach welcher der ILC-Entwurf dem Recht von Staaten i.S. von Art. 48, einem Verletzerstaat (nicht mit „countermeasures“, sondern) mit „lawful measures“ entgegenzutreten, um eine Wiedergutmachung im Interesse der Betroffenen zu erreichen, nicht im Wege stehen soll. Gemeinsam mit Alain Pellet habe ich vergeblich für den Erhalt des ursprünglichen Vorschlags gekämpft, bin mir aber inzwischen, auch nach einigen Jahren der Mitgliedschaft im Internationalen Gerichtshof, nicht mehr sicher, ob ich damals die objektive Geignetheit wie rechtspolitische Wünschbarkeit, wie auch die Bereitschaft der Staatengemeinschaft zur Akzeptanz der Drittrepressalie als Mittel der Durchsetzung von Menschenrechten nicht überschätzt habe.

IV.

Schlussbemerkung

Ich hoffe, dass mein „Laborbericht“ deutlich zu machen vermochte, welche Spannung die Internationalisierung des Schutzes der Menschenrechte mit völkerrechtlichen Mitteln in diese Rechtsmaterie hineingetragen hat. Ich konnte dabei nur Entwicklungen in Bereichen aufzeigen, die man vielleicht – mit H.L.A. Hart, nicht i.S. der ILCTerminologie zur Staatenverantwortlichkeit – als „secondary rules“ des Völkerrechts bezeichnen könnte, also als Regeln, die – salopp gesprochen – andere Regeln organisieren. Aus anderen Sachgebieten wäre noch manches hinzuzufügen. Man denke etwa an die in meiner Einführung erwähnte Bewegung im Recht der Staatenimmunität unter dem Eindruck schwerer Menschenrechtsverletzungen, die von der ILC gerade eben einmal zur Kenntnis genommen wurde, ohne dass dies in ihrem Kodifikationsentwurf ausdrückliche Spuren hinterließ, während die von wenig juristischer Subtilität geprägte Haltung bestimmter nationaler (etwa griechischer und italienischer) Gerichte in dieser Frage gegenwärtig den Völkerrechtsjuristen der Bundesrepublik Deutschland großes Kopfzerbrechen bereitet. Man denke an die einschlägige „trade-and“-Problematik im WTO-Recht oder an den wachsenden Einfluss menschenrechtlicher Gesichtspunkte im völkerrechtlichen Investitionsschutz. Am intensivsten diskutiert wird aber wohl das Pro und Contra der humanitären Intervention, also des Menschenrechtsschutzes durch „kind-hearted gunmen“, wie es unser ILC-Kollege Ian Brownlie einmal ausgedrückt hat.38 Von diesen und weiteren Dingen wird an anderer Stelle zu reden sein. Ich hoffe, dass Gerhard auch an der vorliegenden kurzen Skizze Gefallen findet.

38

I. Brownlie, „Thoughts on Kind-Hearted Gunmen“, in R. Lillich (Hrsg.), Humanitarian Intervention and the United Nations (1973), 138 ff.

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37

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Extraterritorial Application of Human Rights Treaties – The Case of Israel and the Palestinian Territories Revisited Andreas Zimmermann

I.

Introductory Remarks ‘The United States [is] afraid that […] the […] Covenant might be construed as obliging the contracting States to enact legislation concerning persons, who, although outside its territory were technically within its jurisdiction for certain purposes. An illustration would be the occupied territories of Germany, Austria and Japan: persons within those countries were subject to the jurisdiction of the occupying States in certain respects […].’

These were the words of Eleanor Roosevelt, then US delegate to, and chair of, the Human Rights Commission, when the draft International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR)1 was first discussed.2 It seems she was thus foreshadowing a discussion that has been ongoing with regard to the occupied Palestinian territories ever since Israel has become a contracting party of the ICCPR, the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESR)3, the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW)4, the Convention against the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (CERD)5, the United Nations Convention Against Torture (CAT)6, and finally the Rights of the Child Convention (CRC)7 – all of which were ratified by Israel without making any reservation nor without adding any kind of interpretative declarations, according to which the respective treaty would not apply to the occupied Palestinian territories.

1

1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, 999 UNTS 171.

2

Summary Record of the Hundred and Thirty-Eighth Meeting, UN ESCOR Human Rights Commitee, 6th session, 138th meeting, UN Doc. E/CN.4/SR.138 (1950), at 10.

3

1966 International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, 993 UNTS 3.

4

1979 Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women, 1249 UNTS 13.

5

1966 International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination, 660 UNTS 195.

6

1984 Convention against Torture and other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, 1465 UNTS 85.

7

1989 Convention on the Rights of the Child, 1577 UNTS 3.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 747-766, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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It is against this background that one has to consider the issue of the applicability of those human rights treaties to acts of Israeli authorities in the occupied territories. The starting point with regard to the question of the applicability of the various human rights treaties to the occupied territories must be Article 29 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, as having codified customary law on the matter of the geographic scope of application of treaties.8 Accordingly, and unless a different intention may be discerned from the treaty, said treaty is binding upon each party solely in respect of its own territory. The question therefore arises whether the various human rights treaties do, under regular rules of treaty interpretation, apply with regard to acts of States parties beyond their own national borders. This question has to be analysed, given the divergent wording of the treaties concerned, one by one. Due to the particular relevance of its content, the following analysis will start more specifically with the ICCPR.

II.

International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights

A.

Wording

The wording of Article 2(1) of the ICCPR is, to state the obvious, not completely clear. The reference to the obligation of States parties to respect and to ensure to all individuals ‘within its territory and subject to its jurisdiction’ – ‘se trouvant sur leur territoire et relevant de leur compétence’ – the rights recognized in the Covenant can be understood as either a cumulative or a disjunctive ‘and’.9 It has been argued that later developments, and in particular Article 7 of the International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Workers and Members of Their Families of December 1990, which contains an obligation of contracting parties to secure the rights under the latter treaty to all persons ‘within their territory or subject to their jurisdiction’ demonstrate that the formula contained in the ICCPR must in turn necessarily be interpreted as a cumulative requirement. Yet, one has to take into account, first, that developments subsequent to the adoption of a treaty cannot as such ex post facto alter its content, and that besides the contracting parties of the two treaties are in any way not identical, which means that the contracting parties of the latter treaty cannot influence the meaning and content of the ICCPR. If ever, one would have to rather take into consideration Article 1 of the First Optional Protocol to the Covenant dealing with individual complaints under which the Committee can receive communications ‘from individuals subject to [the] jurisdiction’ of State 8

S. Karagiannis, ‘Article 29’, in O. Corten/P. Klein (eds.), Les conventions de Vienne sur le droit des traités, Commentaire article par article, Vol. 2, 1189, at paras. 10-13 (2006).

9

See O. Ben-Naftali/Y. Shany, ‘Living in denial: the application of human rights in the occupied territories’, 37 IsLR 17, at 34, 68 (2003/2004). For an cumulative understanding on the basis of the plain and ordinary meaning of the text, see M. J. Dennis, ‘Application of Human Rights Treaties Extraterritorially in Times of Armed Conflict and Military Occupation’, 99 AJIL 119, at 122 (2005).

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party of the protocol. Said protocol thus does not retain the territorial requirement as contained in the Covenant itself.10 Besides, Article 1 of the Second Optional Protocol to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights of 1989, which by virtue of its preamble aims at further implementing Article 6 of the ICCPR, specifically provides in its Article 1(1) that ‘[n]o one within the jurisdiction of a State party to the present Protocol shall be executed’, thereby clearly prescribing an extraterritorial scope of application of its guarantees.

B.

Treaty Structure

Moreover, the very fact that the Covenant refers to the possibility of derogations in situations of public emergency can be seen as a further indication that it was meant to also apply, as a matter of principle, in situations of armed conflict (including such conflicts leading to situations of occupation), such conflicts being the typical examples of public emergencies.11 The very fact that the Covenant, unlike e.g. the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR),12 does not specifically refer to armed conflicts, can be easily explained by the fact that the drafters simply did not want to refer in such a human rights treaty to situations of warfare.13

C.

Object and Purpose

Under Article 31(1) of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, the object and purpose of a treaty is one of the major elements in its interpretation.14 Given the overall goal of the ICCPR to secure human rights to individuals to the largest extent possible, it would seem, to paraphrase the International Court of Justice and its 2004 Advisory Opinion15, natural that, even where States parties to the Covenant exercise jurisdiction outside their national territory, they should be bound to comply with its provisions. Otherwise it could very well be that on the one hand certain populations would effectively be barred from exercising their rights under the Covenant even where undoubtedly only the occupying power is exercising de facto control, the Golan Heights being one example at hand.16 On the other hand, contracting parties would be allowed 10

See Ben-Naftali/Shany, supra note 9, at 69.

11

See H.-J. Heintze, ‘On the relationship between human rights law protection and international humanitarian law’, 86 IRRC 789, 790-791 (2004).

12

1950 European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms, 213 UNTS 221, art. 15.

13

See Ben-Naftali/Shany, supra note 9, at 50.

14

1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, 8 ILM 679 (1969), art. 31(1) reads: ‘A treaty shall be interpreted in good faith in accordance with the ordinary meaning to be given to the terms of the treaty in their context and in the light of its object and purpose.’

15

Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, Advisory Opinion of 9 July 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 136, at 178, para. 109.

16

See generally as to the Iraeli control over the Golan Heights, A. Roberts, ‘Prolonged Military Occupation: The Israeli-Occupied Territories since 1967’, 84 AJIL 44, at 60 (1990).

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to perpetrate violations of the Convention on the territory of another State, which they could not perpetrate on its own territory.17

D.

Drafting History

The drafting history of the Covenant seems to further confirm a broad interpretation of Article 2 given that the main, if not the sole intention of the drafters, had been to prevent persons residing abroad from asserting, vis-à-vis their State of origin, rights that do not fall within the competence of that State, but of that of the State of residence, thus aiming at avoiding a pacta tertiis problem, but not to limit the Covenant’s reach as such.

E.

Subsequent State Practice and Practice Related to Other Human Rights Instruments

Maybe the strongest argument militating in favour of an extended scope of application of the ICCPR can be seen in the subsequent practice of both States and international organs with regard to the extraterritorial application of human rights treaties generally, and the Covenant more specifically. Already in its 1971 Namibia advisory opinion, the International Court of Justice had accepted the possibility of extending South Africa’s obligations arising under what it called ‘general conventions […] of a humanitarian character’ to Namibia.18 This tendency of applying human rights treaties in situations of armed conflicts, including situations of occupation, has also been reiterated on various occasions by the General Assembly19 and has also been unequivocally been confirmed by the ICJ in its 2004 advisory opinion.20

17

See Human Rights Committee, Celiberti de Casariego v. Uruguay, Comm. No. 56/1979, UN Doc. CCPR/C/13/D/56/1979 (1981), at para. 10(3). See also the European Court of Human Rights in Issa et al. v. Turkey, Judgment of 16 November 2004, App. No. 31821/96, at para. 71.

18

Legal Consequences for States of the Continued Presence of South Africa in Namibia (South West Africa) Notwithstanding Security Council Resolution 276 (1970), Advisory Opinion of 21 June 1971, 1971 ICJ Rep. 16, at para. 122.

19

See, e.g., General Assembly Res. 2443, 2727, 3005, UN Docs. A/RES/2443 (XXIII), A/ RES/2727 (XXV), A/RES/3005 (XXVII).

20

Advisory Opinion on the Construction of a Wall, supra note 15, at 180, para. 111; at 191-192, para. 134.

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More specifically, the Human Rights Committee itself has continuously, in dealing with States reports,21 individual communications22 and lately in its General Comment No. 31 of 2004,23 reiterated its position that a State party ‘must respect and ensure the rights laid down in the Covenant to anyone within the power or effective control of that State Party, even if not situated within the territory of the State Party’.24 It is particularly worth noting that the Human Rights Committee had taken the position that the ICCPR may, under certain circumstances, apply beyond the national borders of a contracting party, before Israel itself had ratified the ICCPR. Thus, for example, the Committee had held in considering individual complaints that the Covenant was applicable where the State exercises its jurisdiction on foreign territory, e.g. by carrying out arrests abroad.25 Besides, already when dealing with the reports of Syria and Lebanon in 197926 respectively in 1983,27 the Human Rights Committee had raised the issue of a possible extraterritorial application of the Covenant. General comment No. 15 adopted in 1986,28 i.e. five years before Israel became a contracting party, had in the same vein found that at least certain Covenant rights would apply to aliens not or not yet being present on the territory of a given contracting party, thus once again reiterating its position that the Covenant might, as a matter of principle, apply to persons subject to the jurisdiction of the respective contracting party even if they are within the territory of a contracting party. This approach by the Human Rights Committee had also been, at least by and large, acquiesced by the vast majority of contracting parties prior to Israel itself becoming a party of the Covenant. This meant that Israel, when becoming a contracting party of the Covenant in 1991, did also accept the acquis humanitaire as it had developed under the treaty regime.

21

Concluding Observations of the Human Rights Comittee: Yugoslavia, 28 December 1992, para. 8, UN Doc. CCPR/C/79/Add. 16; Concluding Observations of the Human Rights Committee: Cyprus, 21 September 1994, sec. 2, UN Doc. CCPR/79/Add. 39; Concluding Observations on the Human Rights Commitee: Cyprus, 6 August 1998, para. 3, UN Doc. CCPR/C/79/ Add.88.

22

Advisory Opinion on the Construction of a Wall, supra note 15, at 179, para. 109: the ICJ cited the Human Rights Committee’s View in López Burgos v. Uruguay, Comm. No. 52/1979, UN Doc. CCPR/C/13/D/52/1979 (1981); Celiberti de Casariego v. Uruguay, supra note 17; and Montero v. Uruguay, Comm. No. 106/1981, UN Doc. CCPR/C/OP/2 (1983/1990).

23

General Comment No. 31 [80], The Nature of the General Legal Obligation Imposed on States Parties to the Covenant, 29 May 2004, UN Doc. CCPR/C/21/Rev.1/Add.13.

24

Ibid., at para. 10.

25

See Celiberti de Casariego v. Uruguay, supra note 17, para. 10(3); López Burgos v. Uruguay, supra note 22.

26

Consideration of reports submitted by States parties under art. 40 of the Covenant, Report of the Syrian Arab Republic, 8 August 1979, UN Doc. CCPR/C/SR.160, at para. 44.

27

Submission of reports by States parties under art. 40 of the Covenant, Lebanon, 18 July 1983, UN Doc. CCPR/C/SR.444, at para. 13.

28

General comment No. 15, ‘The position of aliens under the Covenant’, 11 April 1986, UN Doc. HRI/GEN/1/Rev.6 (2003), at 140.

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It is also quite telling that several States have with regard to either, the ECHR29 or the ICCPR,30 when ratifying the respective treaty, made declarations as to the geographical scope of application of the guarantees arising under the Covenant, Turkey being one example at hand. When Turkey ratified the Covenant, it declared ‘that this Convention is ratified exclusively with regard to the national territory where the Constitution and the legal and administrative order of the Republic of Turkey are applied.’31

In contrast thereto, when Israel ratified the Covenant in 1991, it did so with the content it had in the meantime acquired without even making an attempt to limit, by way of a reservation or declaration, the geographical scope of application of its treaty commitments. This means that Israel is bound, in this author’s view, to guarantee the rights under the Covenant, obviously subject to considerations of lex specialis, to all persons within its jurisdiction, and thus to all persons subject to its power or effective control, even if not situated within the territory of Israel.

F.

Practice Under Regional Human Rights Instruments

This interpretation of the Covenant is further supported by the practice arising under other regional human rights instruments.

1.

American Convention on Human Rights32 and American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man33

Both with regard to the American Convention on Human Rights and the American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man, the Inter-American Commission has frequently taken the position that the respective guarantees contained therein do apply whenever the person concerned ‘fell within the state’s authority and control’.34 While this is not particularly surprising with regard to contracting parties of the American 29

The Republic of Azerbaijan declared that it is not able to guarantee the application of the relevant provision in certain occupied territories. See also the declaration by Moldava. A list of declarations is available at http://conventions.coe.int/Treaty/Commun/_ListeDeclarations. asp?NT=005&CV=1& NA=&PO=999&CN=1&VL=1&CM=9&CL=ENG (last visited 4 April 2008).

30

See the list of declarations and reservations, http://www2.ohchr.org/_english/bodies/ ratification/docs/DeclarationsReservationsICCPR.pdf (last visited 4 April 2008).

31

Ibid., at 23.

32

1978 American Convention on Human Rights, 1144 UNTS 123.

33

1948 American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man, OAS Res. XXX, adopted by the Ninth International Conference of American States (1948).

34

See Decision on Request for Precautionary Measures (Detainees at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba), 12 March 2002, 41 ILM 532, at 534, n. 7 (2002), citing inter alia Coard et al. v. United States of America, Decision of 29 September 1999, Report No. 109/99, at para. 37; Saldaño

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Convention on Human Rights, given that Article 1(1) thereof refers to all persons subject to the jurisdiction of States parties, it is worth noting that the Commission applies the same principles with regard to non-State parties such as the United States with regard to situations arising under the American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man, despite the fact that this document does not, unlike the American Convention, contain a specific jurisdictional clause. Thus, already in 1999, the Commission, when dealing with an alleged illegal detention of citizens of Grenada by US military forces, considered that the guarantees arising under the American Declaration may also be invoked vis-à-vis ‘conduct with an extraterritorial locus where the person concerned is present in the territory of one State, but subject to the control of another state – usually through the acts of the latter’s agents abroad.’35

More specifically, the Commission has more recently taken the position that its authority extends to acts of the United States military forces in Guantánamo, i.e. similarly outside the territory of the United States.36

2.

European Convention on Human Rights

The ECHR is probably the human rights treaty that has given rise to the largest bulk of case law as to its extraterritorial application.37 Without going into very much detail, it is safe to say that the European Court of Human Rights has over time on several occasions stated that the Convention in line with its Article 1, which obliges all contracting parties to secure to everyone within their jurisdiction the rights and freedoms defined in the convention also applies in situation of military confrontations including situations of military occupation. This is true, first and foremost for the Turkish occupation of Northern Cyprus, the well-known Loizidou case38 and the inter-State case between Cyprus and Turkey39 being two examples at hand. Most recently, on September 28, 2006, the Court confirmed that Turkey can be even held responsible for acts outside Northern Cyprus as such, i.e. in the neutral UN-controlled buffer zone.40 The Court had also previously taken a similar position in the case of Ilascu and others with regard to the responsibility of the Russian Federation in certain parts of v. Argentinia, Decision of 11 March 1999, Report No. 38/99, at paras. 15-20. See also D. Lorenz, ‘Der territoriale Anwendungsbereich der Grund- und Menschenrechte’, at 49 et seq. (2005). 35

Coard et al. v. the United States, supra note 35, at para. 37.

36

Decision on Request for Precautionary Measures, supra note 35, at 533.

37

See for the jurisprudence of the European Court of Human Rights Lorenz, supra note 34, at 8 et seq. and infra section IV.

38

Loizidou v. Turkey, Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 23 March 1995, App. Nr. 15318/89, at paras. 59 et seq.

39

Cyprus v. Turkey, Decision of 10 May 2001, 2001 ECHR-IV, paras. 69 et seq.

40

Isaak et al. v. Turkey, Decision of 28 September 2006, App. No. 44587/98.

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Moldova where Russian troops had been stationed and where the Russian authorities had been exercising overall control.41 It held that ‘a State’s responsibility [under the Convention] may be engaged where, as a consequence of military action – whether lawful or unlawful – it in practice exercises effective control of an area situated outside its national territory.’42

This line of cases was continued in Issa v. Turkey involving Turkish military operations in Northern Iraq, where the Court held, explicitly referring inter alia to the jurisprudence of the Human Rights Committee under the ICCPR, that Turkey ‘may be held accountable for violation[s] of the conventions rights and freedoms of persons who are in the territory of another state but who are found to be under the former state’s authority and control through its agents operating – whether lawfully or unlawfully – in the latter state.’43

Similarly, in the case involving the arrest of Abdullah Öcalan by Turkish authorities on Kenyan soil, the Grand Chamber of the Court considered in 2005,44 whether said arrest did amount to a violation of Article 5 of the ECHR, without even further discussing its applicability as such. It simply noted that after his handing over to Turkish authorities, ‘the applicant was under effective Turkish authority and therefore within the “jurisdiction” of that State for the purposes of art. 1 of the Convention, even though in this instance Turkey exercised its authority outside its territory’.45

It is true that the Court had, in its famous Bankovic case,46 when dealing with NATO air operations in the then Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) determined that the scope of application of the ECHR is primarily territorial.47 Yet, it was doing so only in order to determine the meaning of the term ‘jurisdiction’ as used in Article 1 of the Convention, but not in order to per se exclude an extraterritorial application of the Convention as such. It was only against this background that the Court excluded the applicability of the Convention with regard to NATO-led air strikes against targets in Belgrade. More specifically with regard to issues of occupation, British courts have recently similarly confirmed, as a matter of principle, the applicability of the English Human

41

Ilaşcu et al. v. Moldova and Russia, Decision of 8 July 2004, 2004 ECHR-VII.

42

Ibid., at para. 314.

43

Issa, supra note 17, at para. 71.

44

Öcalan v. Turkey, Judgment of 12 May 2005, 2005 ECHR-IV.

45

Ibid., at para. 91.

46

Banković et al. v. Belgium and Others, Decision of 12 December 2001, 2001 ECHR-XII.

47

Ibid., at para. 59.

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Rights Act and the ECHR for acts of British troops in Basra, at least where persons concerned were in the custody of British military personnel.48 There is, therefore, sufficient proof that the guarantees of the Covenant are, as a matter of principle, capable of coming into play when a State is exercising jurisdiction abroad. Before considering what are the necessary requirements for a State to indeed be in a position to exercise ‘jurisdiction’ and thus trigger its responsibility under the Covenant,49 the focus should however be also put on the question of the extraterritorial applicability with regard to the other relevant human rights treaties Israel is a party to, namely the ICESR, CEDAW, CERD CAT and finally the CRC.

III.

Other Human Rights Treaties Binding Upon Israel

A.

International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights

Unlike the ICCPR, the ICESR does not contain a specific jurisdictional clause. Accordingly, one would have to once again demonstrate, given the presumption contained in Article 29 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, that the treaty nevertheless applies to territories beyond national borders, where a State is exercising jurisdiction. It is true that, like in the case of the ICCPR, both the International Court of Justice50 and the Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights51 have taken the position that the ICESR similarly applies to occupied territories. Yet, it has to be noted that it is only in its Article 14 the ICESCR refers to the concept of jurisdiction when dealing with the right to compulsory primary education in the respective metropolitan territory, as well as in ‘other territories under its jurisdiction’ which might imply an argumentum e contrario. Besides, one might also wonder whether the obligations arising under the ICESCR, which at least to a large extent contain positive obligations, are by their very nature able to be applied in an extraterritorial context. On the other hand these considerations can be taken into account when considering to what extent a State party’s obligations under the Covenant apply to territories and 48

See House of Lords, R (Al-Skeini) v. Secretary of State for Defence (2007) UKHL 26, (2008) 1 AC 153, www.bailii.org/uk/cases/UKHL//2007/26.html (last visited 12 June 2008). See also House of Lords, R (Al-Jedda) v. Secretary of State for Defence (2007) UKHL 58, (2008) 2 WLR 31, www.bailii.org/uk/cases/UKHL//2007/58.html (last visited 12 June 2008).

49

See infra IV.

50

See Advisory Opinion on the Construction of a Wall, supra note 15, at 180-181, para. 112.

51

See Concluding observations of the Committe on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights: Israel, 4 December 1998, UN Doc. E/C.12/1/Add. 27, at para. 6; Concluding observations of the Committe on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights: Israel, 31 August 2001, UN Doc. E/C.12/1/Add. 69, at paras. 10 et seq.; Concluding observations of the Committe on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights: Israel, 23 May 2003, UN Doc. E/C.12/1/Add. 90, at paras. 19, 31.

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populations depending on the question whether indeed effective control over territory is being exercised. Further, and similar to the ICCPR, subsequent State practice within the meaning of Article 31 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, as well as a purpose-oriented interpretation, also militate in favour of a principled application of the ICESCR in areas beyond national boundaries provided a State exercises jurisdiction in such areas.

B.

Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women and Convention Against the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination

The situation is quite similar with regard to both CEDAW and CERD, since once again specific jurisdictional clauses are missing. Yet, since like in the case of the ICESCR, there are good reasons to take the position that contrary to the presumption contained in Article 29 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, those two treaties nevertheless apply in areas under the effective control of a given State.52 Otherwise – to take the case of Israel – it would be hard to argue why Israeli citizens living in settlements in the West Bank should not be granted the rights arising under the just-mentioned treaties, despite the fact that they are exclusively exposed to the jurisdiction of the State of Israel.

C.

United Nations Convention Against Torture and Convention on the Rights of the Child

Finally, two other human rights conventions, namely the CAT and the CRC, pose less problems with regard to their extraterritorial application since they both contain specific clauses under which the contracting parties are under an obligation to safeguard the respective rights to ‘each child within their jurisdiction’53 respectively to ‘prevent acts of torture in any territory under its jurisdiction’54. In the author’s understanding, this clearly implies that those two treaties have not opted to apply a territorial approach, but rather one that tackles the question how to avoid that individuals are exposed to risks respectively are granted the rights the treaty deals with. Summarizing, it can be recognized that, as matter of principle, human rights treaties including in particular the ICCPR, do apply in areas that do not form part of the territory of a contracting party, provided, however, the respective state exercises jurisdiction therein. That obviously leads to the next point, namely what extent of control over a given area not forming part of one’s state national territory or over certain acts is needed in order to trigger the applicability of human rights treaties. 52

But see also Ben-Naftali/Shany, supra note 9, at 66-68 applying the opposite presumption.

53

See CRC, supra note 7, art. 2(1).

54

See CAT, supra note 6, art. 2(1).

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IV.

757

Prerequisites for Extraterritorial Applicability of Human Rights Treaties

The issue as to what kind of involvement of a State is required so as to trigger its responsibility under human rights treaties raises several questions, namely first, whether the State concerned must have been legally empowered to be present in the area and to undertake the incriminated acts in order to bring about its responsibility under a given human rights treaty;55 and second, whether the applicability of human rights treaties requires the presence on the ground stricto sensu of persons, the acts of whom are attributable to the contracting party of a human rights treaty; and finally third, whether, provided one requires physical presence of such persons on the ground, the victim of the alleged human rights violation must have been exposed in a specific manner to the control of the state concerned.56

A.

(Ir-)Relevance of the Legality of the Extraterritorial Action Undertaken

The very purpose of human rights treaties generally is to protect the fundamental rights of an individual or a group of individuals. In order to achieve that goal, it must therefore be irrelevant whether or not the exercise of control over certain territory is legal or illegal. Rather, the obligation to secure fundamental rights must derive from the mere fact of control. This result is not only confirmed by a whole set of decisions of human rights courts and institutions dealing with the extraterritorial exercise of jurisdiction, all of which either did not even touch upon the issue or confirmed the result just reached. A by far more intricate question is whether acts entailing the responsibility of a State under human rights treaties are only those which are committed by individuals present on the ground or whether even action undertaken by planes over flying a given territory can bring the alleged victims within the jurisdiction of the State controlling the action.

B.

Acts Performed Without Territorial Contact Stricto Sensu and the Notion of ‘Jurisdiction’

Human rights treaties, like other treaties, have to be interpreted in light of modern developments. As the International Court of Justice already stated in its 1971 Namibia Advisory Opinion, an international legal instrument has to be interpreted and applied within the framework of the entire legal system prevailing at the time of interpretation.57 55

See infra III.A.

56

See infra III.B.

57

Legal Consequences for States of the continued presence of South Africa in Namibia, supra note 19, at 31, para. 53.

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ANDREAS ZIMMERMANN

This raises the question how to interpret the notion of ’jurisdiction’ and how to define the extent of necessary control to bring about responsibility of a State when said State is not even physically present on the territory under consideration. In its Bancović case, the European Court of Human Rights was quite cautious in not applying the notion of jurisdiction to military air operations.58 However, this raises several issues, and the following is indeed a very perplexing example. On Monday November 4, 2002, the United States, by using an unmanned drone, killed several alleged members of Al Quaida in Yemen after the Yemenite government had granted, as far as is known, the permission to use its territory for such an operation, thus excluding any argument that the operation might have violated the prohibition of the use of force. If one were to assume, be it only arguendo, that Yemen had at the relevant time not been a contracting party to the Covenant,59 its indirect participation in the operation would have neither entailed its responsibility under the treaty. On the other hand, no armed conflict did exist which could have triggered the applicability of relevant rules of international humanitarian law. Denying the responsibility of the United States under the Covenant for the acts just described would therefore have effectively meant that there would have been no international legal norm whatsoever regulating said behaviour which would have created a de facto, if not de jure ‘freeshooting range’ leading to the death of individuals without any legal limitations arising under international law. It is against the background of this example that the Bancović of the ECHR judgment leaves more than just a bitter taste. One indeed wonders whether the arguments, which led the Court to deny the applicability of the Convention with regard to the NATO air strikes, are truly convincing. The Court started by implying that the term of ‘jurisdiction’, as it is also used in both the ICCPR and in other human rights treaties, necessarily requires a competence, under international law, to act. The Court specifically stated that ‘a State may not actually exercise jurisdiction on the territory of another State without the latter’s consent’.60 While this is obviously a truism, this statement implies that while a State may not do so, i.e. is committing a violation of international law when still doing it, such State still can nevertheless exercise such jurisdiction. Otherwise, it would make no sense to also consider acts that are clearly illegal under international law to also constitute an exercise of ‘jurisdiction’ as defined in the various jurisdictional clauses of the human rights treaties. This is proven by yet another example. Provided an individual is taken into custody in an embassy abroad and later killed therein, it is beyond doubt that such act would indeed come within the ambit of ‘jurisdiction’ of the sending State despite the obvious 58

Banković, supra note 46, at para. 62.

59

As a matter of fact, South Yemen had acceded to the ICCPR on 9 May 1987, http://www2. ohchr.org/english/ (last visited 12 June 2008). As to the issue of State succession raised by the unification of the two Yemenite States see generally A. Zimmermann, Staatennachfolge in völkerrechtliche Verträge 283 et seq. (2000); as to issue of State succession related to human rights treaties ibid., at 543 et seq.

60

Banković, supra note 46, at para. 60.

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fact that the sending State had not been empowered, under the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations and parallel norms of customary international law, to exercise this kind of ‘jurisdiction’. It is thus submitted that, contrary to the approach of the European Court of Human Rights in the Banković case, the notion of jurisdiction, as used in both the ICCPR and the ECHR, has to be more understood in the sense of control, rather than as a description of legal rights of the acting State.61 Yet another argument the Court brought forward against the extraterritorial application in Banković, was the fact that the ECHR clearly constitutes a regional human rights instruments per se limiting its geographic reach.62 Besides, the Court relied on the fact that the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) had, at least at the relevant point in time, deliberately decided to not or not yet become a contracting party of the ECHR.63 In that regard the Court has, however, more recently in the Öcalan case taken a more nuanced position when considering that even a person exposed to acts of Turkish authorities in Kenya, i.e. clearly in a State that cannot even become a contracting party of the ECHR, may be considered to have been ‘within the jurisdiction of Turkey’ for purposes of Article 1 of the ECHR.64 The Court further considered in Bancović that the ECHR should solely be applied in those cases where the population, were it not for the exercise of extraterritorial jurisdiction by another State, could otherwise rely on the Convention rights.65 None of these three arguments are, however, at least with regard to the specific situation of the occupied Palestinian territories and the human rights treaties drafted under the auspices of the United Nations, convincing.66 First, all the relevant human rights treaties unlike the ECHR strife for universality, and are open for all United Nations member States to become contracting parties, and thus strife for a geographical scope of application as large and as extended as possible. Besides, the General Assembly has frequently called upon all States to indeed ratify those treaties.67 Second, unlike the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, which had itself deliberately decided not to extend the guarantees of the ECHR to its citizen by not becoming a contracting party thereof, the Palestinian Authority or the Palestinian territories, as not constituting a State, are simply not or not yet in a position to ratify either the ICCPR or any of the other human rights treaties previously referred to. Thus, it is not by their own will that the Palestinian entity is not bound by the obligations under such treaties. 61

See Ben-Naftali/Shany, supra note 9, 62-63 for a conduct-oriented approach.

62

Banković, supra note 46, at para. 80.

63

Ibid.

64

Öcalan, supra note 44, at para. 91.

65

Banković, supra note 46, at para. 80.

66

See Ben-Naftali/Shany, supra note 9, at 81 finding the reasoning of the Court hardly convincing.

67

See already in 1966 with the adoption of the Covenants UN Doc. A/RES/2200 (XXI); and in 1986 on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of the adoption of the Covenants UN Doc. A/ RES/41/32.

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There are even more reasons to eventually hold Israel accountable for alleged violations of human rights treaties occurring in the occupied Palestinian territories even in a Banković type of situation. In the case of Banković, after the complaints had failed, the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) could still exercise diplomatic protection and eventually even claim compensation on behalf of their citizens, and even, as the FRY had indeed tried, bring cases in other fora for alleged violations of international law, including bringing cases before the ICJ.68 In sharp contrast thereto, there is no State that could do so on behalf of victims of alleged Israeli human rights violations, which opens a certain lacuna which only an extraterritorial application of human rights treaties could, and be it only in part, fill.69 It is true that the Oslo agreements provide that the Palestinian Authority itself shall exercise their competences ‘with due regard to internationally accepted norms and principles of human rights’. Yet, this does not necessarily entail all treaty obligations enshrined in the various human rights treaties, and besides, only constitutes a bilateral treaty obligation vis-à-vis Israel.

C.

Required Degree of Control to Trigger the Applicability of Human Rights Treaties

In the 2005 judgment in Al-Skeini, the Court of Appeal of England and Wales found, on the one hand, that a person that had been taken into custody by British troops in Basra and was allegedly tortured and killed there was protected by the ECHR,70 while on the other hand denying the applicability of the Convention with regard to persons that had been killed by British soldiers at roadblocks or during house raids.71 More specifically, the Court of Appeal found that the United Kingdom had not been exercising the necessary degree of control in order to bring about the applicability of the Convention.72 The House of Lords has since dismissed an appeal from that judgment;

68

See, e.g., Legality of Use of Force (Serbia and Montenegro v. United Kingdom), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 15 December 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 1307. The Federal Republic of Yugoslavia (Serbia and Montenegro) brought parallel cases against other NATO States including Spain, Portugal, the Netherlands, Italy, Germany, France, Canada, Belgium and the United States of America.

69

See Ben-Naftali/Shany, supra note 9, at 61.

70

See Court of Appeal, R (Al-Skeini) v. Secretary of State for Defence, (2005) EWCA Civ 1609, (2007) QB 140 www.bailii.org/ew/cases/EWCA/Civ/2005/1609.html (last visited 12 June 2008), at para. 124 (Lord Justice Brooke), para. 209 (Lord Justice Richards).

71

Ibid., at para. 108 (Lord Justice Brooke), para. 209 (Lord Justice Richards).

72

Ibid., at paras. 120-124 (Lord Justice Brooke), para. 209 (Lord Justice Richards).

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it has done so largely on different grounds,73 but it also agreed with the lower court’s conclusion on the lack of effective control.74 Following the reasoning in Al-Skeini, it is helpful to consider two possible alternatives triggering the extraterritorial applicability of human rights treaties, namely either an effective overall control over certain territory, or, in the alternative, extraterritorial action undertaken by organs of a given State even where said State is not exercising effective overall control over the territory as such.

1.

Effective Overall Territorial Control as a Requisite for a Generalized Extraterritorial Applicability of Human Rights Treaties

It seems to be beyond doubt, provided one generally accepts that human rights are open for an extraterritorial application75 and further provided that such extraterritorial application has not been effectively excluded by a reservation, that a State is responsible in those situations where it exercises complete overall control over a given area, the situation in Northern Cyprus being one example at hand. In Issa et al. v. Turkey, a case dealing with Turkish military operations in Northern Iraq, the European Court of Human Rights has tried to develop criteria in order to decide whether or not a State indeed was exercising effective control leading to the result that all persons in the relevant area came within its jurisdiction. Those criteria included the number of troops, if ever, stationed in the area; the length of time during which such control was being exercised; the question whether the area was constantly patrolled and whether eventually other form of control, such as by way of check-points and roadblocks, existed throughout the territory.76 Applying those criteria to the case of Israel would mean that relevant human rights treaties apply to those territories which, while not forming de jure part of Israeli territory, namely the Golan Heights and East Jerusalem, are subject to complete Israeli control. At the very least, Israel would be estopped to claim that those treaties do not apply with regard to those territories, given its own claim that those territories have validly been incorporated into the territory of the State of Israel proper. Similar considerations apply, mutatis mutandis, to Israeli settlements in the West Bank, given that Israel is similarly exercising de facto control in these areas. This is confirmed by the fact that the Israeli initial report under the Covenant on Economic, 73

See on that case T. Thienel, ‘The ECHR in Iraq: The Judgment of the House of Lords in R (Al-Skeini) v. Secretary of State for the Home Department’, 6 Journal of International Criminal Justice 115 (2008); R. Wilde, ‘Triggering State Obligations Extraterritorially: The Spatial Test in Certain Human Rights Treaties’, 40 IsLR 503 (2007).

74

House of Lords, R (Al-Skeini) v. Secretary of State for Defence, supra note 48, at paras. 82-84 (Lord Rodger), paras. 90-92 (Baroness Hale), paras. 97-99 (Lord Carswell), paras. 127, 129, 131, 151 (Lord Brown).

75

See for that position Human Rights Commission, General Comment No. 31, supra note 23, para. 10.

76

Issa, supra note 17, at para. 75.

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ANDREAS ZIMMERMANN

Social and Cultural had included information as to the enjoyment of the rights enshrined in the Covenant by Israeli settlers.77 Besides, this also holds true for other parts of the West Bank subject to overall Israeli control, and namely those areas lying west of the security fence. It seems to be more by far more problematic to reach the same results with regard to Gaza and those parts of the West Bank that are subject to control by the Palestinian Authority. First, it has to be reiterated that the very fact that Israel might still be considered, for purposes of international humanitarian law, the occupying power even with regard to those areas that have fallen, under the Oslo agreements, under the authority of the Palestinian Authority,78 does not in itself lead to the conclusion that Israel is exercising effective overall control over the area. Second, it seems more than plausible to argue that Israel does not continue to exercise effective overall control over those parts of the occupied territories in which control has either almost exclusively or at least to a large degree been ceded to the Palestinian Authority, i.e. Areas A und B of the territories,79 or where Israel has de facto withdrawn, i.e. Gaza.80 This is due to the fact that in those parts of the occupied territories, individuals are, as a matter of principle, exposed at least primarily to the action of the Palestinian Authority. This approach that a non-State entity can, as a matter of principle and for purposes of human rights law exercise jurisdiction over territory, was very recently confirmed by the European Court of Human Rights with regard to Kosovo.81 There, the Court found on the one hand that the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, now Serbia, does not exercise relevant control for purposes of the ECHR, as developed inter alia in its Loizidou jurisprudence, and also determined, be it only implicitly, that on the other hand acts encroaching upon human rights in Kosovo are to be attributed to the United Nations.82 The fact that Israel has retained, under the Interim Agreement, overall security responsibility in Area B for the purpose of protecting Israelis and confronting the threat of terrorism83 and has, besides, retained the responsibility for external security, as well as the responsibility for overall security of Israelis for the purpose of safeguarding their internal security and public order,84 does not mean that Israel is responsible under human rights treaties for acts in the occupied territories qua the exercise of effective 77

Initial Report of Israel, UN Doc. CCPR/C/81/Add.13.

78

1995 Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, Israel-PLO, 36 ILM 551 (1997).

79

Ibid., art. XI.

80

See Ben-Naftali/Shany, supra note 9, at 38.

81

Behrami v. France, App. No. 71412/01 and Saramati v. France, Germany and Norway, App. No. 78166/01, Decision of 2 May 2007.

82

Ibid.

83

Interim Agreement, supra note 78, art. XIII(2.a).

84

Ibid., art. X(4).

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overall control, since on the one hand Israel can and does only intervene in those areas on an ad hoc basis but is not permanently present in the entire area or parts thereof, and since, on the other hand, unlike in the case of the Northern Cypriote authorities (the acts of which are to be attributable to Turkey), the acts of the Palestinian Authority are not attributable to Israel. Besides, one may not provide for a generalized Israeli responsibility for any human rights violations occurring in the territories subject to the control of the Palestinian Authority, since a State is not hindered from transferring sovereign power to another entity, be it an international organisation, be it another non-State entity such as the Palestinian Authority in order to pursue legitimate aims in line with international law or even in order to fulfil obligations arising under international law, provided however the entity to which sovereign rights are being transferred is in turn itself bound to protect fundamental rights in a manner which could be considered equivalent – a requirement Israel has fulfilled in providing in the various agreements concluded with the Palestinian side that the Palestinian Authority itself abides by relevant human rights standards. Notwithstanding this result that Israel is not responsible in a general manner for each and every violation of human rights treaties occurring in territory subject to the control of the Palestinian Authority, Israel could still be held responsible for specific violations of human rights treaties occurring in the occupied territories, provided such actions are indeed attributable to Israel under general rules of State responsibility.

2.

Action by State Organs as a Requisite for Extraterritorial Applicability of Specific Obligations Arising under Human Rights Treaties

Human rights treaties serve to protect individual rights of persons subject to the control of a State. It therefore seems to be in line with an interpretation based on the very object and purpose of such treaties85 not to require full effective control over territory in order to bring about the applicability of human rights treaties. As a matter of fact a whole line of cases starting with the decision in the López Burgos v. Uruguay case86 and up to the judgment of the European Court of Human Rights in the Issa v. Turkey case,87 has confirmed that a given State may be held responsible, to use the words of the International Court of Justice in its Advisory Opinion on the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territories for conduct by said State 85

As required by Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, supra note 14, art. 31(1).

86

See López Burgos, supra note 22, at para. 12(1): ‘The Human Rights Committee further observes that although the arrest and initial detention and mistreatment of López Burgos allegedly took place on foreign territory, the Committee is not barred either by virtue of article 1 of the Optional Protocol (“... individuals subject to its jurisdiction ...”) or by virtue of article 2(1) of the Covenant (“... individuals within its territory and subject to its jurisdiction ... ”) from considering these allegations, together with the claim of subsequent abduction into Uruguayan territory, inasmuch as these acts were perpetrated by Uruguayan agents acting on foreign soil.’

87

Issa, supra note 17, at para. 71.

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ANDREAS ZIMMERMANN

party’s authorities or agents which fall within the ambit of State responsibility under the principles of public international law.88 Holding otherwise could lead to the previously mentioned, somewhat absurd result that a State could perpetrate violations of human rights conventions on the territory of another State, which it could not perpetrate on its own territory, even if its very presence on such territory was otherwise illegal under general international law. This raises the question, however, as to the necessary extent of control in such specific circumstances. In Al-Skeini, the Court of Appeal took the position that Iraqi citizens who had been killed either on the streets of Basra or in their homes – unlike an Iraqi in British’ custody − had not been subject to the control of British state organs and could thus not claim to have become victims of their rights arising under the European Convention on Human Rights.89 Somewhat in contrast thereto, the European Court of Human Rights had however considered that, even if Turkey had not exercised overall control over parts of Northern Iraq during its armed incursion in 1995, Turkey could still be held responsible for the killings of civilians provided it could have been proven that Turkish troops had conducted operations in the area where the killings had taken place.90 It is only this somewhat more nuanced approach that might also explain the affirmative result reached by the Human Rights Committee in the line of cases dealing with acts of consular or diplomatic agents acting abroad. Besides, it is only this way that one takes into account relevant rules of general international law of which human rights treaties form part, and not the least the ILC articles on State responsibility having codified issues of attributability.

V.

Concluding Remarks

Summarizing, one could therefore take the position that human rights treaties generally and the ICCPR specifically are applicable in situations of occupation when and to the extent a State is taking action exposing individuals to violations of their rights contained therein. This conclusion is however obviously subject to the proviso that the application of human rights norms might be superseded by rules of international humanitarian law which, at least to a large extent, do constitute leges specialis. Still, possible advantages of a concurrent application of human rights treaties and rules of international humanitarian law, be it only as a matter of principle, might carry advantages both of a procedural and of a substantive character.

88

See Advisory Opinion on the Construction of a Wall, supra note 15, at para. 110, citing the Human Rights Committee, Concluding Observations: Israel, UN Doc. CCPR/CO/78/ISR, para. 11 (2003).

89

See House of Appeal, Al-Skeini, supra notes 70-72.

90

Issa, supra note 17, paras. 71, 74

37 – EXTRATERRITORIAL APPLICATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS TREATIES

A.

765

Substantive Advantages

Human rights treaties do, at least to some extent, contain substantive guarantees which international humanitarian law does either not guarantee as such, or only in a rather specific manner. Thus, for example, Article 12(1) of the ICCPR guarantees the freedom of movement and Article 12(2) guarantees the right to leave any country. In contrast thereto, Article 48 of Geneva IV only protects the latter right to third-party nationals. It has to be noted, however, that the freedom of movement might be limited in accordance with Article 49(2) of the Fourth Geneva Convention, the content of which has to be read into the limiting clause of Article 12(3) of the ICCPR. It has to be noted, however, that at least with regard to certain civil and political rights, the relevant rules of international humanitarian law are either quite exhaustive or, when being more limited than the rights guaranteed by human rights treaties, as constituting lex specialis, thereby also bar the reliance on more far-reaching human rights guarantees. One of the most crucial roles human rights treaties therefore play is that of tools of interpretation. Thus, to give just one example, the notion of ‘torture’ as contained in Article 32 of Geneva IV has to be interpreted in line with Article 2 of the CAT and the subsequent practice of the Committee against Torture. Maybe even more important are procedural guarantees inherent in the protection arising under human rights treaties under both international and domestic law.91

B.

Procedural Advantages

1.

International Level

The first, almost obvious advantage of treaty-based human rights lies in the supervision by the respective treaty body, be it only by way of considering and evaluating State reports.92 This stands somewhat in contrast to the limited role of the ICRC with regard to the general situation in occupied territories (as compared to its protective role with regard to persons in custody),93 where only the First Additional Protocol created the possibility of international supervision by way of the International Fact-Finding Commission, but which in any case it may only exercise vis-à-vis those parties of the protocol (to which in any event Israel does not belong) which have accepted its competence.94 Second, there is the possibility to at least grant certain human rights treaty bodies additional rights including the possibility to investigate allegations of systemic violations

91

See for that proposal Heintze, supra note 12, at 798 et seq.

92

See, e.g., ICCPR, supra note 1, art. 40; CAT, supra note 6, art. 19.

93

See 1949 Geneva Convention IV, 75 UNTS 267, arts. 47-78, arts. 79-135, and art. 143.

94

See First Additional Protocol, 1125 UNTS 3, art. 90.

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ANDREAS ZIMMERMANN

of a given treaty, such as e.g. contained in the CAT,95 up to, in the case of the ECHR, the possibility to grant individuals standing before international courts.96 Third, certain human rights treaties, such as once again the CAT provide for the jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice.97 Unfortunately, Israel has, at least so far and unlike e.g. Jordan, opted-out respectively not opted-in with regard to the two latter dispute and compliance control mechanisms.

2.

Domestic Level

On the domestic level, while the applicability of treaty obligations obviously depends on the respective constitutional provisions of a given State, it seems that rights and obligations arising under human rights treaties seem to be, by their very nature, to be more apt to be made directly applicable domestically. In conclusion, it could be argued that the vivid debate as to the extraterritorial applicability of human rights treaties on the one hand overestimates the normative impact human rights treaties, if applied in a situation of belligerent occupation, would have; and on the other hand focuses, at least somewhat, on the wrong issues. As a matter of fact, even if the view is shared that human rights treaties do apply in situations of belligerent occupation, their substantive content is, at least to a large extent, covered with a second layer of rules of international humanitarian law which do constitute lex specialis. Besides, in the specific situation of Israel, any such extraterritorial application of human rights treaties only covers those, more and more limited, geographic areas under direct and effective control of Israel or, in the alternative, direct action by Israeli state organs. Therefore, there is no real reason to conceptualise human rights treaties as not being applicable, as a matter of principle, in an extraterritorial way. This leads to the next and indeed ultimate point, namely that the real or perceived ‘danger’ of any such extraterritorial application of human rights treaties lies or could be seen to lie in the fact that persons or organs not sufficiently familiar with international humanitarian law would, be it only by the bypass of applying human rights norms, be called upon to apply the laws of war. Besides, there might be a danger that those rules would no longer be applied solely by neutral guardians of international humanitarian law, such as exemplified by the ICRC, but by more or less politicised organs such as the Human Rights Council, which could lead, as the resolutions of the Council dealing with the so-called 2006 Israeli-Lebanese war demonstrate,98 to biased and unbalanced results.

95

See CAT, supra note 6, art. 20.

96

See ECHR, supra note 12, art. 34.

97

See CAT, supra note 6, art. 30(I).

98

Res. S-2/1 (2006), http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/hrcouncil/specialsession/2/index. htm (last visited 7 April 2008).

767

XX – XXX

CHAPTER VII

Law of the Sea and the Environment

768

XX

38

38 – LANDLOCKED DEVELOPING COUNTRIES AND THE LAW OF THE SEA

769

Landlocked Developing Countries and the Law of the Sea James L. Kateka

I.

Introduction

The recent political crisis in Kenya1 has drawn attention to the vulnerability of landlocked developing countries (LLDCs). Within a short period after the start of the crisis, there was a shortage of oil supply in Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi, the three landlocked countries that depend on Mombasa port for their economic and trade routes to the world market. This article looks at the nature of the problems that LLDCs face. It assesses how international legal instruments, in particular the UNCLOS III regime, deal with the problem. Legal instruments from Eastern and Southern Africa are analysed to see how these two sub regions have dealt with the complex situation of landlocked countries.

II.

The Nature of the Problem

Landlocked countries, whether developed or developing, have one common characteristic: they have no sea coast.2 For their access to and from the sea, they depend on the goodwill of transit states. Landlocked states have little or no control at all over the availability of suitable transit transport.3 In the case of LLDCs, their remoteness from the sea is often compounded by a poor transit infrastructure. The African LLDCs have

1

Following the general election in December 2007, there was disagreement among the two main political parties as to who had won the presidency. This disagreement led to violence in which over 1,000 people were killed. In turn, the violence led to the interruption of the transit transport from the main port of Mombasa.

2

See S. P. Subedi, ‘The UN and the Trade and Transit Problems of Landlocked States’, in M. I. Glassner (ed.), The United Nations at Work 135 (1998).

3

See M. A. Sinjela, ‘Freedom of Transit and the Right of Access for Landlocked States’, 12 Georgia Journal of International and Comparative Law 31 (1982), where the writer observes that transit countries sometimes have used their strategic position as an economic or political lever against neighbouring landlocked countries. He cites the example of Kenya refusing to handle Uganda’s goods at Mombasa port when Uganda announced a policy of replacing unskilled Kenyan workers with Ugandan nationals in 1970.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 769-782, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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the added disadvantage of being among the poorest countries in the world. Many of them are among the least developed countries (LDCs).4 According to UNCTAD,5 there are 31 LLDCs in the world. Fifteen6 of these LLDCs are in Africa. Many of these are located very long distances from the nearest sea coast.7Other factors that hamper the economic development of LLDCs include difficult climatic conditions such as drought, high transit costs, dependency on monoculture exports,8 and high vulnerability to external shocks.9 These shocks include the currently very high price of oil and the high food prices worldwide. The scenario is further complicated by the fact that transit countries are themselves developing and thus facing problems of poverty.10 The transit countries encounter similar economic vulnerabilities just as the LLDCs they are trying to help. This situation calls for cooperation between the two groups. It also calls for external assistance in overcoming transit problems as the countries concerned suffer from lack of institutional capacity as well as lack of capital and technological know how.11 For the LLDCs, the right of access to and from the sea and freedom of transit are matters of national survival. The right of access and freedom of transit are issues much more important to the LLDCs than those of access to the living resources of the exclusive economic zone (EEZ) or having a merchant shipping fleet. Indeed, for many of them, there is little hope of either exploiting the living resources in the EEZ or exercising freedom of navigation in the high seas. They do not have the capacity to do 4

34 out of the 50 LDCs in the world are in Africa. LDCs are identified by a low-income criterion, based on a three year average estimate of the gross national income (GNI) per capita under US$ 750 for inclusion and above US$ 900 for graduation. In 2007, Cape Verde graduated out of LDC status, thus leaving a total of 33 African LDCs, see http://www.un.org/special-rep/ ohrlls/ldc/list.htm.

5

Source available at http://www.unctad.org.

6

Three are members of the East African Community (EAC), namely, Burundi, Rwanda and Uganda; six belong to the Southern African Development Community (SADC), namely, Botswana, Lesotho, Malawi, Swaziland, Zambia and Zimbabwe. Ethiopia is in Eastern Africa, though it does not belong to any of the two sub-regional organisations. Five LLDCs are in West and Central Africa, namely, Burkina Faso, the Central African Republic, Chad, Mali and Niger.

7

Uganda 1150 km, Rwanda 1530 km, Burundi 1455 km, Malawi 815 km, Zambia 950 km.

8

E.g. in 1999, 66% of Burundi’s exports was coffee and substitutes; 53.1% of Rwanda’s exports was coffee; 56.9% of Uganda’s exports was coffee; and Zambia depended on copper for 41.8% of its exports, see Table 3 of Ann. to EV Mbuli’s (UNCTAD consultant), ‘Challenges and Opportunities for Further Improving the Transit Systems and Economic Development of Landlocked and Transit Developing Countries’, UN Doc. UNCTAD/2003/8 (2003), at 2.

9

See generally, Note by UNCTAD Secretariat, ‘Regional Cooperation in Transit Transport: Solutions for Landlocked and Transit Developing Countries’, UN Doc. TB/B/COM.3/EM.30.2 (2007).

10

UNCTAD has identified a relationship between poverty and lack of access to the sea, see UN Doc. UNCTAD/LDC/2007/2.

11

The Eastern Africa sub region has also suffered from political upheaval such as the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, the ethnic conflict in Burundi and the civil strife in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC).

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so. Naturally, even for those LLDCs that have the ability to do so, access to the living resources becomes meaningless if the right of access to the sea is not assured.

III.

The International Legal Regime

A.

Developed versus Developing Landlocked States

During the Third United Nations Conference on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS III), there was an alliance between developed and developing landlocked states in order to create a collective bargaining situation.12 Vasciannie regards this alliance as politically misguided.13 The alliance may have cost the LLDCs a lot in terms of goodwill. Coastal states sympathetic to the problems of LLDCs were not ready to make the same concessions to developed and developing countries. That is because there is not much in common between the two groups other than the status of landlocked-ness. This fact was recognised by Austria which was the coordinator and leader of the LLGDS group at UNCLOS III.14 The writer is of the view that if LLDCs had followed economics rather than geography at UNCLOS III, it would have been possible for them to gain more from the conference than they actually ended up with. For the Group of 77 (G77), which was then15 a trade union of the poor, would have, out of solidarity, granted LLDCs more concessions. A case in point is the African stand through the OAU16 Declaration on the Issues of the Law of the Sea17 by which African coastal states were willing to share the living resources of their EEZs on an equal basis with their fellow African landlocked states on the basis of African solidarity.18 The solidarity was spoilt by the developed landlocked countries 12

At UNCLOS III, there was an alliance of 55 landlocked and geographically disadvantaged states (LLGDS), 26 of these being geographically disadvantaged, see S. C. Vasciannie, Landlocked and Geographically Disadvantaged States 7, n. 31 (1990).

13

Ibid., at 17.

14

See statement of the Austrian representative at the 32nd meeting of the Second Committee whereby he recognised the difference of emphasis between developed and developing landlocked states. The representative also stated that the International Seabed Authority (ISA) should consider the stage of economic development of the recipient when distributing the benefits derived from ISA activity, UNCLOS Official Records, Third Conference, Vols. 1-2, 1973-1974, at 241, para 29; and at 242, para 29.

15

The G77 has changed. It does no longer pursue the same interest as has been demonstrated during the negotiations of the Doha Development Round.

16

Now the African Union (AU).

17

UN Doc. A/CONF.62/33 (1974), para 9.

18

One writer observed that concessions by developing coastal states were hampered by the developed landlocked states. The developing coastal states found it difficult to grant equitable access to living resources because they had apprehensions about the developed landlocked states, see I. J. Wani, ‘An Evaluation of the Convention on the Law of the Sea from the Perspective of the Landlocked States’, 22 VJIL 627, at 630 (1981-1982).

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JAMES L. KATEKA

sticking together with the LLDCs in an unequally yoked relationship. There were no common interests as the developed landlocked states had different priorities at UNCLOS III. The issue of access to living resources was of greater interest to them than that of transit access to the sea. They did not face problems of concluding bilateral agreements.19 Developed landlocked states are in many respects in a superior position in relation to the LLDCs. For example, the developed landlocked states in Europe are not isolated from major international markets.20 They use technologically advanced means of transportation, and in general, they have access to the sea via several outlets.21 Their level of development has no comparison with that of the LLDCs. For example, Switzerland has a GNI per capita of US$ 58,050 (2006) while Austria has one of US$ 39,750 (2006).22 The two countries’ GNI per capita contrasts adversely with that of Burundi of US$ 100 (2006), Rwanda US$ 250 (2006), Uganda US$ 300 (2006) and Zambia US$ 630 (2006).23

B.

Right of Access to and from the Sea

During UNCLOS III, landlocked and geographically disadvantaged states advocated an unimpeded right of access that would be self-executing and not dependent upon the conclusion of bilateral agreements and reciprocity.24 This position was advanced because of the realization that earlier international instruments were not favourable to the transit problems of landlocked countries. The first such instrument was the 1921 Convention and Statute on Freedom of Transit25 (the Barcelona Statute) which was a framework convention for transit in general without special reference to the problems of landlocked countries. The Barcelona Statute suffered from the deficiency

19

E.g. the Austrian representative stated that his country had satisfactorily concluded bilateral agreements with its neighbours, ‘but it understood the situation of landlocked countries that had not found such satisfactory solution’, see supra note 14, at 241, para 20.

20

See Vasciannie supra note 12, at 6.

21

E.g. Switzerland has direct access from Basel to the North Sea via the Rhine, while the Danube which is navigable for most of its length is an important means of transit for Austria, ibid.

22

See http://www.worldbank.org. The World Bank uses the Atlas method of calculating GNI per capita.

23

It may be noted that UNCTAD cautions against the fallacy of per capita income as a yardstick for assistance to developing countries. Economic vulnerability is a more meaningful criterion. It means a small size economy, suffering from structural and competitive disadvantages and a high dependency on external markets and resources, see ‘UN recognition of the problems of LLDCs’, at http://www.unctad.org.

24

At UNCLOS I and at the 1965 Conference on the Transit Trade of Landlocked States, coastal states argued that self-executing freedom of transit would be incompatible with the sovereignty of the transit states. The same argument was advanced during UNCLOS III, see Wani, supra note 18, at 635.

25

1921 Convention and Statute on Freedom of Transit, 7 LNTS 11.

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of being applicable to railway and waterway transport but not to road transport.26 It was followed by the 1947 GATT27 which reaffirmed the principles of the 1921 Barcelona Statute. The 1948 Havana Charter for an International Trade Organization28 provided specifically for the transit freedom of landlocked states.29 The 1958 Convention on the High Seas30 is based on the principle of reciprocity which landlocked countries do not approve of. The Convention uses weak language on the issue of free access to the sea.31 The 1965 Convention on Transit Trade of Landlocked States32 is the only multilateral treaty devoted to the specific problems of landlocked states.33 It has been ratified by very few states only.34 The 1965 Convention on Transit Trade has been criticised for being based on the principle of reciprocity,35 for not defining ‘legitimate interests’ (of transit states) and for the requirement of bilateral agreements on transit rights.36 The 1982 Convention on the Law of the Sea is a considerable improvement in relation to the earlier instruments, in particular the 1958 Convention on the High Seas and the 1965 Convention on Transit Transport. Article 125 of the 1982 Convention grants the right of access to and from the sea to landlocked countries. The same article accords to landlocked countries freedom of transit through the territory of transit states, ‘by all means of transport’.37 While the requirement of reciprocity is not expressly included

26

Supra note 3, at 36.

27

1947 GATT, art. V.

28

It never came into force. It needed 27 ratifications but was only ratified by two states.

29

1948 Havana Charter for an International Trade Organization, arts. 10, 11.

30

1958 Convention on the High Seas, 450 UNTS 11.

31

Ibid., art. 3(1) states that: ‘In order to enjoy the freedom of the seas on equal terms with the coastal States, States having no sea coast should have free access to the sea. To this end States situated between the sea and a State having no sea coast shall by common agreement with the latter, and in conformity with existing international conventions, accord: (a) To the State having no sea coast, on a basis of reciprocity, free transit through their territory’. (Emphases added)

32

1965 Convention on Transit Trade of Landlocked States, 597 UNTS 42.

33

Subedi, supra note 2, at 144.

34

By 39 states, 20 of which are landlocked states (11 being African, including Burundi, Lesotho, Malawi, Rwanda and Zambia). Austria is not a party to the convention. Uganda signed the convention, but did not ratify it. So did Switzerland.

35

1965 Convention on Transit Trade, art. 15.

36

Sinjela, supra note 3, at 43, where the writer states that the practical impact of the convention has been limited.

37

1982 Convention on the Law of the Sea, art. 125(1). Ibid., art. 124(1) (d) does not include pipelines and gas lines in the definition of ‘means of transport’. Pipelines and gas lines were relegated to art. 124(2) where their construction is subject to an agreement between the landlocked state and the transit state. This makes their construction to be dependent on the goodwill of the transit state. In the context of Eastern and Southern Africa, the use of pipelines to transmit oil is of great importance. Thus, when Rhodesia declared unilateral independence in 1965, and Ian Smith blockaded goods transiting to Zambia, the Zambian

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in Article 125 of the Convention, it has been suggested that it may be implied. In its commentary on the 1982 Convention, the Center for Oceans Law and Policy of the University of Virginia states that ‘[a]lthough the transit rights under Part X are not expressly subject to reciprocity, some States still maintain this idea’.38 Thus, uncertainty is introduced as to whether reciprocity may be raised (or not) by a transit state under Article 125.39 It seems that the limited achievements by landlocked countries at UNCLOS III on the right of transit are not made unequivocally clear. What appears to be an absolute right of transit becomes considerably qualified by the requirement of agreements (Article 125(2)) and by the requirement to respect the full sovereignty of the transit states and their legitimate interests (Article 125(3)).40 Furthermore, the meaning of key terms remains vague. An example is the term ‘legitimate interests’ which the landlocked states wanted to be more exactly identified and defined41 so that transit states could not arbitrarily deny or impede transit for landlocked states. An element of ambiguity is introduced in all four international legal instruments42 by the use of the term ‘freedom’ of transit rather than the term ‘right’ of transit. This has been interpreted by some as meaning that there is no obligation for transit countries to grant a right of transit to landlocked states, while others argue that there is such an obligation.43

and the Tanzanian governments jointly financed the construction of the TAZAMA oil pipeline which stretches from Dar es Salaam to Ndola, Zambia, at a distance of 1710 km. The pipeline was commissioned in 1968 and has a throughput of 1.1 million metric tons. Efforts to concession the TAZAMA pipeline have been opposed by the Zambian government because it regards the facility strategic to the Zambian economy. Bearing in mind the importance of pipelines, Zambia was a cosponsor of the seven power draft in the Seabed Committee, Article 1 of which provided for inclusion of ‘pipelines, gas lines and storage tanks’ in the definition of means of transport. The proposal was not accepted. See UN Doc. A/AC.138/93 (1974). 38

S. N. Nandau/S. Rosenne (eds.), United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea 1982 – A Commentary, vol. III, 421, para. 125(9)(i) (1995).

39

The Virginia Commentary further states: ‘Although the Convention does not refer to reciprocity as a condition for the application of transit rights, it does not rule out the possibility of including this condition in agreements on terms and modalities for transit.’ This seems to confuse what is stated earlier, namely that freedom of transit does not depend for its existence on the conclusion of special agreements, nor is it granted ‘on a basis of reciprocity’, see ibid., at 418, para. 125.9(b).

40

See R. R. Churchill/A. V. Lowe, The Law of the Sea 326 (1999).

41

UNCLOS Official Records, supra note 14, Lesotho statement at 247, para 19.

42

These are the 1921 Barcelona Statute, art. 2; the 1947 GATT, art. V; the 1965 Convention on Transit Transport, art. 2; and the 1982 Montego Bay Convention art. 125.

43

Note by UNCTAD Secretariat, supra note 9, at para 14. For the debate on whether customary international law does or does not recognise the right of transit, see Wani, supra note 18, at 639; Churchill/Lowe, supra note 40 at 323; and K. Uprety, ‘From Barcelona to Montego Bay and Thereafter: A Search for Landlocked States’ Rights to Trade through Access to the Sea – A Retrospective Review’, 7 Singapore Journal of International and Comparative Law 210 (2003).

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IV.

775

Agreements/Arrangements on Transit Transport in Eastern and Southern Africa

It has been argued above that the existing international instruments do not adequately address the problems of transit access to the sea for landlocked states. As a result, African states,44 consistent with their intentions in the OAU Declaration,45 have attempted to fill the gaps left by the international instruments through regional46 and sub-regional agreements. Below, we will examine the transit agreements and arrangements in Eastern and Southern Africa in order to see if they succeed to fill these gaps.

A.

Eastern Africa

The Eastern African sub-region of Africa includes Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi which are landlocked countries that depend on the coastal states of Tanzania and Kenya for their transit to and from the sea. Together these five countries form the East African Community (EAC) which was set up by the Treaty for the Establishment of the EAC signed on 30 November 1999 in Arusha which is also the seat of the Community.47 Chapter 15 of the Treaty is on cooperation in infrastructure and services. The partner states undertake to grant special treatment to landlocked partner states ‘in respect of the provisions of this chapter’.48 The coastal partner states are to cooperate with the landlocked partner states and grant them easy access to port facilities.49 Article 151 of the treaty requires partner states to conclude Protocols in each area of cooperation. To the best of the writer’s knowledge, no such protocol(s) have been concluded in the field of transit transport50 since the signing of the EAC

44

Which have the largest number of landlocked states.

45

Supra note 17.

46

E.g. the 1994 African Maritime Transport Charter, which is a framework agreement that includes the principle of the right of free access to the sea for every landlocked member state ‘provided they comply with the laws and regulations of the transit state’, ibid., art. 2. The Charter is available at http://www.dfa.gov.za/multilateral/Africa.

47

The original partner states are Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda. Burundi and Rwanda became members of the EAC in July 2007. The EAC Treaty provides for a Customs Union (which was launched in 2005), a Common Market (which is expected to start in 2010) and eventually a political federation (art. 5 on objectives). The EAC Treaty is available at http://www. eac.int.

48

1999 Treaty for the Establishment, art. 89(e).

49

This includes dry ports such as the inland terminal at Isaka (Tanzania) which was built in 1993 by the Tanzania Railways Corporation (TRC). The Rwanda government plans to build its own container depot on 14 acres of land (at Isaka) that it acquired from the Tanzania government, see ‘The East African’ newspaper of 10 March 2008. The arrangement clearly demonstrates the existing practical cooperation.

50

The only protocol that the writer found was a Protocol on the Establishment of the EAC Customs Union, signed on 2 March 2004.

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JAMES L. KATEKA

Treaty in 1999. However, several agreements dealing with transit transport were signed before the establishment of the EAC. One such instrument is the 1985 Northern Corridor Transit Agreement (NCTA).51 It applies to Burundi, Kenya, Rwanda, Uganda and Zaire.52 The arrangement follows the corridor approach which is now the preferred mechanism to address the issue of transit transport in the Eastern and Southern sub-regions of Africa.53 The 1985 Agreement defines the Northern Corridor54 as ‘[t]he transport infrastructure and facilities in East Africa served by the port of Mombasa, Kenya’. Reciprocity is introduced into the Agreement by requiring contracting parties to grant each other transit facilities.55 Any doubt as to conditionality is removed by the Explanatory Notes to the Agreement. They state that the international community does not regard the right of transit as an unconditional right, but as a right governed by terms and conditions on which the contracting parties may agree. In the view of the writer, the reciprocity requirement is out of step with the EAC Treaty which calls for special treatment of landlocked partner states.56 As the 1985 NCTA was concluded before the establishment of the EAC, it may need to be reviewed to bring it into line with the spirit of the requirement of special treatment of landlocked partner states. The 1985 Agreement also specifies that the selection of transit routes must be made in agreement between the transit state and the beneficiary. It seems that, as in the case of international legal instruments, the sovereignty of the transit states prevails (in the 1985 Agreement) over the issue of freedom of transit for landlocked states.57

51

Available at http://www.worldbank.org/afr/ssatp/Resources/HTML/legal_review/Annexes.

52

Zaire became the Democratic Republic of the Congo (the DRC) in 1997. The DRC is a geographically disadvantaged state. With a total area of 2,345,408 km2, the DRC is the third largest country in Africa, but it has a sea coast of only 40 km!

53

See point 3.1.5 of an UNCTAD Study, Improvement of Transit Systems in Southern and Eastern Africa, UN Doc. UNCTAD/LDC/2003/3 (2003).

54

1985 Northern Corridor Transit Agreement, art. 2.

55

The question may be raised as to whether coastal states in Eastern Africa (and even Southern Africa) need reciprocity now from their landlocked neighbour states. Such reciprocal transit may be required in the future when the transit states have strong economies, see E. E. E. Mtango/F. Weiss, ‘The EEZ and Tanzania’, 14 Ocean Development and International Law 29 (1984).

56

See supra note 48.

57

E.g. in Protocol No. 1 (Maritime Port Facilities) to the 1985 Northern Corridor Transit Agreement, art. 5 states that the ‘overall responsibility for the administration, operation and maintenance of facilities and services made available to the Northern Corridor States shall remain with the Kenya Ports Authority which in turn shall remain subject to the jurisdiction and laws of the Republic of Kenya’.

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In this regard, it has been suggested58 that landlocked states could seek agreement with transit states for the grant of international servitudes59 for transit purposes. Such a servitude existed in the then Tanganyika.60 According to the 1921 and 1951 Belbase Agreements between the UK and Belgium, transit was granted ‘across Tanganyika for persons and goods coming and going to the neighbouring territories of the Congo and Ruanda – Urundi’.61 The 1921 Agreement further granted a lease in perpetuity at a rent of one franc per annum for sites in Dar es Salaam and Kigoma (on Lake Tanganyika) for the construction of port facilities. When Tanganyika gained independence in 1961, the Prime Minister denounced the Belbase Agreements as being incompatible with Tanganyika’s sovereignty.62 Although the Belbase preferential transit sites came to an end in 1995,63 in practice the port facilities (for the Congo, Rwanda and Burundi) have remained in place. They have even been improved. It is submitted that the practical arrangements that transit states make in cooperation with landlocked states are preferable and work better than an attempt at creating controversial concepts such as servitudes which seem to be contrary to the sovereignty of the transit state. In this context, an analogy has been made between innocent passage in the territorial sea and transit passage by landlocked countries. It has been contended that in both situations the sovereignty of the state is involved but that innocent passage has not been questioned.64 It would seem, in the opinion of this writer, that there is a difference insofar as innocent passage takes place through what could be termed to be the ‘periphery’ of a state whereas transit passage for landlocked countries takes place through the ‘heart’ of a state. The latter situation is psychologically sensitive and needs to be handled carefully.65

58

Sinjela, supra note 3, at 51.

59

An international servitude is ‘a real right whereby the territory of one state is made liable to permanent use by another state, for some specified purpose’, ibid., citing H. D. Reid, International Servitudes in Law and Practice 25 (1935).

60

Now known as Mainland Tanzania.

61

See E. E. Seaton/S. T. Maliti, Tanzania Treaty Practice 86 (1973).

62

When enunciating the Nyerere doctrine on state succession, the Prime Minister told parliament: ‘A lease in perpetuity of land in the territory of Tanganyika is not something which is compatible with the sovereignty of Tanganyika when made by an authority whose own rights in Tanganyika were for a limited duration. No one can give away something which is not his to give.’ Ibid., at 86.

63

In 1981, Agence Maritime Internationale (AMI), a Belgian company took over the operations of the cargo handling to and from the Congo, Rwanda and Burundi in the port of Dar es Salaam. In 1995, the Tanzania Ports Authority (TPA) assumed the management of berths 1, 2, and 3 in the port of Dar es Salaam while the Tanzania Railways Authority (TRC) undertook the management of the port of Kigoma, see http://www.belbasetreaties.htm.

64

Wani, supra note 18, at 643.

65

In a different context, when opposing the participation of LLGDS in the exploitation of non-living resources of the EEZ, the representative of Nigeria remarked that ‘[t]here was no provision for any reciprocal right of transit states to exploit the mineral resources of landlocked states’. See supra note 14, at 245, para 2.

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Besides the Northern Corridor, there is the Central Corridor66 from Dar es Salaam port that serves the transit trade of Burundi, the DRC, Rwanda and Uganda. The Central Corridor comprises the central railway line67 and road transport.68 The rail transport69 has been losing its share of the freight market to road transport due to physical, regulatory and operational constraints.70 The development of infrastructure is one of the greatest challenges facing the East African Community due to the infrastructure’s poor state that in turn requires heavy capital outlays and is critical to regional integration. Consequently, the EAC partner states need to review the regulatory framework71 in order to allow for greater participation of the private sector in infrastructure development and operation. The emerging corridor arrangements in the EAC partner states are very dependent on well functioning public-private partnerships (PPPs).72 Recent developments in the region show that there is willingness on the part of the private sector to invest in the development and operation of infrastructure.73

B.

Southern Africa

The main organisation in the sub-region is the Southern African Development Community (SADC) which consists of 14 members, six of which are landlocked.74 The SADC was 66

The writer could not find any agreement concerning this Corridor.

67

Which runs from Dar es Salaam to Mwanza (on the shores of Lake Victoria) and from Dar es Salaam to Kigoma (on the shores of Lake Tanganyika).

68

Linking Dar es Salaam port to Isaka and on to Burundi and Rwanda, see supra note 49.

69

In 2007, railway transport had the capacity to carry only 7% of goods to and from Dar es Salaam port. The rest was carried via road transport, see ‘Nipashe’, Tanzanian newspaper, 19 April 2008.

70

President Museveni of Uganda is quoted to have said that ‘we cannot compete internationally with high transport costs. The archaic railway system – the Mombasa to Kampala railway was built between 1896 and 1905 – in East Africa is an obstacle to development. We need to modernise railways jointly with Tanzania and Kenya’, see ‘The Standard’, Kenyan newspaper, 18 April 2008.

71

This is priority no. 1 of the Almaty Programme of Action, see http://www.unctad.org.

72

See Note by UNCTAD Secretariat, supra note 9, para. 27.

73

Here is a list of examples of these developments: – An Agreement has been signed to build an oil pipeline from Eldoret in Kenya to Kampala in Uganda and to Kigali in Rwanda, see ‘The New Vision’, Uganda newspaper, 20 March 2008. – The Tanzania Railways Corporation has been leased to an Indian firm, Rites Consortium. – The container terminal at Dar es Salaam port is to be expanded by the Tanzania International Container Terminal Services (TICTS) which is a joint venture company between a consortium of Tanzania private investors and Hutchinson Port Holdings, the world’s leading port investor, see The East African newspaper, 17 March 2008. – An American firm was awarded the tender to construct a railway line between Isaka, Tanzania and Kigali, Rwanda, see The East African newspaper, 10 March 2008.

74

The six are Botswana, Lesotho, Malawi, Swaziland, Zambia and Zimbabwe. The DRC, supra note 52, is a geographically disadvantaged member of SADC. The other SADC members are

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established by the 1992 Windhoek Treaty.75 Unlike the EAC Treaty, the SADC Treaty does not make any reference to the specific problems of landlocked countries. Several Protocols have been concluded under the SADC Treaty. The SADC Protocol on Transport, Communications and Meteorology76 contains a Chapter II on integrated transport. One of the principles to be applied by the member states is ‘the right of landlocked member states to unimpeded access to and from the sea’.77 The right of access is not self-executing and ‘may require specific bilateral arrangements’.78 To cap it all, ‘[m]ember states shall, in the exercise of their full sovereignty over their territory, have the right to take all measures necessary to ensure that the application of the principles contemplated in paragraph 2 shall in no way infringe their legitimate interests’.79 As already stated, the ‘legitimate interests’ of transit states are not clearly defined in the international legal instruments. Thus, the inclusion of the same term in a sub-regional legal framework acts like a drawback mechanism in relation to the transit rights that are accorded to the landlocked states. It does not help to fill the lacuna left by the international legal framework. Annex IV to the 1996 SADC Protocol concerns transit trade and transit facilities. Interestingly, the Annex’s definition of ‘means of transport’ includes ‘aircraft’ which was left out of the UNCLOS regime because aircraft are governed by a special regime under the ICAO. Importantly, however, the Annex includes pipelines and gas lines as means of transport.80 The Annex provides further that ‘[a]ll transit goods and means of transport are to be presented to the customs office of commencement to ensure customs security’.81A progressive provision is made in the Annex in order to avoid delays and in order to harmonise procedures in the SADC area.82 Hence Annex IV helps to improve procedures to allow landlocked states access transit facilities on the basis of the same legal framework. There are other SADC Protocols.83 The Protocol on the SADC Tribunal provides for a dispute settlement mechanism. The Protocol states that the Tribunal ‘shall have Angola, Madagascar, Mauritius, Mozambique, Namibia, South Africa, and Tanzania, see http://www.sadc.int. 75

1992 Windhoek Treaty, available at ibid.

76

1996 SADC Protocol on Transport, Communications and Meteorology.

77

Ibid., art. 3.2, para. 2(b).

78

Ibid., para. 2(c).

79

Ibid., para. 3.

80

See supra note 37.

81

1996 SADC Protocol on Transport, Communications and Meteorology, art. 9 (on transit procedures).

82

Ibid., art. 9(6) states that ‘except where irregularities are suspected, the customs offices en route within the Member States shall respect the seals affixed by the customs authorities of other Member States.’ (Emphasis added).

83

Such as the 2001 SADC Protocol on Fisheries. This Protocol, while acknowledging in its preamble the special position of landlocked member states, does not provide for any clear mechanism for landlocked states to access living resources in the EEZ of coastal member states. Art. 11

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jurisdiction over all disputes relating to the interpretation, application or validity of the Protocols’.84 The Tribunal also has similar jurisdiction concerning the 1992 Treaty that set up the SADC. The Tribunal is likely to play an important role in the settlement of disputes arising from the application and interpretation of the SADC Protocols. The significance of the Tribunal cannot be overemphasized. Indeed, it is possible that a country exposing itself to instruments that may be incompatible when signing multiple regional and sub-regional agreements.85 Some members of the SADC belong to other regional institutions. For example, one member of the EAC (Tanzania) is also a member of SADC. Some SADC and EAC members belong to another regional organization known as the Common Market of Eastern and Southern Africa (COMESA)86 which has 19 member states. Among these are four EAC members87 and seven members of SADC.88 The COMESA claims to have excellent working relations with the EAC and SADC, with which it has set up a task force to harmonise programmes. Nevertheless, the danger of incompatible arrangements and potential of conflicts exists. It was this fear that led one state to withdraw from membership in COMESA.89

V.

Conclusion

The existing international legal regime has done little to solve the problems of LLDCs. It is unlikely that the regime will be improved in the immediate future.90 Thus, the LLDCs of Eastern and Southern Africa will have to work together with their transit neighbours who are themselves facing similar problems of economic and social transformation. Nevertheless, transit states have to meet the commitments they undertook both in

(on high seas fishing) recognizes the right of all states for their nationals to engage in fishing on the high seas. The Protocol, however, does not address the question of how SADC can help its six landlocked member states and the DRC as a geographically disadvantaged state, to engage in fishing in the high seas. 84

Protocol on the SADC Tribunal, art. 14(b).

85

Note by UNCTAD Secretariat, supra note 9, para 26.

86

See http://www.comesa.int. It was initially established in 1981 as the Preferential Trading Area for Eastern and Southern Africa (PTA). The PTA was transformed into COMESA in 1994. COMESA established a free trade area (FTA) in 2000.

87

Burundi, Kenya, Rwanda and Uganda.

88

The DRC, Madagascar, Malawi, Mauritius, Swaziland, Zambia and Zimbabwe.

89

Although Tanzania withdrew from COMESA, it still uses the COMESA Carriers’ Licence that allows for the licensing of commercial vehicles with one licence which is valid in the whole COMESA region. However, COMESA has not yet fully implemented the TIR Carnet system which it adopted, see http://www.unece.org for the 1975 TIR Convention.

90

After the monumental task of concluding the 1982 Convention on the Law of the Sea, 1833 UNTS 397, it is unlikely that states parties would want to reopen the package deal that covers many and varied interests any time soon.

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international and regional instruments.91 They have to remember that while both groups are poor, the LLDCs face more daunting problems because their international trade is in risk of being distorted by high transit costs. The transit states in Eastern and Southern Africa, while lacking the capacity to satisfactorily solve the transit problems of their LLDC partner states, have shown the necessary goodwill. The recent political crisis in Kenya led the landlocked countries of Uganda, Rwanda and Burundi to strengthen alternative transit routes through Tanzania. Such alternative routes do not exist in every region. The Eastern African transit states have also shown their readiness to form joint ventures with the LLDCs for whom transit to the outside world is a matter of national survival. In this context, both sides have to realise that the development of effective transit systems cannot be dealt with in isolation from other sectors of their economic development. The international community has shown willingness to cooperate in solving transit problems of LLDCs.92 The landlocked developing countries of Eastern and Southern Africa, like other LLDCs elsewhere, will remain dependent on the goodwill of transit states for their access to and from the sea. Unlike developed landlocked countries, the Eastern and Southern African LLDCs will also have to continue to cope with the poor transit systems provided by the developing transit states. The challenge to both groups will be the extent of their willingness to cooperate in infrastructure development for their mutual economic well-being.

91

This also calls for domestic legislation being updated to conform to their international commitments.

92

UNCTAD continues to play a key role in the implementation of the Almaty Programme of Action whose main goal is to reinforce cooperation between landlocked and transit developing countries.

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JAMES L. KATEKA

39

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International Environmental Regulations – Is a Comprehensive Body of Law Emerging or is Fragmentation Going to Stay? Gerhard Loibl

I.

Introduction

International regulations addressing environmental issues have grown rapidly over the last decades. Since the first United Nations Conference on environmental issues, which was held in Stockholm 1972 entitled ‘United Nations Conference on a Human Environment’, the number of environmental norms has increased very fast on the universal, regional and domestic level. In his academic publications, Gerhard Hafner has discussed issues concerning the environment for many years. He was one of the first who discussed the results of the Stockholm Conference. Moreover, he dealt with many facets of environmental issues.1 His academic work gives a broad perspective of the multitude of environmental questions and the many problems faced in this area of international legal regulation. In the context of international environmental law, another issue which Gerhard Hafner raised in a study he wrote as a member of the International Law Commission, (‘Risks ensuing from the fragmentation of international law’) has more and more become a topic of intense discussions in recent years.2 In this study, he identified a number of causes for the fragmentation of international law in general, such as the lack of centralized organs, the spezialization of international regulations, the different structures of legal norms, parallel and/or competitive regulations, the enlargement of the scope of international law and the different regimes of secondary rules. All of these causes for fragmentation may also be found in the area of international environmental regulations. Just to point out some examples: the Stockholm Convention on Persistent Organic Pollutants 2001 and the Protocol on Persistent Organic Pollutants 1998 to the UNECE Convention on Long-range Transboundary Air Pollution 1979 both deal with the prohibition of the production and use of persistent organic pollutants, but their scope

1

See, e.g., G. Hafner, ‘Umwelt und Politik – Das Tauziehen um die Umweltdeklaration und das Verhalten der Entwicklungsstaaten’, 1972 Internationale Entwicklung 18 (1972); id., ‘Das Übereinkommen über Hilfeleistung bei nuklearen Unfällen oder strahlungsbedingten Notfällen’, 39 ÖZöRVR 19 (1988); id., ‘The Optimum Utilization Principle and the NonNavigational Uses of Drainage Basins’, 45 AJPIL 113 (1993).

2

See G. Hafner, ‘Risks Ensuing from Fragmentation of International Law’, Official Records of the General Assembly, Fifty-fifth session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/55/10 (2002), Annex, at 143.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 783-796, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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of application differs. The first applies on the universal, the latter on the regional level.3 Another example is the relationship between the Stockholm Convention on Persistent Organic Pollutants 2001 and the Basel Convention on the Control of Transboundary Movements of Hazardous Wastes and their Disposal 1989. The provisions of these two conventions contain competitive regulations on how to treat ‘waste’. The Stockholm Convention prohibits the production and use of persistent organic pollutants (further: POPs) and the Basel Convention deals with hazardous waste. Thus POPs, which have been produced before its entry into force, but may no longer be used after the Stockholm Convention entered into force, become ‘waste’ as they no longer may be used. Hence, the question arises whether such waste falls under the scope of the Stockholm Convention or of the Basel Convention. This issue of overlapping or even competitive regulatons established under the two Conventions was already acknowledged during the negotiations leading to the adoption of the POPs Convention as it provides for the cooperation of the relevant convention bodies with the appropriate Basel Convention bodies.4 Another area where discussions were held and where the danger of competivitive or overlapping regulations emerged is ‘the Conservation and Sustainable Use of Marine Biodiversity in Areas beyond National Jurisdiction’. On this issue, a number of international legal instruments and institutions have to be taken into account, in particular the following treaties and international organisations: the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, the Convention on Biological Diversity, the Food and Argiculture Organisation and regional fisheries organisations.5 The following contribution tries to demonstrate that fragmentation of international environmental law is a result of its historic development but also of the substantive issues arising from environmental issues.

II.

The Evolution of International Environmental Regulations

Although the Stockholm Conference is seen in general as the starting point for the evolution of international environmental regulations, environmental issues had been discussed and relevant regulations had already been earlier. Examples for such ealier regulations are the International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling 19466 or 3

It should be noted that although all chemicals addressed in the POPs Convention are also covered by the POPs Protocol, the Protocol deals with more chemicals.

4

See art. 6 entitled ‘Measures to reduce or eliminate releases from stockpiles and wastes’. Art. 6, para. 2 states that the Conference of the Parties shall cooperate closely with the appropriate bodies of the Basel Convention, e.g. to establish levels of destruction and irreversible transformation or to determine what they consider to be methods that constitute environmentally sound disposal.

5

See the ongoing work of the United Nations Open-ended Informal Consultative Process on Oceans and the Law of the Sea and the discussions within the respective institutions of the Convention on Biological Diversity.

6

On the evolution of the international whaling regulations see, e.g., P. Birnie/A. Boyle, International Law and the Environment 545 (2002).

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provisions of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade 1947.7 But it was not until 1972 that environmental issues emerged as a central area of international regulation. The growing number of treaties – on the universal, regional and bilateral level – are evidence of this trend. Moreover, in the last decades many declarations, resolutions and decisions have been adopted by international organisations, conferences and other institutions, which are regarded very often as ‘soft law’.8 Furthermore, some rules concerning the environment are customary international law, e.g. Principle 2 of the Rio Declaration (concerning the obligation of states not to cause damage to the environment of other States or of areas beyond the limits of national jurisdiction)9 or Priniciple 18 of the Rio Declaration (concerning notification of other States of any natural disaster or any other emergencies that are likely to produce sudden harmful effects on the environment of those States). In general, these regulations of environmental issues follow a ‘sectoral approach’, i.e. environmental problems were identified and regulations addressing them were elaborated. In most cases, once an environmental issue was identified ‘soft law instruments’ were adopted by appropriate international institutions. Based on these soft law instruments, multilateral environmental agreements were negotiated to address the problem. Often the first treaties adopted to deal with a specific issue are ‘framework conventions’, i.e. they contain only very general provisions and set out the principles for the further development of legal regulations. Moreover, they set up institutions which serve as a forum for further discussion and analysis. Examples of this approach are the Vienna Convention on the Protection of the Ozone Layer 1985 and its Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer 1987 or the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change 1992 and its Kyoto Protocol 1997. On the regional level, the UNECE Convention on Long-range Transboundary Air Pollution 1979 and its eight protocols follow the same approach.10 The rapid growth of international regulations addressing specific environmental issues is also demonstrated by the Montevideo Programme for the Development and Periodic Review of Environmental Law which was adopted by the Governing Council of the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) in 1982.11 Since then, the Governing Council has adopted two more programmes in 1993 and 2001 which provide the basis for UNEP’s activities in the progressive development of international

7

See GATT, art. XX.

8

Most of these treaties and soft law instruments may be found on http://www.ecolex.org. This website is a comprehensive source of environmental law.

9

Principle 2 of the Rio Declaration is identical with Principle 21 of the Stockholm Convention. Only the words ‘and developmental’ were added in the first part of the text.

10

For more information on the Convention and its protocols see http://www.unece.org.

11

See UNEP’s website, http://www.unep.org/law. The Montevideo Programme adopted in 1972 is commonly known as ‘Montevideo I’.

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environmental law.12 These programmes outline the activities to be undertaken in the further elaboration of international environmental regulations for the coming decade. These programmes have identified areas – such as the protection of the ozone layer, biodiversity or chemicals – in which legal rules are to be elaborated. This structure of the Montevideo programmes underlines the international community’s approach in the evolution of international environmental law: a ‘sectoral’ or issue-based approach. Environmental problems - once identified – are to be solved through the adoption of specific rules to deal with the matter under consideration. A holistic approach towards environmental issues is not found in the Montevideo programmes. But – as already referred to – environmental issues are not only dealt with by multilateral environmental agreements, they also relate to other areas of international law, such as humanitarian, human rights or international trade law. The protection of the environment in times of war or armed conflict has been an issue for many years. Provisions on the protection of the environment are contained in the First Additional Protocol 1977 to the Red Cross Convention 1949.13 Questions of environmental protection have also been discussed for a long time in the context of human rights law both within political bodies, such as those of the Council of Europe, and judicial bodies, such as the European Court of Human Rights.14 The relationship between environmental protection and international trade law has been on the agenda of GATT/WTO for decades. Its Committee on Trade and Environment deals with the many facets of the relationship between these two areas of international law15 and a number of disputes dealt with by the GATT/WTO system have addressed the relationship between environmental rules and international trade law.16 Due to new scientific knowledge and expertise in the last years, new areas of international regulation have become central issues of environmental concern. Transboundary traffic and transit have been a issues on the regional level for many years as air pollution and noise emissions became a concern for the population affected.17 But the issue of climate change has put the focus on international aviation and international maritime transport in the context of international climate change regulations as a (major) source

12

These two programmes are known as ‘Montevideo II’ and ‘Montevideo III’. Currently work is undertaken on the development of the fourth Montevideo Programme.

13

See 1977 First Additional Protocol to the Red Cross Convention 1949, art. 35, para. 3, and art. 55.

14

See, e.g., López Ostra v. Spain, Judgement of 9 December 1994; and Hatton et al v. United Kingdom, Judgements of 2 October 2001 and 8 July 2003, http://hudoc.echr.coe.int/ hudoc.

15

See the Committee’s 1994 work programme and the Doha mandate, http://www.wto.org.

16

See, e.g., United States – Import Prohibition of Certain Shrimp and Shrimp Products, WT/ DS58, http://docsonline.wto.org.

17

For this reason a number of air ports restricted night flights (e.g., cf. the Hatton case before the European Court on Human Rights) or the measures taken to restrict or reduce transit traffic on roads (measures taken by a number of European States, see, e.g., reports of the YbIEL on Austria and Switzerland).

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of CO2 emissions.18 Article 2 paragraph 2 of the Kyoto Protocol states that these issues are to be discussed in other international fora, in particular the International Civil Aviation Organisation (ICAO) and the International Maritime Organisation (IMO). The discussions how to handle most appropriately these environmental issues, in particular emissions resulting from international transport, are still on-going.19 These other areas of international regulation address environmental questions only in a peripheric manner, i.e. they are not central issues in regard to e.g. international trade law or humanitarian law. Very often the relationship is not without frictions as GATT/WTO demonstrates. There are very often tensions between the rules which regulate a specific subject and environmental concerns. This was e.g. very obvious when the so-called ‘Multilateral Agreement on Investment’ (MAI) was negotiated under the auspices of the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD).20 One of the reasons for the failure of the negotiations were the tensions between the goal to provide a secure legal framework for a foreign investor and considerations on environmental threats in the light of new scientific evidence. This brief overview of the evolution of international environmental law demonstrates that there is no definite set of rules which apply to environmental issues. Although multilateral environmental agreements, some customary principles and ‘soft law’ are seen as the core of international environmental law, there are many provisions in other areas which concern the environment and which have to be taken into account when determining whether a comprehsive set of rules is emerging to address environmental issues.

III.

Institutional Framework Addressing Environmental Issues

The focus on environmental issues and the growth of international environmental regulations have also led to new instutions. The United Nations General Assembly established the United Nations Environmental Programme in 1972 upon recommendation by the Stockholm Conference21 and after the Rio Conference the Commission on Sustainable Development was set up in 1992.22 Although the tasks of the two UN bodies 18

Emissions resulting from national and transboundary traffic in general fall within the scope of the 1998 Kyoto Protocol, 37 ILM 22 (1998). Therefore, Annex I – Parties have the obligation to reduce such emissions in order to reach their targets set out in art. 3, para. 1 in connection with Annex B.

19

Cf. the on-going discussions on this issue in the Subsidiary Body for Scientific and Technological Advice under UNFCCC (e.g. during its twenty-eight session which decided that furhter exchages of view are to take place during its next three sessions, FCCC/SBSTA/2008/L.8). On this issue in general see G. Loibl/M. Reiterer, ‘Levies on aircraft engine fuel – the international legal framework’, XXX NYIL 115 (1999).

20

The documentation from the negotiations of MAI may be found on http://www.oecd.org/ daf/mai/.

21

UN General Assembly Res. 2997, UN Doc. A/RES/2997 (XXVII).

22

UN General Assembly Res. 47/191, UN Doc. A/RES/47/191 (1992).

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differ, there are certain overlaps in their activities. But these are not the only institutions within the United Nations family which address environmental issues. It may be said today that every UN organisation deals with environmental questions. Environmental issues are discussed by ECOSOC as well as the General Assembly. Moreover, the Security Council has addressed environmental issues on several occassions.23 However, these are not the only institutions addressing environmental issues. International organisations which were set up to deal with very different issues have in the last decades taken up issues relevant to the environment. This holds true e.g. for GATT/ WTO, the International Atomic Energy Agency, the World Health Organisation, the Food and Agriculture Organisation or the Bretton Woods institutions. The United Nations Regional Commissions have become major actors on environmental issues as well. For instance, the United Nations Economic Commission for Europe (UNECE) plays a very important part in the development of international environmental law. The UNECE Convention on Long-range Transboundary Air Pollution 1979 and its protocols, the Espoo Convention on Environmental Impact Assessment in a Transboundary Context 1991 as well as the Aarhus Convention on Access to Information, Public Participation in Decision-making and Access to Justice in Environmental Matters 1998 are examples of the work undertaken within UNECE to deal with environmental issues.24 In the area of nature protection the Council of Europe has also been very active.25 Furthermore, international institutions were set up under various multilateral environmental agreements to ‘administer’ the activities under the respective treaty. Each of these treaties established its own Conference of the Parties,26 Secretariat and subsidiary bodies. This growth of international institutions as a result of the adoption of multilateral environmental agreements may be seen as a result of the sectoral approach as promoted by the Montevideo Programmes. As stated above, one of UNEP’s tasks is to promote the progressive development and implementation of environmental law, and it fulfills this task quite successfully. But unlike in other areas of law, e.g. international trade law, no ‘central institution’ has been established to ‘administer’ multilateral environmental agreements (MEA). Under most multilateral environmental agreements, secretariats were established which are located at various places around the globe. Although most of them are institutionally linked to UNEP, the different geographical locations have made coordination and cooperation more difficult and have underlined the trend that each of the MEAs has started to act more 23

E.g. environmental issues were raised in the Security Council when the United Nations Compensation Commission was set up. Cf. O. Elias, ‘The UN Compensation Commission and Liability for the Costs of Monitoring and Assessment of Environmental Damage’, in M. Fitzmaurice/D. Saarooshi (eds.), Issues of State Responsibility before International Judicial Institutions 219 (2004).

24

On the conventions and protocols as well as the work of UNECE on environmental issues see http://www.unece.org.

25

E.g. the 1979 Bern Convention on the Conservation of European Wildlife and Natural Habitats, ETS No. 104; or the 2000 European Landscape Convention, ETS No. 176.

26

The name of this institution may vary under the different treaties. Sometimes it is entitled ‘Meeting of the Parties’.

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independently.27 But the establishment of new secretariats and their location in various places is to be seen only as one of the causes for the fragmentation of international environmental law. The bodies which determine the activities under the various multilateral environmental agreements and their further evolvement are the Conferences or Meetings of the Parties. In these bodies, decisions are taken on the measures and activities to address environmental issues as every MEA has its ‘legal autonomy’. In practice, this institutional structure might lead to overlapping or even contradicting rules and activities as the complexity of environmental questions makes it more difficult to address an issue only in the context of one MEA. Therefore, close coordination of the activities in different areas of environmental legislation is needed in order to deal with an issue in a comprehensive manner.

IV.

Are General Principles of International Environmental Law Leading to a Comprehensive Set of International Environmental Regulations ?

Taking into account that international environmental regulations cover a very broad field, the question arises whether some general principles concerning the environment have emerged over the last decades which can be considered the core on which environmental regulations are based. The Stockholm Declaration 1972 and the Rio Declaration 1992 are generally regarded as containing the principles on which international environmental regulations are based. Moroever, these principles are also found in international treaties. The last decades saw the emergence of numerous principles relevant for environmental issues: sustainable development, integration and interdependence; inter-generational and intra-generational equity; responsibility for transboundary harm; transparancy, public participation and access to information and remedies; cooperation, and common but differentiated responsibilities; precaution; prevention; polluter-pays-principle; access and benefit sharing regarding natural resources; common heritage and common concern of humankind; good goverance.28 Although there is a common understanding that these principles are found in international environmental regulations, their legal status as well as their contents are disputed. Some of them are regarded as customary international law, such as the responsibility for transboundary harm, others are only seen as establishing a politicial commitment, such as the principle of good goverance. The dicussion about the legal status of these principles may be illustrated by taking ‘precaution’ as an example. Principle 15 of the Rio Declaration lays down the general understanding of ‘precaution’.29 References to 27

Only the Ozone Secretariat serving the Vienna Convention on the Protection of the Ozone Layer and the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer is located in Nairobi.

28

See UNEP, Training Manual on International Environmental Law 23 (2006).

29

Rio Declaration, 31 ILM 876 (1992), Principle 15 reads: ‘In order to protect the environment, the precautionary approach shall be widely applied by States according to their capabilities.

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‘precaution’ and/or Principle 15 of the Rio Declaration are found in a number of treaties, such as the Stockholm Convention,30 the Cartagena Protocol31 or UNFCCC.32 The precautionary principle has also been endorsed in regional treaties, e.g. in the Convention on the Protection of the Marine Environment of the Baltic Sea 1992 or the Convention for the Protection of the Marine Environment of the North-East Atlantic (OSPAR Convention) 1992. But the general understanding on precaution does not mean that it may be applied easily. The difficulty lies in its application to specific situations. This is clearly demonstrated by cases before international dispute settlement bodies, such as the Nuclear Test Cases 1995 (New Zealand v. France),33 the Gabcikovo-Nagymaros Case (Hungary v. Slovakia)34, Southern Blue Fin Tuna Cases (Australia/New Zealand v. Japan)35 and the MOX Plant Case (Ireland v. United Kingdom).36 Furthermore, the precautionary approach was raised in a number of disputes under GATT/WTO, e.g. in the case European Communities – Measures Affecting the Approval and Marketing of Biotech Products.37 Therefore, so far there is no unversal understanding of States that the precautionary approach has become customary international law. A number of countries argue that – despite the fact that it is contained in a number of treaties – it is rather a policy principle, which has to be applied in different manners in different situations. The amount of evidence as a basis for the application of the precautionary approach depends on the environmental resource and the predictability of damage to human health and the environment. But it should be borne in mind that even if the wording of Principle 15 is to be regarded as expressing customary international law, the application to a specific situation would still be disputed. The different interests of States, their different perceptions of potential dangers and the specific circumstances make it very difficult to reach a common understanding on the exact contents of the precautionary principle. The EC Biotech Case clearly shows that countries have different attitudes towards dealing with Living Modified Organisms (LMOs) as they have come to different assessments on the dangers resulting form LMOs to their biodiversity. This is partly due to the fact that biodiversity is different in the various countries. Where there are threats of serious or irreversible damage, lack of full scientific certainty shall not be used as reason for postponing cost-effective measures to prevent environmental degradation.’ 30

See 2001 Stockholm Convention, 40 ILM 532 (2001), arts. 1 and 8.

31

See 2000 Cartagena Protocol, 39 ILM 1027 (2000), arts. 1, 10 and 11.

32

See 1992 United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, 31 ILM 848 (1992), art. 3, para. 3.

33

Request for an Examination of the Situation in accordance with para. 63 of the Court’s Judgement of December 1974 in the Nuclear Tests Case (New Zealand v. France), 1995 ICJ Rep. 288.

34

Gabcikovo-Nagymaros Case (Hungary v. Slovakia), 37 ILM 162 (1998).

35

Southern Blue Fin Tuna Cases (Australia/New Zealand v. Japan), 38 ILM 1624 (1999).

36

The MOX Plant Case (Ireland v. United Kingdom), Request for provisional measures by Ireland, http://www.itlos.org.

37

Dispute DS291 (United States v. European Communities), http://www.wto.org.

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Similar differences exist also for other principles listed above. The principle of common but differentiated responsibilities is another example. Although the international community agrees that climate change has to be tackled, there are different positions on the measures to be taken and on the obligation of individual countries to reduce their CO2 emissions. It should also be borne in mind that the principles are not only dealing with the protection of the environment as such, but also address issues which are relevant in other areas of international regulation. Thus, tensions may arise when these principles are applied in a specific situation. For instance, the polluter-pays principle (PPP) is to be applied ‘with due regard to the public interest and without distorting international trade and investment’.38 Thus, in applying the PPP to a specific situation, international economic law is to be taken into account. It may be concluded that general principles as contained in the Stockholm and Rio Declarations set out the framework for international regulations concerning the environment, but in order to be effective they have to be adjusted to the specific issues in question. This conclusion is also underlined by the ‘IUCN Draft International Covenant on Environment and Development’.39 This document has been drafted under the auspices of IUCN and the International Council of Environmental Law with the task to provide a comprehensive document comprising issues concerning the environment. As environmental issues are not limited to the protection of the environment as such, it deals also with the relationship to other areas of international regulation. Therefore, the content of the document is very broad as Article 1 of the Draft International Covenant states. Its objective is ‘to achieve environmental conservation as an indispensable component of sustainable development, through establishing integrated rights and obligations’. Its articles do not only set out principles concerning the protection of environmental resources, but also address developmental, trade and social issues.40 Although the Draft Covenant is based on existing treaty practice it has not yet led to negotiations on a comprehensive treaty on environmental issues. The main reason is the complexity of the issues in question. They relate not only to the protection of environmental resources, but refer to many other areas of international environmental regulation. As the last years have proved, scientific and technological knowledge and understanding about the relationship between the various environmental effects has been advancing very fast. Thus, it does not seem advisable to establish a comprehensive instrument on environmental issues which may be too static to deal with new environmental challenges. Moreover, as new knowledge about environmental issues evolves, additional areas of international regulation have to be taken into account. Thus, not only environmental regulations are affected, but also international law dealing for instance with economic and social questions. The Draft Covenant has served a very important purpose: it has paved the way for understanding the complexity of issues concerning the environment. 38

See Rio Declaration, supra note 29, Principle 16.

39

IUCN, Environmental Policy and Law Paper No. 31 Rev. 2 (2004).

40

Cf. P. Birnie/A. Boyle, International Law and the Environment 566 (2002).

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The Draft Covenant has also underlined the difficulties in addressing environmental issues in a ‘holistic’ manner. Currently, the substantive regulations concerning the environment aim at solving specific questions and a comprehensive set of rules on the environment has not yet been achieved, not least due to the limited knowledge about the environment in general. First steps in regard to a ‘holistic approach’ to environmental issues have been taken in regard to procedural issues. Within the UNECE region international regulations have been agreed upon which concern environmental impact assessment,41 strategic environmental assessment42 and public participation.43 These treaties establish detailed procedures to be applied in the decision-making processes concerning the environment. Although they do not establish substantive rules concerning the environment, they may help to deal with environmental issues in a more holistic manner as they do not differentiate between the various environmental resources but provide for a comprehensive approach in deciding about a specific activity or measure.

V.

Could Institutional Arrangements Be an Answer to the Fragmentation of International Environmental Law?

The fragmentation of international environmental regulation and the large number of international institutions dealing with environmental issues has started a debate about a more comprehensive institutional set up to address environmental questions. Following the Rio Conference and during the final negotiations of the Uruquay Round arguments were raised for an international environmental organisation. ‘GATTing the Greens’ became a more topical issue after the adoption of the Marrakesh Treaty on GATT/WTO.44 One of the arguments put forward was that if the international trade community has succeeded in establishing a central institution this should also be done for the environment. Although many proposals have been made in regard to a global environmental organisation some basic issues still need to be clarified. Among them are: –

Environmental questions cover a very wide field of diverse particular issues. Therefore it is not easy to identify a unified mandate for such an organisation.

41

2001 Espoo Convention on Environmental Impact Assessment in a Transboundary Context (as amended).

42

2003 Kiev Protocol on Strategic Environmental Assessment, http://www.unece.org/env/ eia/documents/protocolenglish.pdf.

43

1998 Aarhus Convention on Access to Information, Public Participation in Decision-making and Access to Justice in Environmental Matters, 38 ILM 517 (1999).

44

For a detailed discussion of this issue see D. Esty, ‘GATTing the Greens’, 72 Foreign Affairs 32 (1993).

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–

numerous international environmental aggreements have been concluded and entered into force over the last decades. They established their own institutions and they differ with regard to membership.

–

How are regional environmental agreements to be included into such an international environmental organisation? Although some regions face the same environmental challenges different approaches have been taken, in particular with regard to air or maritime pollution.

Thus it seems unlikely that an international environmental organisation dealing with all issues concerning the environment will be established. Therefore, other solutions have to be taken into account to deal with environmental issues in a more effective and efficient manner. In order to avoid parallel and competitive regulations, ‘clustering’ of related MEAs was discussed informally at a number of international meetings. ‘Clustering’ means in general that cooperation between MEAs addressing similar environmental issues should be enhanced. The first area where this approach has been taken up are chemicals. In the early 1990ies discussions about a comprehensive treaty dealing with chemicals were held in various fora, such as the Governing Council of UNEP and in the preparatory meetings for the Rio Conference on Envionment and Development. But these efforts were not successful. Currently, three universal conventions are in force dealing with chemicals or waste: the Basel Convention, the Rotterdam Convention and the Stockholm Convention. In the course of the operation and implementation of these three conventions it became obvious that there were certain overlaps, e.g. in the area of capacity-building, the collection of information as well as the national reports provided by the Parties. In order to explore ‘synergies’ between the three Conventions an ‘Ad-hoc Working Group on Enhancing Cooperation and Coordination Among the Basel, Rotterdam and Stockholm Conventions’ was established by the three Conferences of the Parties. The report of the Ad-Hoc Working Group found a number of areas where the cooperation and coordination could indeed be enhanced. Among its recommendations were coordination at the national level, programmatic cooperation in the field, coordinated use of regional offices and centres, cooperation on national reporting and cooperation on technical and scientific issues as well a number of administrative issues (e.g. joint managerial functions, resource mobilization and joint services such as a joint legal service, a joint information technology service and a joint information service)45. By implementing these recommendations, overlaps of activities under the three conventions will be avoided and a more comprehensive set of international rules on the treatment of dangerous chemicals may well emerge. In other areas of environmental regulation this example should be followed to enhance the cooperation and coordiantion between the various MEAs. MEAs dealing with biodiversity and the protection of the natural habitat could be an area for such efforts. These regulations may be more difficult to deal with as there are a number of universal and regional conventions which deal with biodiversity and nature protection. 45

See Doc. UNEP/FAO/CHW/RC/POPS/JWG.3/3 (2008).

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A first step might be to streamline the reporting obligations of the Parties in the area of biodiversity and nature protection. This would not only make reporting easier for Parties but it may also raise the awareness on the domestic and international level about parallel or even competitive regulations.

VI.

Concluding Remarks

International environmental law is a relatively young subject of international regulation. It has become an area of central interest on the international level only in the last decades when the international community became aware of the fact that universal or regional rules are needed to address environmental issues as domestic measures were not sufficient to deal with the environmental problems of a universal or regional nature. Although general principles addressing environmental issues have emerged, they need to be adjusted to the specific situation faced in a particular area. The Stockholm and Rio Declarations are examples for international (soft law) instruments containing these general principles. But environmental issues to be addressed by the international community differ to a large extent and in each of these cases specific scientific evidence and technological knowledge is to be taken into account. In many cases human understanding of a particular environmental problem was limited. Only after the first environmental regulations were adopted to address a particular environmental issue more precise scientific evidence emerged which led to the elaboration of more specific environmental regulations. The Montreal Protocol and its amendments are a clear example for the increased scientific knowledge concerning substances that deplete the ozone layer. Moreover, the increased scientific evidence on environmental issues has also led to deeper understanding concerning the relationship between the different environmental problems. Thus, environmental problems which have been treated as separate issues are now seen as being interrelated. Climate change and desertification for instance should not be seen as completely separate issues but also need to be addressed in a comprehensive approach. The rapid growth of environmental regulations on the international level has led to a number of overlaps, contradictions and numerous international institutions. This fragmentation in international environmental law is not easily overcome for a number of reasons: –

each of the international environmental treaties has a different membership;

–

each international environmental agreement has set up its own institutional framework;

–

nearly all international institutions, such as Intergovermental Organisations within the United Nations family, deal with environmental issues as

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environmental questions are not limited to specific subjects of international regulation, but concern a large number of international activities; –

environmental issues are not the only issues in interstate-relations, but a number of conflicts which have emerged in the last decades also have an environmental dimension.

While fragmentation in environmental regulations may not be overcome soon, the risks ensuing from this fragmentation might be minimized by institutional arrangements which provide for a more intense cooperation between the various bodies. Such arrangements need not only be established between the various institutions on the international level, but should also be made on the domestic level. This may be clearly demonstrated by the activities undertaken in the efforts to combat climate change. As virtually every sector of human activity has to be taken into account in order to take effective and efficient measures to combat climate change a close cooperation and coordination between the various institutions is necessary. Since fragmentation of environmental regulation will stay with us for the foreseeable future due to the diversity of issues at stake, closer cooperation and coordination need to emerge in order to address environmental issues successfully. What is more, new scientific knowledge may lead to new international regulations which not only affect international environmental regulations as such, but will have to be incorporated in other areas of international regulation.

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Using Judicial Bodies for the Implementation and Enforcement of International Environmental Law Thomas A. Mensah

I.

Introduction

The international environmental awakening which led to the Stockholm Conference on the Human Environment of 1972, and the subsequent international and national programmes for the protection and preservation of the human environment, all grew out of the realization that many aspects of economic life in the modern world – including the pattern of procedures of industrial production; the exponential increases in population; and the escalating levels of pollution from human activity – posed a serious threat to the viability of the human environment and, ultimately, to the survival of the human race itself.1 This realization in turn led governments and the international community to accept what has been referred to as the ‘ecological imperative’ as one of the factors that need to be taken into account in determining how nations and peoples should use and manage the resources of the earth.2 The ‘ecological imperative’ was premised on the view that the earth is a ‘crowded planet that offers finite and exhaustible quantities of basic essentials of human well-being and existence’ and, accordingly, that it will require major changes in values, attitudes, economic practices, and styles of living, accompanied by massive changes in the allocation of goods and services, and concerted international co-operation of a scope and on a scale only dimly imagined as yet, if the earth is to continue as a congenial habitat’.3

One of the main outcomes of the international consensus on the need to protect the world’s environment was the decision to develop new principles, norms and regulations that establish generally agreed parameters of acceptable conduct and define the limits of changes to the environment that are deemed to be appropriate. Although there have been disagreements regarding the nature and scope of the principles and norms that should guide nations and peoples in the protection and preservation of particular 1

See A. L. Springer, The International Law of Pollution – Protecting the Global Environment in a World of Sovereign States 3 (1993): ‘Modern man’s unecological tendencies have resulted in environmental changes that not only impairs the quality of human life but that could ultimately threaten his continued existence.’

2

Ibid., at 48-52.

3

H. Sprout/M. Sprout, Towards a Politics of the Plane Earth 15 (1971).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 797-816, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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sectors of the human environment, no serious questions have been raised about the need for such principles and norms or about their basic objective. This objective is now universally referred to as ‘sustainable development’. The concept of sustainable development was first adumbrated in the report of the Brundtland Commission.4 It has subsequently been endorsed and clarified in several important international declarations and policy statements, and was finally given explicit and authoritative articulation in the Rio Declaration of 1992.5

II.

International Environmental Agreements

A consequence of the international acceptance of the concept of sustainable development has been the gradual but steady development of a body of national and international principles, norms and legal rules that are intended to guide and regulate the activities of States and non-state actors in situations where their actions or omissions could cause pollution or other forms of degradation to particular sectors of the environment or to the global ecology as a whole. Thus, it is no exaggeration to say that there is now a new world order for the protection and preservation of the global environment of which the concept of ‘sustainable development’ is the universally accepted policy framework and guiding motivation. The principles, rules, standards and procedures intended to promote this new world order constitute what is referred to as international environmental law. This law derives from two main sources. The first source comprises declaratory statements issued by international conferences; policy statements issued or approved by governments at the national, regional and global levels, together with international instruments which set out non-binding recommended standards, regulations, guidelines and procedures. The second source of international environmental law consists of global and regional treaty instruments that impose legally binding obligations on States which agree to be bound by them. Since 1972, and indeed sometime before that date, States have developed a large corpus of international treaty law on almost all aspects of environmental protection. The areas covered by these instruments include trans-frontier pollution in areas under the jurisdiction of individual states; exploitation and management of natural resources that are commonly shared; protection of endangered species of flora and fauna; and protection of areas that ore often referred to as ‘global commons’, that is to say areas that are outside the jurisdiction of any single state but are agreed to be of common concern 4

United Nations World Commission on Environment and Development, Brundtland Report. Our Common Future (1987). The report defined ‘sustainable development’ as ‘development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs’. On the implications and ‘legal status’ of the concept of sustainable development see, especially, V. Lowe, ‘Sustainable Development and Unsustainable Arguments’, in A. Boyle/D. Freestone (eds.), International Law and Sustainable Development (1999).

5

1992 Rio Declaration on Environment and Development, Report of the UNCED I, UN Doc. A/CONF.151/26 Rev.1.

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to governments, peoples and the international community in general. In many cases, these treaty instruments are understood and interpreted by reference to principles and norms contained in relevant non-treaty instruments and documents.6

III.

Implementation of International Environmental Agreements

However, while the adoption of these instruments has been rightly welcomed, and although it is generally agreed upon that conventions and agreements have made significant contributions to the protection of certain sectors of the environment, there is also consensus that much more needs to be done to ensure effective implementation and enforcement of the provisions of these agreements. This emphasis on implementation is both legitimate and necessary. For, although the adoption of agreements which promulgate international principles and regulations is necessary, it is by no means sufficient. To be of any use, the adoption of international agreements establishing principles and regulations for environmental protection must be accompanied by meaningful and practical steps to ensure that the norms and standards stipulated in the agreements are implemented at all levels where they are applicable. An essential requirement of such implementation is the willingness and capacity of States and other operators to comply with applicable rules and regulations in activities in which they engage. In many cases, this will involve the adoption of measures of implementation at the national, regional and global levels. And in a large number of countries, particularly developing countries and countries in transition, it will also require the availability of advice and assistance, and sometimes funding, to enable governments and other actors to take the difficult and often expensive measures that are almost always needed for effective implementation. It is, therefore, highly appropriate that priority attention should be given to ways and means to promote and encourage compliance with, and implementation of, these agreements.7 It has also been recognized that effective implementation of international environmental agreements requires, at some stage, mechanisms and procedures to enforce them in situations where governments and other actors are either unable or unwilling to discharge the obligations imposed on them under the respective agreements. In this connection it is important to note that international environmental law is only a branch of general international law. A well-known expert in this field has reminded us that, ‘although international environmental law is a vital new topic, it relies upon the traditional tools of the international legal system to adopt its rules, to assess

6

On the sources and principles of international environmental law see P. Sands, International Environmental Law 15-18 (2003); and P. Birnie/A. Boyle, International Law and the Environment (2002). See also N. de Sadeleer, Environmental Principles (2002).

7

See U. Beyerlin/P.-T. Stoll/R. Wolfrum, Ensuring Compliance with Multilateral Environmental Agreements (2006).

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responsibilities and to obtain compliance’.8 Like other international agreements, multilateral environmental agreements articulate general principles and standards that are expected to be applied across State boundaries. In particular, they establish obligations and rights of States and non-state actors vis-à-vis each other and to the community as a whole. One way of promoting compliance with these agreements is to ensure that potential victims have the capacity and appropriate opportunities to bring relevant States and other actors to comply with the terms of the agreements or to give that those who suffer loss or damage as a result of non-compliance have the right and means to seek appropriate reparations from the State or entity whose non-compliance was the cause of the loss or damage suffered. In many cases the most effective way for injured parties to seek reparations may be to have recourse to national or international judicial bodies.9

IV.

Judicial Bodies in the Implementation of Environmental Law

It has been recognized for a long time that judicial bodies can contribute to effective implementation and enforcement of international law. Indeed, a number of international agreements expressly provide for disputes concerning the interpretation or application of their provisions to be submitted to specified judicial bodies for binding settlement. And even where agreements contain no such provisions, it is possible for some of the States parties to submit on an ad hoc basis under mutual agreement disputes arising from the agreements to courts or tribunals. In turn, many courts and tribunals have accepted their role in this area and many of them have shown a willingness to assist in resolving international environmental disputes, whether the disputes arise under particular international environmental agreements or under general international law. In a much quoted passage in its judgment in the Gabcikovo-Nagymaros case, the International Court of Justice stated: ‘Throughout the ages, mankind has, for economic and other reasons, constantly interfered with nature. In the past, this was often done without consideration of the effects upon the environment. Owing to new scientific insights and to a growing awareness of the risks for mankind – for present and future generations – of pursuit of such intervention at an unconsidered and unabated rate, new norms and standards have been developed, set forth in a great number of instruments during the last two decades. Such new norms have to be taken into consideration, and such new standards given proper weight, not only when States contemplate new activities but 8

R. Wolfrum, ‘International and National Environmental Law: Purposes, Principles and Means of Ensuring Compliance’, in F. Morrison/R. Wolfrum (eds.), International, Regional and National Environmental Law 2 (2000).

9

‘The intervention of the judiciary is necessary to the development of environmental law, particularly in implementation and enforcement of laws and regulatory provisions dealing with environmental conservation and management.’ UNEP/UNDP/Dutch Government Joint Project on Environmental Law and Institutions in Africa: Compendium of Judicial Decisions on Matters Related to the Environment, Vol. 1, at vii (1998).

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also when continuing with activities begun in the past. This need to reconcile economic development with protection of the environment is aptly expressed in the concept of sustainable development.’10

By this statement the Court underlined the importance of international environmental agreements as an essential condition for international efforts to protect and preserve the environment. At the same time, it stressed that the intervention of the Court (and presumably other courts and judicial bodies) is appropriate and even necessary, to ensure that new norms and standards in international agreements will be ‘duly taken into consideration’ and ‘given proper weight’. In effect, the Court was emphasizing the important and positive role judicial bodies can and should play in the implementation and enforcement of international environmental law, in general, and international environmental agreements, in particular.

V.

The Functions Performed by Judicial Bodies

In dealing with disputes concerning the implementation or enforcement of an international environmental agreement, a judicial body may be invited to answer a number of different but interrelated questions. First, the court or tribunal may be required to determine the meaning and scope of principles and norms contained in the relevant international instrument, with particular reference to the rights they confer, and the obligations they impose, on a State or other entity vis-à-vis another State or the international community at large. This was the function that was requested of the arbitral tribunal in the Lac Lanoux arbitration between France and Spain. In that case, the arbitral tribunal was called upon to determine the nature and extent of the obligation imposed by the Treaty of Bayonne of 1866 (and its Additional Act) on France in its relations with Spain, especially with regard to certain proposed plans by the Government of France for the utilization of the waters of Lake Lanoux.11 Additionally, a court or tribunal may be requested to elucidate the implications of a particular principle and its application to a situation or activity that may not have been contemplated by the drafters of the agreement. For example, in the M/V Saiga (No. 2) case, the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea was invited by both parties to pronounce on the legality or otherwise of the activity of ‘bunkering’, i.e. the supply of bunker oil to fishing vessels, in the exclusive economic zone of a coastal State. This was an issue that had neither been dealt with nor even contemplated in the discussions and drafting of the Convention on the Law of the Sea.12

10

Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros Project (Hungary v. Slovakia), Judgment of 25 September 1997, 1997 ICJ Rep. 7, 78, para. 140.

11

Lac Lanoux Arbitration (France v. Spain), Award of 16 November 1957, 24 ILR 101 (1957).

12

M/V ‘Saiga’ (Saint Vincent and the Grenadines v. Guinea), Prompt Release Judgment of 4 December 1997, 1997 ITLOS Rep. 1.

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A similar function may be at issue before the court or tribunal when two or more principles, which conflict or appear to conflict with each other, are deemed to be applicable to a particular dispute or situation. As is well known, general principles of law, and even specific provisions in one instrument, may appear to contradict (and sometimes do actually contradict) some other principle or provision of other legal instruments that are also applicable to a particular dispute or to the subject matter in the dispute. In his Separate Opinion in the Gabcikovo-Nagymaros case, Judge Weeramantry noted that two principles of law, namely, ‘the right to development’ and ‘environmental protection’ appeared to clash with each other in the case. In his view, the concept of sustainable development ‘offered an important principle for the resolution of tensions’ between established rights and this would assist the Court ‘in the delicate task of balancing two considerations of enormous importance to the contemporary international scene and, potentially, of even greater importance to the future’.13 Another function of a court or tribunal may be to determine the applicability or otherwise of a particular agreement, or specific provisions thereof, to the parties in the dispute or to the facts of the particular dispute. For example, while all the parties in a dispute may agree that a particular agreement is applicable to each of them, there may be disagreement between them on whether the agreement or a particular provision thereof is applicable to the particular dispute. Thus, in the Southern Bluefin Tuna cases before the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea and the Annex VII Arbitral Tribunal, the main contention between the parties (Australia, Japan and New Zealand) was whether the dispute brought by Australia and New Zealand against Japan was subject to the dispute settlement provisions in Part XV of the 1982 Convention on the Law of the Sea, to which all three States were parties.14 In respect of these various questions, both national and international courts have at various times indicated that they are able and ready to provide guidance and assistance to States and other entities involved in the application of international rules and principles on environmental protection, whether the principles and rules in question have been established in international agreements or are derived from general international law. In fact, some important general principles of international environmental law have been the product of decisions of courts and tribunals, long before the adoption of any legal agreements embodying these principles. For instance, the principle that States are under an obligation to prevent environmental damage to other States was clearly articulated by the arbitral tribunal in the Trail Smelter case between Canada and the United States. The Tribunal stated, in a well-known passage, that ‘no state has the right to use or permit the use of its territory in such a manner as to cause injury by fumes on or to the territory of another or the properties or persons therein’.15 Similarly, the International Court of Justice, in the first case that was submitted to it (the Corfu Chan13

Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros Project (Hungary v. Slovakia), Judgment of 25 September 1997, 1997 ICJ Rep. 88-119 (Vice-President Weeramantry, Separate Opinion). On the role of courts and tribunals in cases involving ‘competing norms’, see Lowe, supra note 4, at 31-32.

14

Southern Bluefin Tuna Case (New Zealand v. Japan; Australia v. Japan), Provisional Measures, Order of 27 August 1999, 1999 ITLOS Rep. 274.

15

Trail Smelter Arbitration (US v. Canada), 3 RIAA 105 (1938/41); 35 AJIL 684 (1941).

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nel case) based its judgment in part on the principle that every state has the obligation ‘not to allow knowingly its territory to be used for acts contrary to the rights of other states’.16 Likewise, the Lac Lanoux arbitration made important pronouncements on the international law principles that should govern inter-state co-operation in the use and management of shared water resources. Although the tribunal ultimately concluded that France had not violated the Treaty of Bayonne (because it had in fact sufficiently involved Spain in the preparation of its hydroelectric scheme), it made an important contribution to the law in its elaboration of the nature and extent of the obligation that France owed to Spain. The Tribunal said: ‘International practice reflects the conviction that States ought to strive to conclude […] agreements [regarding the industrial use of international rivers]. But international practice does not so far permit more than the following conclusion: the rule that States may utilize the hydraulic power of international watercourses only on condition of a prior agreement between the interested States cannot be established as a custom, even less a general principle of law […].’17

The Tribunal then went on to state the rights and obligations of the States involved as follows: ‘As a matter of form, the upstream State has, procedurally, a right of initiative; it is not obliged to associate the downstream State in the elaboration of its schemes. If, in the course of the discussions, the downstream State submits schemes to it, the upstream State must examine them, but it has the right to give preference to the solution contained in its own scheme provided that it takes into consideration in a reasonable manner the interests of the downstream State.’18

This ‘landmark judgment’ has influenced the development of the law regarding transboundary environmental harm in general and the use of shared international watercourses in particular. The principles that it articulated regarding the rights and obligations of neighbouring States have been further clarified through State practice and specific provisions in international instruments. Thus, for example, article 106 of the Convention on the Law of the Sea and article 1 of the 1960 Agreement on the Protection of Lake Constance against Pollution (Steckborn)19 appear to institutionalize the requirement of consultation and co-operation between a State which proposes to undertake activities that have the potential of adverse environmental consequences, on the one hand, and the State or States that are likely to be affected by those consequences, on the other hand. The importance of consultation and co-operation in the Law of the Sea Convention’s regime for the protection and preservation of the marine environment was also underlined in the judgment of the International Tribunal for the Law of the 16

Corfu Channel (UK v. Albania), Judgment of 9 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 4, 22.

17

Lac Lanoux Arbitration, supra note 11, at 130, para. 13.

18

Ibid., 140, para. 23.

19

1960 Agreement on the Protection of Lake Constance against Pollution (Steckborn), 620 UNTS 191.

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Sea in the Mox Plant (Provisional Measures) case when the Tribunal declared that ‘co-operation is an essential element of the protection and preservation of the marine environment’. Based on that conclusion, the Tribunal ordered as a provisional measures that ‘Ireland and the United Kingdom shall cooperate and shall, for this purpose, enter into consultations forthwith in order to (a) exchange information [...]; (b) monitor risks or the effects [...]; (c) devise, as appropriate, measures to prevent pollution of the marine environment [...]’.20 With regard to what has been referred to as the ‘emerging norms of international environmental law’, it is particularly instructive to note that the International Court of Justice in its judgment in the Gabcikovo-Nagyramos case referred to the principle of ‘sustainable development’ as a rationale for its decision that the parties should ‘look afresh at the effects on the environment on the operation of the power plant’.21 Indeed, in his famous Separate Opinion, Judge Weeramantry went so far as to state that ‘the principle of sustainable development is […] part of modern international law by reason of its inescapable logical necessity, but also by reason of its wide and general acceptance by the global community’.22 In the words of Judge Rosalyn Higgins, the current President of the Court, the decision of the Court in the Gabcikovo case has ‘cast new light on the law as it relates to international water-courses, on the principle of equitable utilization as it affects shared resources and on the relationship between bilateral agreements concerning natural resources and developments in general international law, including international environmental law’. Judge Higgins gives particular emphasis to the Court’s reliance on the concept of sustainable development which she describes as an ‘innovation not only in the jurisprudence of the Court but also in the law relating to utilization of natural resources’. Her conclusion is that there has been a ‘change in focus from disputes about concessions and control of natural resources to disputes about sustainability and the limits of resource use’; and she states that this development ‘suggests the Court’s continued importance in the evolution of general international law in (the field of environment), as in others’.23 The same concern for environmental protection (in this case the conservation of and sustainability in the use of marine resources) was shown by the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea in the provisional measures phase of the Southern Bluefin Tuna cases brought by Australia and New Zealand against Japan. In deciding that the prescription of provisional measures was appropriate pending a decision on the merits of the case, the Tribunal based itself in part on article 290, paragraph 1, of the Convention on the Law of the Sea which states that provisional measures may be prescribed, inter alia, ‘to prevent serious harm to the marine environment’. Having concluded that ‘the conservation of the living resources of the sea is an element in the 20

MOX Plant (Ireland v. United Kingdom), Provisional Measures, Order of 3 December 2001, 2001 ITLOS Rep. 95, dispositif para. 1 (paragraph breaks suppressed).

21

Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros Project, supra note 10, at 78 para. 141.

22

Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros Project, Vice-President Weeramantry, Sep. Op., supra note 13, at 95.

23

R. Higgins, ‘Natural Resources in the Case Law of the International Court’ in A. Boyle/D. Freestone (eds.), supra note 4, at 110-111.

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protection and preservation of the marine environment’, the Tribunal stated that ‘the parties should in the circumstances act with prudence and caution in order to ensure that effective conservation measures are taken to prevent serious harm to the stock of southern bluefin tuna’24 A similar focus on protection of the environment can be discerned in the measured, some might say laboured, Advisory Opinion of the International Court of Justice on the Legality of the Threat of Use of Nuclear Weapons. While stating that international environmental agreements on the protection of the environment in times of war were not intended ‘to deprive a State of the right of self-defence under international law because of its obligation to protect the environment’, the Court deemed it necessary to add that ‘nevertheless, States must take environmental considerations into account when assessing what is necessary and proportionate in pursuit of legitimate military objectives’.25 It is also pertinent to note that, with respect to the redress available to a victim of environmental damage, the relevant international law principle is the one set out by the Permanent Court of International Justice as early as in 1928 in the Factory at Chorzow case. The Court stated that reparation for the injurious act ‘must, as far as possible, wipe out all the consequences of the illegal act and reestablish the situation which would, in all probability, have existed if that act had not been committed’.26 The principle in this judgment continues to apply with unchallenged authority up to the present time. These decisions and pronouncements of international judicial bodies show that courts and tribunals are willing to play a role in the implementation and enforcement of environmental law; and further that such judicial bodies can be appropriate and useful in disputes concerning the implementation of international law, particularly in situations where authoritative and helpful guidance may be needed on how treaty provisions or general principles of environmental law may be implemented in concrete situations. This also applies to national courts. In many cases, national courts can play a very useful role in the interpretation and implementation of international environmental agreements and principles as well as national law and legislation, including provisions of national constitutions. A number of cases decided by national courts serve to show the increasingly important role these courts play in the interpretation and application of environmental law. In many cases national courts base themselves not only on provisions and principles of their national law but also on principles and standards that have been developed or articulated in international instruments. For example, national courts are increasingly being requested to rule on the meaning and status of the ‘precautionary principle’ or the ‘precautionary approach’. This principle or approach has featured prominently in a number of recent international environmental 24

Southern Bluefin Tuna Cases, supra note 14, paras. 70, 77.

25

Legality of the Threat of Use of Nuclear Weapons, Advisory Opinion of 8 July 1996, 1996 ICJ Rep. 226, 241-242, paras. 29-30.

26

The Factory at Chorzow (Germany v. Poland), Judgment of 13 September 1928, PCIJ (Ser. A) No. 17, at 47.

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agreements as well as in declarations and statements on international environmental law. Although courts have differed in their assessment of the principle and its implications, there is general agreement that the principle or approach is useful and even necessary for an effective protection of the environment, particularly in situations where activities are reasonably perceived to have the potential to cause irreversible damage to the environment. For example in the English case of Secretary of State for Trade and Industry ex parte Duddridge, while concluding that the English Act under which the application had been brought before the court ‘did not impose an obligation on the Secretary of State to consider his duties under the Act in the light of the precautionary principle’, the Judge, nevertheless pointed out that ‘the precautionary principle is a statement of common sense and has been applied by decision makers in appropriate circumstances prior to the principle being set out’.27 In this regard, it is interesting to note that, operating on the same viewpoint, a court in Australia came to the opposite conclusion in an analogous case. In the case of Leach v. National Parks and Wildlife Service and Shoalhaven City Council, the Judge used almost identical language to characterize the precautionary principle. However, he came to the conclusion that, while there was no express provision requiring the application of the precautionary principle, giving consideration to the state of knowledge or uncertainty regarding a species, the potential of serious and irreversible harm to an endangered fauna and the adoption of a cautious approach in protecting endangered fauna was consistent with the subject matter, scope and purpose of the Act (the National Park and Wildlife Act). The court accordingly held that application of the precautionary principle ‘was the most apt in a situation of a scarcity of scientific knowledge of species population, habitat impacts, which was the case in this instance’.28 Another subject area in which national courts have had the opportunity to make important contributions to the implementation of environmental law is the issue of legal standing of individuals and groups to bring suit to enforce legal provisions for the protection of the environment. In many national legal systems, the traditional position remains that the party or parties seeking relief (either to enforce environmental legal prescriptions or to claim reparation for non-compliance with legal requirements) need to show that they have suffered or are likely to suffer injury or prejudice peculiar to themselves, and over and above the prejudice sustained by the members of the public in general. In other words, ‘the party must show that he has special reasons for coming to court’, as the Supreme Court of the United States put it in the case of Sierra Club v. Rogers C. B. Morton. In that case, the Supreme Court agreed that ‘aesthetic and environmental well-being, like economic well-being, are important ingredients of the quality of life in our society, and the fact that particular environmental interests are shared by the many rather than the few does not make them less deserving of protection through the judicial process’. Nevertheless, the Court considered that the ‘injury in fact’ test requires more than an injury to a cognisable interest: it requires that the party 27

R v. Secretary of State for Trade and Industry ex parte Duddridge, reported in 7 JEL 224 (1995).

28

Leach v. National Parks and Wildlife Service and Shoalhaven City Council, 81 LGERA 270 (Australia, 1993), reproduced in UNEP Compendium, supra note 9, at 373-384.

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seeking review himself be among the injured’. For that reason the Court held that the Sierra Club did not have the locus standi to bring the suit.29 The contrary view was voiced in the strong dissents of two members of the Court, Judges Douglas and Brennan. Justice Brennan stated that ‘contemporary public concern for protecting nature’s ecological equilibrium’ should permit ‘an imaginative expansion of the traditional concepts in order to enable an organization such as the Sierra Club, possessed as it is of pertinent, bona fide, and well-organized attributes and purposes in the area of environment, to litigate environmental issues’.30 An approach based on the ‘imaginative expansion’ has since been adopted by courts in a number of countries. Two cases serve as examples of this approach. The first is the reasoning of one of the Judges in the Bangladeshi case of M. Faroque v. Bangladesh where the issue at stake was whether a non-governmental environmental organization was entitled to bring a suit in order to challenge action that had allegedly violated a law regarding protection of the environment. While upholding the traditional principle that a person bringing an action to challenge the validity of State or private measures must demonstrate injury or prejudice to him over and above the injury suffered by the public in general, the Judge considered that this principle could not reasonably be applied to cases involving ‘public injuries’. He stated: ‘The traditional view remains true, valid and effective till today in so far as individual rights and individual infraction thereof are concerned. But when a public injury or public wrong or infraction of a fundamental right affecting an indeterminate number of people is involved, it is not necessary, in the scheme of our Constitution, that the multitude of individuals who have been collectively wronged or injured or whose collective fundamental rights have been invaded are to invoke the jurisdiction [under the Constitution] in a multitude of individual writ petitions, each representing his own portion of concern. In so far as it concerns public wrong or public injury or invasion of fundamental rights of an indeterminate number of people, any member of the public, being a citizen, suffering the common injury or common invasion in common with other or any citizen or an indigenous association, as distinguished from a local component of a foreign organization, espousing that particular cause is a person aggrieved and has the right to invoke the jurisdiction [under the Constitution].’31

A similar approach was adopted by the Supreme Court of the Philippines in a case in which a group of persons, generally minors, sought to bring a suit to prevent action (the grant of a timber concession) that they claimed would cause irreversible damage to the environment. The petitioners presented the suit both on their behalf and also on

29

Sierra Club v. Rogers C. B. Morton, 92 SCT 1361 (1972), text reproduced in UNEP/UNDP/ Dutch Government Joint Project, supra note 9, at 3.

30

Ibid., at 11 (Judge Brennan, Dissenting Opinion).

31

M. Farooque v. Bangladesh, 1 BLC (AD) (1996), Opinion of Mustafa Kamal J. The full court, however, rejected the claim of the petitioners to bring the suit on behalf of future generations.

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behalf of ‘others of their generations and of succeeding generations’. The Court ruled in favour of granting standing to the petitioners to file a ‘class action’. It stated: ‘The subject matter of the complaint is of common and general interest not just to several but to all citizens of the Philippines. Consequently, since the parties are so numerous, it becomes impracticable if not totally impossible, to bring all of them before the court. We likewise declare that the plaintiffs therein are numerous and representative enough to ensure the full protection of all concerned interests. Hence all the requisites for the filing of a valid class suit […] are present [...].’32

On the question of the right of the petitioners to bring the action not only on their behalf but also on behalf of others of the present and future generations, the Court said: ‘The Petitioners minors assert that they represent their generation as well as generations yet unborn. We find no difficulty in ruling that they can, for themselves, for others of their generation and for succeeding generations, file a class suit. Their personality to use on behalf of the succeeding generations can only be based on the concept of intergenerational responsibility in so far as the right to a balance and healthful ecology is concerned. Such a right, as hereinafter expounded, considers the “rhythm and harmony of nature”. Nature means the created world in its entirety. Such rhythm and harmony indispensably include, inter alia, the judicious disposition, utilization, management renewal and conservation of the country’s forest, mineral, land, water, fisheries, wildlife, off-shore areas and other natural resources to the end that their exploration, development and utilization be equitably accessible to the present as well as future generations. Needlessly to say, every generation has a responsibility to the next to preserve that rhythm and harmony for the full enjoyment of a balance and healthful ecology. Put a little differently, the minors’ assertion of their right to a sound environment constitutes, at the same time, the performance of their obligation to ensure the protection of that right for the generations to come.’

In reaching this decision the Court was clearly assisted by the fact that the Constitution of the Philippines contained a provision guaranteeing to the citizens the ‘right to a balanced and healthy ecology’. The Court stated that, in its view, ‘the right to a balanced and healthy ecology carries with it the correlative duty to refrain from impairing the environment’. Examples of similar ‘forward-looking’ judicial decisions can be found in an increasing number of countries in all regions of the world, including India, Pakistan, Germany, or Kenya. It is still the case that in most instances the courts will follow the traditional doctrine that requires complainants to demonstrate some interest that pertains to themselves, as opposed to the general community, before they can be accorded standing to bring suit. However, some other courts have been more flexible in this and are willing to recognize the locus standi of applicants who are able to show a ‘substantial or genuine’ interest in the matter in issue.33 There is some evidence to suggest that the 32

GR No. 101083, July 1993 (Philippines), reproduced in 33 ILM 173 (1994).

33

For example the judgment in the Malaysian case of Kajing Tubek v. Ekran Bhd & Others, 1996 Malaysian Law Journal.

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development tends towards more ‘activism’ on the part of the judiciary, both at the national and the international level. In particular, there is a clear indication that more and more courts, tribunals and judges have come to accept that they have a legitimate and necessary role, not just in interpreting and implementing national and international environmental principles and rules but also in taking a leading role in the development, clarification and refinement of the law within the limits and constraints necessary for a responsible exercise of the judicial function.34

VI.

The Need for Clearer Grant of Jurisdiction to Courts and Tribunals

But judicial bodies can only play their role fully if they are in fact granted the competence that enables them to deal with cases involving principles and norms of international environmental law. It is a cardinal rule of international law that no international court or tribunal has automatic competence to adjudicate over a dispute involving a State except with the consent of that State. Hence any State is obliged to submit to the jurisdiction of a court or tribunal only if, and to the extent that, it has accepted the jurisdiction of the court or tribunal, either expressly or by conduct that can reasonably be presumed to amount to acceptance of such jurisdiction.35 Consequently, unless there are good grounds for asserting that the jurisdiction of a court or tribunal to adjudicate over a dispute arising from an environmental agreement has in fact been accepted by a particular State, such a court or tribunal will not be competent to play any role in the settlement of the dispute, as far as that State is concerned. Hence, the only situation in which any court or tribunal can contribute to the implementation of international environmental agreements is where the agreement involved gives jurisdiction to the court or tribunal in respect of matters arising out of the agreement. This can only be achieved if environmental agreements include clear provisions stipulating that disputes regarding their application and enforcement are to be submitted to a designated judicial body or bodies for binding settlement. It should, however, be understood clearly in all cases that the grant of jurisdiction to a court or tribunal does not in any way derogate from the traditional and sovereign right of the States concerned to settle any disputes between them through other peaceful means 34

In Wildlife Society of Southern Africa & Others v. Minister of Environmental Affairs & Tourism & Others Transkei Supreme Court, Case No. 1672/95, 21 June 1996, Judge Pickering quoted with approval the view of an academic commentator that ‘a critical evaluation of how the existing legal rules concerning locus standi should be adapted in order to cope more adequately with the interests of society in general and of each member of society in particular’. B. van Niekerk, ‘The Ecological Norm in Law or the Jurisprudence of the Right Against Pollution’, 92 SALJ 78 (1975). On the developing role of courts in general, see P. Sands, ‘Litigating Environmental Disputes: Courts Tribunals and the Progressive Development of International Environmental Law’, 37 Environmental Policy and Law 66-71 (2007).

35

Monetary Gold Removed from Rome in 1943 (Italy v. France/United Kingdom/United States of America), Judgment of 15 June 1954, 1954 ICJ Rep. 19.

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of their own choice.36 Indeed, in the vast majority of cases, peaceful settlement of disputes through negotiations by the parties themselves is the normal and preferred procedure, and it should be welcomed and encouraged. But where the States in dispute are not able to reach a settlement through means and mechanisms acceptable to them, it is not only desirable but also necessary that the dispute be referred to a designated competent judicial body for final resolution. Without such option, the agreement could turn out to be a ‘dead letter’ and the rights and obligations set out therein would be of no significance to the States Parties or to their population. In that case, the agreement would have no practical impact on the environmental concerns that it was intended to address. The need for clear grant of jurisdiction equally exists when decisions regarding the implementation of international agreements are taken by national courts. This is particularly so where environmental damage caused in one State results from events or activities that occur in another State. A similar situation may arise where damage resulting from a single event or activity occurs in more than one country. The approach generally adopted for dealing with such cases is to accord jurisdiction exclusively to the national courts of the countries in which damage was suffered. This is the approach adopted in a number of international environmental agreements on civil liability for environmental damage. The first of these is the 1969 International Convention on Civil Liability for Oil Pollution Damage.37 Under this Convention and its supplementary instrument, the International Convention for the Establishment of an International Fund for Compensation for Oil Pollution Damage of 1971,38 a claim for compensation for pollution damage may be brought before the court of the State in which the damage was caused, even if the event causing the damage or the person liable for the damage is not within the jurisdiction of that court. And, where damage resulting from one incident causes damage in the territories of two or more States, claims for compensation for the damage may be brought before the competent courts in any of these States. The choice of the court will, for the most part, depend on the wish and convenience of the person claiming compensation. The provisions of the conventions grant jurisdiction to national courts. They also establish the conditions under which judgments of the competent national courts shall be recognized and enforced in the courts of the other States Parties.39 36

For example, Article 280 of the Convention on the Law of the Sea states that nothing in Part XV of the Convention (containing provisions on settlement of disputes) ‘impairs the right of any States Parties to agree at any time to settle a dispute between them concerning the interpretation or application of this Convention by any peaceful means of their own choice’. 1982 Convention on the Law of the Sea, 21 ILM 1261 (1982), art. 280.

37

1969 International Convention on Civil Liability for Oil Pollution Damage, 973 UNTS 3, as amended by the Protocol of 1992, IMO Doc. LEG/CONF.9/15,; UKTS No. 86 (1996).

38

1971 International Convention for the Establishment of an International Fund for Compensation for Oil Pollution Damage, 11 ILM 284 (1972), as amended by the Protocol of 1992, UKTS No. 87 (1996).

39

See for example, Civil Liability Convention, supra note 37, arts. IX, X; and Fund Convention, supra note 38, arts. 7, 8.

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Identical schemes have been incorporated in virtually all environmental agreements adopted since 1969. Although these civil liability agreements have, on the whole, worked reasonably well, and appear to have been accepted as an established part of international environmental law, they are not without their own problems and disadvantages. One of the major drawbacks arises from the provision relating to jurisdiction to decide on the existence of liability and the valuation of damage. Civil liability conventions generally give jurisdiction over disputes under the conventions exclusively to the national courts of the States Parties in which damage was suffered. This means that important issues, such as the existence of and liability for damage and the level of appropriate compensation for the damage, are left for final determination by the courts of the country or countries where the claimant chooses to bring the claim for compensation. As a general rule, decisions of the competent national courts on these issues are final and not subject to appeal in any other forum. This can create problems in the application of the Convention. First, a regime that gives exclusive jurisdiction to national courts to determine issues of liability and the amount of compensation payable may result in unequal treatment of different claimants, especially where claims arising from the same incident are brought before the courts of different countries. For one thing, there is the real possibility that rulings of national courts may not always have the required degree of impartiality, particularly between the interests of claimants who are nationals of the State of jurisdiction and claimants from other States. For example, where an incident causes catastrophic damage in a state, the courts of that state may feel tempted to be more generous in deciding on compensation to be paid to the claimants in that State, as compared to claimants from other States. It is also possible that differences in cultural, economic, legal and judicial traditions in different countries may lead courts to adopt different approaches in dealing with issues of liability and compensation for environmental damage. This could present obstacles to the uniform interpretation of provisions of an agreement whose rationale is to offer uniform solutions to the same cases.40 To prevent such problems, it might be useful to consider the possibility of giving jurisdiction, in well-defined situations, to international courts or tribunals to deal with cases where the decisions of different national courts are in conflict or where a decision of national courts is considered by the majority of the States Parties to be contrary to the meaning of the relevant provisions or the object and purpose of the agreement. But merely granting jurisdiction to international and national courts to deal with claims for compensation may not be sufficient to enable courts and tribunals to discharge fully their legitimate role in the implementation of environmental agreements. In order to promote the fundamental objectives of the emerging contemporary international environmental law and its emphasis on the imperatives of sustainable development and the precautionary approach, it appears both desirable and necessary to view the role of the judiciary in a much broader perspective. Over the past decade or 40

In a number of cases, including the Haven and Patmos, the decisions of the national courts were considered by the relevant organs of the IOPC Funds to be contrary to the meaning and intent of the Convention. See Reports of the IOPC Funds 1995, at 45-46.

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so, there has been a steady shift of the focus of international environmental law away from a notion that was principally aimed at the apportionment of responsibility for environmental harm.41 The new law of the environment seeks not merely to deal with the consequences of non-compliance but also to prevent non-compliance itself. In fact, in some cases the law aims even further. It not only prescribes procedures for preventing damage but actually attempts to provide guidance to States and other decision-makers on how they may best achieve ‘equitable cost-sharing’ for the efforts that need to be made effectively to prevent, mitigate or remedy damage. This shift of emphasis has, in turn, drawn greater attention to the development and improvement of procedures and techniques, that enable States and other actors to identify potential dangers even before decisions are taken to commence activities, including in particular environmental impact assessment. In these new regimes, the traditional jurisdiction given to courts and tribunals, which was primarily to deal with disputes about responsibility and liability for non-compliance, would not be adequate to assist the courts and tribunals to contribute fully to the achievement of the new, comprehensive objectives of these agreements. In the new regimes, where equal emphasis is placed on preventive models and approaches and on the traditional responses based almost exclusively on reparation, the role of the judiciary should be both proactive and reactive. In other words, courts and tribunals should not only be involved where damage has already been caused as a result of non-compliance with the applicable norms but they should also be able to assist in the development and refinement of procedures and mechanisms that facilitate and encourage compliance. Such an approach is likely to help to prevent damage in the first place and, in consequence, contribute to the avoidance of disputes. Courts and tribunals should be in a position to encourage and assist compliance by clarifying obligations and, thereby, helping actors to predict the consequences of their acts or omissions. Courts and tribunals can also assist in the prevention of environmental damage if they are given jurisdiction to pronounce on the permissibility or otherwise of activities before they are undertaken or to prescribe conditions that should be met in order to bring proposed activities within the parameters established in applicable agreements or legislation. Finally, courts and tribunals can help to avoid major contentious disputes on responsibility and reparation for damage if they are permitted to give guidance and assist States and other operators to avoid situations that might result in opposing claims. In this context, it is important to keep in mind that the legitimate objective of international environmental agreements is not necessarily to stigmatize States who fail to comply or even to afford reparation for damage suffered as a result of non-compliance, important as these objectives may be in some cases. The basic and most important purpose in the development and adoption of agreements is to assist States and non-State actors to organize their activities in ways that reduce or minimize the risk of damage to the environment. It is, of course, true that States and other actors will also avoid

41

See F. Morrison, ‘Changing Approaches to Environmental Law’, in F. Morrison/R. Wolfrum (eds.), supra note 7, at 803-821.

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liability for reparation if they are able to prevent damage, but the main object remains the prevention of damage rather than the avoidance of liability per se. These considerations open new possibilities for those who prepare or revise multilateral environmental agreements. Specifically, they suggest new ways in which national and international courts and tribunals may be enabled to play a greater and more constructive role, not merely in enforcing agreements but also in positively helping to achieve the objectives behind the conclusion of the agreements in the first place. Primarily, they should seek, whenever possible, to include in such agreements provisions on dispute settlement which require that disputes not resolved by the parties involved should be submitted to designated third party dispute settlement procedures or mechanisms. Fortunately, this is not as difficult to achieve today as it used to be a few decades ago. The idea that disputes concerning the interpretation or application of a multilateral agreement should, as a last resort, be submitted to a court or tribunal for binding decisions has been accepted in a number of recent international agreements. Examples of such provisions are to be found in the treaty regime establishing the World Trade Organization and the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea. Similar provisions have been included in the 1995 Straddling Stocks Agreement42 and in the 1996 Protocol to the 1972 London Dumping Convention.43 So long as it is made clear that the right of States to choose their own means for the settlement of their disputes is not in any way compromised, it seems that there is general agreement by States, independently of differing political orientations and legal traditions, that disputes which cannot be resolved between the parties themselves should be submitted for settlement to pre-determined courts or tribunals or other dispute settlement mechanisms.44 Another means for enhancing the role of judicial bodies in the implementation of multilateral environmental agreements is to give to courts or tribunals the competence to issue advisory opinions on questions concerning the interpretation or application of the provisions of international environmental agreements. Such a provision would make it possible for differences that could lead to disputes to be considered by the competent courts or tribunals for appropriate advice before a dispute actually arises. Thereby courts and tribunals would be given the opportunity to provide guidance on specific issues either to individual States or to the relevant international body, such as the meeting of States Parties to the agreement. The Convention on the Law of the Sea contains such a provision. Article 191 of the Convention provides that the Seabed Disputes Chamber of the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea shall, at the request of the Council or Assembly of the International Seabed Authority, give advisory opinions ‘on legal issues arising within the scope of their activities’. Paragraph 10 of Article 159 of the Convention establishes the procedure for the request of such advisory opinions. This is, of course, not new. The Charter of the United Nations as well as the 42

1995 Agreement for the Implementation of the Provisions of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea of 10 December 1982 Relating to the Conservation and Management of Straddling Stocks and Highly Migratory Fish Stocks, 34 ILM 1542 (1995).

43

1996 Protocol to the convention for the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping of Wastes and Other Matter, 36 ILM 1 (1997).

44

See supra note 36.

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constitutive instruments of many specialized agencies and other international organizations contain provisions that empower certain organs to request advisory opinions from courts or tribunals designated for that purpose. In general, the court designated for this purpose is the International Court of Justice. This procedure has been used by the organizations to which it is available.45 It is true that this procedure has not been used to the same extent in multilateral environmental agreements, but there does in principle not appear any reason why this cannot work in such instruments as well. It might be useful, therefore, to give some consideration to the use of such provisions both in drafting new instruments and in revising existing treaties. Incorporating the procedure of advisory opinions in multilateral environmental agreements would offer new opportunities for courts and tribunals to assist more extensively and constructively in the implementation of these agreements. A variant of the advisory opinion approach is the procedure by which a court or tribunal may be requested to pronounce on proposed measures or activities that have the potential to cause damage to the environment. Under such a scheme, States and natural or juridical persons may be empowered, subject to well defined conditions, to ask competent courts or tribunals for declarations on the legality or appropriateness of proposed measures or activities when they have reason to believe that certain measures or activities could pose risks of serious environmental damage. A court or tribunal to which such an application is made would have the competence either to declare that the measure or activity is unlawful or that it would be lawful only subject to specified modifications or other safeguards that reduce or eliminate the risk of harm to the environment. Such a proactive resort to a court or tribunal can help to avoid damage and, in consequence, also obviate the need for the actor to pay compensation for damage that might have been caused without the intervention of the courts. This approach is frequently used in many domestic systems and not altogether unknown at the international level. It was for example adopted in the 1974 Nordic Environment Protection Convention.46 Article 3 of this Convention provides that ‘any person who is affected or may be affected by a nuisance caused by environmentally harmful activities in another State shall have the right to bring before the appropriate Court or Administrative Authority of that State the question of the permissibility of such activities, including the question of measures to prevent damage’. The Convention requires each Contracting State to designate an appropriate ‘supervisory authority to be entrusted with the task of safeguarding general environmental interest’. This authority has the right to bring applications before the courts to prevent environmental harm or potential harm that affects the community as a whole. And, as previously mentioned, the Convention on the Law of the Sea provides in article 290(1) that a party to the Convention may request an appropriate court or tribunal to prescribe provisional measures for the purpose of, inter alia, preventing ‘serious harm to the 45

See, e.g., the request of IMCO for an advisory opinion on the Constitution of the Maritime Safety Committee , ICJ Rep. 1960, 150, and the request of the UN General Assembly and the Assembly of the WHO for an advisory opinion on the threat or use of force of nuclear weapons, ICJ Rep. 1996, 226.

46

1974 Nordic Convention on the Protection of the Environment, 13 ILM 511 (1974).

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marine environment’.47 This approach has not been used as much as it might have been in multilateral environmental agreements but it certainly deserves consideration.

VI.

Concluding Remarks

The judiciary (national, regional and international courts and tribunals) can play a significant role in the implementation of multilateral environmental agreements. This role is not necessarily confined to the relatively narrow area of ‘enforcement’. In addition to the traditional tasks of settling disputes regarding responsibility and liability for damage, courts and tribunals can also play a major and constructive role in encouraging and assisting States to comply with their obligations under agreements. Those who negotiate and draft multilateral environmental instruments should, wherever possible, consider carefully the possibility of greater involvement of the judiciary in the implementation of these agreements.

47

This is, of course, in addition to the traditional competence available to a court or tribunal dealing with a case to indicate (prescribe) provisional measures if it considers that such measures are necessary to preserve the rights of any of the parties, pending a final decision in the case. See, e.g., Statute of the ICJ, art. 41.

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41

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Liability for Environmental Damage in Antarctica: Supplement to the Rules on State Responsibility or a Lost Opportunity? Rüdiger Wolfrum

I.

Introduction

After many years of negotiations,1 the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting adopted in June 2005 a so-called Liability Annex2 which constitutes Annex VI to the Protocol on Environmental Protection3 to the Antarctic Treaty4 (Madrid Protocol). The negotiations on the Liability Annex started at the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting in Venice, November 1992.5 They were first entrusted to a group of legal experts at the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting and later continued in a different format at the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings. These negotiations were, at least in the beginning, inspired by the liability regime enshrined in the Draft Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities (CRAMRA)6 although this draft agreement failed to be approved by all Consultative Parties.7 It is interesting to note that the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities was criticised from the point of view of environmental protection. However, the regime on

1

See D. Vidas, ‘The Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty: A Ten-Year Review’, in O. Schram Stokke/O. B. Thommessen (eds.), 2002/2003 Yearbook of International Co-operation on Environment and Development 51, at 57; F. Francioni, ‘Liability for Damage to the Common Environment: The Case of Antarctica’, 3 RECIEL 223, at 225 (1994); S. Vöneky, ‘The Liability Annex to the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, in D. König et al. (eds.), International Law Today: New Challenges and the Need for Reform? 165 et seq. (2008).

2

2005 Liability Arising from Environmental Emergencies, Annex VI to the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, see Antarctic Treaty Secretariat (ed.), Final Report of the Twenty-Eight Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting, Stockholm, 6-17 June 2005, at 63, http://www.ats.aq/uploaded/ANNEXVI.pdf (last visited 10 February 2008).

3

1991 Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, 30 ILM 1455 (1991).

4

1959 Antarctic Treaty, 9 ILM 860 (1994); 5778 UNTS 71.

5

See details Francioni, supra note 1, at 225.

6

1988 Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities, 27 ILM 859 (1988).

7

R. Wolfrum, The Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities 84 et seq. (1991); Sir A. Watts, International Law and the Antarctic Treaty System 276 et seq. (1992).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 817-828, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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liability for environmental damage is much more stringent under the CRAMRA than under the Liability Annex. The Annex on Liability is necessary to fulfil the commitments of the Member States entered into under the Madrid Protocol on Environmental Protection. Article 16 of the Madrid Protocol reads: ‘Consistent with the objectives of this Protocol for the comprehensive protection of the Antarctic environment and dependent and associated ecosystems, the Parties undertake to elaborate rules and procedures relating to liability for damage arising from activities taking place in the Antarctic Treaty area and covered by this Protocol. […]’

There is, however, another provision in the Protocol which was taken into account as a basis for the Liability Annex, namely Article 15 on emergency response action. It reads: ‘1. In order to respond to environmental emergencies in the Antarctic Treaty area, each Party agrees to: (a) provide for prompt and effective response action to such emergencies which might arise in the performance of scientific research programs, tourism and all other governmental and non-governmental activities in the Antarctic Treaty area for which advance notice is required under Article VII (5) of the Antarctic Treaty, including associated logistic support activities; and (b) establish contingency plans for response to incidents with potential adverse effects on the Antarctic environment or dependent and associated ecosystems. 2. To this end, the Parties shall: (a) co-operate in the formulation and implementation of such contingency plans; and (b) establish procedures for immediate notification of, and co-operative response to, environmental emergencies. […]’

The Liability Annex refers to Article 15 as well as Article 16 of the Madrid Protocol. Actually, the reference to Article 16 of the Protocol is somewhat misleading. The reference to both provisions already constituted a compromise between those advocating a more comprehensive Liability Annex and those favoring a more limited approach under Article 15. The adoption of the Liability Annex by some State Parties was done with the understanding that the work would continue on a more comprehensive liability instrument sometime in the future. These provisions are to be seen and assessed against the background of the objective of the Environmental Protocol to the Antarctic Treaty. Its aim is the comprehensive protection of the Antarctic environment and dependent and associated ecosystems (Article 2 of the Madrid Protocol). According to Article 8 of the Protocol, in connection with its Annex I, for activities likely to have more than a minor or transitory impact, environmental impact assessment must be prepared by Member States. Activities in

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the Antarctic Treaty area must be planned and conducted so as to limit or avoid adverse impacts on the Antarctic environment and dependent associated ecosystems (Articles 2, 3, 8, 13 of the Madrid Protocol). This means that the Protocol stipulates a clear duty to effectively prevent adverse impacts on the Antarctic environment. There are several reasons for prescribing and enforcing a strict environmental protection regime for Antarctica. Antarctica constitutes a laboratory for scientists; the feasibility of the research undertaken depends upon the preservation of the environment. The scientific research undertaken indicates that Antarctica has a significant effect on the world climate. This makes scientific research on the interaction between the Antarctic environment and the world climate system particularly important. And it makes it equally mandatory to protect such environment. It is for this reason that the Protocol underlines the importance of environment oriented research. Dangers to the Antarctic environment stem from human activities. Compared to earlier years, activities in Antarctica are increasing. This is true for scientific activities but also for tourist activities.8 Tourists are starting to outweigh the number of personnel that are associated with national research programs.9 Economic activities, in particular aimed at the exploration and exploitation of mineral resources, are being banned from Antarctica. Although the Antarctic Treaty lays down as one of its three guiding principles the principle of preservation of the Antarctic environment10, neither it nor the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR)11, the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals (CCAS)12 or the Recommendations and Measures issued by the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings provide for a liability regime covering damage to the Antarctic environment that corresponds to the duties laid down in the Antarctic Treaty System and applies to the special situation of Antarctica.13 This may not be particularly astonishing since the development of liability regimes tailored to cover damage to the environment is a relatively new concept in international law.14 Such a regime on liability for environmental damage has to be seen, however, as an essential element in the enforcement of international commitments, in the case of Antarctica commitments concerning the protection of the Antarctic environment. Such 8

Cf. R. Wolfrum/S. Vöneky/J. Friedrich, ‘The Admissibility of Land-Based Tourism in Antarctica under International Law’, 65 ZaöRV 735, at 736 (2005).

9

Cf. K. Bastmeijer/R. Roura, ‘Regulating Antarctic Tourism and the Precautionary Principle’, 98 AJIL 763 (2004).

10

R. Wolfrum/U. D. Klemm, ‘Antarctica’, in R. Bernhardt (ed.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law 7, at 12 (1990)

11

1980 Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, 19 ILM 841-859 (1980).

12

1972 Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals, 11 ILM 251-262 (1972).

13

See Wolfrum, supra note 7, at 92-93; G. Dahm/R. Wolfrum/J. Delbrück, Völkerrecht 502 (2002); Francioni, supra note 1, at 223; Vöneky, supra note 1, at 176.

14

See C. Langenfeld/P. Minnerop, ‘Environmental Liability Provisions in International Law’, in R. Wolfrum/C. Langenfeld/P. Minnerop (eds.), Environmental Liability in International Law: Towards a Coherent Conception 3 et seq. (2005).

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regimes on liability for environmental damage raise at least two problems not solved so far within the wider context of international responsibility, namely, how to evaluate environmental damage and how to identify the proper claimant. As far as evaluation of environmental damage is concerned, it is an open question how to evaluate damage without being able to refer to an economic loss, which is the ordinary way of calculating a damage to be compensated. Concerning the potential claimant, it must be taken into account that nobody enjoys property rights in Antarctica. In spite of these problems, some national legal regimes exist that provide for liability for damage to the environment. There is, on the international level, at least one precedent to the Liability Annex, namely the Protocol on Liability and Compensation for Damage Resulting from Transboundary Movements of Hazardous Wastes and Their Disposal,15 a Protocol to the Basel Convention.16 As will be indicated, this legal regime goes somewhat further than the one established by the Liability Annex. It still is to be seen whether the Antarctic Liability Annex together with the Protocol on Liability and Compensation to the Basel Convention are going to exercise an influence on the development of the rules of international responsibility. Hence, Antarctica is not only a laboratory for scientific research but also for international law.

II.

Scope of the Application of the Liability Annex

As already briefly indicated, the Liability Annex covers Article 16 of the Protocol only in part. Three significant limitations are to be noted. The first results from the Liability Annex, which only refers to questions of environmental emergencies (Article 1 of the Liability Annex), whose territorial scope is therefore limited and does not cover all activities undertaken in Antarctica. An environmental emergency according to the definition of the Liability Annex is ‘any accidental event that has occurred, having taken place after the entry into force of this Annex, and that results in, or imminently threatens to result in, any significant and harmful impact on the Antarctic environment’ (Article 2 (b) of the Liability Annex). This definition of the notion of ‘environmental emergency’ contains several thresholds that significantly limit the applicability of the Liability Annex. First, it means that events without a significant and harmful environmental impact are not covered by that Annex. This threshold is quite common in liability treaties, although no international standard exists in that respect. Nevertheless, in recent state practice the significance of harm has been accepted as the decisive factor.17 There are also some pragmatic reasons that 15

1999 Protocol on Liability and Compensation for Damage Resulting from the Transboundary Movements of Hazardous Wastes and Their Disposal, http://www.basel.int/meetings/cop/ cop5/docs/prot-e.pdf (last visited 10 February 2008).

16

1989 Basel Convention on the Control of Transboundary Movements of Hazardous Wastes and Their Disposal, 28 ILM 657 (1989).

17

See Vöneky, supra note 1, at 181, n. 71.

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justify this threshold. Every human activity in Antarctica has some impact compared to the status quo ante. If every human activity would result in liability, the obligation to pay would, in fact, constitute a fee or a tax rather than compensation. The second limitation is identified by the word ‘accidental’. It means in effect that only events are covered which were not intended to occur. This is a quite unusual provision. In most international agreements providing for liability for environmental damage, activities inflicted intentionally are more severely punished and damage caused intentionally may even increase liability substantially. Considering object and purpose of Article 15 of the Protocol, the notion of ‘accidental’ should be interpreted so as to mean any damage which was not anticipated when the activity in question was planned. Accordingly, the relevant yardstick is the environmental impact assessment which has to be undertaken for activities in Antarctica, which have more than a minor or transitory impact. From this point of view, the Liability Annex constitutes a mechanism to enforce Article 8 and Annex I of the Madrid Protocol on environmental impact assessment. If no environmental impact assessment has been undertaken, the operator has assumed that there would be less than minor or transitory impact. If in reality the activity in question resulted in an impact surpassing that threshold, it means that such impact was not anticipated and, accordingly, would be covered by the Liability Annex. This combination of environmental impact assessment and liability is innovative. Article 1 of the Liability Annex covers de facto environmental impacts resulting from scientific research programmes and tourist activities, in particular tourist vessels entering the Antarctic Treaty area. The Liability Annex does not extend to fishing and related activities. The formal reason for that limitation rests in the consideration that fishing is not covered by the Madrid Protocol since different regimes apply thereon. Accordingly, it was believed that the Liability Annex should not refer to these activities either. During negotiations it was emphasized that the Liability Annex must not result in a retroactive modification of the regimes on the exploration, management and conservation of marine living resources such as the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR). Nevertheless, this limitation is not totally convincing. One could have easily included impacts that resulted from fishing vessels without covering fishing as such. It is difficult to accept that, for example, a collision of a tourist vessel with an iceberg would be covered by the Liability Annex whereas such a collision by a fishing vessel would be not covered. A final, far reaching limitation lies in the reference that only the damage to the Antarctic environment is relevant, not the damage to associated and dependent ecosystems. This limitation contradicts the ecosystem approach which dominates the Antarctic legal regime. In comparison, the territorial scope of the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities embraced the dependent and associated ecosystems and thus reflected a more progressive attitude towards the protection of the Antarctic environment. The object of the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities was to protect the Antarctic environment from the impacts of mineral resource activities. Such protection also included dependent and associated ecosystems. One may wonder why it was possible to include such wide scope in the CRAMRA whereas it was impossible to have it included in the Liability

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Annex, at least as far as response actions and the ensuing liability are concerned. One can only speculate about this. The main reason may be that the environmental liability as provided for in the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities was directed toward economic activities undertaken mostly by private actors whereas the Liability Annex primarily addresses research activities that are funded by States or State institutions. The Liability Annex addresses States and not individuals – natural or juridical persons – directly. This is a quite traditional approach in international law. States Parties are obliged to require their operators to establish contingency plans for responses to incidents with potential adverse impact on the Antarctic environment or on dependent and associated ecosystems (Article 4 of the Liability Annex). Such contingency plans shall include procedures for conducting an assessment of the nature of the incident, notification procedures, identification and mobilization of resources, response plans and the keeping of records. What is remarkable about Article 4 of the Liability Annex is its reference to dependent and associated ecosystems.This differs from the territorial scope of the Liability Annex as circumscribed in Article 1 of the Liability Annex. The failure of a State Party to require operators to establish contingency plans and, probably worse, to allow operators to continue or to initiate activities in Antarctica without such contingency plans constitutes a violation of the Liability Annex. This would entail State liability. Article 10 of the Liability Annex only provides that a State Party ‘shall not be liable for the failure of an operator, other than its State operators, to take response action to the extent that that Party took appropriate measures within its competence, including the adoption of laws and regulations, administrative actions and enforcement measures, to ensure compliance with this Annex’. An assessment of this provision indicates that a State which has not enacted the appropriate legislation or not taken the necessary administrative measures would in fact entail State liability according to customary international law. This provision was inspired in its substance by Article 139 of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) in connection with Article 4(4) of Annex III UNCLOS.18 Both such liability regimes were drafted with the intent to exclude direct State responsibility for the activity of private operators. Both such regimes cannot, and in fact did not intend to,exclude State responsibility for the insufficient implementation of the liability regime provided for in the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea and in the Liability Annex respectively. According to Article 5 of the Liability Annex, States Parties are obliged to require operators under their jurisdiction to take prompt and effective response action to environmental emergencies if these emergencies arise from the activities of those operators. This means that the implementation and enforcement of the Liability Annex rests with States. The second obligation of States Parties is to require each of its operators to take prompt and effective action in response to environmental emergencies arising from the activities of that operator. In comparison, the commitment under the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities was quite different. Under this

18

1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, 21 ILM 1261 (1982).

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instrument the operator would have been obligated to take prevention, containment and clean-up measures (response action). In this case, CRAMRA provided for subsidiary State liability in the case when the operator was enable or unwilling to undertake the required response action. Such obligation is clearly excluded in the Liability Annex. Although Article 5 of the Liability Annex does not say so, operators are only obliged to take ‘reasonable’ response action,19 a notion defined in Article 2 lit. (e) of the Liability Annex.20 Reasonable measures are defined as ‘measures or actions which are appropriate, practicable, proportionate and based on the availability of objective criteria and information’. This again constitutes a significant limitation to the obligation under the Liability Annex. In particular, this definition could be used to argue that the measures necessary are uneconomic or that they would surpass the financial or technical capabilities of the operator. If such interpretation were accepted, this would have the consequence that in case of a major accident, for example a major oil spill, there would be no obligation for response action. This certainly cannot be the intended meaning of the provision. What this definition is meant to say is that the operator is obliged to take measures which are at its disposal (practicable) and which are proportionate to the magnitude and the seriousness of the damage. The operator is, however, not obliged to take measures with the view to eliminate impacts which possibly lie in the future, are remote or concerning which it is not possible to scientifically establish whether they will occur or have occurred. This excludes the application of the precautionary principle. Further, this definition of the notion of response action makes it quite clear that the obligation does not entail restorative measures; it only includes cleaning up or remedial measures. In that respect it clearly differs from the corresponding obligation under the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities. Article 5 of the Liability Annex provides for a very sophisticated system regulating who is obliged or who may take response action. First and foremost, it falls upon the operator who has caused the emergency to take the necessary response action. Secondly, the State Party of that operator may take response action. As already indicated, there is no obligation for that State Party to do so21 and consequently its failure to act does not entail liability. It is noteworthy that response actions by a State Party instead of the operator in question may be undertaken when no response action was taken or such action was considered not to be efficient. States Parties other than the State Party of the operator may directly, that is, without prior consultation, undertake response action where ‘a threat of significant and harmful impact to the Antarctic environment is imminent and it would be reasonable under all the circumstances to take immediate response action’.22 Given the climatic and environmental conditions in Antarctica, this may be the rule rather than the exception. 19

See 2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 2 lit. (f).

20

As far as the drafting is concerned it is quite unusual to hide a substantial provision in an article on definitions.

21

2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 5, para. 2, states that the State Party of the operator and other Parties are ‘encouraged’ to take response action.

22

2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 5, para. 3 lit. (b).

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It is interesting to note that other operators may not take response action unless they have been authorised by a State Party to act on its behalf. The rationale behind this may have been to avoid encouraging the establishment of self-proclaimed assistants in cases of environmental emergencies. The construction chosen in Article 5(2) of the Liability Annex, however, has an effect probably not fully considered when this provision was drafted. This authorization makes such operators agents of the State Party concerned with the consequence that activities of such operators are attributable to the latter which again entails State responsibility under customary international law.23 The Liability Annex sets a strict liability standard.24 The same is true for the liability regime under the Protocol on Liability and Compensation to the Basel Convention. Liability is triggered if there is a causal link between the conduct of the operator and the respective damage. In contrast to absolute liability this standard is open to certain exceptions,25 as laid down in the Liability Annex.26 The choice of strict liability instead of liability based on due diligence should be seen as a positive development. In case of liability based on due diligence, one would have to prove that the operator has violated some due diligence obligation27 which is, in practice, problematic. In any case such threshold would diminish the incentive for the operators to take response action. To base the liability regime on the principle of absolute liability, in turn, would not have been appropriate for Antarctica although such standard applies to some outer space activities.28 There are five exemptions from liability (Article 8 of the Liability Annex), namely, if an act or omission was necessary to protect human life or safety; if the event which caused the damage constituted, in the circumstances of Antarctica, a natural disaster of an exceptional character, which could not have been reasonably foreseen; if it resulted from an act of terrorism or an act of belligerency against the activities of an operator; or if an environmental emergency resulted from reasonable response action taken by an operator pursuant to the rules of the Annex. These are rather typical exemptions from liability; the ones under the Protocol on Liability and Compensation of the Basel Convention are similar. In particular, the reference to a natural disaster is quite limited and adequately tailored to the needs and particularities of Antarctica. One that is doubtful is the exemption of response actions. It is meant to encourage an operator to take response action. Although this objective is reasonable, the formulation of this exemption from liability goes quite far. The necessary interpretative limitation may be derived from the words ‘pursuant to the rules of the Annex’.29 23

Draft Articles on State Responsibility, Report of the ILC on its 53rd session, UN Doc. A/56/10 (2001), arts. 2, 4 et seq.

24

2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 6, para. 3.

25

Watts, supra note 7, at 196 et seq.

26

2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 8.

27

Francioni, supra note 1, at 226.

28

Langenfeld/Minnerop, supra note 14, at 64 et seq.

29

Critical as regards the exemptions and limits on liability: Vöneky, supra note 1, at 187 et seq.

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The Liability Annex provides for limits of liability;30 this was one of the issues discussed intensively.31 It was argued that providing for such limits was necessary so as to open the possibility for the operator to get insurance. In fact, States Parties are obliged to require their operators to maintain adequate insurance or other financial security.32 Such insurance will be necessary to reimburse operators that have undertaken response action on behalf of an operator having caused damage to the environment or where the operator in question has to rely on technical assistance for an adequate response action. The limitation of liability cannot be invoked in a case where the environmental emergency ‘resulted from an act or omission of the operator, committed with the intent to cause such emergency, or recklessly and with knowledge that such emergency would probably result’.33 This clause is quite common in international conventions on liability. From the beginning it was discussed controversially how to deal with an environmental emergency against which no response action is taken. Although there was a consensus that this operator should not be in an economically advantageous position compared to the one which has taken response action or the one on whose behalf a response action has been taken, the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties for a long time could not agree on a solution. The starting point is the cost for the necessary response action that should have been undertaken. Hypothetically, these costs are to be paid by the operator that caused the environmental emergency. It is an innovative development that this obligation applies, in principle, both to non-State and to State operators. By this States Parties are through their State operators liable for environmental emergencies and there is an incentive to take adequate preventive measures to forestall any occurrence of emergencies. This also constitutes an incentive to take adequate response action. The Liability Annex distinguishes in this regard between State operators and non-State operators. State operators must pay the whole sum of the cost of a response action that should have been taken whereas non-State operators only must pay ‘an amount of money that reflects as much as possible the costs of the response action that should have been taken’.34 The money must be paid, where State operators are concerned, directly into the fund. In case the emergency was generated by a non-State operator it can also be paid to the State which then ‘shall make best efforts to make a contribution to the fund referred to in Article 12 which at least equals the money received from the operator’. The reason for this stipulation was that the States Parties wanted to formulate a flexible provision since the implementation of this duty in the national orders would vary significantly.35 30

2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 9.

31

For details see Vöneky, supra note 1, at 189 et seq.

32

2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 11.

33

2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 9, para. 3.

34

Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 6, para. 2; critical Vöneky, supra note 1, at 186 et seq.

35

See 2005 Liability Annex, supra note 2, para. 108.

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This provision is unsatisfactory. There is no reason why the non-State operator should be privileged vis-à-vis the State operator. Furthermore, Article 6(2)(b) of the Liability Annex can be read as if the State Party may withhold the money received instead of channelling it to the Fund. Finally, as the costs of a response action which should have been undertaken are to be decided by the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting and such decisions are taken by consensus, one may wonder whether the State Party concerned may not abuse its position. It was discussed whether it would not be more appropriate to provide for a consensus minus one procedure, namely without the State Party concerned. This was not accepted.

III.

Enforcement

An innovation of the Liability Annex rests in its ‘enforcement system’ or in other words the system through which the Liability Annex is implemented. If a third party has taken the response action the operator responsible for the emergency was obliged to undertake, the latter has to pay the costs of the response action undertaken. This means, at least theoretically, that the operator responsible for an environmental emergency cannot avoid the economic consequences of such emergency. This mechanism solves the two problems referred to at the beginning of this contribution, namely, how to economically assess the damage to the environment for which compensation is due as well as how to identify a claimant. The Protocol on Liability and Compensation to the Basel Convention follows the same approach. In reality, the implementation of this approach may face difficulties. The operator having caused environmental damage may argue that the response action undertaken was unnecessary, untimely or that the response action itself was unreasonable within the definition of Article 2(f) of the Liability Annex. Therefore, the implementation of this system depends upon the dispute settlement system under which those disputes are to be decided. Disputes concerning reimbursement will be decided by national courts.36 One could have opted also for an international dispute settlement system but for one reason or the other this did not find acceptance. This is unfortunate, since the chance has been missed to provide for a coherent jurisprudence which can only be achieved if such cases are dealt with by one court only. The Liability Annex distinguishes between the liability of non-State operators and State operators. The party that has taken response action on behalf of a non-State operator having caused damage may bring an action against that operator in the courts of a party where the operator is incorporated or has its principal place of business or his or her habitual place of residence or, if there is no such party, in the courts of the party where the activities were organized. The enforcement rests with the State Party concerned; an appropriate system has to be set up in advance. If a State operator caused the environmental emergency, the dispute between the States Parties is to be decided 36

Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 7.

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upon by an inquiry system still to be established or the dispute settlement procedure of the Protocol.37 The reason for this differentiation roots in the reluctance of States Parties to have disputes involving them or the State operators decided in national courts of other States or the suspicion that courts of that State would not always be totally impartial. At least it was possible to concentrate these cases to come before the same judicial forum, which may increase the likelihood of a coherent jurisprudence.

IV.

Conclusions

Although the Liability Annex is interesting in itself, since it establishes one further regime providing for compensation for environmental damage, it is perhaps even more interesting to examine which of the lessons are to be learned for customary international law on international liability. Some tentative conclusions may be drawn. The Liability Annex and the Protocol on Liability and Compensation to the Basel Convention provide identical answers concerning the economic assessment of environmental damages by using the necessary response actions as a basis for calculation. This approach is probably more acceptable than the approach taken by the judgment in the Zoe Collocotroni case38 and the Erika case39. Further, it is to be noted that the Liability Annex and the Protocol on Liability and Compensation to the Basel Convention both refer to the standard of strict liability rather than absolute liability. Finally, they both follow the same approach concerning State liability. States are not held liable for activities or omissions of non-State operators. In that respect, the so far prevailing approach is confirmed. A State may encounter liability, however, insofar as it did not take ‘appropriate measures within its competence, including the adoption of laws and regulations, administrative actions and enforcement measures, to ensure compliance with this Annex’ (Article 10 of the Liability Annex). Although such liability flows from actions or omissions of the State concerned, it is triggered by damage caused by a private operator. This liability can be interpreted as an expansion of the customary law based regime on international responsibility.40 Therefore, in spite of its shortcomings the Liability Annex can be seen as an innovative supplementation of the existing regime concerning international liability.

37

Liability Annex, supra note 2, art. 7, para. 4.

38

Puerto Rico v. SS Zoe Collocotroni, 456 F.Supp 1327 (DPR 1978).

39

Erika case, Tribunal de Grande Instance de Paris, Judgment of 16 January 2008, No. 9934895010, http://www.faroetgozlan.com/competences.htm (last visited 10 February 2008).

40

See Vöneky, supra note 1, at 192.

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XX – XXX

CHAPTER VIII

International Dispute Settlement

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XX

42

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Anglo Saxon and Continental Approaches to Pleading Before the ICJ Aspects des modes continentaux et Anglo-Saxons de plaidoiries devant la C.I.J. James Crawford & Alain Pellet* Les signataires de ces lignes ont eu le grand plaisir non seulement de siéger à la Commission du Droit international avec leur dédicataire mais aussi de participer avec lui à l’équipe de plaidoiries du Liechtenstein devant la Cour internationale de Justice dans l’affaire relative à Certains biens. Nous connaissions tous deux Gerhard Hafner mais cette affaire a encore renforcé l’estime et l’amitié que nous lui portons. C’est qu’une affaire devant la Cour n’est pas seulement une épopée juridique, c’est aussi une « aventure sociale » qui oblige des personnes formées à des systèmes de pensée et même à des modes de raisonnement et, plus généralement, de comportement, très différents, à une coexistence intellectuelle et humaine parfois tendue, mais toujours mutuellement enrichissante. Nous en avons fait la globalement très positive expérience dans les nombreuses affaires que nous avons eu l’occasion de plaider, dont (jusqu’à présent…) trois ensemble1 et dix l’un contre l’autre2. Dans ces circonstances (et aussi dans les affaires que chacun d’entre nous a plaidées « de son côté »), nous nous sommes rendu compte de la diversité de nos approches en ce qui concerne aussi bien les modes de plaidoiries que le fond du droit applicable. Supposé un, le droit international est perçu assez différemment selon ceux qui le pratiquent – la summa divisio étant sans doute celle qui sépare les juristes anglo-saxons formés à la common law, des « latins » imprégnés de la manière de penser romano*

Les auteurs remercient très vivement Daniel Müller (CEDIN) et Merel Alstein (LCIL) pour leur aide à la préparation de cette contribution.

1

East Timor (Timor oriental) ; Oil Platforms (Plates-formes pétrolières), Certain Property (Certains biens).

2

Affaires contentieuses : Certaines terres à phosphates à Nauru (Certain Phosphate Lands in Nauru) ; Différend territorial (Libye/Tchad) (Territorial Dispute (Libya /Chad)) ; Demande d’examen de la situation au titre du paragraphe 63 de l’arrêt rendu par la Cour le 20 décembre 1974 dans l’affaire des Essais nucléaires (Request for an Examination of the Situation in Accordance with Paragraph 63 of the Court’s Judgment of 20 December 1974 in the Nuclear Tests) ; Gabčíkovo-Nagymaros ; Frontière terrestre et maritime (Cameroun c. Nigéria) (Land and Maritime Boundary (Cameroon v. Nigeria)) ; Pulau Sipidan and Pulau Ligitan (Pulau Ligitan et Pulau Sipadan) ; Pedra Branca/Pulau Batu Puteh. Advisory proceedings. Procédures consultatives : Licéité de l’utilisation des armes nucléaires (Legality of the Use by a State of Nuclear Weapons in Armed Conflict) ; Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons (Licéité de la menace ou de l’emploi d’armes nucléaires) ; Conséquences juridiques de l’édification d’un mur dans le territoire palestinien occupé (Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 831-868, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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germanique. Et c’est surement l’un des grands défis de la participation à une équipe de plaidoirie devant la Cour que de combiner les deux approches dans la compréhension (ou l’incompréhension !) et le respect mutuels, pour arriver à plaider d’une seule voix face à des juges eux aussi partagés entre ces deux grandes familles juridiques et dont il s’agit d’emporter la conviction. C’est aussi, sans doute, ce qui fait une grande part de l’intérêt intellectuel et humain de ces grands contentieux internationaux. Nous avons, l’un et l’autre, eu l’occasion de décrire la conception que nous nous faisons du métier d’« avocat international » pour autant que l’expression ait un sens3. Il n’entre pas dans notre intention d’y revenir ici d’une manière générale. L’objet de cette contribution est plus modeste : à travers quelques exemples nous avons souhaité illustrer ces différences d’approche sous la forme de plaidoiries imaginaires (et portant sur des thèmes abstraits – alors que nous sommes tous deux convaincus que toute plaidoirie doit, pour être utile et efficace, mêler la présentation du droit à la discussion des faits). The scene takes place in the Great Hall of Justice of the Peace Palace in The Hague. The litigating States are confronted with general issues concerning:

–

Jurisdiction and Admissibility;

–

Causes of action and intérêt pour agir;

–

Authorities and evidence before the World Court; and

–

the Anglo-Saxon peculiarity called ‘estoppel’.

Here are the extracts of the Verbatim Records concerning these four points.

I.

Jurisdiction and Admissibility Compétence et recevabilité

Mr. CRAWFORD: Madame President, Members of the Court, my task today is to introduce these preliminary objections with some general remarks on the distinction 3

V. J. Crawford, ‘Advocacy before the International Court of Justice and other International Tribunals in State-to-State Cases’, in R. Doak Bishop, The Art of Advocacy in International Arbitration, Juris Publishing, Huntingdon, 2004, pp. 11-38 ; et A. Pellet, « Conseil devant la Cour internationale de Justice – Quelques impressions », in Mélanges offerts à Hubert Thierry, Pedone, Paris, 1998, pp. 345-362 ; également publié et mis à jour sous le titre « Remarques sur le ‘métier’ de Conseil devant la Cour internationale de Justice » in Nations Unies, Recueil d’articles de conseillers juridiques d’États, d’organisations internationales et de praticiens du droit international – Collection of Essays by Legal Advisers of States, Legal Advisers of International Organizations and Practitioners in the Field of International Law, New York, 1999, n° de vente E/F/S.99.V.13, pp. 435-458, et en anglais: ‘The Role of the International Lawyer in International Litigation’, in Ch. Wickremasinghe (ed.), The International Lawyer as Practionner, B.I.I.C.L., London, 2000, p. 147-162.

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between jurisdiction and admissibility, both of which – as in many proceedings before the Court – are relevant here. In common law systems traditionally there was no distinct concept of admissibility. The Oxford Companion to Law only recognises the concept of admissibility in the context of evidence.4 A search of British cases containing the word ‘admissibility’ produces over 5000 results, but these again almost exclusively refer to the admission of evidence or confessions of guilt rather than the admissibility of a case or claim as such. But this is to some extent misleading. The common law has long dealt with issues such as mootness, justiciability, standing and essential third parties.5 International law would classify all these as issues of admissibility.6 Moreover the common law is acquiring the vocabulary of admissibility from international practice, perhaps from the decisions of the European Court of Human Rights. At the international level therefore the distinction between admissibility and jurisdiction has generally not been problematic for common-law-trained counsel. Article 36 of the Statute of the Court addresses only jurisdiction, but Article 79 of the Rules of the Court on the procedure for preliminary objections explicitly mentions both jurisdiction and admissibility.7 The difference between the two has been described as follows (by a German lawyer): ‘Jurisdiction is geared to the basic requirement of consent by the litigant parties, whereas admissibility touches upon other requirements which may result either from the application of general rules of international law (e.g. exhaustion of local remedies in instances of exercise of diplomatic protection) or from specific agreements between the parties concerned (e.g. referral of a particular class of disputes to arbitration).’8 This too presents admissibility as a miscellaneous category. Rosenne perhaps gave a more useful general account of admissibility when he defined it as encompassing situations in which ‘the Court has been validly seised of, and has jurisdiction over, the merits but cannot exercise that jurisdiction in the concrete circumstances.’9

4

D. M. Walker, The Oxford Companion to Law 32 (1980).

5

Of course the rules on these issues are often different from the international law rules. For example, in relation to essential third parties the common law approach is to require the third party to be joined, and even if there is no appearance by the third party, to let the case go ahead regardless. For the international law approach The Case of the Monetary Gold Removed from Rome in 1943 (Italy v. France, United Kingdom, United States), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 15 June 1954, 1954 ICJ Rep. 19, at 32. If similar facts arose before a common law court to those in Monetary Gold, Italy’s objection would be dismissed.

6

See C. Tomuschat, ‘Article 36’, in A. Zimmermann, C. Tomuschat/K. Oellers-Frahm, The Statute of the International Court of Justice 589, 648-652 (2006), for a discussion of the different categories of admissibility issues.

7

1945 Statute of the International Court of Justice, art. 79, para. 1 provides that: ‘Any objection by the respondent to the jurisdiction of the Court or to the admissibility of the application, or other objection the decision upon which is requested before any further proceedings on the merits, shall be made in writing as soon as possible [...].’

8

Tomuschat, supra note 6, at 646.

9

S. Rosenne, The Law and Practice of the International Court, Vol I, 442 (1965).

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The Court has, for its part, not set out an authoritative definition of concepts such as jurisdiction, competence and admissibility, preferring instead to determine the ‘scope and meaning’ of the relevant title of jurisdiction for each case individually.10 Indeed it can be argued that all the cases which we tend to group under the admissibility really involve jurisdiction lato sensu. Certainly preliminary objections can be raised which exclusively concern admissibility, as is expressly recognised by Article 79, paragraph 1, of the Rules of the Court. There is no reason to doubt that Article 36, paragraph 6, of the Statute, which simply provides that ‘[i]n the event of a dispute as to whether the Court has jurisdiction, the matter shall be settled by decision of the Court’, applies equally to questions of admissibility. The Court has described its conception of admissibility as follows: ‘Objections to admissibility (recevabilité) normally take the form of an assertion that, even if the Court has jurisdiction and the facts stated by the applicant State are assumed to be correct, there are nonetheless reasons why the Court should not proceed to an examination of the merits.’11

The distinction between jurisdiction and admissibility was already established by the Permanent Court of International Justice in the Upper Silesia case, where it rejected Poland’s argument that the pendency of the dispute before the German-Polish Mixed Arbitral Tribunal made the case inadmissible.12 The exhaustion of local remedies rule is also treated as a matter of admissibility. For example the ELSI dispute was referred to a Chamber by a special agreement between the United States and Italy, but Italy contested the admissibility of the case on the basis that the two American companies had not exhausted all local remedies available to them, and the Chamber dealt with that argument – while rejecting it.13 A similar approach was earlier taken by the Court itself in the Interhandel case.14 Drawing this distinction in practice is however not always easy and the Court has sometimes declined to divide preliminary objections into one or other category. In the Northern Cameroons case the Court noted that the parties themselves had made ‘little distinction if any’ between the different categories during oral pleadings,15 and

10

Nottebohm (Liechtenstein v. Guatemala), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 18 November 1953, 1953 ICJ Rep. 111, at 121. See also S. Rosenne, The Law and Practice of the International Court 1920-2005, Vol. II: Jurisdiction, 522-523 (2006).

11

Oil Platforms (Islamic Republic of Iran v. United States of America), Merits, Judgment of 6 November 2003, 2003 ICJ Rep. 161, at 177, para. 29.

12

Certain German Interests in Polish Upper Silesia, Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 25 August 1925, 1925 PCIJ (Ser. A) No. 06, at 20-21.

13

Elettronica Sicula S.p.A. (ELSI)(United States of America v. Italy), Merits, Judgment of 20 July 1989, 1989 ICJ Rep. 15.

14

Interhandel, Jurisdiction (Switzerland v. United States of America), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 21 March 1959, 1959 ICJ Rep. 6.

15

Northern Cameroons (Cameroon v. United Kingdom), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 2 December 1963, 1963 ICJ Rep. 15, at 27.

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in Land and Maritime Boundary it again refused to be drawn into a classification of Nigeria’s preliminary objections.16 One difference that has sometimes been proposed between jurisdiction and admissibility is that whereas the former is mandatory, the latter in some sense involves judicial discretion or judgement and thus contains an element of flexibility. This may be implied in the Court’s own formulation, which I have already quoted: ‘there are … reasons why the Court should not proceed to an examination of the merits’ (emphasis added). But it is doubtful whether the Court is free to decline to hear a case involving a legal dispute between two States who have accepted its jurisdiction over that dispute. True, jurisdiction must always be established and if necessary the Court will examine it proprio motu, whereas admissibility is only addressed when there are particular reasons why it could be lacking.17 But that difference is probably only one of degree: for example in Nuclear Tests the Court examined the issue of mootness of its own motion, relevant developments having occurred after the end of oral argument.18 The Court went out of its way to deny – thereby, some would think, protesting too much – that it was exercising any discretion.19 In practice therefore not too much importance needs to be attached to the distinction between admissibility and jurisdiction. It should be noted that already in 1965 Rosenne stated that ‘there was a strong undercurrent of feeling [at the ICJ] that there was little practical value in the distinction between jurisdiction and objections to admissibility’.20 The Court will assess the merits of each preliminary objection in its own terms, without attaching much importance to questions of classification. M. PELLET: Madame la Présidente21, Messieurs les Juges, il n’y a pas entre le professeur Crawford et moi d’oppositions flagrantes sur ce premier thème – mais il a présenté une « version douce » de l’aversion des juristes issus de la common law pour la distinction si rigidement cartésienne entre compétence et recevabilité. Et je ne suis, pour ma part, sans doute pas très représentatif de l’approche latine à cet égard : pour être tout à fait franc, Madame la Présidente, je n’en vois pas très bien l’utilité22. En d’autres termes,

16

Maritime Boundary between Cameroon and Nigeria (Cameroon v. Nigeria), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 11 June 1998, 1998 ICJ Rep. 275, 290 (para. 21), 312 (para. 79).

17

Tomuschat, supra note 6, at 646-647.

18

See, e.g., Nuclear Tests (Australia v. France), Judgment of 20 December 1974, 1974 ICJ Rep. 1974, at 253, 270-272, paras. 55-59.

19

Ibid., at 271, para. 57.

20

Rosenne, supra note 9, at 448.

21

Il s’agit ici d’une plaidoirie hypothétique devant une Cour fictive. Lors de la séance du 3 mars 2006, dans l’affaire relative à l’Application de la convention pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide (Bosnie-Herzégovine c. Serbie-et-Monténégro), Dame Rosalyn Higgins a souhaité être appelée « Madame le Président » – ce que l’auteur de ces lignes persiste à regretter (V. CR 2006/8, p. 39).

22

V. cependant ma récente plaidoirie au nom de la République française dans l’affaire relative à Certaines questions concernant l’aide judiciaire en matière pénale dans laquelle j’ai été conduit à « requalifier » en exception d’incompétence une conclusion présentée dans les

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James Crawford et moi sommes d’accord sur ce point, mais les systèmes juridiques auxquels nous appartenons ne le sont pas autant qu’il le dit, et cela exerce une influence sur l’attachement plus ou moins marqué que les internationalistes des deux côtés de la Manche manifestent généralement à la distinction. Les positions en présence contrastent en effet assez nettement l’une avec l’autre : alors que, comme M. Crawford l’a rappelé, le concept de recevabilité ne s’applique, dans les droits internes des pays anglo-saxons, qu’à la présentation des preuves, il joue, dans les droits continentaux, un rôle clé dans l’établissement de l’exercice de la … compétence des juridictions saisies. Mais c’est peut-être là toute son ambiguïté: si une requête est irrecevable, le tribunal ou la cour ne pourra exercer sa juridiction (pour ne pas dire sa compétence…), quand bien même sa compétence serait établie par ailleurs23. Le résultat étant le même – qu’elle soit incompétente ou que la requête soit irrecevable, la Cour est empêchée de se prononcer – j’ai, comme mon supposé contradicteur, des doutes sur l’intérêt réel de la distinction en dehors des enceintes universitaires (et encore…). Mais, en avouant ceci, je me rends compte que j’ai probablement été contaminé par ma longue fréquentation de mes amis anglo-saxons car les juristes français sont, en général, plus attachés à la distinction que je le suis24 et ils la parent de vertus qui ne m’apparaissent pas aussi clairement qu’à eux. Il est fort révélateur que ce soit des Juges « typiquement latins » (Anzilotti et Fromageot) qui aient pris l’initiative de suggérer, dès 1926, l’inclusion dans le Règlement de la distinction entre incompétence et irrecevabilité25, qui n’a finalement fait son apparition dans le Règlement de la Cour qu’en 197226 du fait de la forte opposition qu’elle a suscitée de la part, notamment, des Juges anglo-saxons. Ainsi dans son écritures de la France comme portant sur l’irrecevabilité partielle de la requête de Djibouti (CR 2008/4, 24 janvier 2008, pp. 41-43, par. 40-42). 23

Sur la distinction de la compétence et de son exercice, v. C.P.J.I., arrêt du 30 août 1924, Concessions Mavrommatis en Palestine, série A, n° 2, p. 10 : « la question préalable à résoudre n’est pas seulement de savoir si la Cour puise dans la nature et dans l’objet de la contestation portée devant elle le pouvoir d’en connaître, mais encore de vérifier si les conditions auxquelles est subordonné l’exercice de ce pouvoir se trouvent réunies en l’espèce » (italiques ajoutées – v. aussi 25 mai 1926, Certains intérêts allemands en Haute-Silésie polonaise, série A, n° 6, p. 19). Dans l’affaire des Plates-formes pétrolières, la Cour actuelle a considéré que « [n] ormalement, une exception à la recevabilité consiste à affirmer que, quand bien même la Cour serait compétente et les faits exposés par 1’État demandeur seraient tenus pour exacts, il n’en existe pas moins des raisons pour lesquelles il n’y a pas lieu pour la Cour de statuer au fond » (arrêt du 6 novembre 2003, Fond, Rec. 2003, p. 177, par. 29).

24

V. cependant l’opinion individuelle du Juge Abraham jointe à l’arrêt du 13 décembre 2007 dans l’affaire du Différend territorial et maritime (Nicaragua c. Colombie) (exceptions préliminaires) : « la question, tout à fait secondaire, de savoir si l’absence de différend réel et actuel entre les parties constitue une cause d’incompétence de la Cour ou un cas d’irrecevabilité de la demande, ce qui, à vrai dire, ne fait guère de différence » (par. 61 ; v. aussi le par. 6).

25

V. C.P.J.I., série D n° 2 add. 3 (1936), pp. 88-91 ; v. aussi M. Mabrouk, Les exceptions de procédure devant les juridictions internationales, L.G.D.J., Paris, 1966, p. 23 ou G. Abi-Saab ; Les exceptions préliminaires dans la procédure de la Cour internationale, Pedone, Paris, 1967, pp. 38-39.

26

Article 67, devenu l’actuel article 79 dans le Règlement de 1978.

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opinion dissidente dans l’affaire du Chemin de fer Panevezys-Saldutiskis – la seule dans laquelle la C.P.J.I. a accueilli une exception d’irrecevabilité, Hudson a contesté le caractère préliminaire de toute exception ne portant pas directement sur la compétence stricto sensu de la Cour27. Dans l’opinion individuelle qu’il a jointe à l’arrêt de la Cour de 1963 dans l’affaire du Cameroun septentrional, Sir Gerald Fitzmaurice critiquait lui aussi avec vigueur « la classification des exceptions préliminaires en deux catégories, selon qu’elles ont trait aux questions de compétence ou de recevabilité » qu’il qualifiait de « simpliste et [potentiellement] trompeuse lorsqu’il s’agit de considérer et de déterminer à quel stade et dans quel ordre il convient de régler des exceptions données de l’une ou l’autre catégorie »28. Telle serait pourtant, selon ses défenseurs, la première fonction de la distinction qui induirait nécessairement l’ordre que doit suivre la Cour lorsqu’elle procède à l’examen des exceptions préliminaires qui lui sont présentées : il lui faudrait d’abord s’assurer de sa compétence, puis examiner la recevabilité de la requête29. Mais, s’il est exact que l’examen prioritaire des exceptions d’incompétence correspond à la pratique dominante de la Cour, il n’y a aucune raison de considérer que celle-ci est imposée par une règle de droit. Sans doute, l’incompétence est-elle expressément visée à l’article 36 du Statut qui, au contraire, est muet sur l’irrecevabilité30 ce qui pourrait justifier la « priorité » des exceptions portant sur la compétence sur celles concernant la recevabilité. Mais l’argument se heurte à deux objections : d’une part, comme je l’ai dit, l’irrecevabilité de la requête conduit à paralyser l’exercice par la Cour de sa compétence (statutaire), ce qui, pour le moins, limite la portée (et la clarté) de la distinction31 ; d’autre part, les motifs d’irrecevabilité sont, en partie au moins, procéduraux (et, sous cet angle, découlent également du Statut). La formule utilisée par la Cour dans l’affaire des Activités armées sur le territoire du Congo, selon laquelle « [n]’ayant pas compétence pour connaître de la requête, la

27

Opinion jointe à l’arrêt du 28 février 1939, série A/B n° 76, pp. 42-48.

28

Rec. 1963, p. 103 ; v. aussi Sir Gerald Fitzmaurice, « The Law and Procedure of the International Court of Justice, 1951-4 : Questions of Jurisdiction, Competence and Procedure », B.Y.B.I.L. (1958), pp. 56-60.

29

V. l’opinion dissidente du Juge Koretsky, ibid., p. 39 : « la Cour doit tout d’abord se prononcer sur sa compétence, pour examiner ensuite l’exception d’irrecevabilité » ; v. aussi, par ex., G. Guyomar, Commentaire du Règlement de la Cour internationale de Justice, Pedone, Paris, 1983, p. 516 ou H. Ruiz Fabri et J.-M. Sorel, « Organisation judiciaire internationale – C.I.J., juridiction de la Cour », JCl. D.I. fasc. 216, par. 45.

30

En ce sens, v. l’opinion individuelle de Sir Gerald Fitzmaurice, jointe à l’arrêt du 2 décembre 1963 dans l’affaire du Cameroun septentrional, Rec. 1963, p. 102.

31

Du reste, pendant longtemps le Règlement de la Cour ne mentionnait pas davantage l’exception d’irrecevabilité que son Statut, et cela ne l’a pas empêchée de considérer que la disposition pertinente – à l’époque l’article 62 – couvrait « plus que les exceptions d’incompétence » (C.P.J.I., 28 février 1939, Chemin de fer Panevezys-Saldutiskis, série A/B n° 76, p. 16), ce qui relativise également la force de la distinction.

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JAMES CRAWFORD & ALAIN PELLET

Cour n’a pas à statuer sur la recevabilité de celle-ci »32 décrit la situation en l’espèce, mais elle n’exclut pas forcément qu’à l’inverse, dans une autre affaire, la Cour constate l’irrecevabilité de la requête et en déduise qu’il n’est dès lors pas nécessaire qu’elle statue sur sa compétence. C’est, du reste, ainsi qu’elle a procédé dans l’affaire Interhandel dans laquelle elle a accueilli l’une des exceptions d’irrecevabilité des États-Unis sans avoir examiné l’une de celles qu’ils avait fondées sur l’incompétence de la Cour, ce que Sir Percy Spender lui a vivement reproché33. Comme on l’a écrit non sans bon sens : « Certains juges ont affirmé qu’il est vain de déclarer recevable un recours lorsque la Cour est incompétente. Mais, à quoi sert-il, à l’inverse, de déclarer qu’elle est compétente, quand la Cour doit rejeter comme irrecevable la requête qui lui a été présentée ? [I]l est impossible d’établir – en général – un ordre d’examen des exceptions de procédure. Le juge international est libre d’examiner, en premier lieu, telle exception d’incompétence ou d’irrecevabilité qu’il voudra (celle dont l’examen ne lui semble guère trop difficile et qui lui paraît la plus pertinente). Si un ordre d’examen des exceptions s’impose, c’est en toute souveraineté que la juridiction internationale le détermine, dans chaque cas d’espèce »34. On peut certes mentionner quelques affaires dans lesquelles la Haute Juridiction a paru estimer que la question de l’irrecevabilité ne se posait qu’une fois sa compétence établie. L’arrêt de 2006 dans l’affaire des Activités armées entre la R.D.C. et le Rwanda constitue d’ailleurs une énigme à cet égard puisque la Cour, s’appuyant sur une jurisprudence abondante35, juge nécessaire de se pencher « au préalable sur l’argument de la RDC selon lequel l’exception tirée du non-respect des conditions préalables prévues dans les clauses compromissoires, et en particulier à l’article 29 32

Arrêt du 20 février 2006, R.D.C. c. Rwanda (nouvelle requête : 2002), exceptions préliminaires, Rec. 2006, p. 50, par. 121.

33

Opinion individuelle jointe à l’arrêt du 21 mars 1959, Exceptions préliminaires, Rec. 1959, pp. 54-56 ; v. aussi l’opinion dissidente de Sir Hersch Lauterpacht, ibid., p. 100.

34

M. Mabrouk, op. cit. note 25, p. 270 ; v. aussi Sh. Rosenne, op. cit. note 10, p. 926 ou M. Bennouna, opinion dissidente jointe à l’arrêt du 13 décembre 2007, Différend territorial et maritime (Nicaragua c. Colombie), exceptions préliminaires.

35

Elle cite: « Mavrommatis en Palestine, arrêt no 2, 1924, C.P.J.I. série A no 2, p. 11-15; Interprétation du statut du territoire de Memel, fond, arrêt, 1932, C.P.J.I. série A/B no 49, p. 327-328; Compagnie d’électricité de Sofia et de Bulgarie, arrêt, 1939, C.P.J.I. série A/B no 77, p. 78-80; Sud-Ouest africain (Ethiopie c. Afrique du Sud; Libéria c. Afrique du Sud), exceptions préliminaires, arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 1962, p. 344-346; Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci (Nicaragua c. Etats-Unis d’Amérique), compétence et recevabilité, arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 1984, p. 427-429, par. 81-83; Actions armées frontalières et transfrontalières (Nicaragua c. Honduras), compétence et recevabilité, arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 1988, p. 88-90, par. 42-48; Questions d’interprétation et d’application de la convention de Montréal de 1971 résultant de l’incident aérien de Lockerbie (Jamahiriya arabe libyenne c. Royaume-Uni), exceptions préliminaires, arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 1998, p. 16, par. 16-19; p. 24, par. 39-40; Questions d’interprétation et d’application de la convention de Montréal de 1971 résultant de l’incident aérien de Lockerbie (Jamahiriya arabe libyenne c. Etats-Unis d’Amérique), exceptions préliminaires, arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 1998, p. 121-122, par. 15-19; p. 129, par 38-39) » (arrêt du 20 février 2006, R.D.C. c. Rwanda (nouvelle requête : 2002), exceptions préliminaires, Rec. 2006, p. 40, par. 88).

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de la convention, constitue une exception à la recevabilité de sa requête plutôt qu’à la compétence de la Cour. A cet égard, la Cour rappellera que sa compétence repose sur le consentement des parties, dans la seule mesure reconnue par celles-ci (…), et que, lorsque ce consentement est exprimé dans une clause compromissoire insérée dans un accord international, les conditions auxquelles il est éventuellement soumis doivent être considérées comme en constituant les limites. De l’avis de la Cour, l’examen de telles conditions relève en conséquence de celui de sa compétence et non de celui de la recevabilité de la requête (…). En l’espèce, les conditions auxquelles l’article 29 de la convention sur la discrimination à l’égard des femmes subordonne la saisine de la Cour doivent donc être examinées dans le cadre de l’examen de la compétence de la Cour »36. Mais elle ne tire aucune conséquence détectable de cette démonstration – pas davantage d’ailleurs que la R.D.C. dans les développements qu’elle consacre à la distinction dans ses observations37… Dans l’affaire du Sud-Ouest africain, la Cour, qui avait décidé dans son arrêt de 1962 qu’elle était « compétente pour décider au fond »38, a, en 1966, estimé que puisque le Défendeur n’avait alors soulevé qu’une exception d’incompétence, il était normal qu’elle ne se soit pas prononcée sur l’irrecevabilité éventuelle de la requête : si une telle question « se posait, c’est maintenant qu’il faudrait la trancher, comme cela s’est produit dans l’affaire Nottebohm à la phase du fond (C.I.J. Recueil 1955, p. 4) »39, dans laquelle, en effet, la Cour a commencé par reconnaître sa compétence40, avant de déclarer « irrecevable la demande présentée par le Lichtenstein » dans un arrêt ultérieur et distinct41. Mais, dans ces affaires, l’État demandeur s’était abstenu d’invoquer l’irrecevabilité de la requête au stade des exceptions préliminaires – ce qui pose d’ailleurs un problème … de recevabilité ratione temporis de l’exception elle-même – et, tout ce que montrent ces précédents semble être que la Cour ne se sent pas tenue de la soulever d’office42. Telle serait d’ailleurs, selon certains auteurs, la véritable fonction de la distinction : selon eux, la Cour devrait soulever d’office la question de sa compétence tandis que

36

Ibid., pp. 39-40, par. 88.

37

Observations sur les exceptions préliminaires du Rwanda, 20 mai 2003, pp. 12-13, par. 35-37.

38

Arrêt du 21 décembre 1962, Sud-Ouest africain (Exceptions préliminaires), Rec. 1962, p. 347.

39

Arrêt du 18 juillet 1966, Deuxième phase, Rec. 1966, p. 43, par. 76.

40

Arrêt du 18 novembre 1953, Exception préliminaire, Rec. 1953, p. 124.

41

Arrêt du 6 avril 1955, Deuxième phase, Rec. 1955, p. 26.

42

La question se posait différemment dans l’affaire de la Barcelona Traction puisque, dans son arrêt du 5 février 1970, la Cour décide qu’il n’y a pas lieu qu’elle se prononce au fond sur la requête de la Belgique du fait de l’irrecevabilité de la requête (Deuxième phase, Rec. 1970, p. 51) ; mais, par son arrêt du 24 juillet 1964, elle avait joint au fond les exceptions d’irrecevabilité soulevées par l’Espagne (Rec. 1964, p. 47).

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l’invocation de l’irrecevabilité serait laissée à la discrétion des Parties43, et telle semble être aussi la conviction de mon contradicteur. Et il est vrai que dans l’embrouillamini sur sa compétence dans l’affaire du Génocide – embrouillamini dont la Cour plus encore que le Défendeur porte la responsabilité, celle-ci a jugé « nécessaire de souligner que la question de savoir si un État a qualité pour se présenter devant elle conformément aux dispositions du Statut – que l’on y voie une question de capacité à être partie à la procédure ou un aspect de la compétence ratione personae – passe avant celle de la compétence ratione materiae, c’est-à-dire avant celle de savoir si cet État a consenti à ce que la Cour règle le différend particulier porté devant elle. C’est, par ailleurs, une question que la Cour elle-même est tenue, si besoin est, de soulever et d’examiner d’office, le cas échéant après notification aux parties. Il en résulte que si la Cour estime, dans une affaire particulière, que les conditions relatives à la capacité des parties à se présenter devant elle ne sont pas remplies, alors que les conditions de sa compétence ratione materiae le sont, elle doit, quand bien même cette question n’aurait pas été soulevée par les parties, constater que les premières conditions font défaut et en déduire qu’elle ne saurait, pour cette raison, avoir compétence pour statuer sur le fond du différend »44.

Mais, ici encore, il paraît difficile d’interpréter a contrario cette position (dont les « arrière-pensées » évidentes de politique judiciaire limitent de toute manière la portée) et d’en déduire que la Cour ne pourrait être appelée, en aucune circonstance, à soulever d’office une exception d’irrecevabilité. De même, je ne crois pas que l’on puisse considérer la décision par laquelle, dans son ordonnance du 19 août 1929, la Cour permanente refusait de faire droit à une demande conjointe des Parties de déroger à des dispositions procédurales de son Statut45, comme portant sur un problème de compétence et non de recevabilité, alors même qu’elle avait soulevé l’objection proprio motu. En réalité, il apparaît que la Haute Juridiction peut et doit s’interroger d’office sur tout ce qui pourrait être contraire à son Statut car il y a là des « question[s] de droit indépendante[s] des points de vue des parties à [leur] sujet »46, sans qu’il y ait lieu de distinguer entre les objections de compétence au sens strict et celles concernant la recevabilité de la requête ou de certaines conclusions. Il reste que, dans plusieurs affaires, la Haute Juridiction a indiqué qu’il ne lui paraissait pas nécessaire « de statuer sur la question de savoir si, devant la Cour, une distinction doit être faite entre l’irrecevabilité d’une demande et la compétence d’une

43

V. H. Ruiz Fabri et J.-M. Sorel, op. cit. note 29, par. 45, ou Ch. Tomuschat, « Commentary of Article 36 » in A Zimmerman, C. Tomuschat and K. Oellers-Frahm (dir.), The Statute of the International Court of Justice, Oxford U.P., 2006, pp. 646-647, par. 110.

44

C.I.J., arrêt du 26 février 2007, Application de la Convention pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide, par. 122 ; v. aussi le par. 132.

45

C.P.J.I., Zones franches de la Haute-Savoie et du pays de Gex, série A, n° 22, p. 12.

46

C.I.J., arrêt du 15 décembre 2004, Licéité de l’emploi de la force (Serbie-et-Monténégro c. Belgique), exceptions préliminaires, Rec. 2004, p. 297, par. 43 ; v. aussi p. 295, par. 36, et arrêt 26 février 2007, Application de la Convention pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide, par. 102 et 103.

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juridiction internationale ayant à statuer sur cette demande »47. Quand bien même, dans tous ces cas, la Cour devait « simplement (…) établir le caractère préliminaire de l’objection en question »48, il n’en reste pas moins qu’elle n’a pas jugé utile de faire cette distinction, supposée pourtant lourde de conséquences procédurales. Au surplus, la terminologie utilisée par la Cour est extraordinairement flottante – il en est ainsi en particulier s’agissant de la condition de l’existence d’un différend, pour qu’elle puisse exercer sa juridiction49. Et, bien que l’on puisse y voir une exception d’irrecevabilité, la Cour n’hésite pas à la soulever d’office50 et procède généralement à son examen en tout premier lieu et ceci quand bien même, après l’avoir rejetée, elle accueille ensuite une exception d’incompétence à proprement parler51. D’une manière générale, les « limitations inhérentes à la compétence de la Cour »52 sur lesquelles celle-ci se fonde d’office pour refuser d’exercer sa juridiction posent des problèmes de recevabilité et non de compétence – elles n’en sont pas moins examinées d’office et avant toute autre exception. Il apparaît donc qu’en réalité, sauf dans des cas très exceptionnels qui ne se laissent pas réduire à des règles générales, « lorsque sa compétence est contestée pour différents motifs, [la Cour] est libre de baser sa décision sur un ou plusieurs motifs de son choix, et en particulier ‘sur le motif qui, selon elle, est plus direct et décisif’ (Certains emprunts norvégiens (France c. Norvège), arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 1957, p. 25; voir également Incident aérien du 27 juillet 1955 (Israël c. Bulgarie), arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 1959, p. 127; Plateau continental de la mer Egée (Grèce c. Turquie), arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 1978, p. 16-17, par. 39-40; et Incidentaérien du 10 août 1999 (Pakistan c. Inde), compétence de la Cour, arrêt, C.I.J. Recueil 2000, p. 24, par. 26) »53. À mon sens, dans ce domaine, Madame le Président, l’empirisme et le pragmatisme anglo-saxons marquent un point et, comme le Professeur Crawford, j’emprunterai ma conclusion à l’Ambassadeur Rosenne : « While conceptually it might be possible to draw fine distinctions between an objection to the jurisdiction of the Court, an objection to the admissibility of the application or of a claim (…), in each instance, the decisive appreciation will always

47

C.P.J.I., arrêt du 16 décembre 1936, Pajs, Csáky, Esterházy, série A/B, n° 68, p. 51 ; v. aussi, l’ordonnance du 27 juin 1936, Losinger (exception préliminaire), série A/B, n° 67, p. 23 ou C.I.J., arrêt du 2 décembre 1963, Cameroun septentrional, Rec. 1963, p. 27.

48

G. Abi-Saab, op. cit. note 25, p. 168.

49

V. ibid., pp. 175-177.

50

V. C.I.J., arrêt du 21 décembre 1962, Sud-Ouest africain (Exceptions préliminaires), Rec. 1962, p. 319.

51

Pour un exemple v. 30 juin 1995, Timor oriental, Rec. 1995, p. 105, par. 36.

52

V. surtout les arrêts du 2 décembre 1963, Cameroun septentrional, Rec. 1963, p. 29, par. 13, et du 20 décembre 1974, Essais nucléaires, Rec. 1974, p. 259, par. 23, et p. 463, par. 23 ; v. aussi 4 décembre 1998, Compétence en matière de pêcheries, Rec. 1998, p. 468, par. 88, ou 13 décembre 2007, Différend territorial et maritime (Nicaragua c. Colombie), exceptions préliminaires, par. 49.

53

C.I.J., arrêt 15 décembre 2004, Licéité de l’emploi de la force (Serbie-et-Monténégro c. Belgique), exceptions préliminaires, Rec. 2004, p. 298, par. 46.

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be based on a combination of specifics and the subjective assessment of the majority of the Bench »54.

II.

Intérêt pour agir et causes of action Causes of Action and intérêt pour agir

M. PELLET: Le seul fait que, dans le plan des plaidoiries que nous avons inclus dans le dossier des Juges, le titre de celle qu’il m’appartient de présenter aujourd’hui n’ait pu être traduit montre à quel point nous nous trouvons ici face à l’un des points sur lesquels les approches anglo-saxonnes et « latines » du procès international divergent. Sans doute, les dictionnaires juridiques traduisent-ils « cause of action » par « intérêt pour agir »55 et réciproquement56. Il s’agit là, Madame la Présidente, d’une traduction approchée mais inexacte et le problème est que, justement, ce n’est pas la même chose. Il est d’ailleurs intéressant de constater que, pour sa part, le greffe de la Cour utilise souvent de prudentes périphrases pour traduire l’une ou l’autre expression dans l’autre langue57 – au prix, parfois d’approximations discutables58. Autant je suis à l’aise avec l’intérêt pour agir, autant la notion de « cause of action » me trouble quoique, au prix d’un gros effort intellectuel et grâce aux savantes mais claires explications de mes

54

Sh. Rosenne, op. cit. note 10, p. 848 ; v. aussi, pp. 871-872.

55

V. par exemple : A. Deysine, Dictionnaire de l’anglais économique et juridique, Livre de poche, Paris, 1996 ; B. Dhuicq et D. Frison, Dictionnaire de l’anglais juridique, BMS, 2004, p. 37.

56

V. p.ex. B. Dhuicq et D. Frison, ibid., p. 460 ou Google Translate (http://translate.google. com/).

57

V. par exemples l’opinion individuelle de M. Jessup jointe à l’arrêt du 5 février 1970 dans l’affaire de la Barcelona Traction, où « cause of action » est traduit par « droit de demander » (Rec. 1970, p. 168 ; v. aussi p. 169) ; celle de M. Schwebel jointe à l’arrêt du 20 décembre 1988, Actions armées frontalières et transfrontalières, Rec. 1988, p. 126 ; celle de M. Owada jointe à l’arrêt du 10 février 2005, Certains biens, Rec. 2005, p. 47 ; ou celle de Mme. Higgins, citée infra note 66. Quand « cause of action » est traduit par « cause d’action » la phrase peut devenir franchement incompréhensible pour un lecteur francophone (v. par exemple l’opinion dissidente de M. Read jointe à l’arrêt du 22 juillet 1952 dans l’affaire de l’Anglo-Iranian Oil Co., Rec. 1952, p. 148 (également citée dans celles de M. Shahabuddeen, jointes à l’arrêt du 26 juin 1992, Certaines terres à phosphates à Nauru, ou à l’avis du 8 juillet 1996, Licéité de l’utilisation des armes nucléaires par un État dans un conflit armé, Rec. 1996, p. 99) ; ou celle de M. Weeramantry jointe à l’arrêt du 26 juin 1992, Certaines terres à phosphates à Nauru, Rec. 1992, pp. 149 ou 174 ; ou l’opinion individuelle de M. Koo jointe à l’arrêt du 2 décembre 1963, Cameroun septentrional, Rec. 1963, p. 44, par. 13).

58

Cf. l’opinion dissidente de M. Read jointe à l’avis consultatif du 23 octobre 1956, Jugements du Tribunal administratif de l’OIT sur requêtes contre l’Unesco, dans laquelle « the essential character of the cause of action » a été traduit par « les caractères essentiels de l’espèce » (Rec. 1956, p. 143).

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collègues anglo-saxons59, je crois avoir fini par en pénétrer à peu près les mystères et j’en suis même venu à la trouver féconde – ce qui n’est pas le cas, j’y reviendrai, de cet autre mot intraduisible en français : « estoppel ». La notion d’intérêt pour agir – un intérêt qui doit être « d’ordre juridique »60, est raisonnablement étroite61. Fort proche du jus standi auquel se réfèrent plus souvent les juristes de common law que ceux formés aux droits romano-germaniques62, elle a pour conséquence que « le demandeur doit montrer que l’action ou l’abstention du défendeur a eu pour effet de porter atteinte à un droit ou à un intérêt juridiquement protégé dont le demandeur était titulaire »63.

59

Pour une présentation très claire et nuancée, v. S.A. Harris, « What Is a Cause of Action? », California Law Review (1928), n° 6, pp. 459-477.

60

V. C.I.J., arrêts, 18 juillet 1966, Sud-Ouest africain, Rec. 1966, p. 34, par. 50 ; ou 5 février 1970, Barcelona Traction, Rec. 1970, p. 36, par. 46 ; v. aussi la plaidoirie de P. Weil à propos de la demande en intervention du Nicaragua dans l’affaire du Différend terrestre, insulaire et maritime (6 juin 1990, C 4/CR 90/3, pp. 18-21) ; ou celle d’A. Pellet dans l’affaire des Plates-formes pétrolières : « En l’espèce, les États-Unis ont sans doute un intérêt, mais ils n’ont pas établi que celui-ci s’analysait en un intérêt juridique ouvrant droit à saisir la Cour ». « En l’espèce, les États-Unis ont sans doute un intérêt, mais ils n’ont pas établi que celui-ci s’analysait en un intérêt juridique ouvrant droit à saisr la Cour ». « En d’autres termes, ils n’ont établi l’existence d’aucun titre, d’aucune cause of action » (28 février 2003, CR 2003/14, p. 38, par. 41-42). En d’autres termes, ils n’ont établi l’existence d’aucun titre, d’aucune cause of action » (28 février 2003, CR 2003/14, p. 38, par. 41-42).

61

V. not. Keba M’Baye, « L’intérêt pour agir devant la Cour internationale de Justice », R.C.A.D.I. (Recueil des cours en bon anglais…) 1988-III, tome 209, pp. 223-346 ; v. aussi C. Santulli, Droit du contentieux international, Montchrestien, Paris, 2005, pp. 214-245.

62

Pour des usages interchangeables, v. par exemples l’arrêt de la Cour du 5 février 1970 dans l’affaire de la Barcelona Traction : « … la prétention du Gouvernement belge selon laquelle il aurait qualité pour agir… » traduit par : « … the Belgian claim to jus standi » (Rec., p. 37, par. 51 ; v. aussi p. 50, par. 101, ou p. 51, par. 102, et l’opinion individuelle de M. Morelli, ibid., p. 226) ; l’opinion individuelle de M. Oda jointe à l’arrêt du 30 juin 1995 dans l’affaire du Timor oriental : « … Portugal lacked locus standi to bring against Australia this particular case… » (Rec. 1995, p. 107) ; v. aussi S. Wordsworth, plaidoirie dans l’affaire Diallo : « It may be that the better question, so far as concerns diplomatic protection, focuses instead on which person or entity has the relevant cause of action » (28 novembre 2006, CR 2006/51, p. 27 ; v. aussi p. 28). Dans son ordonnance du 22 mai 1975, le Greffe de la Cour a traduit la phrase « … les conclusions énoncées plus haut ne préjugent en rien la position de tout État intéressé… » par : « … the conclusions stated above in no way prejudge the locus standi of any interested State… » (Rec. 1995, p. 8). V. aussi la plaidoirie d’A. Pellet sur la Demande pour un examen de la situation au titre du paragraphe 63 de l’arrêt rendu par la Cour en 1974 dans l’affaire des Essais nucléaires : « La Nouvelle-Zélande (…) ne peut, au surplus, se réclamer d’aucun intérêt pour agir; elle n’a pas de jus standi et ne peut invoquer aucun ‘droit’ (no right) comme l’exige l’article 41 du Statut » (12 septembre 1995, CR 95/21, p. 34).

63

J. Salmon (dir.), Dictionnaire de droit international public, Bruylant/AUF, Bruxelles, 2001, p. 596.

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La cause of action, qui relève de la « common law parlance »64, a une portée plus large. Elle inclut l’idée d’intérêt ou de qualité pour agir65, mais, au-delà, elle recouvre l’ensemble des éléments « qui sont à l’origine de l’action intentée »66 ; plus que l’intérêt pour agir, c’est, au fond le fondement, la base de la requête ou de la décision67, le ou les motifs de l’action entreprise68, l’existence d’un « grief »69, qui sont en cause. Et la multiplicité même des traductions censées refléter cette notion unique porte témoignage de la diversité de ses acceptions ou, plutôt sans doute, de sa large portée. L’une des acceptions les plus fréquentes de la notion, du moins en droit international de la responsabilité, est sans doute l’existence de la violation d’un droit dans les 64

V. la plaidoirie de M. Brownlie dans les affaires de la Licéité de l’emploi de la force, citée infra, note 71 ; v. aussi celle d’A. Pellet dans l’affaire de Nauru : « … les bases de la responsabilité de l’Albanie d’une part et de celle, fort éventuelle, de la Yougoslavie (…) eussent, de toute manière, été entièrement différentes. Si l’on préfère présenter ceci dans un langage plus familier aux juristes de common law, terrain sur lequel je m’aventure rarement, les ‘causes of action’ étaient tout à fait distinctes » (21 novembre 1991, CR 91/21, pp. 52-53, par. 15 et 16).

65

V. par exemples l’opinion individuelle de M. Wellington Koo jointe à l’arrêt de la Cour du 2 décembre 1963 dans l’affaire du Cameroun septentrional : « It is true that an international dispute, just as a cause of action in municipal law, must embody or imply the existence of a legal right or interest at issue in order to be justiciable » (Rec. 1963, p. 44).

66

Cf. l’opinion individuelle de Mme Higgins, jointe à l’ordonnance de la Cour du 2 juin 1999, Licéité de l’emploi de la force (Serbie-et-Monténégro c. Belgique), Rec. 1999, p. 162, par. 6.

67

Cf. l’opinion dissidente de M. Read jointe à l’avis consultatif du 23 octobre 1956, Jugements du Tribunal administratif de l’OIT sur requêtes contre l’Unesco : « It is sufficient to point out that the adjudication of a cause of action based on them was beyond the competence of the Tribunal.. » (« Il me suffira de faire observer qu’en donnant gain de cause aux requérants sur cette base, le Tribunal a dépassé [sa] compétence… ») (Rec. 1956, p. 151) ; ou les plaidoiries de M. Brownlie dans les affaires de la Licéité de l’emploi de la force : « As in the Nicaragua case, the same complex of facts may give rise to a variety of bases of claims, or in common law parlance, causes of action » (« Comme dans l’affaire Nicaragua, le même ensemble de faits peut donner lieu à une variété de chefs de demande, ou constituer ce que la common law appelle les motifs pour ester en justice ») (23 avril 2004, CR 2004/23, p. 24), et du Génocide : « The causes of action or, if you wish, the bases of claim… » (16 mars 2006, CR 2006/21, p. 21) (v. aussi l’exposé du même avocat dans l’affaire relative à l’Incident aérien du 10 août 1999, 6 avril 2000, CR 2004/4).

68

V. l’opinion dissidente de M. Read jointe à l’avis consultatif du 23 octobre 1956, Jugements du Tribunal administratif de l’OIT sur requêtes contre l’Unesco, Rec. 1956, p. 150 ; celle de M. Chagla jointe à l’arrêt du 12 avril 1960, Droit de passage sur territoire indien, Rec. 1960, p. 117 ; ou celle de M. Weeramantry jointe à l’arrêt de la Cour du 30 juin 1995 dans l’affaire du Timor oriental : « If the answer to this question is in the affirmative, an independent cause of action would be maintainable against Australia… » (« Si tel est le cas, il existe contre l’Australie un motif d’action autonome… ») (Rec. 1995, p. 149 ; v. aussi p. 174).

69

V. ibid. : « The question of jurisdiction depends on whether a cause of action can be made out against Australia… » (« L’établissement de la compétence dépend de la preuve d’un grief contre l’Australie… ») ; v. aussi la plaidoirie de K. Highet dans l’affaire de la Compétence en matière de pêcheries : « The use of force is a separate cause of action, a separate complain » (« L’emploi de la force fait naître une cause distincte, un grief distinct ») (10 juin 1998, CR 98/10, p. 19 – italiques dans le texte).

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circonstances de l’espèce. Comme l’a relevé M. Chagla dans son opinion dissidente dans l’affaire du Droit de passage : « If there is no right, there can be no violation. Violation merely constitutes the accrual of the cause of action which entitled Portugal to come to Court »70. C’est aussi la position que j’avais prise dans l’un de mes exposés dans l’affaire du Génocide : « … M. Brownlie admet : ‘The applicable law is clearly the law of treaties, together with the principles of State responsibility for breaches of the obligations laid down in the treaty instrument’71. Nous en sommes d’accord; comme nous admettons évidemment que ‘the principles of State responsibility must be applied by reference to the pertinent causes of action: they cannot be applied in the abstract”72. Encore faut-il apprécier convenablement les obligations en cause : c’est le manquement à celles-ci qui constitue la ‘cause of action’ pertinente »73. Dans cette perspective, l’expression « causes of action » apparaît comme un synonyme de « moyens ». Tel est le cas, par exemple, lorsque le Juge Read considère que le Tribunal administratif des Nations Unies « proceeded to base its judgment on an entirely different cause of action: ‘détournement de pouvoir’ and ‘abuse of rights’ »74 ou lorsque le Juge Schwebel note qu’un précédent arrêt a été rendu « upon causes of action which are found in the instant case »75. Dans cet esprit, M. Brownlie a défini les causes of action comme « the substantive sources of obligation, on which the Applicant State relies »76. On pourrait définir les « moyens » au sens que leur donne, par exemple, le droit administratif français très exactement de cette manière. Sans doute, l’ampleur et le flou de cette notion attrape-tout et insaisissable77, qui se prête davantage à la description qu’à la définition78, sont-ils passablement déroutants pour un esprit cartésien. Elle n’en joue pas moins, grâce à son ampleur justement, une fonction utile. Le professeur Thomas Franck l’a lumineusement définie comme « la 70

Arrêt du 12 avril 1960, Rec. 1960, p. 117 (« S’il n’y a pas de droit il ne peut y avoir violation. La violation ne constitue qu’une aggravation du motif de l’action qui a permis au Portugal de venir devant la Cour ») ; v. aussi son opinion dissidente jointe à l’arrêt sur les exceptions préliminaires du 26 novembre 1957, p. 175 ; ou l’opinion individuelle de M. Koo jointe à l’arrêt de la Cour du 2 décembre 1963 dans l’affaire du Cameroun septentrional, préc. note 65.

71

13 mars 2006, CR 2006/16, p. 13, par. 13.

72

13 mars 2006, CR 2006/17, p. 42, par. 298 (M. Brownlie); voir aussi 16 mars 2006, CR 2006/21, p. 21, par. 3-4.

73

18 avril 2006, CR 2006/31, p. 17, par. 21.

74

Opinion dissidente de M. Read jointe à l’avis consultatif du 23 octobre 1956, Jugements du Tribunal administratif de l’OIT sur requêtes contre l’Unesco, Rec. 1956, p. 151 (le Greffe a cependant traduit « cause of action » par « motifs »).

75

Opinion individuelle jointe à l’arrêt du 20 décembre 1988, Actions armées frontalières et transfrontalières, Rec. 1988, p. 131 (le Greffe a traduit « causes of action » par « griefs »).

76

Plaidoirie du 12 septembre 1985, C.I.J., Mémoires, Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci, vol. V, CR 1985/17, p. 166.

77

S.A. Harris la décrit, non sans raison comme un « elusive concept » (op. cit. note 59, p. 459).

78

« It may be that the concept can better be described than defined » (ibid.).

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question de savoir s’il existe un différend juridiquement fondé »79. Dès lors, elle présente le grand avantage de rassembler, sous un pavillon unique de multiples éléments, aux frontières souvent ténues et perméables qui, au final, ont une même et unique fonction : permettre d’établir l’existence d’« un différend juridiquement fondé ». Au demeurant, malgré son ampleur, le concept de « cause of action », ne peut être utilisé sans limites à l’appui d’exceptions d’irrecevabilité ou d’incompétence. Ainsi par exemple, dans l’affaire du Génocide, un Conseil britannique a-t-il cru possible de l’invoquer à l’encontre d’une conclusion du Demandeur visant à faire reconnaître la responsabilité de l’État défendeur, formulée au stade des plaidoiries orales. À cette occasion j’avais répondu : « Je veux bien, Madame le président, que la notion de ‘cause of action’ soit difficile à comprendre pour un esprit formé au droit romano-germanique mais tout de même, très sincèrement, l’utilisation qu’en fait l’avocat du défendeur en ce qui concerne cette question80 me plonge dans une certaine perplexité »81. Il ne paraît pas raisonnable de s’abriter derrière la notion de « cause of action » pour déclarer irrecevable ratione temporis une demande, en effet nouvelle et liée à un évènement différent de celui ou de ceux qui sont à l’origine de la requête (et qui en constituent le « motif »), mais qui n’en est pas moins la conséquence de cette « action » et ne pouvait survenir qu’en liaison avec celle-ci82. Au surplus, ce pavillon commode ne saurait dispenser les plaideurs ni la Cour d’effectuer les distinguos qui s’imposent lorsque des conséquences particulières s’attachent à certaines « causes of action » spécifiques ou à certains aspects de la notion. Dans cet ordre d’idées je suis frappé, Madame la Présidente, par la confusion fréquemment commise par nos collègues anglo-saxons (par d’autres aussi, il est vrai…) entre conclusions et moyens. À cet égard, le contre-mémoire français dans l’affaire relative à Certaines questions concernant l’entraide judiciaire en matière pénale, me paraît bien faire le point : « Comme la Cour l’a fermement rappelé, elle ‘établit une distinction entre le différend lui-même et les arguments utilisés par les parties à l’appui de leurs conclusions respectives sur ce différend’83. La compétence de la Haute Juridiction doit s’apprécier exclusivement par rapport à ces dernières. La Cour, à maintes reprises, a pris soin de distinguer les énoncés d’un requérant qui ‘tendent à justifier certaines prétentions’

79

Plaidoirie du 3 mai 1996 dans l’affaire du Génocide : « ... the issue of whether there is a legally cognizable dispute » (CR 1996/11, p. 16).

80

Voir CR 2006/21, p. 23, par. 6-7.

81

Plaidoirie dans l’affaire du Génocide, 18 avril 2006, CR2006/31, pp. 18-19, par. 26.

82

Sur la réfutation de la prétention du Défendeur dans cette espèce, v. ibid., p. 19, par. 26 et 27.

83

Arrêt du 4 décembre 1998, Compétence en matière de pêcheries, Rec. 1998, p. 449, par. 32. V. aussi l’arrêt du 21 avril 1960, Droit de passage sur territoire indien, fond, Rec. 1960, p. 32.

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de ‘l’énoncé précis et direct d’une demande’84. Aussi ‘la Cour doit[-elle] statuer sur l’objet du litige’, alors même qu’elle ‘reste libre des motifs sur lesquels elle fondera son arrêt’85. Ainsi, la compétence de la Cour ne saurait s’exercer, de manière indifférenciée, à l’égard de n’importe quelle violation alléguée (…) : pour que la Haute Juridiction soit compétente pour en connaître, il est indispensable que les faits en cause soient en relation directe avec la [violation alléguée dans la requête]. (…). C’est elle et elle seule qui constitue l’’action spécifique’86 de la France qui a donné naissance au différend ; c’est par rapport à elle et elle seule que doit être appréciée la compétence de la Cour pour connaître de la présente affaire »87.

Pour reprendre la formule de la Cour dans l’affaire des Pêcheries anglo-norvégiennes, il ne faut pas confondre les « éléments qui, le cas échéant, pourraient fournir les motifs de l’arrêt » mais qui n’en constituent pas « l’objet »88. À plusieurs reprises, la Cour a, dans le passé, mis en garde contre les inconvénients d’une telle confusion89. C’est qu’il ne s’agit pas d’un simple problème de définition : alors que la Cour peut modifier ou choisir librement les moyens sur lesquels elle se fonde pour motiver sa décision90, les

84

C.I.J., arrêt du 18 décembre 1951, Pêcheries, Rec. 1951, p. 126. V. aussi les arrêts du 17 novembre 1953, Minquiers et Ecréhous, Rec. 1953, p. 52 ; du 6 avril 1955, Nottebohm, (2ème phase), Rec. 1955, p. 16 ; ou du 15 juin 1962, Temple de Préah Vihéar (fond), Rec. 1962, p. 36.

85

C.I.J., arrêt du 28 novembre 1958, Application de la convention de 1902 pour régler la tutelle des mineurs, Rec. 1958, p. 62.

86

V. l’arrêt du 4 décembre 1998, Compétence en matière de pêcheries, Rec. 1998, p. 450, par. 34 et 35.

87

Contre-mémoire de la République française, pp. 13-14, par. 2.19-2.20.

88

Arrêt du 18 décembre 1951, Rec. 1951, p. 126. Sur la distinction entre moyens et conclusions, v. aussi les plaidoiries d’A. Pellet dans les affaires relatives à la Licéité de l’emploi de la force (Serbie et Monténégro c. France) (20 avril 2004, CR 2004/12, p. 15, par. 25) et à Certaines questions concernant l’entraide judiciaire en matière pénale (25 janvier 2008, CR 2008/5, pp. 55-56, par. 7-8).

89

V. C.I.J., arrêts, 18 décembre 1951, Pêcheries, Rec. 1951, pp. 125-126 ; 15 juin 1962, Temple de Préah Vihéar, fond, Rec. 1962, p. 32, ou 12 avril 1960, Droit de passage sur territoire indien, fond, Rec. 1960, p. 28.

90

C.I.J., arrêts du 18 décembre 1951, Pêcheries, Rec. 1951, p. 126, 28 novembre 1958, Tutelle des mineurs, Rec. 1958, p. 61, 10 décembre 1985, Demande en révision et en interprétation de l’arrêt du 24 février 1982 en l’affaire du Plateau continental (Tunisie/Jamahiriya arabe libyenne), Rec. 1985, p. 207, par. 29, 6 novembre 2003, Plates-formes pétrolières, fond, Rec. 2003, p. 180, par. 37, ou 14 février 2002, Mandat d’arrêt du 11 avril 2000, Rec. 2002, p. 19, par. 43.

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conclusions des Parties établissent le petitum qui, lui, s’impose à elle91 ; en outre et parallèlement, les Parties peuvent modifier ou ajouter des moyens à l’appui de leur thèse jusqu’à une phase avancée du procès (sous la seule réserve du respect du contradictoire), pas les conclusions, si, du moins, il résulte de leur amendement une transformation de l’objet du différend initialement soumis aux termes de la requête92. Madame la Présidente, Messieurs de la Cour, les exemples de cas dans lesquels il a été fait appel devant vous à la notion de « cause of action » « do demonstrate that this concept is a composite one and will have a differing aspect depending on the angle from which it is approached »93. Vue par un esprit cartésien, elle se décompose en de multiples éléments ; elle suppose : –

l’existence d’un droit dans le chef de l’auteur de la demande (ici l’on retrouve l’intérêt pour agir) et d’une obligation corrélative incombant au défendeur ;

–

d’un acte ou d’une omission constituant un manquement à cette obligation,

–

susceptible de déboucher sur une demande pouvant être satisfaite en justice.

Mais cette énumération appelle deux remarques troublantes. En premier lieu, bien que, à ma connaissance, les tenants de la notion l’appliquent à toutes les catégories de contentieux, je conçois son applicabilité en matière de responsabilité, mais j’éprouve de grandes difficultés pour transposer ces éléments dans d’autres domaines et, en particulier, en matière de conflit frontalier. Et, en second lieu, il me semble ressortir assez nettement de la jurisprudence de la Cour que ces éléments ne sont pas tous toujours présents quand elle recourt à la notion de « cause of action », de même d’ailleurs qu’en droit interne (des États-Unis en l’occurrence) « [a] cause of action has been described as containing one or more of these features… »94. 91

C.I.J., arrêts du 15 décembre 1949, Détroit de Corfou, Fixation du montant des réparation, Rec. 1949, p. 249, 27 novembre 1950, Demande d’interprétation de l’arrêt du 20 novembre 1950 en l’affaire du Droit d’asile, Rec. 1950, p. 402 (« il y a lieu de rappeler le principe que la Cour a le devoir de répondre aux demandes des parties telles qu’elles s’expriment dans leurs conclusions finales, mais aussi celui de s’abstenir de statuer sur des points non compris dans lesdites demandes ainsi exprimées »), 3 juin 1985, Plateau continental (Libye/Malte), fond, Rec. 1985, p. 23, par. 19, ou 14 février 2002, Mandat d’arrêt du 11 avril 2000, Rec. 2002, pp. 18-19, par. 43. V. aussi G. Fitzmaurice, « The Law and Procedure of the International Court of Justice, 1951-4 : Questions of Jurisdiction, Competence and Procedure », B.Y.B.I.L. 1958, p. 98.

92

C.I.J., arrêts du 26 juin 1992, Certaines terres à phosphates à Nauru, exceptions préliminaires, Rec. 1992, pp. 266-267, par. 69-70, 4 décembre 1998, Compétence en matière de pêcheries, Rec. 1998, p. 448, par. 29, et 8 octobre 2007, Différend territorial et maritime entre le Nicaragua et le Honduras dans la mer des Caraïbes, par. 108. V. aussi C.P.J.I., ordonnance du 4 février 1933, Administration du prince von Pless, série A/B, n° 52, p. 14, et arrêt du 1939, Société commerciale de Belgique, série A/B, n° 78, p. 173.

93

S.A. Harris, op. cit. note 59, p. 460.

94

Ibid., p. 461.

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Étant donné ce contenu variable, je ne suis pas sûr qu’elle soit aussi concrètement utilisable que nos amis anglo-saxons semblent le croire et elle peut être source de confusion (je pense qu’elle est largement responsable de la difficulté qu’ils éprouvent à opérer la distinction – pourtant indispensable – entre conclusions et moyens). Il reste que, intellectuellement, elle apporte quelque chose et que, après avoir été longtemps réticent à son égard, il m’arrive souvent, lorsque je réfléchis à une plaidoirie (surtout lorsque des problèmes de compétence ou de responsabilité sont en cause), de m’interroger sur la ou les « causes of action » « disponibles » en l’espèce et de clarifier ainsi ma perception de l’affaire. Ce type d’« acculturation » constitue sans aucun doute une source d’enrichissement intellectuel que l’irremplaçable travail en équipe fournit. Mr. CRAWFORD: Madame President, Members of the Court: In the common law the concept of cause of action is historically-driven and has never been codified. According to the Oxford Companion to Law, a cause of action is ‘[t]he fact or set of facts which give a person a right to bring an action. A cause of action is sometimes a wrongful act by itself, e.g. trespass, but in other cases, e.g. negligence, a cause of action is not complete until there is both a wrongful act and resultant harm.’95 This definition already indicates that in the common law a cause of action is not always easy to identify. A similar definition of cause of action can be found in United States law: it has been said that ‘the primary right and duty and the delict or wrong combined constitute the cause of action in the legal sense of the term’.96 The concept of cause of action is not to be confused with the old ‘forms of action’, the modes of formal pleading abolished in England by the Common Law Procedure Act of 1854.97 But to a degree the forms of action rule us from their graves,98 as they may have been an obstacle in the common law to generating any general principles of responsibility, as distinct from formulations of specific wrongs such as negligence, trespass or nuisance. International lawyers whose initial training was in the common law have tended to be influenced by this legal perspective; but it is important to note that causes of action are, in the common law, part of private law, not of public law. In British public law merely classificatory descriptions are relied on, such as procedural ultra vires, which – though less systematised – are not so different from those adopted by civil law systems. What is crucial for this purpose, however, is that in international law there is no formal distinction between public and private law. Hersch Lauterpacht sought to derive substantive international law rules from private law sources and analogies,99 but the relations between the subjects of international law are not the same as, or 95

The Oxford Companion to Law, supra note 4, at 193.

96

J. N. Pomeroy, Code Remedies, para. 347 (1904).

97

1854 Common Law Procedure Act, 17 & 18 Vict. (1854), c. 125. For a discussion of this Act and its effects see J. H. Baker, Introduction to English Legal History 92-95 (2002).

98

F. W. Maitland, The Forms of Action at Common Law, lecture 1 (1909): ‘The forms of action we have buried, but they still rule us from their graves.’

99

H. Lauterpacht, Private Law Sources and Analogies of International Law (1927).

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analogous to, those between the subjects of a singe municipal legal system. As there is no vertical organisation in the international legal order, municipal legal concepts such as cause of action cannot be transposed directly into international law – a point clearly recognised by Lauterpacht’s British doctoral supervisor, Lord McNair.100 In a 1979 article, Professor Brownlie catalogued 30 different categories of causes of action which had been invoked by States in practice.101 As he acknowledged, and Professor Pellet notes, two of these categories do not actually involve a cause of action, namely a ‘[r]equest for a determination whether sovereignty (title) over certain territory (including islands, islets and rocks) belongs to State A or State B’ and a ‘[r]equest for a declaration that sovereignty (title) over certain territory (including islands, islets and rocks) belongs to the Applicant (or Respondent) State’.102 To these overlapping if not identical ‘categories’ can be added disputes concerning maritime delimitation. Questions of maritime or territorial delimitation may of course be accompanied by questions of state responsibility, for example in cases where armed conflict has broken out, vessels have been seized or States accuse each other of illegally occupying and exploiting their territory. In such cases there is clearly a cause of action, but Professor Pellet is right to point out that in questions of delimitation as such no cause of action is involved. But this is not a reason to dispense with the concept altogether. Professor Pellet identifies three elements which together constitute a cause of action: (a) The existence of a right of the applicant State and a corresponding obligation on the respondent State; (b) an act or omission breaching that obligation; (c) the dispute must be susceptible to being solved by judicial proceedings. It will be noted that this definition is broader and more inclusive than the common law definition or the one (common law-influenced) advanced by Ian Brownlie before the Court: ‘the substantive sources of obligation, on which the Applicant State relies’.103 Particularly the third element is not mentioned elsewhere, although the existence of a legal dispute is of course a precondition for the Court’s jurisdiction. This brief overview of the different views on causes of action may lead to the conclusion that there are as many definitions of the concept as there are international lawyers. This confusion is not aided by statements such as ‘[i]n a rather abstract way the terms “claim”, “cause of action” and “subject-matter of the dispute” are interchangeable...’104 The core elements are however the same: the cause of action on 100

Status of South West Africa, Advisory Opinion of 11 July 1950, 1959 ICJ Rep., 128, at 148.

101

I. Brownlie, ‘Causes of Action in the Law of Nations’, 50 BYIL 13 (1979).

102

Ibid., at 24-25.

103

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Pleading of 12 September 1985, Vol. V, CR 1985/17, at 166.

104

Brownlie, supra note 13, at 37.

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which a claim is based arises from the existence of an obligation owed by one State to another (or to a larger collective of which the State is part) and the act or omission which allegedly breached this obligation. These elements are not very different from the definition of intérêt pour agir advanced by Professor Pellet: ‘le demandeur doit montrer que l’action ou l’abstention du défendeur a eu pour effet de porter atteinte à un droit ou à un intérêt juridiquement protégé dont le demandeur était titulaire.’ Again, we can see that the common law approach and the civil law approach to the basis of a claim, whether it is called the cause of action or the intérêt pour agir, are similar. The difference is one of terminology rather than of substance.

III.

Authorities and Evidence before the World Court La doctrine et la jurisprudence comme modes de preuve devant la Cour mondiale

Mr. CRAWFORD: Madam President, Members of the Court: There is a fundamental difference between common law and civil law rules on evidence. Traditionally, the common law has had strict rules on what evidence is admissible and what is not; whereas the civil law has eschewed exclusionary rules of evidence. The two traditions are however converging. For example, the British rule against the use of hearsay evidence has been much qualified.105 The general exclusion of hearsay was thought necessary in the common law system, mainly because of the widespread use of juries. This is irrelevant in international law (and, except in criminal cases, increasingly in national law as well). By contrast the Court has taken a wholly independent approach to evidence, which falls somewhere in between the common law and civil law positions: it might be described, with all respect, as adversarial in principle but libertarian in practice. For the Court, ‘the probative value of the evidence depends upon the question at issue and is determined by the substantive rules of international law through the application of which the Court will reach its decision.’106 The relevance of the evidence to the case at hand is the main criterion.107 Circumstantial evidence is admissible, but the Court has cautioned that ‘proof may be drawn from inference of fact, provided that they leave no room for reasonable doubt’.108 A similar approach is taken to evidence the common law would exclude as hearsay: rather than a priori excluding such evidence, the Court has normally admitted it but given it little weight. For example, unconfirmed

105

1995 Civil Evidence Act, s1(2), which abolishes the hearsay rule in civil proceedings. See C. Tapper, Cross and Tapper on Evidence 58-59 (2007).

106

Rosenne, supra note 10, at 1043.

107

Ibid., at 1039.

108

Corfu Channel (United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland v. Albania), Merits, Judgment of 9 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 4, at 18 (emphasis in original).

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statements attributed to third parties by a witness in the Corfu Channel case were dismissed as ‘allegations falling short of conclusive evidence’.109 Correlatively the Court has not provided any clear guidance on the admissibility of evidence. According to Rosenne this is largely due to the nature of international litigation and the fact that the material admissibility of evidence is rarely disputed.110 Rather, each side focuses on disputing the relevance or the weight to be given to the other side’s evidence. While the Court has tended to admit what (from a common law perspective) may be considered as dubious categories of evidence but to give such evidence little or no weight, it has also disregarded the civilian approach of autonomous selection of evidence. According to Witenberg: ‘Les Etats litigants ont non seulement le droit, mais ils ont aussi le devoir de prouver. Ils ont une véritable obligation de collaborer à une exacte information du juge international. Celui-ci a, de son côté, le devoir impérieux de procéder lui-même à des recherches où il puisera l’exacte représentation du fait litigieux.’111

But in practice the Court gets its information on the facts in dispute largely if not exclusively from the parties: there is no evidence of independent research and from a common law perspective quite properly not. With regard to precedent, the Court’s position is again intermediate between the two traditions. On the one hand the common law rule of the binding force of a single precedent has not been adopted. On the other hand, neither is there any articulated requirement of a jurisprudence constante. As to evidence, I have described the Court as adversarial in principle but libertarian in practice. As to precedent one might say that the Court has a practice of high verbal deference: when it departs from previous decisions the Court is uniformly careful not to say it is doing so. It is as if one sees a streetscape consisting of the house frontages of earlier decisions, behind whose facades there is, however, sometimes a new building, sometimes the old familiar site, sometimes no construction at all! The doctrine of precedent is commonly associated with the common law system, but there is no uniform system of precedent in the different common law countries. Precedent is specific to the legal system within which it arises; it exists to perform particular functions of that system. In the English legal system the doctrine of the single precedent in the English legal system (stare decisis) is a doctrine of the centralization

109

Ibid., at 16-17.

110

Rosenne, supra note 10, at 1048. In the Maritime Delimitation and Territorial Questions between Qatar and Bahrain (Qatar v. Bahrain), Bahrain contested the authenticity of 82 documents submitted to the Court by Qatar. Qatar subsequently withdrew the documents, while the Court (while reaching its own conclusions) remained diplomatically silent. See S. Torres Bernardez, ‘Article 48’, in A. Zimmermann/C. Tomuschat/K. Oellers-Frahm, The Statute of the International Court of Justice 1081, at 1089-1090 (2006),

111

J.-C. Witenberg, ‘La Théorie des preuves devant les juridictions internationales’, 56 Recueil des cours 97 (1936).

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of authority.112 It seeks to prevent lower courts going off on frolics of their own, and centralizes law-making authority in the highest court. That the Court of Appeal is bound by its own previous decisions is a proposition about the authority of the House of Lords and only incidentally a proposition about the authority of the Court of Appeal.113 Such a unitary system does not exist in the United States, where there is no federal common law. The Supreme Court itself is not bound by its own previous decisions, and frequently departs from them, much more frequently than the House of Lords has done in the 40 years since the Practice Direction.114 At the international level, the principle of consent to jurisdiction already entailed a constraint on the bindingness of decisions. Article 56 of the 1899 Convention for the Pacific Settlement of International Disputes provided that: ‘The Award is only binding on the parties who concluded the “Compromis”.’115 Similarly Article 84 of the 1907 Convention for the Pacific Settlement of International Disputes provided that: ‘The Award is not binding except on the parties in dispute.’116 This was the basis for Article 59 of the Statute of the Permanent Court – identical in the Statute of the International Court: ‘The decision of the Court has no binding force except between the parties and in respect of that particular case.’ Of course, this provision embodies the principle of res judicata rather than stare decisis, but it clearly has implications for the latter too: a common law approach to a single precedent was thereby excluded. To similar effect was Article 38(1)(d) of the Statute, which treats judicial decisions as merely ‘subsidiary means for the determination of rules of law’. On the other hand, as Sir Robert Jennings has commented, ‘[t]he importance of judicial precedent in the development – indeed one may say making – of international law has long been far greater than might be surmised from the place given to it in Article 38...’117 The Court has been extremely careful to preserve consistency or, when this was not possible, at least the appearance of it. The Court normally refers back to earlier decisions on a given point when addressing the same point in a later case. Hersch Lauterpacht has remarked that these references range ‘from mere illustration and “distinguishing” to a form of speech apparently indicating the authoritative character of the pronouncement referred to.’118 The Court thus draws upon an everexpanding body of case law. It has often made the importance it attaches to adhering to its own previous decisions clear. Thus in the Nuclear Tests case, it considered it 112

For a good discussion of the role of precedent in the English legal system, see N. Duxbury, The Nature and Authority of Precedent (2008).

113

See generally R. Cross/J. Harris, Precedent in English Law 3-7 (preliminary statement), 19-20 (contrast with USA), 108-119 (the Court of Appeal) (1991).

114

Practice Statement issued by the House of Lords on 26 July 1966, 3 All ER 77 (1966).

115

1899 Convention for the Pacific Settlement of International Disputes, 187 CTS 410.

116

1907 Convention for the Pacific Settlement of International Disputes, 205 CTS 233.

117

R. Jennings, ‘Chambers of the International Court of Justice and the Court of Arbitration’, in Humanité et droit international, Mélanges René-Jean Dupuy 200 (1991).

118

H. Lauterpacht, The Development of International Law by the International Court 9 (1958).

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‘appropriate to recall that its approach to a phase of this kind must be, as it was expressed in the Fisheries Jurisdiction cases, as follows...’.119 Similarly, when deciding on an application to review a judgment of the United Nations Administrative Tribunal in 1987, the Court recalled its earlier statement that its ‘proper role is not to retry the case and to attempt to substitute its own opinion on the merits for that of the Tribunal’ and then held that ‘[t]hat principle must continue to guide the Court in the present case’.120 The Court was even more explicit in the Libya/Malta case, holding that ‘justice of which equity is a manifestation [...] should display consistency and a degree of predictability’.121 But especially in the protean field of maritime delimitation, appeals to precedent often conceal departures in practice. The imperative language used by the Court in these instances has been echoed in many other cases as well as individual opinions. It may be noted that this holds true for judges from a civil law background as well as for judges coming from common law jurisdictions.122 Judge Winiarski commented that ‘without being bound by stare decisis as a principle or rule’ the Court has maintained a ‘remarkable unity of precedent, an important factor in the development of international law’.123 Judge Shahabuddeen, writing extra-judicially, has spoken of ‘the Court’s own preoccupation to perceive itself and to be in turn perceived as pursuing a constant judicial policy of precedential consistency’.124 The Court has thus tended to distinguish previous decisions on the facts rather than declaring them to be wrongly decided and overtly departing from them.125 Indeed, the Court has never invoked the non-applicability of the doctrine of stare decisis as the basis for a new holding.126 An example is the Tunisia/Libya case, in which the Court’s treatment of equity in the law of maritime delimitation clearly departed from its 119

Nuclear Tests, supra note 18, at 253, 257-258, para. 16 (emphasis added).

120

Application for Review of Judgment No. 333 of the United Nations Administrative Tribunal, Advisory Opinion of 27 May 1987, 1987 ICJ Rep. 18, at 33, para. 27 (emphasis added), quoting Application for Review of Judgment No. 273 of the United Nations Administrative Tribunal, Advisory Opinion of 20 July 1982, 1982 ICJ Rep. 325, at 356, para. 58.

121

Continental Shelf (Libyan Arab Jamahiriya/Malta), Merits, Judgment of 3 June 1985, 1985 ICJ Rep. 13, at 39, para. 45. See also R. Bernhardt, ‘Article 59’, in A. Zimmerman/C. Tomuschat/K. Oellers-Frahm, The Statute of the International Court of Justice 1231, at 1244-1245 (2006).

122

M. Shahabuddeen, Precedent in the World Court 30-31 (1996).

123

Address delivered on the fortieth anniversary of the inauguration of the PCIJ, 1961-1962 ICJYB 2.

124

Shahabuddeen, supra note 122, at 31.

125

Ibid., at 132. See also Rosenne, supra note 10, at 1555; M. Sørensen, Les Sources du Droit International 166 (1946). There are many examples of the Court distinguishing one case from another. These include its treatment of the Status of Eastern Carelia case in Mosul, PCIJ (Ser. E) No. 2, at 164, and No. 3, at 226 ; and of Aerial Incident of 27 July 1955 (Israel v. Bulgaria), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 26 May 1959, 1959 ICJ Rep. 127; in Barcelona Traction, Light and Power Company, Limited (Belgium v. Spain) (New Application: 1962), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 24 July 1964, 1964 ICJ Rep. 6, at 28-30.

126

Shahabuddeen, supra note 122, at 31.

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previous jurisprudence.127 Prosper Weil observed that even though ‘the Court adds that “this was the view of the Court” in its 1969 judgment, what we in fact have is the complete opposite’.128 His criticism was shared by Judge Gros, who in his dissenting opinion argued that ‘[w]hile the Court is entitled to change its conception of equity in comparison with the 1969 Judgment, the use of a few quotations from that Judgmentdoes not suffice to prove that no such change has taken place’.129 Other areas in which the Court may have silently departed from previous decisions include the meaning of the ‘irreparability’ of damages in the context of interim measures,130 and indeed the legal effect of orders of interim measures themselves. The Court’s unwillingness to make explicit its departure from previous judgments, even when it may actually be doing so, illustrates the importance attached to the values of consistency and predictability, honoured as they are even in the breach.131 It is true that the Court’s system of precedent is less fully formed than it is in the common law system and the use of previous judgments as authority is largely unregulated. Judge Shahabuddeen has summed up the situation as follows ‘much of the need to establish rules in a common law jurisdiction is attributable to the existence of a hierarchical legal order. In such an order, precise rules are required to define the way in which decisions of courts at one level are to be treated by courts at a different level. Elaborate rules are unnecessary in the case of a system which consists of a single court having no hierarchical relationship with other tribunals.’132

But the differences between the two systems are not as great as they are often made out to be. While the Court attaches great importance to adhering to its jurisprudence, common law courts of last resort have accepted that they can, in certain circumstances, depart from their previous decisions.133 This convergence should no doubt be seen as the work of independent forces coincidentally working on both sides, rather than a concert-party.134 The Court’s attitude to evidence and precedent can thus be seen as

127

Continental Shelf (Tunisia/Libyan Arab Jamahiriya), Merits, Judgment of 24 February 1982, 1982 ICJ Rep. 18.

128

P. Weil, The Law of Maritime Delimitation – Reflections 173 (1989).

129

Continental Shelf, supra note 127, at 151, para. 16.

130

Shahabuddeen, supra note 122, at 150-151.

131

See, e.g., the Court’s decision in the NATO cases: e.g. Legality of Use of Force (Serbia and Montenegro v. Belgium, Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 15 December 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 279, which involved a clear (yet unannounced) departure from positions indicated or assumed by the Court in the Bosnia Genocide cases in 1993 and 1996, Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, Provisional Measures, Order of 8 April 1993, 1993 ICJ Rep. 3; Provisional Measures, Order of 13 September 1993, 1993 ICJ Rep. 325; Jurisdiction, 1996 ICJ Rep. 595.

132

Shahabuddeen, supra note 122, at 237.

133

See, e.g., The Practice Statement issued by the House of Lords on 26 July 1966, 3 All ER 77 (1966).

134

Shahabuddeen, supra note 122, at 241.

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combining elements of the common and civil law approaches: it lacks the strict rules of the former, but shares its emphasis on consistency. To summarise, the Court’s treatment of these two issues again shows the inadequacy of a vision of the international judicial process either as common-law or civil-law based. M. PELLET: Madame la Présidente, Messieurs de la Cour, au plan strictement juridique, le professeur Crawford a raison : le droit international emprunte aux droits romanogermaniques comme à la common law sans jamais se laisser réduire aux uns ou à l’autre, et cela est vrai en matière de preuve comme dans tous les autres domaines. Mais, lorsqu’ils le pratiquent, les juristes ne se détachent pas aussi facilement que cela du système de pensée qui les a nourris – et ce n’est pas un hasard si l’article 9 du Statut de la Cour appelle les « électeurs » des Juges à avoir en vue d’assurer « dans l’ensemble la représentation des grandes formes de civilisation et des principaux systèmes juridiques du monde » : ce n’est que par la confrontation (parfois difficile, toujours enrichissante) des points de vue hérités des modes de penser nationaux que peut se réaliser le melting pot des traditions juridiques dont mon contradicteur fait une description peut-être un peu idyllique. Nulle part sans doute l’opposition des deux grandes familles de droit, pas seulement quant aux règles elles-mêmes mais aussi pour ce qui est de l’attitude à l’égard des règles, ne se manifeste de façon plus éclatante qu’en matière procédurale – contrairement aux « latins », plus portés sur les débats théoriques, les « common lawyers » sont capables de se passionner pour des questions de procédure, qui nous paraissent parfois un peu « futiles », et hésitent, moins que nous, à multiplier (en général inutilement) les incidents de procédure. C’est à ce niveau « comportemental » plus que strictement juridique que se situent les principales oppositions en matière de preuves. Sur ce point, je me permets, Madame la Présidente, compte tenu du temps très limité dont nous disposons135, de me concentrer sur mon expérience personnelle au risque de livrer des « impressions » plus que des « vérités scientifiques » (en admettant qu’il puisse en exister dans ce domaine ?). Première « impression » donc : nos partenaires anglo-saxons136 sont, malgré la réputation de « bavardage » qui colle souvent aux peuples du sud, plus prolixes que nous, surtout à l’écrit et j’ai parfois eu le sentiment qu’ils confondaient longueur et qualité de la démonstration. Il est difficile de savoir qui, des autorités nationales137 ou des Conseils – et, à plus forte raison lesquels parmi ceux-ci – sont responsables des 946 pages des mémoires cumulés des Parties dans l’affaire du Golfe du Maine 138, des 135

La Cour se montre, souvent à raison, parfois à tort, de plus en plus « chiche » sur la longueur des plaidoiries orales.

136

Je parle ici par « généralités » en me fondant sur le plerumque fit ; il y a des exceptions des deux côtés et si je pense être assez « représentatif » du « modèle latin », James Crawford l’est sans doute moins de la tradition anglo-saxonne.

137

Il est très fréquent que le « client » – l’État en l’occurrence – pousse les conseils à accumuler écritures et annexes à des niveaux déraisonnables.

138

525 pour le mémoire du Canada ; 421 pages pour celui des États-Unis.

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938 pages des écritures du second tour139 et 705 pour les répliques140, soit en tout, en incluant 348 pages de cartes et croquis, 2937 pages – sans les annexes141 ! En tout cas, quelles que soient les responsabilités, c’est beaucoup trop – déraisonnablement trop. Il est vrai que, sur ce plan, les procédures arbitrales n’ont rien à envier à celles qui se déroulent devant la Cour mondiale – et ceci alors, sans aucun doute, sous l’influence des lawyers anglo-saxons… Plus c’est long, plus c’est convaincant ? Je suis loin d’en être persuadé Madame la Présidente… Le problème ne tient pas seulement au nombre de pages des pièces de procédure écrite et de leurs annexes mais aussi à l’abus des citations qui y figurent. Ainsi, le mémoire du Bostwana dans l’affaire de l’Île de Kasikili/Sedudu se contente d’aligner les citations de diverses « authorities » pour établir que l’interprétation d’un traité doit être conforme au droit international142… Quant au contre-mémoire de l’Ouganda dans l’affaire des Activités armées sur le territoire du Congo il « démontre » l’existence du principe dit des « parties indispensables » en enchaînant les citations sur une dizaine de pages143. Et il en va de même lors des plaidoiries orales durant lesquelles certains collègues, anglais surtout, n’hésitent pas à lire avec une gourmandise impassible des pages entières d’arrêts de la Cour ou d’extraits d’ouvrages qui, pour avoir été écrits par d’éminents auteurs, ne sauraient tenir lieu de démonstration dans un cas d’espèce144. Au lieu d’argumenter, on « cite » (« quote ») et l’on pense que cet empilement d’« authorities » suffira à persuader les Juges. Cela est peut-être vrai pour ceux qui se réclament de la même tradition juridique – encore que ça ne me paraisse pas certain ; mais ce ne l’est surement pas pour les héritiers de Cicéron pour lesquels l’ars juris ne saurait se limiter à de savantes citations. Ces tendances (il ne s’agit que de ceci), ne sont évidemment pas dépourvues de tout lien avec le principe du précédent (stare decisis) qui, comme l’a rappelé à juste titre le professeur Crawford, n’est pas rigidement appliqué dans les pays de common law mais n’y est pas moins plus prégnant que dans les droits continentaux où la jurisprudence n’est pas censée avoir de rôle créateur du droit. Ceci ne signifie évidemment pas qu’un Conseil français ou italien ne s’efforcera pas de prendre appui sur la jurisprudence et de convaincre la Cour que ce qui lui est demandé s’inscrit dans la droite ligne de sa 139

Respectivement 525 et 421 pages pour les contre-mémoires canadien et américain.

140

371 et 334 pages.

141

À comparer aussi avec les 2809 pages des écritures (sur le fond seulement) dans l’affaire de la Frontière terrestre et maritime entre le Cameroun et le Nigéria ; et pour ne rien dire des 3589 pages (toujours sans les annexes) imprimées dans l’affaire de la Barcelona Traction et des 3128 pages de celles du Sud-Ouest africain ; il est vrai qu’en rendant des arrêts parfois excessivement longs, la Cour ne donne pas non plus le bon exemple.

142

Mémoire de la République du Botswana, 28 février 1997, pp. 52-57.

143

Contre-mémoire de l’Ouganda, 21 avril 2001, pp. 152-158.

144

V. par exemple les plaidoiries de M. Brownlie dans les affaires relatives à l’Application de la convention pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide, fond, 2006/16, 13 mars 2006, pp. 10-53, et 2006/17, 13 mars 2006, pp. 10-48, ou à la Délimitation maritime entre le Nicaragua et le Honduras dans la mer des Caraïbes (Nicaragua c. Honduras), CR 2007/2, 6 mars 2007, pp. 10-54.

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« jurisprudence » ; mais il marquera sans doute moins de déférence à son égard que ses collègues anglais par exemple : « moyen auxiliaire de détermination des règles de droit », la jurisprudence est pour les juristes « continentaux » un moyen parmi d’autres d’établir leur existence et leur sens, mais pas « la » preuve auto-suffisante de celle-ci même si des études plus fines que cette simple « impression » seraient nécessaires pour établir l’exactitude de cette proposition. Entre ces tendances opposées, la Cour « navigue » en se gardant aussi bien d’un quelconque attachement fétichiste aux précédents que d’une fantaisie dans l’application et l’interprétation de la règle de droit, qui mettrait en péril la sécurité des rapports juridiques. Il est vrai qu’il y a des exceptions comme le montre l’à peine croyable valsehésitation de la Haute Juridiction en ce qui concerne sa compétence dans l’affaire du Génocide entre la Bosnie-Herzégovine et la Serbie-et-Monténégro, qui a suscité la vive réaction que l’on sait de sept de ses Membres : « Le choix de la Cour doit être opéré d’une manière conforme à sa fonction judiciaire. Trois critères doivent guider la Cour dans son choix. En premier lieu, elle doit s’assurer de la cohérence de la solution retenue avec sa propre jurisprudence afin de garantir la sécurité juridique. La cohérence est l’essence même des motivations judiciaires et cela est spécialement vrai dans les différentes phases de la procédure d’une même affaire ou s’agissant d’affaires connexes. En deuxième lieu, la recherche d’une solution fermement assurée doit conduire la Cour à choisir le terrain qui est le mieux fondé en droit et à éviter des terrains moins sûrs, voire des terrains douteux. Enfin, en tant qu’organe judiciaire principal de l’Organisation des Nations Unies, la Cour doit, en choisissant entre les différents terrains possibles, être attentive aux implications et aux conséquences éventuelles de ce choix dans les autres affaires pendantes »145.

Même si, pour des raisons évidentes de politique judiciaire, la réalité de la pratique est parfois plus nuancée146, la position « officielle » de la Cour est conforme à ces sages principes147. Elle est bien reflétée dans un passage de son arrêt du 11 juin 1998 dans l’affaire de la Frontière terrestre et maritime entre le Cameroun et le Nigéria : « Il est vrai que, conformément à l’article 59, les arrêts de la Cour ne sont obligatoires que pour les parties en litige et dans le cas qui a été décidé. Il ne saurait être question d’opposer au Nigéria les décisions prises par la Cour dans des affaires antérieures. La question est en réalité de savoir si, dans la présente espèce, il existe pour la Cour des raisons de s’écarter des motifs et des conclusions adoptés dans ces précédents »148. Deux autres aspects des « techniques de plaidoiries » auxquelles recourent respectivement les juristes romano-germaniques » et les conseils anglo-saxons, britanniques 145

Déclaration commune des Juges Ranjeva, Guillaume, Higgins, Kooijmans, Al-Khasawneh, Buergenthal et El-Arabi jointe à l’arrêt du 15 décembre 2004, Licéité de l’emploi de la force (Serbie-et-Monténégro c. Belgique), exceptions préliminaires, Rec. 2004, p. 330, par. 3.

146

V. supra la position de J. Crawford, dans le passage correspondant aux notes 125 à 131.

147

Pour une étude exhaustive v. la remarquable synthèse préc. (note 122) du Juge Mohammed Shahabuddeen (XX-245 p., passim) ; v. aussi A. Pellet, « Article 38 » in A. Zimmermann et al., op. cit. note 6, pp. 784-790.

148

Arrêt du 11 juin 1998, Exceptions préliminaires, Rec. 1998, p. 292, par. 28.

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en particulier, qui sont étroitement liées à l’administration de la preuve, méritent encore d’être signalés en passant. Le premier concerne leur attitude respective à l’égard des preuves « scientifiques ». D’une manière générale, les common lawyers se montrent nettement plus soucieux que les « Latins » de présenter à la Cour, d’une manière exhaustive, les éléments techniques (cartographiques, hydrologiques, géographiques, géologiques, chimiques…) qui confortent leur argumentation alors que, souvent, leurs homologues continentaux se montrent plus négligents à cet égard. Il arrive que les preuves scientifiques ou techniques dont certaines Parties accablent la Cour soient excessives149 – et ce n’est probablemen pas très avisé : comme les avocats eux-mêmes, les Juges sont des juristes et ils risquent d’être imperméables à des considérations trop techniques et trop longues. Il reste que je ne puis donner tort au professeur Crawford lorsque, dans l’affaire de la Frontière terrestre et maritime entre le Cameroun et le Nigéria, il suggérait ironiquement que les autorités camerounaises « might have traded in one or two of their large team of foreign counsel for a good surveyor and cartographer, had they been serious about their maritime claim – or for that matter their land boundary »150. L’autre aspect qui suscite toujours mon étonnement concerne la confiance, qui semble inébranlable, que nos collègues d’Outre-Manche ou d’Outre-Atlantique semblent faire aux témoignages, oraux ou écrits (affidavits) devant la Cour. Peut-être l’esprit latin est-il plus porté à l’affabulation que la « morale protestante », mais je dois dire que j’ai toujours été perplexe sur l’ardeur avec laquelle, dans les équipes de plaidoiries, ils insistent pour que l’on recoure à ces modes de preuve auxquels, pour ma part, j’avoue éprouver de grandes difficultés à accorder un grand crédit – non pas que les témoignages me paraissent devoir être toujours et forcément mensongers (je pense même qu’ils sont souvent donnés de bonne foi), mais, la Cour a prévenu, « [e]lle prêtera une attention toute particulière aux éléments de preuve dignes de foi attestant de faits ou de comportements défavorables à l’État que représente celui dont émanent lesdits éléments »151. Je suis, Madame la Présidente, moins masochiste que certains de mes confrères et vois mal l’intérêt de l’opération. Et je dois dire que les cross-examinations que la Cour a autorisées dans l’affaire du Génocide en 2007152 n’ont pas contribué à atténuer mon peu d’inclinaison pour cette technique probatoire… En bref, Madame la Présidente, autant je puis admettre avec mon contradicteur que les règles du droit international relatives à la preuve tiennent une juste balance entre les approches continentales et celles de la common law, autant je persiste à penser 149

Dans l’affaire Gabcikovo-Nagymaros (Hongrie/Slovaquie), la Hongrie a soumis à la Cour quelques 2385 pages de documents scientifiques : Mémoire, 2 mai 1994, vol. 5, parties 1 et 2 (860 p.) ; Contre-mémoire, 5 décembre 1994, vol. 4, parties 1 et 2 (918 p.), Réplique (20 juin 1995), vol. 2 (222 p.),

150

CR 2002/20, 15 mars 2002, p. 54, par. 16.

151

Arrêt du 19 décembre 2005, Activités armées sur le territoire du Congo (République démocratique du Congo c. Ouganda), Rec. 2005, p. 201, par. 61 citant l’arrêt du 27 juin 1986, Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci (Nicaragua c. Etats-Unis d’Amérique), fond, Rec. 1986, p. 41, par. 64.

152

CR 2007/22-29, 17 mars – 28 mars 2007.

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que l’attitude des juristes formés aux unes ou à l’autre à l’égard de ces règles diffère. Et si cela est vrai des conseils devant la Cour – je le sais d’expérience – j’ai du mal à imaginer qu’il en aille différemment des Juges eux-mêmes…

IV.

Estoppel

M. PELLET : Madame la Présidente, Messieurs les Juges, dans l’une des premières affaires qu’il m’a été donné de plaider devant vous j’avais indiqué la méfiance, pour ne pas dire l’aversion, que m’inspirait la transposition en droit international du concept d’estoppel : « Pas davantage que mon adversaire et néanmoins ami Pierre Dupuy, je ne m’aventurerai sur le terrain si délicieusement perfide de cette institution d’outreManche – et d’outre-Atlantique – qu’est l’estoppel. Je n’invoquerai même pas les mânes de Cicéron – peut-être plus rassurantes pour un juriste latin. Il suffit, je crois, de dire qu’il faut être de bonne foi; qu’un État ne peut faire un jour ce qu’il conteste le lendemain; au fond tout simplement, que l’on ne peut souffler à la fois le chaud et le froid »153. Je persiste et signe, Madame la Présidente – sous la seule réserve qu’il me faut reconnaître que j’avais, à tort, hésité à m’inscrire dans la filiation du prince des avocats invoqué par Pierre Dupuy154 ; car Cicéron avait tout dit : en droit international, la maxime fiat quod dicitur! exprime tout ce qui est nécessaire. Avec toute son autorité, sir Gerald Fitzmaurice avait, dans l’affaire du Temple de Préah Vihéar, rappelé que « … dans les cas où il peut être prouvé, par sa conduite ou de toute autre manière, qu’une partie s’est engagée ou est liée par une obligation, il n’est strictement pas nécessaire ni même approprié d’invoquer le principe de la forclusion ou de l’estoppel quoique les termes de ce principe soient en pratique souvent employés pour décrire cette situation... La condition essentielle de l’application du principe de forclusion ou d’estoppel, strictement interprété, est que la partie qui l’invoque doit ‘s’être fiée’ aux déclarations ou à la conduite de l’autre partie, ceci à son détriment ou à l’avantage de l’autre »155. Mais si la première proposition est fondée, on voit mal l’utilité (en droit international) de l’estoppel stricto sensu : puisque, de toutes manières, l’auteur de la déclaration est engagé par celle-ci, il est totalement superflu de se demander si le bénéficiaire s’y est fié : fiat quod dicitur ! Il n’en résulte pas pour autant que l’attitude du ou des bénéficiaires n’aura aucune incidence sur la solution à retenir dans un cas concret. La Cour peut se référer à leur

153

Plaidoirie du 10 juin 1988, C.I.J., Mémoires, Actions armées frontalières et transfrontalières, vol. II, pp. 106-107.

154

Plaidoirie du 7 juin 1988, ibid., p. 66. J’avais d’ailleurs fait amende honorable un peu plus tard au cours de la même audience du 10 juin 1998 : « Et, tout bien réfléchi, M. Dupuy a raison de citer Cicéron: fiat quod dicitur! » (ibid., p. 134).

155

Opinion individuelle jointe à l’arrêt du 15 juin 1962, Rec. 1962, p. 63.

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comportement en vue d’interpréter le sens et la portée de la déclaration156 et celui-ci peut avoir une influence sur les conditions dans lesquelles son auteur peut se dédire ou modifier les engagements pris unilatéralement157. Il est vrai, Madame la Présidente, que la Cour elle-même a parfois semblé succomber aux sirènes de l’estoppel. Ainsi, dans les affaires du Plateau continental de la mer du Nord, elle a affirmé que « seule l’existence d’une situation d’estoppel pourrait étayer [la thèse selon laquelle la R.F.A. aurait, par son comportement, accepté la Convention de 1958 sur le plateau continental] : il faudrait que la République fédérale ne puisse plus contester l’applicabilité du régime conventionnel, en raison d’un comportement, de déclarations, etc., qui n’auraient pas seulement attesté d’une manière claire et constante son acceptation de ce régime mais auraient également amené le Danemark ou les Pays-Bas, se fondant sur cette attitude, à modifier leur position à leur détriment ou à subir un préjudice quelconque »158. Une telle exigence ne me paraît pas compatible avec le célèbre dictum de la Cour dans l’affaire des Essais nucléaires, aux termes duquel « [i]l est reconnu que des déclarations revêtant la forme d’actes unilatéraux et concernant des situations de droit ou de fait peuvent avoir pour effet de créer des obligations juridiques. (…) Quand l’État auteur de la déclaration entend être lié conformément a ses termes, cette intention confère à sa prise de position le caractère d’un engagement juridique, l’État intéressé étant désormais tenu en droit de suivre une ligne de conduite conforme à sa déclaration. (…) Dans ces conditions, aucune contrepartie n’est nécessaire pour que la déclaration prenne effet, non plus qu’une acceptation ultérieure ni même une réplique ou une réaction d’autres États, car cela serait incompatible avec la nature strictement unilatérale de l’acte juridique par lequel l’État s’est prononcé »159.

156

Cf. les Principes directeurs applicables aux déclarations unilatérales des États susceptibles de créer des obligations juridiques adoptés en 2006 par la C.D.I., principe n° 3 : « Pour déterminer les effets juridiques de telles déclarations, il convient de tenir compte de leur contenu, de toutes les circonstances de fait dans lesquelles elles sont intervenues et des réactions qu’elles ont suscitées » (Rapport de la C.D.I. sur sa 58ème session (2006), Assemblée générale, Documents officiels, 61ème session, Supplément n° 10 (A/61/10), p. 386, par. 176 – italiques ajoutées) ; v. aussi le par. 3) du commentaire (ibid, p. 391).

157

V. ibid., le principe n° 10 : « Une déclaration unilatérale qui a créé des obligations juridiques à la charge de l’État auteur ne saurait être arbitrairement rétractée. Pour apprécier si une rétractation serait arbitraire, il convient de prendre en considération: (…) ii) La mesure dans laquelle les personnes auxquelles les obligations sont dues ont fait fond sur ces obligations;... » (ibid., p. 387).

158

Arrêt du 20 février 1969, Rec. 1969, p. 26, par. 30 ; v. aussi C.P.J.I., 22 juillet 1920, Emprunts serbes, série A, n° 20, pp. 38-39 ; et C.I.J., arrêts du 12 octobre 1984, Golfe du Maine, Rec. 1984, p. 309, par. 145 et du 26 novembre 1984, Activités militaires et paramilitaires au Nicaragua et contre celui-ci (compétence et recevabilité), Rec. 1984, p. 415, par. 51 ; ou l’arrêt du 13 septembre 1990, Différend frontalier, terrestre, insulaire et maritime (requête du Nicaragua à fin d’intervention), Rec. 1990, p. 118, par. 63.

159

Arrêts du 20 décembre 1974, p. 267, par. 43, et p. 472, par. 46 – italiques ajoutées. V. aussi C.P.J.I., arrêt du 5 avril 1933, Groenland oriental, série A/B n° 53, pp. 70-73.

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Quelles que puissent être les raisons qui, en droit interne, justifient l’exigence de ce que l’on pourrait appeler la « confiance préjudiciable » pour qu’il y ait estoppel, celleci n’a pas lieu d’être en droit international : les États sont souverains et, de même que « la faculté de contracter des engagements internationaux », celle de s’engager unilatéralement « est précisément un attribut de la souveraineté de l’État »160 qui suffit à établir le caractère obligatoire des déclarations faites par les représentants autorisés de l’État avec l’intention de lier celui-ci. Il est du reste très frappant que dans aucun de ses arrêts la Cour n’ait recouru « positivement » à la notion d’estoppel alors même que, selon une partie de la doctrine et les opinions personnelles de certains Juges, certaines espèces s’y seraient prêtées. Et pourtant, ni dans l’affaire du Groenland oriental, ni dans celle de l’Usine de Chorzów161, ni dans celle des Pêcheries norvégiennes, ni dans l’affaire de la Sentence arbitrale du Roi d’Espagne, ni dans celle du Temple la majorité n’a jugé utile de se fonder sur l’estoppel au sens qu’a ce mot (qui n’est d’ailleurs mentionné par la Cour dans aucune de ces décisions) dans la common law. Il ne fait aucun doute que, « en droit international comme dans n’importe quel autre système juridique, on ne peut souffler à la fois le chaud et le froid; on ne peut invoquer sa propre erreur si on y a contribué par sa propre conduite; on ne peut se prévaloir de sa propre faute »162. Mais nul besoin pour constater ceci de passer par le détour technique de l’estoppel. « Comme l’avait expliqué le juge Alfaro dans un passage qui m’est cher, maximes latines comprises, de l’importante opinion individuelle qu’il avait jointe au second arrêt de la Cour dans l’affaire du Temple, ‘[q]uels que soient le ou les termes employés pour qualifier ce principe dans le domaine international’, estoppel, préclusion, forclusion, acquiescement, ‘sa substance est toujours la même : la contradiction entre les réclamations ou allégations présentées par un État et sa conduite antérieure à ce sujet n’est pas admissible (allegans contraria non audiendus est). Son objectif est toujours le même : un État n’est pas autorisé à tirer profit de ses propres contradictions au profit d’un autre État (nemo potest mutare consilium suum in alterius injuriam). (...) Enfin, l’effet juridique de ce principe est toujours le même : la partie qui, par sa reconnaissance, sa représentation, sa déclaration, sa conduite ou son silence, a maintenu une attitude manifestement contraire au droit qu’elle prétend revendiquer devant un tribunal international est irrecevable à réclamer ce droit (venire contra factum proprium non valet)’163 »164. Mais l’estoppel au sens strict n’est ni nécessaire, ni compatible avec l’idée 160

Cf. C.P.J.I., arrêt du 17 août 1923, Wimbledon, série A, n° 1, p. 25.

161

V. l’arrêt du 26 juillet 1927, Usine de Chorzów (compétence), série A, n° 9, p. 31.

162

A. Pellet, plaidoirie sur la Demande en révision de l’arrêt du 11 juillet 1996 en l’affaire relative à l’Application de la convention pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide, exceptions préliminaires, 5 novembre 2002, CR 2002/41, p. 39, par. 22.

163

C.I.J. Rec. 1962, p. 40.

164

A. Pellet, plaidoirie dans l’affaire relative à la Licéité de l’emploi de la force (Serbie et Monténégro c. France), 22 avril 2004, CR 2004/21, p. 10, par. 12 ; v. aussi plaidoiries dans l’affaire du Génocide (compétence), 1er mai 1996, CR 86/8, p. 79, par. 34 ; sur la Demande en révision de l’arrêt du 11 juillet 1996 en l’affaire relative à l’Application de la convention pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide, exceptions préliminaires, 5 novembre

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que, non pas malgré sa souveraineté, mais parce qu’il est souverain justement, l’État doit faire preuve de cohérence dans son comportement international et que ses pairs sont fondés à se fonder sur ses déclarations et ses comportements. Dans un article justement célèbre, sir Derek Bowett a décrit les éléments essentiels de l’estoppel: « (a) The statement of fact must be clear and unambiguous. (b) The statement of fact must be made voluntarily, unconditionally, and must be authorized. (c) There must be reliance in good faith upon the statement either to the detriment of the party so relying on the statement or to the advantage of the party making the statement »165.

Peu importent ces raffinements techniques : en droit international, l’État peut être engagé même en l’absence de déclaration (à plus forte raison de déclaration « claire et sans ambiguïté ») ou d’une quelconque réaction des autres États intéressés. Madame la Présidente, malgré les savants travaux166 qui lui ont été consacrés, je dois reconnaître que « je n’ai jamais tout à fait pénétré les mystères de la notion, très anglo-saxonne, d’estoppel, au moins dans son sens technique – que je ne crois pas transposable dans toute sa subtilité au droit international »167. Il n’en résulte pas forcément que cette notion et le mot qui la désigne (pour obscur qu’il soit pour le commun des mortels – et alors même que le droit n’a rien à gagner à s’enfermer dans un vocabulaire abscons) doivent être proscrits du droit international positif. Simplement, il convient d’en avoir une conception large et de ne pas transposer au plan international des « technicalités » qui sont surement justifiées par des considérations propres aux droits anglais ou américain mais qui ne correspondent à l’évidence pas au génie propre du droit international – infiniment moins formaliste que les droits internes et qui,

2002, CR 2002/41, p. 46, par. 40 ; ou dans l’affaire du Génocide (fond), 24 avril 2006, CR 2006/37, p. 39, par. 15. 165

D.W. Bowett, « Estoppel Before International Tribunals and Its Relation to Acquiescence », BYBIL (1957), p. 202. V. aussi l’énumération des conditions requises pour que l’on puisse parler d’estoppel, ibid., p. 200. V. aussi les très longues considérations de sir Percy Spender sur la forclusion – qui n’est pas, semble-t-il, le strict équivalent de l’estoppel dans les droits romano-germaniques mais l’institution juridique qui s’en rapproche le plus – dans son opinion dissidente dans l’affaire du Temple de Préah Vihéar, Rec. 1962, pp. 131-132.

166

V. not. D.W. Bowett, ibid., pp. 176-202 ; I.C. McGibbon, « Estoppel in International Law », I.C.L.Q. (1958), pp. 468-513 ; Ch. Vallée, « Quelques observations sur l’estoppel en droit des gens », R.G.D.I.P. (1973), pp. 949-999 ; A. Martin, L’estoppel en droit international public, Pedone, Paris, 1979, XIV-384 p. ; ou M. L. Wagner, « Jurisdiction by Estoppel in the International Court of Justice », California Law Review (1986), pp. 1777-1804.

167

A. Pellet, plaidoirie sur la Demande en révision de l’arrêt du 11 juillet 1996 en l’affaire relative à l’Application de la convention pour la prévention et la répression du crime de génocide, exceptions préliminaires, 5 novembre 2002, CR 2002/41, p. 46, par. 40.

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JAMES CRAWFORD & ALAIN PELLET

notamment en matière procédurale, est très loin de rivaliser en raffinement avec la common law en particulier – et n’y ont par leur place. « L’exotisme de l’institution »168 explique sans doute la faveur avec laquelle elle est accueillie par les plaideurs et la doctrine (y compris latine… – après tout, c’est sans doute en France que l’on apprécie le plus les charmes surannés de la Monarchie britannique…). Mais ce n’est pas une raison pour embrasser des convictions royalistes, ni pour transposer purement et simplement dans le droit international une institution trop complexe, trop rigoureuse, trop exclusivement ancrée dans l’un des grands systèmes juridiques du monde. Dans cette perspective, Madame la Présidente, je suis prêt à suivre mon respecté ami, sir Derek Bowett, lorsqu’il écrivait, il y a un demi-siècle : « The basis of the rule is the general principle of good faith and as such finds a place in many systems of law; the description of this rule as an Anglo-American rule is misleading in so far as it suggests that its essentials are peculiar to the English and American legal systems. It may be true that in those systems the rule has developed refinements which find no place in the ‘rough jurisprudence’ of international courts, but the essentials of the rule are far more general… »169. En d’autres termes, si, en droit international, l’on veut appeler estoppel le fait pour un État de ne pouvoir dire ou faire une chose et son contraire, va pour l’estoppel ! Avec toutefois une nuance ou, en tout cas, une précision. Dans l’affaire du Golfe du Maine, « [l]a Chambre constate (…) que les notions d’acquiescement et d’estoppel, quel que soit le statut que leur réserve le droit international, découlent toutes deux des principes fondamentaux de la bonne foi et de l’équité. Elles procèdent cependant de raisonnements juridiques différents, l’acquiescement équivalant à une reconnaissance tacite manifestée par un comportement unilatéral que l’autre partie peut interpréter comme un consentement ; l’estoppel étant par contre lié à l’idée de forclusion. D’après une certaine façon de voir la forclusion serait d’ailleurs l’aspect procédural et l’estoppel l’aspect de fond du même principe. Sans vouloir entrer ici dans un débat théorique dépassant les limites de ses préoccupations actuelles, la Chambre se bornera à relever que, les mêmes faits étant pertinents aussi bien pour l’acquiescement que pour l’estoppel, sauf pour ce qui est de l’existence d’un préjudice, elle peut considérer les deux notions comme des aspects distincts d’une même institution ».170

Si on laisse de côté « l’existence d’un préjudice », la distinction s’impose en effet : acquiescement et estoppel (au sens du droit international) ne se situent pas au même « moment » du raisonnement : l’acquiescement (dès lors qu’il est avéré, cela va de soi171) se produit en amont, il est la manifestation de l’accord ou du consentement de l’État à un fait ou à une situation ; l’estoppel lui, intervient en aval ; il est la conséquence de

168

V. M. Virally, préface à l’ouvrage d’A. Martin, préc. note 166, p. VIII.

169

D.W. Bowett, op. cit. note 165, p. 176 – notes de bas de page omises ; dans le même sens, v. M.L. Wagner, op. cit. note 166.

170

Arrêt du 12 octobre 1984, Rec. 1984, p. 305, par. 130.

171

V. ibid.; pour un autre exemple où il ne l’a pas été, v. C.I.J., Chambre, arrêt du 20 juillet 1989, Elettronica Sicula (ELSI), Rec. 1989, p. 44, par. 54.

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865

l’acquiescement : compte tenu des circonstances, l’État qui a acquiescé ne peut se dédire. Il en résulte aussi qu’il s’agit là d’une règle de fond et pas seulement de procédure. Est-il bien nécessaire d’appeler ce phénomène « estoppel », Madame la Présidente ? Je le veux bien si cela fait plaisir à nos amis anglo-saxons – mais sans aller jusqu’à faire du droit international un réceptacle d’une technique qui est propre à la common law et qu’aucun argument convaincant n’impose de transposer dans le droit des gens. Mr. CRAWFORD: Madam President, Members of the Court: The doctrine of estoppel was necessary in the common law because it lacked any rule of the binding force of promises (unsupported by consideration) or any distinct doctrine of good faith. At least that seems a reasonable hypothesis. Within the domestic context, estoppel can be described simply as the principle which ‘precludes a party from alleging or proving in legal proceedings that a fact is otherwise than it has appeared to be from the circumstances’,172 although it is coming to have a wider application than that.173 Estoppel in the common law has generally been said to be a shield rather than a sword: it is not a cause of action in itself, although it may provide an element of fact or commitment necessary to complete a cause of action. By contrast there is no doctrine of consideration in international law: unilateral promises may be binding and there is a distinct principle of good faith. On that basis, the concept of estoppel was perhaps duplicative, certainly not essential. Rather, it has come into international law through judicial decisions, as judges have relied on analogies or extensions based on accepted principles of international law, such as good faith and consent.174 Its status and the importance that should be attached to it are, correspondingly, still less than clear. There is no decision of the Court which turned on the doctrine of estoppel, though there are cases to which it has contributed part of the reasoning. Estoppel was recognised in international law in some form as early as 1893 in the Behring Sea arbitration.175 The arbitrators rejected the United States claim that Britain had accepted Russia’s claim of exclusive jurisdiction over fur-seal fisheries in the Behring Sea, on the ground that Britain had protested against this claim in 1821. According to McNair: ‘This is not estoppel eo nomine, but it shows that international jurisprudence has a place for some recognition of the principle that a State cannot blow hot and cold – allegans contraria non audiendus est.’176 The same conclusion was

172

The Oxford Companion to Law, supra note 4, at 432.

173

For an overview of the different categories of estoppel in English law and of their historical development, see P. Feltham/D. Hochberg/T. Leech, Spencer Bower’s Estoppel by Representation 3-12 (2004).

174

J. Crawford, review of A. Martin, L’Estoppel en droit international public (1979), 51 BYIL 291-292 (1980).

175

Behring Sea arbitration, Award of 15 August 1893, 9 RIAA 51 (1902).

176

A. D. McNair, ‘The Legality of the Occupation of the Ruhr’, 5 BYIL 17, at 35 (1924).

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JAMES CRAWFORD & ALAIN PELLET

reached by Hersch Lauterpacht, who commented in 1934 that the Permanent Court had seemed to recognise the relevance of the principle of estoppel.177 There are many dicta of the Court to the effect that estoppel is a part of international law.178 The principle often crops up in land or maritime disputes which involve dissecting State conduct over a long period of time, offering plenty of scope for inconsistencies in behaviour or seeming acquiescence. But while the Court has quite often considered the application of estoppel to a particular case, it has never explicitly found that a State was precluded from bringing a claim because of it.179 In general, the Court has been reluctant to punish States for inconsistencies in their conduct by explicitly labelling these inconsistencies as giving rise to an estoppel, particularly in the absence of detrimental consequences for the other State involved. Because of this cautious approach, estoppel has not played a decisive role in cases before the Court.180 A distinction is sometimes made between the substantive and procedural application of estoppel at the international level.181 The former is a source of obligations. For example, if one State has by its conduct allowed another State to believe it renounces its title to a certain part of territory, it may not later claim sovereignty over that territory in judicial proceedings.182 The latter relates to the admissibility of evidence. If a State has presented evidence in support of a certain fact, it may not later refute this fact by producing contrary evidence. The distinction between these two categories of estoppel has however not been expressly recognised by the Court. To summarise, as noted by Ian Brownlie: ‘A considerable weight of authority supports the view that estoppel is a general principle of international law, resting on principles of good faith and consistency. It is now reasonably clear that the essence of estoppel is the element of conduct which causes the other party, in reliance on such conduct, detrimentally to change its position or to suffer some prejudice. Without dissenting from this as a general and preliminary proposition, it is necessary to point out that estoppel in municipal law is regarded with great caution, and that the “principle” has no particular coherence in international law, its incidence and effects not being uniform.’183

* * * 177

H. Lauterpacht, The Development of International Law by the Permanent Court of International Justice 83 (1934).

178

For a survey of the ICJ’s jurisprudence on estoppel see I. Sinclair, ‘Estoppel and Acquiescence’, in V. Lowe/M. Fitzmaurice (eds.), Fifty Years of the International Court of Justice 104 (1996).

179

See, for example, Serbian Loans, PCIJ (Ser. A) Nos. 20-21, at 4, 39.

180

Sinclair, supra note 178, at 120.

181

R. Kolb, ‘General Principles of Procedural Law’, in A. Zimmermann/C. Tomuschat/K. OellersFrahm, The Statute of the International Court of Justice 793, 833 (2006).

182

Legal Status of Eastern Greenland, PCIJ (Ser. A/B) No. 53, at 21.

183

I. Brownlie, Principles of Public International Law 616 (2003).

42 – M ODES SCONTINENTAUX ET ANGLO-S AXONS DE PLAIDOIRIES DEVANT LATHE C.I.J. ANGLO AXON AND CONTINENTAL APPROACHES TO PLEADING BEFORE ICJ

V.

867

Conclusion

It is sometimes said that international courts and tribunals have on the whole adopted the common law approach to litigation.184 But the difference between common law and civil law approaches to pleading before the ICJ is not as great as is sometimes suggested. It is true that there are substantial differences between (and within) the various legal traditions. But international law is a legal system of its own, with its own approach to the issues discussed here. It will sometimes draw from municipal legal systems, but it does not import their particularities wholesale.185 Civil lawyermay object to the use of terms such as estoppel and cause of action which are seen to have a common law origin, but these concepts as they are used by the Court are not confined to their formulations or expression in any given system or tradition. The differences between the common law and civil law approach to pleading before the ICJ are therefore a question of language, emphasis and intellectual approach, rather than a fundamental divide. That is not to suggest that differences between Anglo-Saxon and continental attitudes should simply be ignored once lawyers from different jurisdictions put on their international lawyer hats or gowns. Differences in perspective between lawyers from different jurisdiction continue to engender lively and interesting discussions and international law is richer because of it.

184

For example, except as to matters of jurisdiction, the Court will only base its decision on arguments actually advanced by the parties: Shahabuddeen, supra note 122, at 139-140.

185

For good discussions of the use of drawing inspiration from municipal law, see M. Shahabuddeen, ‘Municipal Law Reasoning in International Law’, in V. Lowe/M. Fitzmaurice (eds.), Fifty Years of the International Court of Justice 90 (1996); or H. Thirlway, ‘Concepts, Principles, Rules and Analogies: International and Municipal Legal Reasoning’, 294 Recueil des Cours 264-405 (2002).

868

JAMES CRAWFORD & ALAIN PELLET

43

43 – ARGENTINIEN VS URUGUAY – EIN MEHRFRONTENKAMPF

869

Argentinien vs Uruguay – Ein Mehrfrontenkampf Waldemar Hummer

Avant propos Gerhard Hafner ist – was für einen Angehörigen eines „land locked state“ keinesfalls selbstverständlich erscheint – ua auch ein Seerechtsspezialist, der sich immerhin mit einer Arbeit über die seerechtlichen Nutzungsrechte von Binnenstaaten habilitierte und diesem Sachgebiet auch später noch thematisch verbunden blieb.1 Wenngleich ich mit dieser Spezialisierung nicht unmittelbar aufwarten kann, so habe ich doch versucht, im Rahmen der Behandlung eines Themas aus dem Bereich der internationalen Schiedsgerichtsbarkeit ein solches auszuwählen, das einen näheren Bezug zu diesem seinem Spezialgebiet hat. Es wurde zwar kein „seerechtliches“, aber doch – zumindest in Ansätzen – ein „flussrechtliches“ Thema. Gerhard Hafner möge mir diesen „wasserrechtlichen“ Diminutiv verzeihen. Ad multos, lieber Gerhard!

I.

Einführung

Nachdem die Europäische Gemeinschaft (EG) am 15. Dezember 1995 ein nichtpräferentielles Interregionales Rahmenabkommen zur Kooperation zwischen der Europäischen Gemeinschaft und dem „Mercado Común del Sur“ (MERCOSUR),2 einer 1991 eingerichteten regionalen Präferenzzone im Cono Sur Lateinamerikas mit vier Mitgliedstaaten,3 abgeschlossen hatte,4 versuchte sowohl sie, als auch der MERCO1

G. Hafner, Die seerechtliche Verteilung von Nutzungsrechten. Rechte der Binnenstaaten in der ausschließlichen Wirtschaftszone (1987).

2

Und dessen Mitgliedstaaten, da das Rahmenabkommen auf Seiten des MERCOSUR „gemischt“ abgeschlossen werden musste.

3

Vgl. dazu W. Hummer, „Integration in Lateinamerika und in der Karibik. Aktueller Stand und zukünftige Entwicklungen“, in: Verfassung und Recht in Übersee (2005), S. 6 ff. (48).

4

1996 Interregionales Rahmenabkommen über die Zusammenarbeit zwischen der Europäischen Gemeinschaft und ihren Mitgliedstaaten einerseits und dem Mercado Común del Sur und seinen Teilnehmerstaaten andererseits – Gemeinsame Erklärung zum politischen Dialog zwischen der Europäischen Union und dem Mercosur, ABl 1996, Nr. L 69, S. 4 ff.; vgl. dazu R. Dromi/C. Molina del Pozo, Acuerdo Mercosur-Unión Europea (1996); M. Cienfuegos Mateo, „Las negociaciones para la ejecución del acuerdo marco interregional de cooperación entre la Comunidad Europea, el Mercosur y sus respectivos estados miembros“, 13 Revista

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 869-908, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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SUR, dieses Abkommen in der Folge zu einem präferentiellen Handelsabkommen auszuweiten. Die dafür am 24. November 19995 bzw. am 1. Juli 20016 begonnenen Verhandlungen stagnieren allerdings zur Zeit, nachdem es bereits zu 16 Sitzungen des bi-regionalen Verhandlungskomitees gekommen war. Wenngleich in den jeweils letzten Verhandlungsofferten von Ende September 20047 die gegenseitige Distanz in wirtschaftspolitischen Sachfragen unübersehbar ist, war es aber auch ein politisches Element, das die Verhandlungen ins Stocken brachte, nämlich die Uneinigkeit der Mitgliedstaaten des MERCOSUR untereinander. Die politische Kohäsion des MERCOSUR und damit dessen kollektive „bargaining power“ der EU gegenüber begann unter diesen Unstimmigkeiten zwischen einzelnen Mitgliedstaaten zu leiden, wenngleich dieser Umstand in den Verhandlungen mit der EU zunächst von Sachfragen, wie zB des Einbezugs des Agrarsektors etc. überschattet wurde. Auch auf dem IV. Bi-regionalen Gipfeltreffen zwischen der EU, Lateinamerika und der Karibik (IV. EU-LAK-Gipfel) in Wien, vom 12. bis 13. Mai 2006, an dem Vertreter von 60 Staaten beidseits des Atlantiks teilnahmen,8 gelang es nicht, die Meinungsverschiedenheiten entsprechend beizulegen. Nach einigen mehr oder weniger erfolgreich verlaufenen Gründungsjahren zeigten sich nämlich in der bisher relativ homogenen Struktur des MERCOSUR erste Risse, die neuerdings durch den spektakulären Versuch Venezuelas, aus der „Anden Gemeinschaft“ (Comunidad Andina) auszutreten und dem MERCOSUR beizutreten,9 aber auch durch den bilateralen Streitfall zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay über den Bau zweier Zellstofffabriken am Río Uruguay, noch vertieft wurden. Zu diesem Umweltstreit zwischen den beiden Nachbarstaaten am Río Uruguay kommen aber auch noch ältere Handelsstreitigkeiten zwischen diesen beiden Staaten hinzu, die die Atmosphäre einigermaßen vergiftet haben. Dabei handelte es sich zum einen um restriktive Maßnahmen Argentiniens für den Import uruguayanischer runderneuerter Reifen und Fahrräder sowie zum anderen um ein Exportsubventionssystem Uruguays für Wollstoffe. Bedauerlicherweise sind dem Unionsbürger im Schoß der Europäischen Union (EU) diese Umstände nicht näher bekannt, sodass er auch nicht in der Lage ist, sie entsprechend nachzuvollziehen und politisch aufzuarbeiten. Wenngleich Handelsverhandlungen der EG mit Drittstaaten oder Internationalen Organisationen de Derecho Comunitario Europeo (2002), S. 723 ff.; M. T. Ponte Iglesias/M. Cienfuegos Mateo, „Las relaciones Unión Europea – MERCOSUR: Dificultades y Perspectivas para la Consecución de un Acuerdo de Asociación“, in: W. Hummer (Hrsg.), Cooperación y Conflicto en el MERCOSUR (2007), S. 47 ff. 5

Für die nicht zollrechtlichen Fragen.

6

Für die zollrechtlichen Fragen.

7

Vgl. Ponte Iglesias/Cienfuegos Mateo, supra Fn. 4, S. 75 ff.

8

Vgl. dazu W. Hummer, „Der lange Arm von Greenpeace. Umweltprobleme am Río Uruguay“, 14 Lateinamerika Analysen (2006), S. 207 ff.

9

Vgl. dazu W. Hummer, „La salida de Venezuela de la CAN y la entrada al MERCOSUR“, in: Fundación Konrad Adenauer (Hrsg.), Anuario de Derecho Constitucional Latinoamericano (2008) (in Druck).

43 – ARGENTINIEN VS URUGUAY – EIN MEHRFRONTENKAMPF

871

verhandlungstaktisch von großer Sensibilität gekennzeichnet sind – was sich vor allem auch in der fehlenden Information des Europäischen Parlaments über solche Vorgänge ausdrückt10 – sollte die europäische Öffentlichkeit aber doch über die wichtigsten Gründe des Abschlusses oder des Scheiterns von Handelsverhandlungen aufgeklärt werden,11 so komplex diese auch sein mögen. Der nachstehende Beitrag will in diesem Zusammenhang zumindest ansatzweise versuchen, etwas Licht in die Rahmenbedingungen dieser Verhandlungen zu bringen, indem er die Probleme der einen Seite in den Verhandlungen, nämlich die gegenwärtigen (politischen) Spannungen zwischen zwei Mitgliedstaaten des MERCOSUR (Argentinien und Uruguay) darzustellen versucht. Die República Oriental del Uruguay, 1828 aus der ehemals östlichsten Provinz Argentiniens hervorgegangen, war im Zuge ihrer jüngeren Geschichte dem „größeren Bruder“ Argentinien politisch mehr oder weniger eng verbunden. Die gegenseitigen Beziehungen waren grundsätzlich gutnachbarschaftlich, wenngleich es da und dort Meinungsverschiedenheiten gab. Neben den bisherigen „Handelskriegen“, die zu mehreren Schiedsverfahren im MERCOSUR geführt haben, ist es aber nunmehr vor allem die bisher noch nicht beigelegte Kontroverse über den Bau bisher zweier bzw. nunmehr nur einer Zellstofffabrik(en) in Fray Bentos, die zu einer Frontstellung zwischen diesen beiden bisherigen „países hermanos“ geführt hat.12 Auf diesen Konflikt soll zunächst eingegangen werden.

II.

Umweltstreitigkeiten und Mobilitätsprobleme im MERCOSUR

A.

Die Zellstoffabriken von BOTNIA und ENCE am Río Uruguay

In der Nähe von Fray Bentos, am orographisch linksseitigen, uruguayanischen Ufer des Grenzflusses Río Uruguay zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay, werden von einem finnischen (Orión/Oy Metsä-BOTNIA AB) und einem spanischen Unternehmen (Celulosas de M’Bopicuá/ENCE) zwei große Zellulosefabriken errichtet, die für die nächsten 40 Jahre der Erzeugung von Zellulosepulpe dienen sollen. Die von ENCE gebaute Zellulosefabrik „Celulosa de M’Bopicuá“ (CMB) liegt 12 km östlich von Fray Bentos und ist auf die Produktion von ca. 400.000 t Zellulosepulpe pro Jahr ausgelegt, die im Laufe der Zeit auf 500.000 t ausgeweitet werden soll. Die Zahl der Beschäftigten im Vollbetrieb wird mit 1.600 Personen veranschlagt. Das 10

Gemäß Vertrag zur Gründung der Europäischen Gemeinschaft, Art. 300, Abs. 3, schließt der Rat alle Drittstaatsabkommen der EG – mit Ausnahme von Handelsabkommen – erst nach Anhörung des Europäischen Parlaments ab; vgl. dazu Schweitzer/Hummer/Obwexer, Europarecht. Das Recht der Europäischen Union (2007), Rdnr. 997 f., 2151 f.

11

Das sog. „Luns-Westerterp“-Verfahren (1964/1973) bietet hier keine Abhilfe, da es sich nur auf eine (abgeschwächte) Information des Europäischen Parlaments, nicht aber der Öffentlichkeit an sich, bezieht; vgl. Schweitzer/Hummer/Obwexer, supra Fn. 10, Rdnr. 2151 f.

12

Vgl. dazu Z. Drnas de Clément, „El diferendo de las celulósicas de Fray Bentos a la luz del derecho internacional“, 2005 Revista de Derecho Ambiental (Buenos Aires), S. 27 ff.

872

WALDEMAR HUMMER

Investitionsvolumen beläuft sich auf 500 Mio US-$. Die von BOTNIA zu errichtende Anlage ist für den Ausstoß von 1 Mio t Pulpe/Jahr ausgelegt und soll über 4.000 Personen beschäftigen. Das Investitionsvolumen beträgt 1.000 Mio US-$. Das für die Errichtung beider Anlagen benötigte Investitionsvolumen von 1,5 Mrd US-$, das mit 400 Mio US-$ durch die Weltbank bzw. die International Finance Corporation (IFC) unterstützt wird, repräsentiert allein mehr als ein Zehntel des gesamten Sozialprodukts von Uruguay (sic), woraus die überragende volkswirtschaftliche Bedeutung der beiden geplanten Produktionsstätten hervorgeht. Die Wertschöpfung dieser beiden riesigen Anlagen ist enorm und beträgt während der drei Jahre der Errichtung von 2004 bis 2007 3,2% des gesamten BIP Uruguays (sic), und danach im Vollbetrieb noch immer 2,5% des BIP. Auch die Auswirkungen auf den Arbeitsmarkt sind beachtlich, da sich die Beschäftigtenquote 2004 durch den Bau der beiden Fabriken um 1,3% erhöhte und auf Dauer um 1,0% angehoben wird. In Summe werden die Exporte aus diesen beiden Anlagen das Handelsbilanzdefizit Uruguays um 22% vermindern. Während der Bauführung werden die Staatseinkünfte Uruguays um 2% und danach immer noch um 1% steigen. Im Gegensatz dazu führt die Regierung der betroffenen argentinischen Provinz Entre Ríos an, dass die Schäden, die diese beiden Anlagen der Landwirtschaft und dem Tourismus zufügen werden, mit 800 Mio. US-$ veranschlagt werden müssen.13 Zusammen werden beide Anlagen, die auf der Basis von chlorfreier Bleiche14 funktionieren, damit einen jährlichen Ausstoß von 1,5 Mio t Pulpe15 und einen täglichen Abfall von über 30 t Feststoffen produzieren. Da bei der Zelluloseerzeugung ein Wasserverbrauch von rund 85% anfällt, benötigen beide Anlagen täglich rund 86 Mio Liter Wasser, das dem Río Uruguay entnommen und nach seiner Abarbeitung wieder zugeführt wird. Bereits im Vorgriff auf diese spätere Verarbeitung wurden in den 80er Jahren des vorigen Jahrhunderts von ENCE in Uruguay große Eukalyptus-Wälder im Ausmaß von über 200.000 ha angelegt, die als solche bereits einen enormen Eingriff in die Ökologie dieses Landes darstellten, von den Bestimmungen des Forstgesetzes (1987) aber offensichtlich nicht negativ erfasst wurden. In Summe bedecken in Uruguay heute 13

http://www.ar.news.yahoo.com/060120/24/o566.html; vgl. Busti, „Entre Ríos también tuvo daños económicos“, Río Negro, 15. April 2006.

14

Elemental Chlorine Free/Libre de cloro elemental (ECF/LCE); Argentinien behauptete im gegenständlichen Streitfall, dass die beiden Unternehmen ENCE und BOTNIA nur deswegen in Uruguay investieren, da sie dabei die strengen Auflagen, die sie in ihren Heimatländern Spanien und Finnland bzw. europarechtlich zu beachten hätten (vgl. dazu u. a. die Richtlinie 96/71/EG des Rates der EU vom 24. September 1996 über die integrierte Vermeidung und Verminderung der Umweltverschmutzung, ABl. 1996, Nr. L 320, S. 28 ff. sowie die Richtlinie 2004/35/EG des Europäischen Parlaments und des Rates vom 21. April 2004 über Umwelthaftung zur Vermeidung und Sanierung von Umweltschäden, ABl. 2004, Nr. L 143, S. 56 ff.) nicht befolgen müssen. So verursachte z.B. BOTNIA in einer Anlage am Saimaa-See in Finnland im Sommer 2003 einen ökologischen Schaden, dem der gesamte Fischbestand des Sees zum Opfer fiel; vgl. „La guerra de las papeleras, las izquierdas y el papel de la realpolitik“, http://www.harrymagazine.com/200508/papeleras.htm.

15

Beide Fabriken werden damit beinahe das Doppelte der gesamten argentinischen Produktion von Zellulosepulpe (850.000 t) erreichen.

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Eukaluyptuswälder eine Fläche von 700.000 ha.16 Die Pflanzung von Eukalyptus,17 einer rasch wachsenden Baumsorte, die in Lateinamerika nicht heimisch ist, geschieht dort nur zu dem Zweck der Zelluloseerzeugung für die Papiergewinnung. Es überrascht daher, dass Argentinien nicht schon früher auf dieses Problem aufmerksam wurde, noch dazu wo es doch auch hätte wissen müssen, dass für die Zelluloseerzeugung enorm viel Wasser benötigt wird, das nur aus dem Río Negro oder dem Grenzfluss Río Uruguay stammen konnte. Erst nachdem die Standortentscheidung für die Errichtung der beiden Zellulosefabriken nicht für den Stausee Paso del Palmar am Río Negro im Landesinneren Uruguays sondern für Fray Bentos am Río Uruguay gefallen war, begann sich in Argentinien Widerstand zu regen. Angesichts der argentinischen Bedenken beschleunigte Uruguay daraufhin die Betriebsstättengenehmigungsverfahren und führte für die Anlagen vorläufige Umweltverträglichkeitsprüfungen durch, die im Oktober 2003 bzw. im Februar 2005 erfolgreich abgeschlossen wurden. Sofort danach wurde mit der Bauführung begonnen, ohne dass aber Argentinien davon offiziell in Kenntnis gesetzt wurde.

B.

Das Flussstatut des Río Uruguay (1975)

Der Río Uruguay entspringt in der Serra Geral in Brasilien und mündet in den Rio de la Pata. Bei seinem Eintritt in das argentinische Territorium ist er quergeteilt, danach längsgeteilt. Ein „quergeteilter“ Fluss („río sucesivo“) ist ein Grenzfluss, bei dem die politische Grenze im Fluss nicht parallel zu den Ufern sondern quer zu seinem Verlauf verläuft, sodass es einen Oberlieger- und einen Unterlieger-Staat gibt.18 Ein „längsgeteilter“ Fluss („río contiguo“) hingegen ist ein Grenzfluss, bei dem beide Ufer in verschiedenen Staaten liegen und der entweder nach dem Prinzip des Talweges (falls schiffbar) oder durch eine Mittellinie geteilt ist.19 Das jeweilige Regime ist aber nicht immer ausschließlich: so ist zB der Río Paraná zwischen den Stromschnellen von Guayrá und der Einmündung des Iguazú für Brasilien und Paraguay ein „längsgeteilter“, für Argentinien aber ein „quergeteilter“ Grenzfluss.20 Handelt es sich also um einen „längsgeteilten“ Fluss mit geteilter territorialer Souveränität, bedarf jedwede Nutzung des Grenzflusses eines völkerrechtlichen bilateralen Übereinkommens zwischen beiden Uferstaaten. Handelt es sich hingegen um einen „quergeteilten“ Fluss, dann kann der Oberliegerstaat den Fluss nach seinem Gutdünken 16

Vgl. E. Schneider, „La industria de la celulosa para dar valor agregado a la madera es ‚una opción ponderosa‘ para el país“, El Telegrafo-Diario de Paysandú, http://www.eltelegrafo. com/notas/loc_17-6-05.htm.

17

Eucalyptus globulus und Eucalyptus grandis.

18

Vgl. dazu G. Hafner, „Räumliche Regime und Nutzungen über die und jenseits der Staatsgrenzen“, in H. Neuhold/W. Hummer/C. Schreuer (Hrsg.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts (2004), S. 397 Rdnr. 2108; vgl. dazu auch nachstehend auf S. 895.

19

Vgl. I. Seidl-Hohenveldern/W. Hummer, „Die Staaten“, in: Neuhold/Hummer/Schreuer, supra Fn 18, S. 144 Rdnr. 728 f.; vgl. dazu auch nachstehend auf S. 895.

20

Vgl. J. Barberis, „El aprovechamiento industrial y agrícola de los ríos de la Cuenca del Plata y el derecho internacional“, INTAL (Hrsg.), Derecho de la Integración, Nr. 16, (1974), S. 47.

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WALDEMAR HUMMER

nutzen, solange er dem Unterlieger dadurch nicht einen „erheblichen und nicht üblichen“ Schaden zufügt.21 Mangels einer ausdrücklichen gewohnheitsrechtlichen Regelung für die Wasserverschmutzung, vor allem aber für die schwierige Frage der „summierten Immissionen“,22 gestaltet sich diese Fragestellung mehr als kompliziert. Der Río Uruguay als „längsgeteilter“ Grenzfluss mit geteilter territorialer Souveränität zwischen den beiden Uferstaaten ist durch einen bilateralen Grenzvertrag zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay vom 7. April 1961 geregelt.23 Gem. Art. 7 lit. e) und f) dieses Vertrages sollten die beiden Vertragsparteien eine gemeinsame Übereinkunft über die Nutzung des Flusses ausarbeiten, was diese in der Folge auch taten und am 26. Februar 1975 ein „Statut über die Schifffahrt und die Nutzung der natürlichen Ressourcen des Río Uruguay“24 unterzeichneten. Das damit errichtete gemeinsame „Flussstatut“ des Río Uruguay behält „the conservation, utilization and exploitation of natural resources and the prevention of pollution“ einem einvernehmlichen Vorgehen beider Anliegerstaaten vor,25 das im Schoß der „Verwaltungskommission für den Río Uruguay“ (CARU)26 abgestimmt wird. Für die Überwachung der Gewässergüte richtete die CARU eine „Unterkommission für Umwelt und nachhaltigen Gebrauch der Gewässer“27 ein, im Rahmen derer ein „Plan für ein Monitoring der Umweltqualität des Río Uruguay an Orten, an denen Zellulosefabriken errichtet werden“,28 ausgearbeitet wurde, der wiederum auf dem „Programm der Evaluierung der Wassergüte und Kontrolle der Kontaminierung des Río Uruguay“ (PROCON)29 beruht, das bereits am 30. November 1987 durch die CARU beiden Regierungen zur Approbation zugeleitet wurde. Die erste Etappe von PROCON begann Ende 1987 mit der Errichtung einer

21

Vgl. G. Loibl, „Internationales Umweltrecht“, in Neuhold/Hummer/Schreuer, supra Fn. 18, S. 450, Rdnr. 2411 f.

22

Vgl. dazu allgemein J. Kormann, Summierte Immissionen im öffentlichen Umweltrecht (1985).

23

1961 Tratado de Limites entre la República de Argentina y la República Oriental del Uruguay en el Río Uruguay von Montevideo, 635 UNTS 9074, S. 92 ff. (Spanisch), S. 98 ff. (Englisch) und S. 99 ff. (Französisch); vgl. dazu auch das 1968 Protocolo sobre demarcación y caracterización de la línea de frontera argentino-uruguaya en el Río Uruguay.

24

1975 Statute on the Navigation and the Exploitation of the Natural Resources of the Uruguay River, 1295 UNTS 21425, S. 332 ff. (Spanisch), S. 34 ff. (Englisch) und S. 348 ff. (Französisch); vgl. dazu argentinische Ley No. 21.413; E. Gonzales Lapeyre/Y. Flangini, El Estatuto del Río Uruguay (1983).

25

Vgl. dazu Z. Drnas de Clément, „Recursos Naturales Compartidos entre Estados y el Derecho Internacional“, 2003 Anuario Argentino de Derecho Internacional S. 23ff.

26

Comisión Administradora del Río Uruguay (CARU); die CARU besteht aus zehn Mitgliedern, von denen je fünf von den beiden Vertragsparteien gestellt werden. Der Vorsitz rotiert jährlich zwischen den beiden Vertragspartnern.

27

Subcomisión de Medio Ambiente y Uso Sostenible del Agua.

28

Plan de Monitoreo de la Calidad Ambiental del Río Uruguay en Áreas de Plantas Celulósicas.

29

Programa de Evaluación de Calidad de Aguas y Control de la Contaminación del Río Uruguay (PROCON).

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Reihe von Beobachtungs- und Messstationen im und am Río Uruguay.30 Die von der CARU ausgearbeiteten und danach von den Regierungen angenommenen Regelungen für die Bewirtschaftung des Río Uruguay stellen in ihrer Gesamtheit den sog „Digesto sobre usos del Río Uruguay“, dh das vereinbarte Nutzungsregime in toto des Flusses, dar.31

C.

Der Protest Argentiniens

Wie der argentinische Außenminister, Jorge Taiana, vor der Kommission für auswärtige Beziehungen der Abgeordnetenkammer des Argentinischen Parlaments am 12. Februar 2006 ausführte,32 erhielt Argentinien erstmals Ende 2002 auf informellem Weg Kenntnis von der Standortentscheidung für beide Fabriken. In der Folge ersuchte es – im Schoß der CARU – seinen Nachbarstaat Uruguay mehrfach, Einschau in die Projektunterlagen nehmen zu können, was Uruguay aber mit dem Hinweis darauf ablehnte, dass diese noch in Bearbeitung seien. In Uruguay ist die Umweltverträglichkeitsprüfung durch das Gesetz No 16.416 vom 19. Januar 199433 sowie durch die Verordnung 435/994 vom 21. September 1994 geregelt – die allerdings vor kurzem durch die Verordnung 349/005 vom 21. September 2005 ersetzt wurde, die bereits auf beide Anlagen Anwendung findet. Anlässlich des positiven Errichtungsbescheids für die von der ENCE geplante Zellulosefabrik am 9. Oktober 2003 kam es zum ersten diplomatischen Notenwechsel zwischen beiden Regierungen, in dessen Gefolge Argentinien am 17. Oktober 2003 eine außerordentliche Tagung der CARU einberief, auf der es Uruguay offiziell aufforderte, den im Statut des Río Uruguay vorgesehenen Informations- und Konsultationsmechanismus34 einzuleiten. Die von Uruguay in der Folge vorgelegten Unterlagen erschienen Argentinien nicht ausreichend, um die Auswirkungen der Bauführungen konkret abschätzen zu können. Uruguay nahm dabei vor allem auch nicht Bezug auf die Verpflichtungen aus dem Statut des Río Uruguay sowie aus der „Gemeinsamen Erklärung über die Ressource Wasser“ aus 1971.35 Gemäß der „critical date“-Theorie36 lag ab diesem Zeitpunkt ein „Streitfall“ („controversia“) zwischen beiden Staaten vor, für den das Flussstatut des Río Uruguay in seinen Art. 58 und 59 vorsah, dass ein solcher der CARU vorzulegen 30

Vgl. dazu R. A. Frattini, „Monitoreo de la calidad de las aguas del Río Uruguay“, http://www. eco2site.com/news/Febrero-04/pape-uruguay.asp.

31

Vgl. dazu den 1995 Acuerdo relativo a la Aprobación del Digesto sobre Uso y aprovechamiento del Río Uruguay.

32

http://www.mrecic.gov.arg.

33

1994 Ley de Prevención y Evaluación del Impacto Ambiental, Nr. 16.416.

34

Mecanismo de información y consultas previas (Art. 7 bis 12).

35

1971 Declaración argentino-uruguaya sobre el recurso agua.

36

Vgl. dazu L. Goldie, „The Critical Date“, 12 ICLQ (1963), S. 1251 ff.; siehe auch W. Hummer, „Boundary disputes in Latin America“, in: R. Bernhardt, Encyclopedia of Public International Law (1983), S. 60.

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sei, die innerhalb von 120 Tagen ein gütliches Einvernehmen zwischen beiden Streitparteien herbeizuführen habe. Sollte ihr dies nicht gelingen, dann hat die Kommission die Streitparteien davon zu verständigen, die in der Folge in direkte Verhandlungen einzutreten haben. Zu Beginn des Jahres 2004 begannen beide Streitteile, Verfahrensmodalitäten für direkte Verhandlungen auszuarbeiten, die vor allem ein Monitoring-Verfahren für die ökologischen Probleme der Zellulosefabriken vorsehen sollten. Der in diesem Zusammenhang am 15. März 2004 ausgearbeitete Plan37 wurde seitens Uruguay, das in der Zwischenzeit eine Betriebsstättengenehmigung auch für die zweite, vom finnischen Unternehmen BOTNIA betriebene Fabrik erteilt hatte, aber nicht erfüllt. Am 5. Mai 2005 trafen sich die Staatschefs Néstor Kirchner und Tabaré Vázquez sowie die Außenminister beider Staaten und vereinbarten dabei die Errichtung einer bilateralen „Technischen Gruppe auf Hohem Niveau“ (GTAN),38 die unter der Aufsicht beider Außenminister nach entsprechenden Lösungen suchen sollte. Bevor allerdings die GTAN am 26. Juni 2005 ihre Arbeit aufnahm, teilte Argentinien der Weltbank bzw. der IFC, dem Banco Bilbao Vizcaya und der holländischen ING-Gruppe seine Bedenken hinsichtlich der Finanzierung von umweltmäßig noch nicht eindeutig als verträglich erkannten Anlagen mit.39 Als Reaktion darauf suspendierte Uruguay die für 5. Juli 2005 vorgesehene Sitzung der GTAN. Dementsprechend kam es erst am 3. August 2005 zur ersten Sitzung der GTAN, die sich in der Folge zweimal pro Monat – alternierend in Buenos Aires und in Montevideo – traf und die bis zum 31. Januar 2006 einen Schlussbericht zu erstellen hatte. Es sollten insgesamt 12 Sitzungen werden. Mitten in diese Sitzungstätigkeit fiel die dritte inkriminierte Aktion Uruguays, das der von BOTNIA errichteten Zellulosefabrik nun auch erlaubte, einen eigenen Hafen am Río Uruguay zu errichten. Nachdem Uruguay auch diese Vorhaltungen Argentiniens zurückwies, übermittelte Argentinien am 14. Dezember 2005 Uruguay eine Note, in der es offiziell feststellte, dass aus seiner Sicht nunmehr eine Interpretationsdivergenz im Sinne von Art. 60 Abs. 1 des Statuts des Río Uruguay vorliege, aufgrund derer es diesen Streitfall jederzeit einseitig dem Internationalen Gerichtshof (IGH) vorlegen könne. In diesem Zusammenhang stellte es auch fest, dass am 30. Januar 2006 die im Statut des Río Uruguay für die direkten Verhandlungen vorgesehene Frist von maximal 180 Tagen verstrichen sei, und damit jede Streitpartei den IGH befassen könne. Am 23. Februar 2006 genehmigte der Argentinische Kongress den Beschluss der argentinischen Regierung, den Streitfall dem IGH zu unterbreiten, wies dabei aber auf die Bereitschaft der Regierung hin, trotzdem jederzeit für eine einvernehmliche Lösung zur Verfügung zu stehen. Anlässlich der Amtseinführung der chilenischen Präsidentin Michele Bachelet trafen sich am 11. März 2006 die beiden Staatspräsidenten in Santiago 37

Plan de Monitoreo de la Calidad Ambiental del Río Uruguay en Área de Plantas Celulósicas; vgl. Fn. 28.

38

Grupo Técnico Bilateral de Alto Nivel (GTAN).

39

Vgl. Greenpeace, Consideraciones generales sobre la version preliminar del „Estudio de Impactos Acumulativos Uruguay-Plantas de Celulosa“, de la Corporación Financiera Internacional (CFI/Weltbankgruppe) (Dezember 2005), http://www.greenpeace.org.ar/media/ informes/4903.pdf.

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de Chile und vereinbarten dabei – im Gegenzug für die Aufhebung der bereits über eineinhalb Monate andauernden Sperre der verkehrsgeographisch wichtigen Brücken von Gualeguaychú Puerto Unzué-Fray Bentos/Puente Gral. San Martín und ColónPaysandú/Puente Gral. Artigas sowie sporadisch auch des Übergangs Concordia-Salto durch argentinische Umweltschützer – die Aussetzung der Arbeiten an den beiden Zellulosefabriken um 90 Tage. Am 21. März 2006 hoben die Protestierer die Blockade der Straße 136 (Gualeguaychú-Fray Bentos), und einen Tag später die Besetzer der Brücke Colón-Paysandú ihre Sperre auf, worauf BOTNIA am 27. März 2006 die Einstellung der Bauarbeiten für die nächsten 90 Tage verkündete. Uruguay, das diese Auseinandersetzung mit Argentinien nicht als „Streitfall“ qualifiziert wissen wollte – um damit nicht die damit verbundenen verfahrensrechtlichen Konsequenzen (Beweislastprobleme etc.) tragen zu müssen – lag viel daran, die Kontroverse im Schoß des Flussstatutes des Río Uruguay bzw. im Schoß des MERCOSUR zu halten.40 Jede weitere „Internationalisierung“ kam ihm äußerst ungelegen, vor allem, was die Befassung des IGH betraf.41 Nachdem sich das GTAN bis Ende Jänner 2006 nicht auf eine für beide Streitparteien akzeptable Lösung einigen konnte, setzte Uruguay Argentinien am 22. Februar 2006 davon in Kenntnis, dass es den im „Protokoll von Olivos über die Streitbeilegung im MERCOSUR“42 vom 18. Februar 2002 vorgesehenen Prozess der direkten Verhandlungen zwischen beiden Staaten in Gang setzen werde, brachte bei den im März 2006 tatsächlich begonnenen Direktverhandlungen aber nicht Argumente für die Umweltverträglichkeit der von ihm betriebenen Bauführung vor – die Streitbeilegung im MERCOSUR gilt nämlich nur für Handels-, nicht auch für Umwelt-Streitigkeiten – sondern beschuldigte Argentinien, durch die über 40 Tage andauernde Sperre der beiden wichtigen Verkehrswege über die beiden erwähnten Brücken den Warenverkehr im MERCOSUR empfindlich beeinträchtigt zu haben.43 In diesem Sinne hatte Uruguay Argentinien bereits am 22. Februar 2006 in einer diplomatischen Note mitgeteilt, dass es danach auch den „Ständigen Revisionsgerichtshof“ (Tribunal Permanente de Revisión, TPR) im MERCOSUR44 wegen der Verletzung des Grundsatzes des freien Warenverkehrs anrufen und die Einberufung einer außerordentlichen Sitzung des

40

Vgl. dazu auch N. Oddone, MERCOSUR y Medio Ambiente: Las papeleras que hoy dividen las aguas, März 2006, unveröffentlichtes Manuskript im Besitz des Autors.

41

Présidence, Republique orientale de l´Uruguay, Uruguay demande une réunion du Mercosur: il remettra une lettre au Tribunal de la Haye, 7 avril 2006; Text in: CIJ, Requête introductive d´instance enregistrée au Greffier de la Cour le 4 mai 2006, „Affaire relative à des usines de pâte a papier sur le fleuve Uruguay“ (Dok. XXII).

42

2002 Protocolo de Olivos para la Solución de Controversias en el MERCOSUR, 42 ILM (2003), S. 243 ff.

43

„MERCOSUR: La controversia entre Argentina y Uruguay llega al MERCOSUR“, INTAL (Hrsg.), Carta Mensual, März 2006; „Blockade zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay. Der Dialog so gestört wie der Verkehr“, NZZ, 16. Mäz 2006, S. 4.

44

Das „Tribunal Permanente de Revision“ (TPR) im MERCOSUR wurde am 21. Januar 2004 in Asunción eingerichtet; vgl. dazu W. Hummer, „Neuerungen in lateinamerikanischen und karibischen Integrationsrecht“, in Verfassung und Recht in Übersee (2006), S. 82 ff.

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„Rates des Gemeinsamen Marktes“ (CMC) des MERCOSUR beantragen werde.45 Letzteres Begehren wurde von Argentinien damit beantwortet, dass es darauf hinwies, dass Art. 1 des vorerwähnten Protokolls von Olivos (2002) eindeutig vorsehe, dass neben der einmal gewählten Form der Streitaustragung keine weitere dafür in Anspruch genommen werden könne.

D.

Die Klage Argentiniens vor dem IGH

Am 4. Mai 2006 brachte Argentinien vor dem IGH gegen Uruguay eine Klage wegen Verletzung des Statuts des Flusses Uruguay (1975) ein, in der es Uruguay beschuldigte, am 9. Oktober 2003 – ohne Argentinien zuvor verständigt und konsultiert zu haben – der spanischen Zellulosefabrik ENCE (einseitig) eine Betriebsstättengenehmigung gegeben zu haben.46 Ebenso habe Uruguay am 27. Oktober 2003 einer weiteren Anlage dieser Art namens „Orion“, die vom finnischen Unternehmen Oy Metsä-BOTNIA AB samt eigenem Hafen am Río Uruguay in der Nähe von Fray Bentos errichtet werden soll, eine „Vorläufige Umweltschutzgenehmigung“47 gegeben, ohne Argentinien davon vorab verständigt zu haben. Argentinien habe dagegen noch am gleichen Tag protestiert48 und dabei vorgebracht, dass die Abwässer dieser beiden Anlagen schädliche Auswirkungen auf den Fluss und das von ihm gespeiste Grundwasser haben und damit viele Bewohner im Einzugsgebiet des Río Uruguay nachteilig betreffen würden. Am 14. Februar 2005, knapp vor dem Regierungswechsel in Uruguay im März desselben Jahres, habe auch die finnische Anlage „Orion“ eine Betriebsstättengenehmigung bekommen, ohne dass aber vorher die CARU oder Argentinien davon verständigt worden seien. Trotz der Proteste Argentiniens sei die Bauausführung an beiden Anlagen in der zweiten Jahreshälfte 2005 fortgesetzt worden, wobei der Rohbau der Anlage „Orion“ bereits weit fortgeschritten sei. Im Gegensatz dazu habe die spanische ENCE die Bauausführung ausgesetzt und ein Moratorium von 90 Tagen – bis zum 28. März 2006 – angekündigt. Zuletzt wies Argentinien noch darauf hin, dass Uruguay die Errichtung einer dritten Zellulosefabrik plane, allerdings nicht am Río Uruguay sondern im Landesinneren am Río Negro, der allerdings in den Río Uruguay mündet und damit den Grenzfluss ebenfalls kontaminieren könnte.49

45

Nota 780983 der Tageszeitung La Nación, http://www.lanacion.com.arg.

46

CIJ, Requête introductive d´instance, supra Fn. 41; Prozeßvertreter Argentiniens ist die Botschafterin Susana Myrta Ruiz Cerutti als Agent, die von den Botschaftern Horacio Basabe und Santos Goñi Marenco als Co-Agents unterstützt wird.

47

Autorización Ambiental Prévia (AAP).

48

Nota MREU 226/03 der Botschaft der Republik Argentinien an das Außenministerium von Uruguay vom 27. Oktober 2003.

49

Vgl. „Stora Enso s´ajoute a BOTNIA et a ENCE: l´Uruguay, paradis cellulosique“, 29. September 2005; CIJ, Requête introductive d´instance, supra Fn. 41; „Neue Spannungen am Río de la Plata“, NZZ, 10. April 2006, S. 3.

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Gem. Art. 41 lit. a) des Statuts des Río Uruguay sei auch jede Vertragspartei gehalten, die Wassergüte des Río Uruguay zu schützen und damit jede Verschmutzung zu verhindern, die – in Übereinstimmung mit den technischen Vorgaben – gemäß den anwendbaren völkerrechtlichen Standards unzulässig ist, wobei auch auf die anderen anwendbaren nachbarschafts- und umweltschutzrechtlichen Bestimmungen Rücksicht zu nehmen ist. Dementsprechend verlangt Argentinien von Uruguay nicht nur die genaue Beachtung der Verpflichtungen aus dem Statut des Río Uruguay und sonstigen völkerrechtlichen Vorgaben, sondern auch eventuelle Entschädigungen für konkret zugefügte Schäden: „L´Argentine prie la Cour de dire et juger (1) Que l´Uruguay a manqué aux obligations lui incombant en vertu du Statut de 1975 et des autres règles de droit international auxquelles ce Statut renvoi; (2) Que, par son comportement, l´Uruguay a engagé sa responsabilité internationale à l´égard de l´Argentine; (3) Que l´Uruguay est tenu de cesser son comportement illicite et de respecter scrupuleusement à l´avenir les obligations lui incombant; et (4) Que l´Uruguay est tenu de réparer intégralement le préjudice causé par le nonrespect des obligations lui incombant. “50

Der Grund, warum Argentinien vor dem IGH klagte und sich nicht der – nachstehend noch dazustellenden – Rechtsmittel im Rahmen der Streitbeilegung im MERCOSUR51 bediente, war die Überlegung, dass es sich bei dem gegenständlichen Streitfall um eine wasser- bzw. umweltrechtliche Fragestellung handle, die mit dem Flussstatut des Río Uruguay und nicht mit dem MERCOSUR an sich zu tun habe.52 Im Übrigen gäbe es in der gesamten Rechtsordnung des MERCOSUR keine einzige Norm, die sich auf den Umweltschutz beziehen würde. Die Rechtsgrundlage für die Anrufung des IGH gründete Argentinien dabei auf die Bestimmung des Art. 60 Abs. 1 des Statutes des Río Uruguay vom 26. Februar 1975,53 aufgrund derer jede Vertragspartei den IGH wegen einer Frage zur Auslegung und Anwendung des Flussstatutes unmittelbar anrufen könne, falls es in direkten Verhandlungen zwischen den Streitparteien zu keiner einvernehmlichen Lösung gekommen sein sollte. In diesem Zusammenhang wies Argentinien in seiner Klage ausdrücklich darauf hin, dass es auf insgesamt 12 Treffen der eigens dazu eingerichteten bilateralen „High Level Technical Group“ (GTAN) zwischen dem 3.

50

CIJ, Requête introductive d´instance (Fn. 41), S. 10.

51

Vgl. dazu nachstehend auf S. 886.

52

Vgl. dazu vorstehend auf S. 877 f. und nachstehend auf S. 882.

53

Vgl. supra Fn. 24.

880

WALDEMAR HUMMER

August 2005 und dem 30. Januar 2006 zu keinem entsprechenden Einvernehmen gekommen sei.54 Was die Zusammensetzung des IGH betrifft, so machten beide Streitparteien – da sich unter den fünfzehn Richtern des IGH weder ein argentinischer noch ein uruguayanischer Richter befindet – von ihrem Recht gemäß Art. 31 Abs. 3 IGH-Statut Gebrauch, einen „judex ad hoc“ zu benennen: Argentinien nominierte den Professor für Völkerrecht an der Universität Buenos Aires, Raúl Vinuesa, und Uruguay benannte Torres Bernárdez, den früheren Greffier des IGH, zu seinem „nationalen Richter“.

E.

Der Antrag auf Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung seitens Argentiniens beim IGH

Parallel zu seiner Klage brachte Argentinien am selben Tag auch noch einen Antrag auf den Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung55 beim IGH ein, mittels derer es sowohl eine Suspendierung der Betriebsstättengenehmigung und einen sofortigen Baustopp der Zellulosefabriken Orion und CMB beantragte, als auch Uruguay aufforderte, mit Argentinien eng zusammenzuarbeiten, um die Wassergüte im Flusseinzugsgebiet des Río Uruguay zu erhalten.56 Die einstweilige Verfügung sei deswegen notwendig, um Uruguay daran zu hindern durch sein einseitiges Vorgehen einen „fait accompli“ zu schaffen, der einen nicht wieder gutzumachenden Schaden an der Ökologie des Río Uruguay verursachen würde. Die öffentliche Anhörung der Vorbringen der beiden Streitparteien wurde vom IGH für den 8. und 9. Juni 2006 festgesetzt.57 Bei diesem Anlass erneuerte Argentinien sein Begehren auf Erlass einer vorsorglichen Maßnahme, während Uruguay darauf hinwies, dass die notwendige Voraussetzung für den Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung – nämlich die Abwehr eines unmittelbar drohenden irreparablen Schadens für eine Streitpartei – nicht vorläge. Am 13. Juli 2006 erließ der Gerichtshof seine Entscheidung über das argentinische Begehren auf Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung und stellte mit einer Mehrheit von vierzehn zu einer Stimme fest, „that the circumstances, as they now present themselves to the Court, are not such as to require the exercise of its power under Article 41 of the Statute to indicate provisional measures“.58 Richter Ranjeva fügte der Entscheidung 54

„Argentina institutes proceedings against Uruguay and requests the Court to indicate provisional measures“, ICJ Press Release 2006/17, 4. Mai 2006.

55

Gem. 1945 Statut des Internationalen Gerichtshofs, Art. 41, iVm Art. 73 VerfO.

56

„Demande en indication de mesures conservatoires“, von Argentinien am 4. Mai 2006 beim IGH eingebracht.

57

„The Court will hold public hearings on Thursday 8 and Friday 9 June 2006“; ICJ Press Release 2006/19, 11. Mai 2006.

58

Pulp Mills on the River Uruguay (Argentina v. Uruguay), Request for the indication of provisional measures, Order vom 13 July 2006, General List 135, Rdnr. 87; vgl. auch „The Court finds that the circumstances, as they now present themselves to it, are not such as to require the exercise of its power to indicate provisional measures“, ICJ Press Release 2006/28, 13. Juli 2006.

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des IGH eine „Declaration“ an, die Richter Abraham und Bennouna erließen je eine „separate opinion“ und lediglich der argentinische „judex ad hoc“ Vinuesa stimmte mit der Entscheidung nicht überein und erließ dementsprechend eine „dissenting opinion“. Was die erste Begründungsebene für den Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung betrifft, nämlich den Baubescheid zu sistieren und einen Baustopp zu verfügen, so stellte der IGH fest, dass „there is however nothing in the record to demonstrate that the very decision by Uruguay to authorize the construction of the mills poses an imminent threat of irreparable damage to the aquatic environment of the River Uruguay or to the economic and social interests of the riparian inhabitants on the Argentine side of the river“ (Rdnr. 73). Der IGH fügte dem noch hinzu, dass der Schaden schon allein deswegen nicht als „unmittelbar drohend“ angesehen werden könne, da die beiden Fabriken ihre Produktion nicht vor August 2007 (ORION) bzw. sogar Juni 2008 (ENCE) aufnehmen würden. Der IGH wies Uruguay in diesem Zusammenhang aber unmissverständlich darauf hin, dass es „necessarily bears all risks relating to any finding on the merits that the Court might later make“ und “that the construction of the mills at the current site cannot be deemed to create a fait accompli“ (Rdnr. 78). Was die zweite Argumentationslinie Argentiniens betrifft, so erinnerte der Gerichtshof beide Streitparteien, „that they are required to fulfil their obligations under international law“ (Rdnr. 82) und dass sie unter der Verpflichtung stehen, “to implement in good faith the consultation and co-operation procedures provided for by the 1975 Statute, with CARU constituting the envisaged forum in this regard“ (Rdnr. 82). Da aber der uruguayanische Delegierte im Zuge der öffentlichen Anhörung der Streitparteien glaublich versicherte, dass Uruguay das Statut des Río Uruguay (1975) voll beachten werde und dazu Argentinien auch ein „continuous joint monitoring“ anbot, sah der IGH keinen Grund für den Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung. In seiner „dissenting opinion“ weist der argentinische ad hoc-Richter Raúl Vinuesa gerade auf diesen Umstand hin und stellt dabei fest, Uruguay „has unilaterally recognized its obligations under the 1975 Statute and assured the Court that it will abide by them. I consider that this unilateral commitment should have been complemented by the indication by the majority of the Court of provisional measures aimed at preserving the procedural and substantial rights of both Parties to full implementation of the joint machinery provided for under Chapter II of the 1975 Statute. For that purpose, the majority of the Court should have indicated, as a provisional measure, the temporary suspension of the construction of the mills until Uruguay notifies the Court of its fulfilment of the above mentioned Statute obligations“.59 Vinuesa weist auch noch darauf hin, dass das finnische Orión-Projekt bereits Mitte 2007 in Betrieb gehen wird – zu einem Zeitpunkt also, zu dem das Urteil des IGH in der Hauptsache sicherlich noch nicht vorliegen wird. Dass dies der Fall sein wird bestätigte der IGH in seiner weiteren Entscheidung vom gleichen Tag selbst, in der er nämlich die Zeitpunkte für die Abgabe der ent-

59

Pulp Mills on the River Uruguay (Argentina v. Uruguay), supra Fn 58, Richter ad hoc Raúl Vinuesa (Dissenting opinion), S. 6.

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WALDEMAR HUMMER

sprechenden Schriftsätze für das Hauptverfahren wie folgt festlegte:60 Argentinien hatte sein „Memorial“ bis spätestens 15. Jänner 2007 beim Greffier des Gerichtshofes einzubringen, während Uruguay für seine Gegenäußerung („Counter-Memorial“) eine Frist bis zum 20. Juli 2007 gesetzt wurde. In einer weiteren Entscheidung vom 14. September 200761 ließ der IGH eine Erwiderung (Reply) Argentiniens und eine Gegenstellungnahme dazu (Rejoinder) bis zum 29. Jänner 2008 bzw. zum 29. Juli 2008 zu. Damit wird tatsächlich (zumindest) eine Zellulosefabrik, nämlich ORION, bereits ihren Vollbetrieb aufgenommen haben, ohne dass der IGH in der Hauptsache entschieden haben wird.

F.

Die Klage Uruguays vor dem Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht im MERCOSUR

Im Gegensatz zu Argentinien, das den Streit über den Bau der beiden Zellulosefabriken ja als wasser- bzw. umweltschutzrechtliches Problem ansieht, das nach dem Flussstatut des Río Uruguay (1975) und nicht nach irgendeiner Norm des MERCOSUR abzuhandeln ist, stellen die Blockademaßnahmen argentinischer Umweltschutzaktivisten auf den Zufahrtsstraßen zu den Standorten der beiden Fabriksanlagen von ENCE und BOTNIA für Uruguay eine klare Verletzung der freien Mobilität von Waren und Dienstleistungen dar, die sehr wohl unter den Anwendungsbereich des Vertrags von Asunción vom 26. März 199162 fallen, aber auch das „Protokoll von Montevideo über den Dienstleistungshandel im MERCOSUR“63 vom 15. Dezember 1997 beeinträchtigen.64 Dementsprechend schlug Uruguay (zunächst) den Weg der Streitbeilegung im MERCOSUR auf der Basis des vorerwähnten „Protokolls von Olivos“ (2002) ein. Damit wurden – völlig zeitgleich – von denselben Streitparteien (Argentinien und Uruguay) zwei völlig unterschiedliche Verfahren vor zwei völlig unterschiedlichen 60

„Pulp Mills on the River Uruguay (Argentina v. Uruguay), Fixing of time-limits for the filing of the initial pleadings“, ICJ Press Release 2006/29, 17. Juli 2006.

61

Pulp Mills on the River Uruguay (Argentina v. Uruguay), Order vom 14. September 2007, General List No. 135; vgl. dazu „Pulp Mills on the River Uruguay (Argentina v. Uruguay) – The Court authorizes the submission of a Reply by Argentina and a rejoinder by Uruguay and fixes time-limits for the filing of these pleadings“, ICJ Press Release 2007/20, 17. September 2007.

62

1997 Protokoll von Montevideo über den Dienstleistungshandel im MERCOSUR, 30 ILM (1991), S. 1041 ff; deutsche Übersetzung in: Max Planck-Institut für ausländisches und internationales Privatrechts (Hrsg.), Rechtsquellen des MERCOSUR, Bd. I (2000), S. 19 ff.; Der Vertrag von Asunción trat am 29. November 1991 in Kraft.

63

1997 Protocolo de Montevideo sobre el Comercio de Servicios del MERCOSUR.

64

„En este caso se trata de un problema netamente derivado del incumplimiento de una norma mercosuriana referida a la libre circulación“; A. Pastori Filliol, „La (no) aplicación del Laudo del Tribunal Ad hoc del MERCOSUR sobre libre circulación en la controversia entre Uruguay y Argentina“, in W. Hummer (Hrsg.), Cooperación y Conflicto en el MERCOSUR (2007), S. 188; W. Hummer/A. Schmid, „Liberalização do Comércio de Serviços no MERCOSUL e na Comunidade Andina à luz do Artigo V GATS“, in: W. Hummer (Hrsg.), MERCOSUR y Unión Europea (2008), S. 235 ff.

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(Schieds-)Gerichten anhängig gemacht: Argentinien klagte Uruguay am 4. Mai 2006 vor dem IGH wegen der Verletzung des Flussstatuts des Río Uruguay, während Uruguay einen Tag vorher Argentinien vor dem Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht im MERCOSUR wegen Verletzung des Prinzips der freien Mobilität der Produktionsfaktoren im MERCOSUR geklagt hatte. Am 3. Mai 2006 brachte Uruguay vor dem Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht im MERCOSUR eine Klage gegen Argentinien wegen der Nichtbeseitigung der Straßensperren auf den internationalen Brücken General San Martín und General Artigas, die wichtige Zugangsrouten von und zu den beiden Zellulosefabriken in Fray Bentos sind, ein, und berief sich dabei auf die Verletzung der „Marktfreiheiten“ des Waren- und Dienstleistungsverkehrs im Vertrag von Asunción (1991). Das Dreierschiedsgericht, das ursprünglich aus Luis Martí Mingarro (Spanien), José María Gamio (Uruguay) und Héctor Masnatta (Argentinien) zusammengesetzt war, konnte Martí Mingarro nicht definitiv zu seinem Präsidenten wählen, da der argentinische Schiedsrichter Masnatta darauf hinwies, dass Mingarro als Spanier dieselbe Staatsangehörigkeit wie die streitverfangene Zellulosefabrik ENCE habe, sodass er wegen Befangenheit als Vorsitzender nicht in Frage komme. Das mit dieser Frage befasste Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR erklärte in seinem Spruch 2/2006 vom 6. Juli 2006 das argentinische Begehren allerdings für unzulässig und sah sich damit außerstande, über eine eventuelle Befangenheit des spanischen Schiedsrichters zu urteilen. Daraufhin legte Masnatta seine Funktion zurück und wurde durch seinen Stellvertreter, Enrique Carlos Barreira (Argentinien), ersetzt.65 In seinem Schiedsspruch vom 7. September 2007, der einstimmig erging, stellte das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht zunächst fest, dass es für die gegenständliche Streitsache zuständig sei. Danach machte es sich großteils die uruguayanische Rechtsansicht zu eigen, dass Argentinien nicht die nötige Sorgfalt habe walten lassen, um – durch die Beseitigung der Straßensperren – die im MERCOSUR garantierte freie Mobilität von Waren und Dienstleistungen zwischen den beiden Nachbarstaaten (wieder) herzustellen. Gleichzeitig stellte es in diesem Zusammenhang aber fest, dass die argentinische Regierung dabei nicht „mala fide“ vorgegangen sei (Nummer 141 und 142 des Schiedsspruchs). Zuletzt wies es aber die uruguayanische Forderung zurück, Argentinien im Falle seiner Verurteilung entsprechend zu sanktionieren sowie ihm zukünftige Verhaltens- bzw. Unterlassungsregeln vorzuschreiben. Aufgrund dieser Unschlüssigkeit, nämlich zum einen Argentinien wegen eines Verstoßes gegen grundlegende Normen des MERCOSUR zu verurteilen, ohne ihm aber zum anderen aufzutragen, die Blockaden sofort zu entfernen und auch die zukünftige Errichtung weiterer Straßensperren zu untersagen, wurde der Schiedsspruch in der Öffentlichkeit auch als „salomonisch“66 qualifiziert. Aber auch aus einem anderen Grund bleiben die Konsequenzen dieses Schiedsspruchs unbestimmt. Da der Schiedsspruch ja nur eine (abstrakte) Feststellung des Verstoßes 65

Vgl. Z. Drnas de Clément/W. Hummer, „Problemas ambientales en el Río Uruguay. El caso de las pasteras (Argentina v. Uruguay)“, in W. Hummer (Hrsg.), Cooperación y Conflicto en el MERCOSUR (2007), S. 124.

66

„El conflicto con Uruguay: fallo salomónico de un tribunal regional“, La Nación, 7. September 2006.

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WALDEMAR HUMMER

der Republik Argentinien gegen eine Bestimmung des Vertrages von Asunción (1991) enthält, aber keine wie immer gearteten weiteren (konkreten) Verpflichtungen Argentiniens stipuliert,67 kann gefolgert werden, dass Argentinien diesen Schiedsspruch – etwa durch Nichtbefolgung – gar nicht (meritorisch) verletzen kann.68 Dann wäre aber die, nachstehend noch näher auszuführende,69 Möglichkeit der retorsiven Ergreifung von „kompensatorischen Maßnahmen“ gem. Art. 31 PO durch Uruguay – wegen einer etwaigen Nicht- oder Mindererfüllung des Schiedsspruches durch Argentinien – gar nicht gegeben, die aber in der Literatur durchaus als Alternative angedacht wird.70 Die vom integrationsrechtlichen Standpunkt aus interessanteste Feststellung des Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts im MERCOSUR verdient allerdings besondere Beachtung. Es geht dabei um die Frage, ob im MERCOSUR tatsächlich bereits ein Raum der freien Mobilität der Produktionsfaktoren Waren und Kapital iSe „Binnenmarkts“ europäischer Prägung ausgebildet ist oder nicht. Wenn nämlich die Behinderung von Transportdienstleistungen – die durch die Straßensperren argentinischer Umweltaktivisten ohne Zweifel erfolgte – als „Maßnahme gleicher Wirkung wie eine mengenmäßige Beschränkung“ angesehen wird, sodass damit sowohl die Dienstleistungs- als auch die Warenverkehrsfreiheit eingeschränkt wird, dann befindet man sich im MERCOSUR – ohne dass man dies vielleicht bereits bis in die letzte Konsequenz bereits durchdacht hat – in einem veritablen „Binnenmarkt“ oder zumindest doch in einem „binnenmarktähnlichen Gebilde“. Sollte das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht dann auch noch der Überzeugung sein, dass die Behinderungen der freien Mobilität der Produktionsfaktoren nicht nur durch staatliches Handeln, sondern wie im „Binnenmarkt“ in der EU auch durch Private gesetzt werden können, dann steht einem Analogieschluss vom „Binnenmarkt“ zum MERCOSUR rechtsdogmatisch nichts mehr im Wege. In dieser entscheidenden und vor allem für den europäischen Leser interessanten Frage sind die Würdigungen der Parteienvorbringen sowie die eigenen Erwägungen des Ad hoc-Tribunals bedauerlicherweise nicht (ganz) schlüssig. So qualifizierte Uruguay in seiner Beschwerde den MERCOSUR (bereits) als „Gemeinsamen Markt“ (mercado común), in dem die freie Mobilität von Gütern, Dienstleistungen und sonstigen Produktionsfaktoren hergestellt sei, die ua durch die Eliminierung von nicht-zollgleichen Beschränkungen (restricciones no arancelarias) und Maßnahmen gleicher Wirkung (de cualquier otra medida equivalente) erreicht wurde (Nummer 22 des Schiedsspruchs). Gleichzeitig bezeichnete Uruguay aber an anderer Stelle den MERCOSUR als (bloße) Freihandelszone (zona de libre comercio), die zum 1. Jänner 2000 eingerichtet wurde (Nummer 23 und 24). Argentinien wiederum verwies in seiner Gegenschrift darauf, dass unter nicht-zollgleichen Beschränkungen im MERCOSUR nur solche Maßnahmen zu verstehen sind, die seitens des Staates als Hoheitsträger, nicht aber von Privaten, gesetzt werden (Nummer 45 und 46). 67

So wie dies normalerweise in den Schiedssprüchen der Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichte im MERCOSUR verfügt wird.

68

Drnas de Clément/Hummer, supra Fn. 65, S. 132 f.

69

Vgl. dazu nachstehend auf S. 886, 888.

70

Vgl. Pastori Fillol, supra Fn. 64, S. 198 ff.

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Um diesen schwierigen ordopolitischen Einordnungsfragen der aktuellen Ausprägungsform des MERCOSUR als regionale Präferenzzone zu entgehen, verfiel das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht auf den genialen „Trick“, die wirtschaftliche Integration im MERCOSUR sowohl als „Situation“ als auch als „Prozess“ zu bezeichnen (Nummer 103) und diesbezüglich darauf hinzuweisen, dass sich – im Sinne eines „Prozesses“ – der MERCOSUR in einer ständigen Fortentwicklung (in Richtung auf einen „Gemeinsamen Markt“ hin) befinde, er aber als „Situation“ seit Anfang Jänner 2000 (lediglich) eine Freihandelszone darstelle (Nummer 104). Etwas später stellt das Schiedsgericht in seinem Schiedsspruch fest, dass man keinen „Gemeinsamen Markt“ errichten könne, ohne dass zugleich den Produktionsfaktoren freie Mobilität eingeräumt werde (Nummer 108). Knapp danach stellte das Schiedsgericht allerdings fest, dass die Straßensperren argentinischer Umweltschützer keine „Beschränkungen nicht-zollgleicher Wirkung“ im engeren Sinn darstellen (Nummer 109). Zuletzt stellte das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht auf die Bestimmung des Art. 1 Abs. 2 des Vertrages von Asunción (1991) und auf Art. 2 lit. b) der Anlage I zu diesem Vertrag ab, der eine Verpflichtung zur Herbeiführung der freien Mobilität von Gütern und Dienstleistungen enthält und qualifizierte diese Bestimmung überraschenderweise auch noch als unmittelbar anwendbar. Trotzdem wies es expressis verbis die von Argentinien vorgebrachten möglichen Analogien zu der an sich einschlägigen Judikatur des EuGH in den Rs. C-265/95, Kommission/Frankreich71 und Rs. C-112/00, Schmidberger72 zurück und begründete dies zum einen damit, dass das Recht des MERCOSUR, im Gegensatz zum supranationalen Gemeinschaftsrecht, nur intergouvernementalen Charakter habe, und es sich zum anderen dabei um solche Fälle handle, die sich durch besondere Eigenheiten auszeichnen (Nummer 150).

G.

Prozedurale Alternativen Uruguays bei Nichtbefolgung des Schiedsspruchs durch Argentinien

Gemäß Art. 26 Abs. 1 Protokoll von Olivos (PO) sind die Schiedssprüche der Ad hocSchiedsgerichte für die Streitparteien bindend und erwachsen in Rechtskraft, soferne sie nicht innerhalb von 15 Tagen nach ihrer Notifikation an die Parteien gem. Art. 17 Abs. 1 PO beim Ständigen Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR angefochten werden. Sie sind gem. Art. 27 in der Form und in dem Umfang zu erfüllen, wie sie dies selber anordnen. Eine etwaig retorsiv verhängte Ausgleichsmaßnahme73 steht, wie vorstehend erwähnt, der Pflicht zur ordnungsgemäßen Erfüllung des Schiedsspruchs nicht entgegen. Falls Argentinien den Schiedsspruch des Ad hoc-Tribunals nicht oder nicht ordnungsgemäß erfüllen sollte, stehen Uruguay bzw. seinen Staatsangehörigen verfahrensrechtlich an sich folgende vier Möglichkeiten offen, um Argentinien doch noch 71

Kommission v. Frankreich, EuGH, Rs. C-265/95, Slg. 1997, S. I-6959 ff.

72

Eugen Schmidberger v. Republik Österreich, EuGH, Rs. C-112/00, Slg. 2003, S. I-5659 ff.; ein uruguayanischer Autor spricht in diesem Zusammenhang von einer „ingenua mención“ dieser Rechtssache durch Argentinien; Pastori Fillol, supra Fn. 64, S. 195.

73

Vgl. dazu nachstehend auf S. 888.

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WALDEMAR HUMMER

zu einer Befolgung des Schiedsspruchs zu zwingen bzw. Schadenersatz für dessen Nichterfüllung zu verlangen. (1) Zum einen stünde Uruguay die Möglichkeit offen, gem. Art. 30 PO ein (weiteres) Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht im MERCOSUR oder das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR anzurufen, um letzteres mit einer Beschwerde wegen einer solchen Nicht- bzw. Mindererfüllung des Schiedsspruchs zu befassen. (2) Zum anderen hätte Uruguay die im PO vorgesehene Möglichkeit der Ergreifung kompensatorischer Ausgleichsmaßnahmen (Art. 31 PO) aktivieren können, wobei gem. Art. 27 PO die Verhängung solcher retorsiver Maßnahmen den durch den Schiedsspruch verpflichtenden Staat nicht davon befreien würde, diesen ordnungsgemäß zu erfüllen. (3) Von der Nichterfüllung des Schiedsspruchs durch Argentinien direkt betroffene Privatrechtssubjekte – natürliche oder juristische Personen – hätten vor argentinischen Gerichten auf Schadenersatz klagen können. (4) Uruguay schöpfte diese ihm im Rahmen des MERCOSUR zur Verfügung gestandenen Möglichkeiten aber überraschenderweise74 nicht aus, sondern beantragte beim IGH den Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung gegen Argentinien.75 (5) Denkmöglich wäre natürlich auch, auf nicht-justizförmige Streitbeilegungsmechanismen zu rekurrieren, wie zB auf das Anbieten von „guten Diensten“, einer „Vermittlung“ oder sogar das Abführen eines „Vergleichsverfahrens“.

1.

Retorsionsmaßnahmen im MERCOSUR gemäß dem „Protokoll von Olivos“ (2002)

Argentinien erklärte die auch nach dem Ergehen des Schiedsspruches anhaltenden Straßensperren nicht für rechtswidrig und forderte daher auch die blockierenden Gruppen von Umweltschützern nicht zu deren Beseitigung auf. Geht man davon aus, dass es sich dabei nicht um jeweils „neue“ Verletzungen des Rechts auf freie Mobilität von Waren- und Dienstleistungen im MERCOSUR, sondern sehr wohl um eine Verletzung des Schiedsspruches selbst handelt, könnten in diesem Zusammenhang von der begünstigten Partei Retorsionsmaßnahmen ergriffen werden, die gem. dem PO in folgende zwei Kategorien zerfallen.

74

„Sorprendentemente el Uruguay descartó las opciones de cuño mercosuriano […]“; Pastori Fillol, supra Fn. 64, S. 209. Pastori selbst führt diesen Umstand auf die uruguayanische Ansicht einer offensichtlichen Aussichtslosigkeit dieser Möglichkeiten zur Erzwingung der Befolgung des Schiedsspruchs durch Argentinien zurück (S. 199).

75

Vgl. dazu A. Pastori, „La ejecución de las sentencias y laudos en la integración. Análisis comparativo de los distintos procedimientos previstos en la Unión Europea y en el MERCOSUR“, Cuadernos de Integración Europea Nr. 5 Relaciones UE-MERCOSUR, Centro de Documentación Europea, Universidad de Valencia, (2006), S. 61 ff.

43 – ARGENTINIEN VS URUGUAY – EIN MEHRFRONTENKAMPF

a.

887

Befassung eines Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts oder des Ständigen Revisionsgerichts im MERCOSUR

Gem. Art. 29 Abs. 3 PO hat die zur Unterlassung oder Leistung verpflichtete Partei nicht nur den Streitgegner, sondern auch die „Gruppe Gemeinsamer Markt“ (Grupo Mercado Común, GMC) davon zu verständigen, welche Maßnahmen sie zur Erfüllung des Schiedsspruchs getroffen hat. Erfüllt nun die unterlegene Streitpartei den Schiedsspruch nicht ordnungsgemäß, oder ergeben sich zwischen beiden Streitparteien Meinungsverschiedenheiten hinsichtlich der ordnungsgemäßen Erfüllung desselben, dann räumt Art. 30 PO der begünstigten Partei die Möglichkeit ein, innerhalb von 30 Tagen nach der Notifikation der durch die verpflichtete Partei ergriffenen Maßnahmen entweder ein (weiteres) Ad hoc- Schiedsgericht oder das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR anzurufen, wobei deren (inappellable) Entscheidung wiederum innerhalb von 30 Tagen ergehen muss. Wie diese Voraussetzungen zweifelsfrei belegen, setzt Art. 30 PO begrifflich – arg. „Meinungsverschiedenheiten hinsichtlich der ordnungsgemäßen Erfüllung“ – voraus, dass die verpflichtete Partei irgendeine Maßnahme zur Erfüllung des Schiedsspruchs gesetzt hat, sodass dieser Artikel für den Fall der völligen Inaktivität seitens der verpflichteten Streitpartei an sich leer läuft, außer man „fingiert“ die Inaktivität als eben gerade die seitens des verpflichteten Staates „gesetzte Maßnahme“ iSe impliziten Nichterfüllung des Schiedsspruchs.76 Es muss sich beim verurteilenden Erkenntnis aber immer, wie vorstehend bereits ausgeführt,77 um eine Verpflichtung zur Unterlassung oder Vornahme einer Handlung handeln, nicht aber um eine bloße Feststellung, dass eine Rechtsverletzung stattgefunden hat. Der eigentliche Sinn von Art. 30 PO ist der, die begünstigte Partei von einer selbständigen Qualifikation einer „nicht ausreichenden“ Erfüllung des Schiedsspruchs und der darauf folgenden Setzung von Retaliationsmaßnahmen abzuhalten, indem ein Schiedsgericht „dazwischengeschaltet“ wird, das über die ordnungsgemäße Erfüllung des Schiedsspruchs zu entscheiden hat. Konsequenterweise ist Art. 30 PO dementsprechend auch in das Kapitel VIII „Schiedssprüche“ und nicht in das Kapitel IX „Kompensatorische Maßnahmen“ des Protokolls von Olivos (2002) eingefügt worden.

b.

Verhängung „kompensatorischer Maßnahmen“ durch Uruguay

Gem. Art. 31 PO steht der begünstigen Streitpartei im Falle einer Nicht- oder bloßen Mindererfüllung des Schiedsspruchs78 aber auch noch – und zwar durchaus parallel79 zur Möglichkeit, die Art. 30 PO eröffnet – die Alternative offen, temporär „kompensa76

Vgl. dazu Pastori, supra Fn. 64, S. 202 f.

77

Vgl. dazu vorstehend auf S. 884.

78

Vgl. dazu aber vorstehend auf S. 886.

79

„[...] independientemente de recurrir a los procedimientos del artículo 30 […]“, Art. 31, Abs. 1 PO.

888

WALDEMAR HUMMER

torische Maßnahmen“ (medidas compensatorias) zu ergreifen, die entweder auf dem gleichen Gebiet angesiedelt sein müssen, oder aber auch den Charakter einer „cross retaliation“80 haben können, falls dies aus Praktikabilitäts- oder Effektivitätsgründen der Fall sein muss. Die „kompensatorischen Maßnahmen“ müssen mindestens 15 Tage vor ihrer Ergreifung angekündigt werden. Sollte die von den „kompensatorischen Maßnahmen“ getroffene verpflichtete Partei diese für „überschießend“ halten, kann sie gem. Art. 32 Abs. 2 PO innerhalb von 15 Tagen nach Verhängung derselben entweder ein Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht im MERCOSUR oder das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR damit befassen, wobei die Gerichte innerhalb eines Zeitraums von 30 Tagen nach deren Konstituierung verpflichtend zu entscheiden haben. Um die „Verhältnismäßigkeit“ der verhängten „kompensatorischen Maßnahmen“ bewerten zu können,81 gibt in diesem Zusammenhang Art. 32 Abs. 2 lit. ii) PO ua folgende Kriterien vor: das Volumen oder der Wert des Handels im betroffenen Sektor sowie jeder andere wirtschaftliche Nachteil, der der Ausgestaltung des Umfangs oder des Niveaus der „kompensatorischen Maßnahmen“ zugrunde gelegt wurde. Einem entsprechend korrigierenden Erkenntnis des Gerichts hat der die kompensatorischen Maßnahmen verhängende Staat innerhalb von 10 Tagen nachzukommen.

2.

Klagen vor argentinischen Gerichten durch betroffene Private

Wie aus diesen Ausführungen ersichtlich ist, nützen die Retaliationsmaßnahmen lediglich dem (begünstigten) Staat, nicht aber dessen Staatsangehörigen bzw. Fremden, die in diesem leben, die unter Umständen durch die nicht ordnungsgemäße Erfüllung des Schiedsspruches Schaden erleiden können. Daher können von einer Nichterfüllung betroffene natürliche und juristische Personen ihr Recht durchaus auch vor den nationalen Gerichten des unbotmäßigen Staates suchen, das heißt in unserem Fall, vor argentinischen Gerichten klagen. Das Klagspetitum kann sich dabei nicht nur auf die Nichterfüllung des Schiedsspruchs beziehen, sondern auch, ganz allgemein, eine Verletzung des MERCOSUR-Rechts rügen, dh denselben Verstoß geltend machen, hinsichtlich dessen schon das schiedsgerichtliche Verfahren angestrengt wurde. Auch eine Kombination beider Klagebegehren ist möglich. Solche Klagen von Privatrechtssubjekten können auch dann eingebracht werden, wenn vom begünstigten Staat bereits „kompensatorische Maßnahmen“ gegen den Verletzterstaat eingebracht wurden. Zuletzt ist aber noch die denkmögliche Alternative zu erwähnen, dass im Verletzerstaat vor dessen Gerichten durch eigene Staatsangehörige geklagt wird, nämlich dann, wenn es sich um eine „cross-retaliation“ handelt, die in einem anderen Wirtschaftssektor gesetzt wird, als in demjenigen, in dem die Schädigung durch die Nichterfüllung des Schiedsspruchs erfolgte. Eine solche „cross-retaliation“ kann nämlich Private treffen, die mit der Auseinandersetzung an sich nichts zu tun haben und aus der rechtswidrigen

80

Vgl. dazu nachstehend auf S. 889.

81

Für das Prinzip der „Verhältnismäßigkeit“ im Rahmen der WTO siehe M. Andenas/S. Zleptnig, „Proportionality: WTO-Law: In Comparative Perspective“, 2007 Texas International Law Journal, S. 371 ff.; vgl. dazu auch nachstehend auf S. 889.

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Vorgangsweise ihres Heimatstaates auch keinen Gewinn gezogen haben, da sie in einem ganz anderen Wirtschaftssektor als dem streitverfangenen tätig sind.82

3.

Stellung eines Antrags auf einstweilige Verfügung beim IGH

Wie vorstehend bereits erwähnt, entschied sich Uruguay überraschenderweise nicht dazu, diese im Schoß des MERCOSUR aufgrund des Protokolls von Olivos (2002) zur Verfügung stehenden Beschwerde- bzw. Klagsmöglichkeiten zu ergreifen, sondern vor den IGH zu gehen, um dort eine einstweilige Verfügung zu erwirken. Nach Aussage eines Insiders war dieser Paradigmenwechsel auf die Beratung nordamerikanischer law firms zurückzuführen, die die uruguayanische Regierung in dieser Angelegenheit juristisch unterstützt haben, und schon den Erfolg der ersten Abweisung des argentinischen Antrags auf eine einstweilige Verfügung vom 13. Juli 200683 für sich verbuchen konnten.84 Dieser Wechsel von der schiedsgerichtlichen Streitbeilegung im MERCOSUR zur gerichtlichen im Schoß des IGH wurde seitens uruguayanischer Autoren heftig kritisiert. Uruguay hatte vor dem Ad hoc-Tribunal im MERCOSUR einen vollen Erfolg erzielen können, das in seinem Schiedsspruch die Blockadeaktivitäten argentinischer Umweltschützer als rechtswidrig bezeichnete. Danach wären ihm im Falle einer Nichtbefolgung des Schiedsspruchs entweder die vorstehend erwähnten Möglichkeiten der Befassung eines Ad hoc-Tribunals bzw. des Ständigen Revisionsgerichts im MERCOSUR gem. Art. 30 PO oder die Verhängung „kompensatorischer Maßnahmen“ gem. Art. 31 PO zur Verfügung gestanden. Daneben konnte Uruguay auf ein positives Gutachten der Weltbank – bei der die uruguayanische Regierung um die Gewährung eines Kredits für den Bau der beiden Zellstofffabriken interveniert hatte – hinsichtlich der Umweltverträglichkeit beider Fabriken verweisen und sich auch auf das Erkenntnis des IGH vom 13. Juli 2006 stützen, das die Fortsetzung des Baues der beiden Zelluloseanlagen ausdrücklich erlaubt hatte. Unter Zuhilfenahme eines anschaulichen Vergleichs aus dem Fußballsport stellt ein uruguayanischer Autor hinsichtlich des Vorgehens seiner Regierung fest, dass Uruguay – obwohl es gegen Argentinien bereits 3:0 führte – unbedingt noch ein viertes Tor schießen wollte, sich dabei aber selbst „überdribbelte“, indem es vor den IGH ging.85 Seinem Antrag auf Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung war nämlich kein Erfolg beschieden, wie nachstehend aufzuzeigen sein wird. Uruguay beantragte am 29. November 2006 beim IGH den Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung,86 und brachte dabei vor, dass seit dem 20. November organisierte Gruppen argentinischer Umweltaktivisten alle Flussübergänge über den Grenzfluss Río Uruguay 82

Vgl. dazu Pastori Fillol, supra Fn. 64, S. 209.

83

Vgl. dazu vorstehend auf S. 881.

84

Vgl. Pastori Fillol, supra Fn. 64, S. 210.

85

Pastori Fillol, supra Fn. 64, S. 210.

86

„Pulp Mills on the River Uruguay (Argentina v. Uruguay) – Uruguay submits a request for the indication of provisional measures – Public hearings to open on Monday 18 December 2006“, ICJ Press Release Nr. 2006/40, 29 November 2006.

890

WALDEMAR HUMMER

verbarrikadiert und damit den gesamten Reise- und Güterverkehr zwischen den beiden Nachbarstaaten unterbrochen hätten. Gleichzeitig beschuldigte es Argentinien, diese rechtswidrigen Blockaden bewusst zu dulden, um damit die Errichtung der beiden Anlagen zur Zellstofferzeugung zu behindern. An vorsorglichen Maßnahmen verlangte Uruguay vom IGH, dass er Argentinien ultimativ auffordere, die Straßenblockaden über die internationalen Brücken über den Río Uruguay sofort zu beenden. Des Weiteren beantragte es, dass Argentinien alle (weiteren) Maßnahmen zu unterlassen habe, die die ohnehin schon sehr angespannte Situation noch weiter verschärfen könnten. Argentinien dürfe auch keine Aktivitäten setzen, die die Rechte Uruguays, die gegenwärtig vor dem IGH in Diskussion stünden, beeinträchtigen könnten. Die öffentliche Verhandlung vor dem IGH fand am 18. und 19. Dezember 2006 statt, in der Argentinien die Kompetenz des IGH im allgemeinen und diejenige zum Erlass einer einstweiligen Verfügung im speziellen bestritt, wobei es darauf hinwies, dass die beantragten vorsorglichen Maßnahmen keinen Bezug zum streitverfangenen Flussstatut des Río Uruguay (1975) hätten. Uruguay wiederum behauptete, dass sehr wohl ein kausaler Konnex vorliege, und beharrte auf seinem Begehren auf Erlass vorsorglicher Maßnahmen. Am 23. Jänner 2007 entschied der IGH – mit 14 Stimmen gegen eine Stimme87 – „that the circumstances, as they now present themselves to the Court, are not such as to require the exercise of its power under Art. 41 of the Statute to indicate provisional measures“88. Damit gab er zu verstehen, dass es Uruguay nicht gelungen sei, eine unmittelbar drohende Gefahr und einen damit verbundenen nicht wieder gutzumachenden Schaden nachzuweisen (Rdnr. 50),89 so wie dies seiner ständigen Judikatur für die Verhängung einstweiliger Verfügungen entspreche. Die Richter Koroma und Buergenthal gaben kurze „separate opinions“ ab, wohingegen der uruguayanische Richter ad hoc, Torres Bernárdez, wie vorstehend bereits erwähnt, eine „dissenting opinion“ deponierte.

4.

Indienstnahme des spanischen Königs Juan Carlos I. als „facilitador“

Zuletzt wäre noch eine nicht-justizförmige Form der Austragung des nachbarrechtlichen Konflikts zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay zur Verfügung gestanden, die sich am XVI. Ibero-Amerikanischen Gipfeltreffen in Montevideo am 4. und 5. Oktober 2006 angebahnt hatte. Im Zuge dieses Gipfelgesprächs ersuchte der argentinische Staatspräsident Nestor Kirchner den spanischen König Juan Carlos I., als diploma87

Die Gegenstimme stammte vom uruguayanischen Richter ad hoc Torres Bernárdez.

88

Pulp Mills on the River Uruguay (Argentina v. Uruguay), Provisional measures, Order vom 23. Jänner 2007, General List No. 135, Rdnr. 56; vgl. dazu „Pulp Mills on the River Uruguay (Argentina v. Uruguay) – The Court finds that the circumstances, as they now present themselves to it, are not such as to require the exercise of its power to indicate provisional measures“, ICJ Press Release 2007/2, 23. Jänner 2007.

89

Vgl. dazu den Kurzkommentar von A. F. Mac Donald, „El conflicto de las papeleras. Los efectos jurídicos y económicos del fallo de La Haya a favor de la Argentina“, Derecho mercosur abc, 5. Februar 2007.

43 – ARGENTINIEN VS URUGUAY – EIN MEHRFRONTENKAMPF

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tischer „facilitador“ in diesem Streit zur Verfügung zu stehen – und dies, obwohl eine der strittigen Zellulosefabriken, nämlich ENCE, ein spanisches Unternehmen ist. Der uruguyanische Präsident Tabaré Vázquez stimmte dieser Vorgangsweise nachträglich ausdrücklich zu. Vor dieser Kontaktnahme war bereits daran gedacht worden, die Mediation Brasiliens in Anspruch zu nehmen, was von diesem Staat aber bereits im Vorfeld eines eventuellen Ersuchens informell zurückgewiesen wurde. König Juan Carlos I. akzeptierte diesen Wunsch beider Streitparteien und ernannte den Ständigen Vertreter Spaniens bei den Vereinten Nationen, Botschafter Juan Antonio Yáñez, zu seinem Stellvertreter.90 Die Wortwahl als „facilitador“ ließ sein Mandat (bewusst) offen, sodass es sich dabei weder um „gute Dienste“, noch um eine „Vermittlung“ oder gar um ein „Vergleichsverfahren“91 im engeren Sinn sondern vielmehr um eine nicht genau umschriebene Funktion eines Mediators bzw. „gobetween“ zwischen den beiden Streitparteien handelte, der als ehrlicher Makler eine Lösung „erleichtern“ (facilitar) sollte.92 Die im Zuge dieser Schlichtungsbemühungen des spanischen Königs vorgeschlagenen Maßnahmen – wie zB die Errichtung eines Abzugsgrabens, der die (unter Umständen) kontaminierten Abwässer der beiden Zellstofffabriken erst wieder mehrere hundert Kilometer (!) flussabwärts in den Río Uruguay einspeisen sollte, oder den Bau einer künstlichen Insel in der Mitte des Flusses, die als „ökologischer Paravent“ den Blick von den Stränden von Gualeguaychú auf die Schlote der beiden Fabriken verstellen sollte, sowie die Einsetzung einer speziellen Beobachter- und Monitoring-Kommission – erwiesen sich im Grunde allesamt als undurchführbar. Eine Entscheidung, die ebenfalls den Vermittlungsbemühungen des spanischen Königs Juan Carlos I. zugeschrieben wird,93 verdient allerdings Beachtung. Am 12. Dezember 2006 verkündete der Präsident der spanischen Zellulosefirma ENCE, Juan Luis Arregui, die Verlegung des Standortes der Anlage von Fray Bentos nach Punta Pereyra, 250 Km stromabwärts vom bisherigen Standort. Damit liegt die nunmehrige Anlage von ENCE genau am Übergang des Regimes des „Río Uruguay“ in das des „Río de la Plata“.94 Als „Kompensation“ für die Verlegung des Standorts der Anlage wird ENCE in Zukunft erlaubt, eine Mio. t im Gegensatz zu bisher bloß 500.000 t, die für das Werk in Fray Bentos geplant waren, zu produzieren. ENCE wird sich bei der 90

Vgl. Drnas de Clément/Hummer, supra Fn. 65, S. 118, Fn. 48.

91

Vgl. H.-P. Neuhold, „Die Grundregeln der zwischenstaatlichen Beziehungen“, in H.-P. Neuhold/W. Hummer/C. Schreuer (Hrsg.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts (2004), S. 373 f.

92

Kommentatoren sprechen in diesem Zusammenhang hinsichtlich der Wortwahl von einer „expresión bastante original“ und in Bezug auf die Funktion von einer „gestión amistosa“; H. Arbuet-Vignali, „La guerra de papel. Reflexiones sobre el hecho y las posibilidades de sus tribunales“, in W. Hummer (Hrsg.), Cooperación y Conflicto en el MERCOSUR (2007), S. 142, Fn. 12.

93

Vgl. R. M. Gajate, „El conflicto de las pasteras. Los pronunciamientos de la Corte Internacional de Justicia y del Tribunal Ad Hoc del MERCOSUR“, in W. Hummer (Hrsg.), Cooperación y Conflicto en el MERCOSUR (2007), S. 177.

94

Vgl. dazu nachstehend auf S. 893f.

892

WALDEMAR HUMMER

Zelluloseerzeugung der Methode „Kraft“, einer Chlordioxidbleiche, bedienen, zu der die uruguayanische Umweltschutzbehörde „Dirección Nacional de Medio Ambiente“ (DINAMA) allerdings noch eine Umweltverträglichkeitsprüfung durchführen muss. Im Zuge der Standortverlegung reduzierte ENCE ihr Personal um 80 Personen und bezifferte den ihr bereits jetzt entstandenen Schaden auf 230 bis 240 Mio. US-$.95 Was aber waren die wahren Motive, die ENCE veranlassten, ihre Produktionsstätte von Fray Bentos nach Punta Pereyra zu verlegen und dabei (zunächst) einen so großen Schaden in Kauf zu nehmen? Wie in einschlägigen argentinischen Kreisen vermutet wird, war die Standortverlegung von ENCE ein „Tauschgeschäft“ für die Zulassung des spanischen Energieunternehmens Iberdrola als Betreiber einer riesigen Windkraftanlage in Patagonien, das von deren Vizepräsidenten Juan Luis Arregui „eingefädelt“ wurde.96 Zur Förderung der Windkraft als erneuerbare Energieform erließ Argentinien in der Folge am 6. Dezember 2006 das Gesetz Nr. 26.190. Die Anlage des finnischen Unternehmens BOTNIA wurde allerdings an ihrem alten Standort in Fray Bentos weiter gebaut und steht kurz vor ihrer Vollendung.

5.

Weitere denkmögliche Foren der Streitbeilegung

Neben diesem Versuch der alternativen bzw. kumulativen Befassung der politischen und juristischen Mechanismen der Streitbeilegung im MERCOSUR, wurde von den Streitparteien aber auch noch die Möglichkeit der Befassung der Vereinten Nationen, der Organisation der Amerikanischen Staaten (OAS) sowie der „Interamerikanischen Kommission für Menschenrechte“ (IAMRK) ventiliert.97 In diesem Zusammenhang erklärte der Generalsekretär der OAS, Miguel Insulza, dass eine eventuelle Streitschlichtung seitens der OAS nicht einseitig erbeten, sondern nur von beiden Streitparteien verlangt werden könnte.

H.

Mögliche Verletzung weiterer Vertragsregime

Obwohl Argentinien seine Klage vor dem IGH nur auf die Verletzung des unmittelbar durch die Bauführung der beiden Zellulosefabriken von ENCE und BOTNIA betroffenen Flussstatuts des Río Uruguay (1975) gestützt hat, könnten grundsätzlich noch zwei weitere Verträge über Flussregime bzw. „River“- oder „Drainage Basins“ von einer eventuellen Umweltverschmutzung des Río Uruguay betroffen sein – nämlich das Flussregime des „Río de la Plata“ sowie das „La Plata Becken“ („Cuenca del Plata“) an sich. Als nicht unmittelbar betroffenes aber indirekt doch berührtes Regime könnte 95

Gajate, supra Fn. 93, S. 178.

96

J. C. Algañaraz, „Un búho que anticipa los negocios“, CLARIN, 21. Jänner 2007, S. 8.

97

Der Gouverneur der argentinischen Provinz Entre Ríos, Pedro Busti, sowie über 30.000 Bewohner von Gualeguaychú und Umgebung brachten am 19. September 2005 eine dementsprechende Beschwerde bei der IAMRK ein, die sich auf die Verletzung des „Right to a Healthy Environment“ iSv Art. 11 des 1988 Zusatzprotokolls zur 1969 Interamerikanischen Menschenrechtskonvention über wirtschaftliche, soziale und kulturelle Rechte (Protocol of San Salvador) stützte.

43 – ARGENTINIEN VS URUGUAY – EIN MEHRFRONTENKAMPF

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man in diesem Zusammenhang aber auch noch an die URUPABOL denken, deren Statut am 29. Mai 198198 von Bolivien, Paraguay und Uruguay – nicht aber von Argentinien – abgeschlossen wurde und die ebenfalls eine geordnete integrierte Flussnutzung der von ihr erfassten Flüsse Paraná, Paraguay und Uruguay vorsieht. Aus Platzgründen kann hierbei nur eine kurze Darstellung dieser partikulären Vertragsregime gegeben und nicht auch auf grundlegende Fragen einer Konkurrenz bzw. Spezialität derselben zueinander eingegangen werden.

1.

Das „Statut des Río de la Plata“ (1973)

Neben dem unmittelbar betroffenen Flussstatut des Río Uruguay (1991) könnten grundsätzlich zwei weitere Verträge über Flussregime bzw. „River“- oder „Drainage Basins“99 von einer eventuelle Umweltverschmutzung des Río Uruguay betroffen sein. Sollte nämlich der Río Uruguay auf der Höhe von Fray Bentos stark kontaminiert werden, könnte auch – der Río Uruguay mündet nur einige hundert km davon stromabwärts in den Río de la Plata – der argentinisch-uruguayanische Vertrag über den Río de la Plata und seine seewärtigen Grenzen (Statut des Río de la Plata) (1973)100 davon berührt werden, der in seinem Kap. IX (Art. 47 bis 52) ebenfalls Umweltbeeinträchtigungen, wie zB eine Schädigung der Wasserqualität, verbietet. Gem. Art. 47 besteht eine „Kontamination“ dabei in einem vom Menschen verursachten Eintrag von Stoffen oder Energie in das Wasser, der schädliche Auswirkungen hat. Gem. Art. 48 hat sich jede Vertragspartei einer solchen Kontaminierung des Wassers zu enthalten, wozu sie auch – in Übereinstimmung mit den sonstigen umwelt- und nachbarschaftsrechtlichen Normen des Völkerrechts – die entsprechenden (Verbots-)Bestimmungen aufzustellen hat. Dementsprechend dürfen die Vertragsparteien des Statuts des Río de la Plata (1973) weder dafür ausgearbeitete technische Schutzstandards absenken noch bestehende Sanktionen gegen eine Wasserverseuchung abmildern oder ganz aufheben (Art. 49). Art. 50 wiederum enthält eine reziprok ausgestaltete Informationspflicht der Vertragsparteien hinsichtlich jeder von ihnen erlassenen Norm betreffend die Wassergüte im Río de la Plata. Gem. Art. 51 haftet jede Vertragspartei der anderen gegenüber für eine entsprechende Kontamination des Flusswassers, sei es, dass sie diese selbst herbeigeführt hat oder dass sie von physischen und juristischen Personen stammt, die auf ihrem Territorium beheimatet sind. Jeder Vertragsstaat übt seine (Ver98

Vgl. W. Hummer, „URUPABOL-Gruppe“, in Waldmann/Zelinsky (Hrsg.), Politisches Lexikon Lateinamerika (1982), S. 410 ff.; W. Hummer, „Die URUPABOL-Gruppe als subregionaler Kooperationsmechanismus im Cono Sur“, in Nohlen/Fernández-Baeza/Bareiro (Hrsg.), Kooperation und Konflikt im La-Plata-Becken (1986), S. 205 ff.

99

Vgl. dazu W. Hummer, „La ‚cuenca hidrológica internacional‘ (‚international drainage/ river-basin‘) como noción jurídica de derecho internacional público y su aplicación a los usos distintos de la navegación de las aguas de la ‚Cuenca del Plata‘“, 1976 TEMIS (Zaragoza), S. 287 ff.

100

1973 Treaty of the La Plata River and its Maritime Limits, 13 ILM (1974), S. 251 ff.; vgl. J. A. Barberis/E. A. Pigretti, Régimen jurídico del Río de la Plata (1969); J. E. Greño Velasco, „La Comunidad fluvial del Río de la Plata“, 1973 Revista española de derecho internacional,

894

WALDEMAR HUMMER

waltungs-)Gerichtsbarkeit zur Ahndung von Verstößen gegen die Wasserqualität des Río de la Plata völlig unabhängig von eventuell gegenseitig aufrechenbaren Verstößen der anderen Vertragspartei aus – die Vertragsparteien haben zu diesem Zweck eng zusammenzuarbeiten (Art. 52). Das Schiedsverfahren zur Beilegung von Streitigkeiten über eine Maßnahme zur Wasserverschmutzung ist in den Art. 68 und 69 des Statuts des Río de la Plata (1973) enthalten: gem. Art. 68 kann jeder Streitfall über die Wassernutzung des Río de la Plata der „Verwaltungskommission“101 (CARU) unterbreitet werden, die innerhalb von 120 Tagen eine Lösung der Kontroverse zu versuchen hat. Kann sie innerhalb dieser Frist keine Lösung herbeiführen, dann hat sie beide Streitparteien davon zu verständigen, die danach gem. Art. 69 in direkte Verhandlungen einzutreten haben. Falls auch die direkten Verhandlungen zwischen den Streitparteien – nach einer mindestens 180-tägigen Verhandlungsdauer – scheitern sollten, dann kann jede Streitpartei den IGH anrufen (Art. 87).

2.

Die „Cuenca del Plata“

Zum anderen wäre aber durch eine Verschmutzung des Río Uruguay auch das – insgesamt fünf Anliegerstaaten102 umfassende – Regime des „Flusseinzugsbeckens La Plata“ („Cuenca del Plata“/„La Plata River Basin“) (1969)103 betroffen, das neben den drei Flüssen Paraná, Paraguay und Uruguay auch den Río de la Plata umfasst und in seinem Art. 1 als eine der prioritären Zielsetzungen ebenfalls den Gewässerschutz anspricht.104 Auf der IV. Tagung der Außenminister der Mitgliedstaaten der „Cuenca del Plata“, die am 31. Juni 1971 in Asunción abgehalten wurde, wurde die „Erklärung von Asunción

S. 39 ff.; H. Gros-Espiell, „Le Traité relatif au ‚Río de la Plata‘ et sa façade maritime“, 1975 AFDI, S. 241 ff. 101

Comisión Administradora del Río Uruguay (CARU).

102

Argentinien (von diesem Regime sind 32% seiner Staatsfläche betroffen), Bolivien (19%), Brasilien (17%), Paraguay (100%) und Uruguay (80%).

103

1969 Treaty of the River Plate Basin, 8 ILM (1969), S. 905 ff.; 875 UNTS, S. 3 ff.; vgl. W. Hummer, „Struktur und Funktion des La-Plata-Becken-Vertrages“, in Nohlen/Fernández Baeza/Bareiro (Hrsg.), Kooperation und Konflikt im La-sPlata-Becken (1986), S. 167 ff.; W. Hummer, „La Plata Basin“, in: R. Bernhardt (Hrsg.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law (1983), S. 237 ff.; W. Hummer, „La Plata Basin“, in: R. Bernhardt (Hrsg.), Encyclopedia of Public International Law (1997), S. 101 ff.

104

Vgl. E. White, „Cuenca del Plata: Comentario“, in INTAL (Hrsg.), Derecho de la Integración (1969), S. 131 ff.; C. Blanco, „La Cuenca del Plata, algo más que un esquema de integración física“, in INTAL (Hrsg.), Integración Latinoamericana No. 42 (1979), S. 28 ff.

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über die Nutzung internationaler Ströme“105 unterzeichnet, in deren Ziff 23 folgende Prinzipien sowohl für „längs“- als auch für „quergeteilte“ Flüsse106 verankert wurde: a. Verpflichtung des Austausches wichtiger hydrometeorologischer Daten; b. Verpflichtung zur vorgängigen Information der Uferstaaten über jede geplante Bauführung im und am Strom; c.

Berechtigung eines jeden Oberliegerstaates „al uso equitativo y razonable de las aguas“, unter Einschluss der hydroelektrischen Nutzung;

d. Verpflichtung „de no causar perjuicio sensible“ dem Unterlieger- bzw. anderen Uferstaat gegenüber, vor allem durch Nichteintrag von Schadstoffen.107 Die beiden letzten Kriterien stellen sich im Grunde nur als speziellere Ausgestaltung der alten römischen Rechtsparömie „sic utere tuo ut alienum non laedas“ dar.108 Im Grunde ist damit bei jeder flussrechtlichen Beeinträchtigung eines der vom „La Plata Becken“ umfassten Flusslaufes zugleich auch das ganze Flusseinzugsgebiet (River Basin) selbst davon betroffen.

III.

Handelsstreitigkeiten

Nach der vorstehenden Darstellung der grundlegenden umweltrechtlichen Streitigkeit zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay wegen des Baues zweier Zellstofffabriken am Río Uruguay, die die auswärtigen Beziehungen beider Staaten auf das Äußerste belastete, sollen nachstehend noch weitere, allerdings nicht mehr so gravierende Problemfälle im Bereich der Handelsstreitigkeiten kurz skizziert werden, die aber ebenfalls zu politischen Spannungen zwischen den beiden Nachbarstaaten geführt und die Kohäsion im MERCOSUR geschwächt haben. Einleitend dazu muss allerdings ein kurzer Blick auf den MERCOSUR an sich bzw. den in ihm als regionale Präferenzzone bereits erreichten Liberalisierungsstand geworfen werden. Der „Gemeinsame Markt des Südens“ (Mercado Común del Sur, MERCOSUR)109 (1991) stellt, als „Übereinkommen zur wirtschaftlichen Ergänzung“ (Acuerdo de

105

1971 Declaración de Asunción sobre el Aprovechamiento de los Ríos Internacionales.

106

Vgl. dazu vorstehend auf S. 873f.

107

Vgl. Barberis, supra Fn. 20, S. 59 ff., 61 ff.; G. Cano, „Aspectos jurídicos del uso plurinacional de la cuencas hídricas en la América Latina“, 1 Estudios internacionales (1981), S. 69 f.

108

Vgl. schon A. von der Heydte, Völkerrecht, Bd. 1, (1958), S. 241.

109

Der MERCOSUR umfaßt ein Gebiet von ungefähr 12 Millionen Quadratkilometer, hat einen potentiellen Markt von 200 Millionen Einwohnern, ein BIP von mehr als einer Billion USDollar, und zählt damit zu den vier größten Wirtschaftseinheiten der Welt, http://www.mre. gov.br/index.php?Itemid=1316&id=1587&option=com_content&task=view.

896

WALDEMAR HUMMER

Complementación Económica (ACE) No. 18)110, eine „subregionale“ Integrationszone im Rahmen der „Lateinamerikanischen Integrationsassoziation“ (Asociación Latinoamericana de Integración (ALADI) (1980))111 dar, woraus die Bestimmung des Art. 20 seines Gründungsvertrages – des „Vertrags von Asunción“ (1991)112 – erklärbar ist, gemäß derer der MERCOSUR (nur) denjenigen Staaten offen steht, die auch Mitglieder der ALADI sind. Es handelt sich beim MERCOSUR also um einen Fall einer sog. „subregionalen“ 113 Integrationszone iSv Art. 41 der Wiener Vertragsrechtskonvention (WVK) (1969), dh um einen „Gemeinsamen Markt“ (in statu nascendi) (MERCOSUR), den vier Mitglieder einer größeren „Freihandelszone“ (ALADI), mit insgesamt zwölf Mitgliedern, unter sich abgeschlossen haben, um „inter se“ eine größere Integrationsdynamik zu erreichen. Gem. Art. 41 Abs. 1 lit. b) ii) WVK (1969) muss allerdings der engere Vertrag (MERCOSUR) mit seinem „Muttervertrag“ (ALADI) kompatibel sein, da ja die MERCOSUR-Mitgliedstaaten – die gleichzeitig auch ALADI-Mitgliedstaaten sind – den anderen ALADI-Staaten gegenüber die Vertragspflichten aus dem ALADI-Vertrag erfüllen müssen. Gem. Art. 1 des Vertrags von Asunción (1991) kamen die Vertragsparteien überein, bis zum 31. Dezember 1994 einen „Gemeinsamen Markt“ (Mercado Común) auszubilden, der MERCOSUR genannt werden soll. Dieser „Gemeinsame Markt“ soll die freie Zirkulation von Gütern, Dienstleistungen und (sonstigen) Produktionsfaktoren zwischen den Mitgliedstaaten herbeiführen, die unter anderem durch die Beseitigung der Zölle und sonstigen Beschränkungen des intrazonalen Warenhandels sowie jedweder anderen „Maßnahme gleicher Wirkung“ wie diese bewerkstelligt werden soll. Des Weiteren ist ein gemeinsamer Außenzoll und eine gemeinsame Handelspolitik gegenüber Drittstaaten einzurichten, sowie eine Koordinierung der sektoriellen Politikbereiche zwischen den Mitgliedstaaten herbeizuführen. Zuletzt sind die Vertragsstaaten auch aufgerufen, eine entsprechende Rechtsharmonisierung vorzunehmen. Da die ursprüngliche Zielsetzung des Vertrags von Asunción, den MERCOSUR als „Gemeinsamen Markt“ bis spätestens Ende 1994 einzurichten, in praxi nicht gelang, wurde diese Zielsetzung in der Folge durch das „Protokoll von Ouro Preto“ vom 17. Dezember 1994114 neuerlich postuliert, nunmehr allerdings ohne nähere zeitliche Präzisierung. Nach mehreren Anläufen setzte der Rat des Gemeinsamen Marktes (Consejo Mercado Común, CMC) den 1. Jänner 2006 als neuen Zielpunkt für die Errichtung einer nunmehrigen „Zollunion“ (unión aduanera) fest, der aber ebenso ergebnislos verstrich.

110

Vgl. dazu Hummer, supra Fn. 3, S. 48.

111

1980 Asociación Latinoamericana de Integración, 20 ILM (1981), S. 672 ff.; vgl. Hummer, supra Fn. 3, S. 42 f.

112

1991 Vertrag von Asunción, 30 ILM (1991), S. 1041 ff.

113

Vgl. dazu W. Hummer, „Subregionale Präferenzzonen als Mittel lateinamerikanischer Integrationspolitik“, 1975 Zeitschrift für Lateinamerika, Wien Sonderband, S. 11 ff.

114

Das „Protocolo Adicional al Tratado de Asunción sobre la Estructura Institucional del Mercosur“ wird gemäß seinem Art. 52 „Protocolo de Ouro Preto“ genannt.

43 – ARGENTINIEN VS URUGUAY – EIN MEHRFRONTENKAMPF

897

Die Qualifikation der aktuellen Situation des MERCOSUR als regionale Präferenzzone iSd Art. 2 lit. c) der Ermächtigungsklausel (enabling clause) vom 28. November 1979115 gestaltet sich daher äußerst schwierig. Generell kann aber die Aussage getätigt werden, dass der MERCOSUR gegenwärtig noch in Form einer Freihandelszone ausgestaltet ist, da die Errichtung eines „Gemeinsamen Außenzolltarifs“ (GZT) – ein „essentialium“ für die Ausgestaltung einer jeden Zollunion – bis heute noch nicht geglückt ist. Auf der anderen Seite existieren im MERCOSUR, zumindest ansatzweise, ähnliche „Marktfreiheiten“ wie im Binnenmarkt der EU. So sind zB die Warenverkehrsfreiheit und die Dienstleistungsfreiheit in Art. 1 Abs. 2 des Vertrages von Asunción (1991), erstere auch noch in Art. 5 des Vertrages von Asunción sowie in Art. 2 lit. b) des Anhang I zum Vertrag116 und letztere im „Protokoll von Montevideo über den Dienstleistungshandel im MERCOSUR“ (1997) verankert. Die nachstehend aufgelisteten „Handelskriege“ zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay beziehen sich allerdings nur auf Streitfälle hinsichtlich der Liberalisierung des Warenverkehrs. Die Verfahren wurden dabei sowohl vor Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichten (Tribunales Ad hoc) als auch vor dem Ständigen Revisionsgericht (Tribunal Permanente de Revisión, TPR) im MERCOSUR abgeführt.

A.

Der Streitfall wegen der argentinischen Importsperre für runderneuerte Reifen

Auf der LVI. Sitzung der „Gruppe Gemeinsamer Markt“ (Grupo Mercado Común, GMC) in Río de Janeiro vom 25. und 26. November 2004 kündigte Uruguay erstmals an, gegen die argentinische Importbeschränkung uruguayanischer runderneuerter Reifen durch das argentinische Gesetz Nr. 25.626 vorgehen zu wollen. Mit diplomatischer Note Nr. 2388/2004 verlangte Uruguay in der Folge die in den Art. 4 und 5 des Protokolls von Olivos (PO) vorgesehenen Direktverhandlungen zwischen den Streitparteien, auf die Argentinien mit Note SCREI No. 888/2004 vom 10. Dezember 2004 zustimmend antwortete. In der Folge fand am 23. Dezember 2004 in Buenos Aires das erste Zusammentreffen beider Streitparteien statt, auf dem die gegenseitigen Standpunkte ausgetauscht wurden. Da in den Direktgesprächen keine Einigung erzielt werden konnte, setzte Uruguay mit Note Nr. 130/2005 vom 23. Februar 2005 den Mechanismus der Streitbeilegung im MERCOSUR auf der Basis des Kap. VI des PO in Gang.

1.

Der Schiedsspruch des Ad hoc Schiedsgerichts im MERCOSUR

Das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht konstituierte sich am 19. August 2005 am Sitz des Verwaltungssekretariats des MERCOSUR in Montevideo und beschloss bei dieser Gelegenheit seine Verfahrensordnung. Am 11. Oktober 2005 kam es zur ersten mündlichen 115

Differenzierte und günstigere Behandlung, Gegenseitigkeit und verstärkte Teilnahme der Entwicklungsländer, Beschluß der GATT-Vertragsparteien vom 28. November 1979; BGBl. 1981/237.

116

Vgl. dazu vorstehend auf S. 885.

898

WALDEMAR HUMMER

Verhandlung, in der Uruguay ua ausführte, dass es vor dem Erlass des argentinischen Importverbotsgesetzes Nr. 25.626 vom 9. August 2002,117 das am 17. August 2002 in Kraft getreten ist, problemlos „runderneuerte“ Reifen nach Argentinien exportieren konnte, da lediglich der Import von „gebrauchten“ Reifen untersagt war. Da runderneuerte Reifen praktisch als neuwertig anzusehen sind, treffen auf sie nicht die in Art. 50 des Vertrags von Montevideo (1980)118 zur Gründung der ALADI als Ausnahmen vom Prinzip der Warenverkehrsfreiheit formulierten Gründe der Sicherheit (Art. 50 lit. b) oder des Schutzes des Lebens und der Gesundheit von Personen, Tieren und Pflanzen (Art. 50 lit. d) zu. Zum einen sind runderneuerte Reifen (fast) so sicher wie neue Reifen und zum anderen haben sie eine (fast) so lange Lebensdauer wie diese, sodass sie nicht – wie gebrauchte Reifen – früher der Abfallverwertung zugeführt werden müssen und damit ein Umweltproblem darstellen können. Im übrigen habe schon einmal ein Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht in einer ganz ähnlichen Fallkonstellation – es handelte sich dabei um den Schiedsspruch eines Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts im MERCOSUR vom 9. Jänner 2002 in der verwandten Rechtssache Uruguay gegen Brasilien, ebenfalls wegen des Einfuhrverbots runderneuerter Reifen119 – eine nationale Einfuhrbeschränkung120 für inkompatibel mit der Warenverkehrsfreiheit im MERCOSUR erklärt. Argentinien wiederum verwies auf den Umstand, dass runderneuerte Reifen ein großes Umweltproblem aufwerfen, da sie nicht immer entsprechend entsorgt würden, aber selbst bei ihrer sachgerechten Entsorgung ökologische Probleme verursachen. Gerade dafür sei aber in Art. 50 lit. d) ALADI-Vertrag eine Schutzklausel zugunsten des Lebens und der Gesundheit von Personen, Tieren und Pflanzen vorgesehen – ebenso wie zB auch in Art. 30 EGV121 und Art. XX lit. b) GATT ´94.122 Am 25. Oktober 2005 erging schließlich (mehrheitlich) der Schiedsspruch des Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts im MERCOSUR,123 der das argentinische Gesetz Nr. 25.626 für mit den warenverkehrsrechtlichen Bestimmungen des Vertrages von Montevideo und dessen Annex I kompatibel erklärte, wobei er sich hauptsächlich auf die Argumentation stützte, dass – trotz der restriktiven Interpretation von Ausnahmetatbeständen –

117

Importverbotsgesetz Nr. 25.626, Boletín Oficial, 9. August 2002.

118

BID/INTAL (Hrsg.), Integración latinoamericana No. 47 (1980), S. 4 ff.

119

Laudo VI, Laudo del Tribunal ad hoc del MERCOSUR en la controversia sobre prohibición de importación de neumáticos remoldeados (remolded) procedentes de Uruguay, Schiedsspruch vom 9. Jänner 2002; vgl. dazu die Urteilsbesprechung von Zlata Drnas de Clément in: Cuaderno de Derecho Internacional No. 1, Instituto de Derecho Internacional y Derecho de la Integración, Academia Nacional de Derecho y Ciencias Sociales de Córdoba, Doctrina jurisprudencial de los laudos arbitrales del MERCOSUR (2004), S. 64 ff.

120

Hier war es die brasilianische Portaria da Secretaría de Comércio Exterior da Ministério de Desenvolvimento, Industria e Comércio Exterior (SECEX) 8/00, 25. September 2000.

121

Vgl. dazu Schweitzer/Hummer/Obwexer, supra Fn. 10, Rdnr. 1410-1415.

122

Vgl. W. Hummer/F. Weiss, Vom GATT ´47 zur WTO ´94 (1997), S. 773.

123

Prohibición de importación de neumáticos remoldeados (República Oriental del Uruguay v. República Argentina), MERCOSUR Tribunal Arbitral ad hoc, Laudo Arbitral vom 25. Oktober 2005.

43 – ARGENTINIEN VS URUGUAY – EIN MEHRFRONTENKAMPF

899

in diesem Fall Umweltschutzaspekte durchaus gerechtfertigte Ausnahmen vom allgemeinen Grundsatz der Warenverkehrsfreiheit darstellen können.

2.

Die Revision des Schiedsspruchs durch das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR

Gegen diesen Schiedsspruch legte Uruguay am 9. November 2005 Rekurs beim Ständigen Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR ein, der gem. Art. 17 Abs. 2 PO auf bloße Rechtsfragen beschränkt war. Unter mehrfachem Bezug auf die einschlägige Judikatur des EuGH (sic)124 – ohne diesen rechtsdogmatisch aber auch nur im Geringsten zu begründen (!)125 – kritisiert das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR den Schiedsspruch des Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts im MERCOSUR scharf und weist darauf hin, dass die Ausnahmetatbestände vom Prinzip des freien Warenverkehrs – so wie hier der Schutz der Gesundheit von Menschen, Tieren und Pflanzen gem. Art. 50 lit. d) ALADI-Vertrag – eng zu verstehen sind und damit nicht gleich gewichtet werden können, wie das grundlegende Prinzip der Warenverkehrsfreiheit an sich. Solange der Gesundheitsschutz auch auf eine andere Weise – die den Warenverkehr weniger behindert – erreicht werden kann, ist zunächst diese (schonendere) Vorgangsweise zu wählen. In seinem (mehrheitlich ergangenen) Schiedsspruch Nr. 1/2005 vom 20. Dezember 2005126 hob das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR den Schiedsspruch des Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts im MERCOSUR auf, erklärte das argentinische Gesetz Nr. 25.626 vom 9. August 2002 für mit der Warenverkehrsfreiheit im MERCOSUR inkompatibel und forderte Argentinien auf, innerhalb von 120 Tagen den geforderten Rechtszustand herzustellen.

124

Das Ständige Revisionsgericht zitiert in diesem Zusammenhang mehrfach Schlussanträge der Generalanwälte sowie Urteile des EuGH in De Peijper, Rs. 104/75, Slg. 1976, S. 613 ff.; Cassis de Dijon, Rs. 120/78, Slg. 1979, S. 649 ff.; Kommission v. Österreich, Rs. C-320/03, Slg. 2005, S. I-9871 ff.; Kommission v. Deutschland, Rs. C-463/01, Slg. 2004, S. I-11705 ff. und Radlberger Getränkegesellschaft mbH & Co. und Spitz KG v. Land Baden Württemberg, Rs. C-309/02, Slg. 2004, S. I-11763 ff.

125

Das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR lässt es bei diesen Zitaten völlig offen, aus welchem Grund es auf diese Judikatur des EuGH rekurriert und diese gleichsam seinen Begründungserwägungen zugrundelegt. Die Gründe für diesen merkwürdigen „judicial restraint“ sind bisher noch nicht näher untersucht worden.

126

Laudo del Tribunal Permanente de Revisión constituido para entender en el recurso de revisión presentado por la República Oriental del Uruguay contra el laudo arbitral del Tribunal Arbitral Ad hoc de fecha 25 de octubre de 2005 en la controversia „Prohibición de importación de neumáticos remoldeados procedentes de Uruguay“, MERCOSUR Tribunal Permanente de Revisión, Laudo vom 20. Dezember 2005, No. 1/2005.

900

3.

WALDEMAR HUMMER

Die Zurückweisung des argentinischen Auslegungsbegehrens des Schiedsspruchs

Zu diesem Schiedsspruch des Ständigen Revisionsgerichts im MERCOSUR stellte Argentinien ein detailliertes Auslegungsbegehren, in dem es beinahe jeden Erwägungsgrund des Schiedsspruchs vom 20. Dezember 2005 neuerlich hinterfragte und insgesamt 31 neue Fragestellungen aufwarf. In seinem ergänzenden Schiedsspruch vom 13. Jänner 2006127 wies das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR das Auslegungsbegehren zurück und stellte fest, dass ein solches nur dazu diene, einzelne unklare Punkte in einem Urteil klarzustellen, nicht aber eine neuerliche Debatte über die entschiedene Streitsache auszulösen. Im Übrigen stehe es jeder Partei frei, ein Urteil eines (Schieds-)Gerichts zu kritisieren, nicht aber in der gegenständlichen Form eines „Auslegungsbegehrens“.

4.

Die Verhängung retorsiver Ausgleichsmaßnahmen durch Uruguay

Da Argentinien, trotz mehrfacher Aufforderungen seitens Uruguays, dem Schiedsspruch des Ständigen Revisionstribunals in der Folge nicht nachkam, beschloss Uruguay am 17. April 2007 das Dekret 142/007,128 mittels dessen ab dem 18. April 2007 ein 16-prozentiger retorsiver Ausgleichszoll auf den Import argentinischer runderneuerter Reifen (Zolltarifnummer 4011.10.00.00 und 4012.11.00.00) verhängt wurde. Als Rechtsgrundlage dafür fungierten die vorerwähnten Bestimmungen des Art. 31 und 32 PO, die die Verhängung „kompensatorischer Maßnahmen“ unter gewissen Voraussetzungen erlauben.129

5.

Das Urteil des Ständigen Revisionsgerichts im MERCOSUR über die Zulässigkeit der Ausgleichsmaßnahmen Uruguays

Argentinien brachte gegen diese retorsive Ausgleichsmaßnahme Uruguays ua vor, dass sie „unverhältnismäßig“ sei und daher nicht den Vorgaben des Art. 32 Abs. 2 Ziff. ii PO entspräche. Nach einem Verweis sowohl auf die einschlägige gemeinschaftsrechtliche Bestimmung des Art. 228 EGV als auch auf die des Art. 27 Abs. 2 des Vertrags zur Errichtung des Anden-Gerichtshofes130 (sic) stellte Argentinien – unter Bezugnahme auf Art. 34 der Wiener Vertragsrechtskonvention (1969) – unmissverständlich fest, 127

Laudo complementario del Tribunal Permanente de Revisión que resuelve el recurso de aclaratoria interpuesto por la República Argentina en relación al Laudo Arbitral dictado por este Ente el 20 de diciembre de 2005 en la controversia „Prohibición de importación de neumáticos remoldeados procedentes del Uruguay“, MERCOSUR Tribunal Permanente de Revision, Laudo vom 13. Jänner 2006, No. 1/2006.

128

Dekret 142/007, Diario Oficial, 26. April 2007.

129

Vgl. dazu vorstehend auf S. 888.

130

Kodifiziert durch die Decisión 472 der Kommission der Anden-Gemeinschaft vom 28. Mai 1996.

43 – ARGENTINIEN VS URUGUAY – EIN MEHRFRONTENKAMPF

901

„que nada autoriza en el MERCOSUR a aplicar ni el derecho comunitario europeo ni el derecho comunitario andino“ (Randnr. 3.1.14). Das Ständige Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR ließ sich von dieser Feststellung der Unzulässigkeit des Rekurses auf den EG-Vertrag sowie den Vertrag zur Errichtung des Anden-Gerichtshofes aber nicht abhalten und zitierte in seinen Erwägungsgründen sowohl die bisherige Judikatur des EuGH zu Art. 228 EGV131 als auch die des Anden-Gerichtshofes zu Art. 27 Abs. 2 des Vertrags zur Errichtung des Anden-Gerichtshofs.132 In der Folge wendete es für die Prüfung der „Verhältnismäßigkeit“ die aus diesen Urteilen gewonnenen Erkenntnisse rechtsanalog an133 und erklärte (mehrheitlich) die seitens Uruguays ergriffene „kompensatorische Ausgleichsmaßnahme“ als verhältnismäßig.

6.

Die Befolgung des Schiedsspruchs durch Argentinien

Argentinien kam am 28. November 2007 der geforderten Modifikation seines Gesetzes Nr. 25.626 nach, indem es das Änderungs-Gesetz Nr. 26.329 erließ, das am 20. Dezember 2007 verkündet und am 26. Dezember im Amtlichen Gesetzblatt der Republik Argentinien veröffentlicht wurde.134 Gem. Art. 3 des novellierten Gesetzes 25.626 wird der Import runderneuerter Reifen (neumáticos remoldeados)135 der Gemeinsame Nomenklatur des MERCOSUR (N. C. M.) 4012.11.00, 4012.12.00, 4012.13.00 und 4012.19.00 gleich welchen Ursprungs in dem Umfang freigegeben, in dem gebrauchte Reifen (neumáticos usados) desselben Typs aus Argentinien in das entsprechende Ursprungsland exportiert wurden. Es mag an dieser Stelle dahingestellt sein, ob diese Regelung eine ordnungsgemäße Erfüllung des Schiedsspruchs darstellt oder nicht.

B.

Der Streitfall wegen der Importbehinderung uruguayanischer Fahrräder durch Argentinien

Ein weiterer bilateraler Streitfall zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay war aus der argentinischen Importbehinderung für uruguayanische Fahrräder des Typs „doble 131

Kommission v. Griechenland, Rs. C-387/97, Slg. 2000, S. I-5047 ff.; Kommission v. Spanien, Rs. C-278/01, Slg. 2003, S. I-1441 ff.; Kommission v. Frankreich, Rs. C-304/02, Slg. 2005, S. I-6263 ff; Kommission v. Frankreich, Rs. C-177/04, Slg. 2006, S. I-2461 ff.; vgl. dazu Schweitzer/Hummer/Obwexer, supra Fn. 10, Rdnr. 768-770.

132

Sumario por incumplimiento de la sentencia en el proceso I-AI-97, Junta/Venezuela, Tribunal de Justicia de la Comunidad Andina, autos vom 20 Oktober 1999, GOAC No. 500, 25/10/ 99 etc.

133

Ibid., Schiedsspruch, Conclusión, 3. Abs.: „[…] los criterios […] son igualmente de plena aplicación al caso (gravedad de la infración, duración de la misma y la necesidad de asegurar el efecto disuasorio de la sanción para evitar la reincidencia) […].“

134

Ley 26.329, Boletín Oficial No. 31.310 (2007), Primera Sección, S. 2.

135

Gem. Gesetz 26.329, supra Fn. 134, Art. 2 Abs. 2, versteht man darunter „[…] los neumáticos reconstruidos por sustitución de su banda de rodamiento, de sus hombros y de toda la superficie de sus costados (recauchutaje de talón a talón) según la norma conjunta IRAM 113.323-MERCOSUR NM 225.“

902

WALDEMAR HUMMER

suspensión y cuadro tipo Y de sección oval“ (modelo Zeta) der Firma Motociclo SA entstanden. Uruguay hatte am 17. Mai 2001 die Einleitung eines Schiedsverfahrens beantragt, im Zuge dessen sich am 23. Juli 2001 ein Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht konstituierte, das sich bei dieser Gelegenheit eine Verfahrensordnung gab. Im Laufe der ersten Verhandlung, die das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht für den 10. September 2001 anberaumt hatte, leugnete Argentinien den Ursprungscharakter der uruguayanischen Fahrräder der Firma Motociclo SA – da diese großteils aus Komponenten aus Drittstaaten zusammengesetzt seien – obwohl diese über ein gültiges Ursprungszeugnis verfügten, das von der uruguayanischen Industriekammer ausgestellt worden war und qualifizierte sie mittels Dekret des argentinischen Wirtschaftsministeriums, Sekretariat für Industrie und Handel vom 23. Jänner 2001 als Drittlandsware. Dementsprechend erhob es auf die Fahrräder auch einen „Drittlandsprodukt-Zollsatz“ und ließ sie nicht an der Zonenpräferenz teilhaben. In seinem (einstimmig ergangenen) Schiedsspruch vom 29. September 2001136 erachtete das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht das Ursprungszeugnis der uruguayanischen Industriekammer als „prima facie“-Beweis iSe „praesumtio iuris“ und wies daher die Behauptung Argentiniens zurück, dass es sich bei den Fahrrädern des angegebenen Typs um „extra-zonale“ Drittwaren handle, die auch dementsprechend mit einem „Drittlandsprodukt-Zollsatz“ verzollt werden müssten. Daher erklärte es auch das Dekret vom 23. Jänner 2001 als mit der Warenverkehrsfreiheit im MERCOSUR nicht vereinbar und forderte Argentinien auf, die Rechtskonformität mit dem MERCOSURRecht so bald als möglich herzustellen. Im Hinblick auf diesen seinen Schiedsspruch richteten beide Parteien des Streitfalls in offener Frist gem. Art. 19 der Verfahrensordnung des Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts Auslegungsersuchen an das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht, das diese in der Folge auch entsprechend beantwortete.

C.

Der Streitfall wegen eines Exportförderungssystems Uruguays für Wollstoffe

Am 2. April 2002 notifizierte Argentinien dem Direktor des Administrativsekretariats des MERCOSUR seine Entscheidung, ein Schiedsverfahren wegen des uruguayanischen Anreiz- und Fördersystems für den Export von Wollstoffen iSe Bonifikation von 9% deren Wertes fob gem. Art. 80 des Gesetzes 13.695 vom 24. Oktober 1968 und dessen Durchführungsdekreten einleiten zu wollen. Nach mehrmaliger Vertagung auf Wunsch der Streitparteien kam es erst am 27. März 2003 zu einer ersten Verhandlung, bei der Argentinien vorbrachte, Uruguay bereits seit 1998 eindringlich gebeten zu haben, dieses Exportförderungssystem für Wollerzeugnisse einzustellen, da es seiner Ansicht nach mit der Decisión 10/94 des Rates des Gemeinsamen Marktes über „Armonización

136

Restricciones de Acceso al Mercado Argentino de bicicletas de origen uruguayo, Tribunal Arbitral „ad hoc“ de MERCOSUR constituido para entender de la controversia presentada por la República Oriental del Uruguay a la República Argentina, Laudo vom 29. September 2001.

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903

para la aplicación y utilización de incentivos a las exportaciones por parte de los países integrantes del MERCOSUR“ nicht vereinbar sei. Vor allem würden die Ausnahmetatbestände des Art. 12 lit. a) bis c) der Decisión 10/94 das Exportförderungssystem Uruguays keinesfalls umfassen. Im Oktober 2000 begannen Direktgespräche zwischen den beiden Streitparteien, im Zuge derer beide Staaten im Rahmen des Gipfeltreffens der MERCOSUR-Staaten in Florianópolis am 13. Dezember 2000 ein „Entendimiento“ unterzeichneten, in dem sie ein Chronogramm für die vollständige Eliminierung des Exportförderbetrages bis zum 31. Dezember 2002 vereinbarten (Rdnr. 16). Da sich Uruguay in der Folge aber nicht an dieses „Entendimiento“ hielt, sah sich Argentinien gezwungen, das Verfahren der Streitbeilegung im MERCOSUR einzuleiten. Uruguay wiederum hielt Argentinien eine „exceptio non adimpleti contractus“ (excepción de inejecución) iSv Art. 60 der Wiener Vertragsrechtskonvention (1969) entgegen, da es aus seiner Sicht die Bedingungen für die ordnungsgemäße Erfüllung des „Entendimiento“ eigenständig verändert habe. Auch habe die Decisión 31/00 des Rates des Gemeinsamen Marktes137 die vorstehend erwähnte Regelung der Decisión 10/94 einer suspensiven Bedingung unterworfen. Nachdem das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht festgestellt hatte, dass die Exportbonifikation für uruguayanische Wollprodukte eine „Subvention“ bzw. Beihilfe iSd 1994 im Schoß des GATT abgeschlossenen „Übereinkommens über Subventionen und Ausgleichsmaßnahmen“ (Art. 1)138 darstellt, prüfte es, ob auf sie einer der Ausnahmebestände des Art. 12 lit. a) bis c) der Decisión 10/94 zutrifft oder nicht. Nach der Verneinung dieser Frage prüfte es des weiteren, ob das Exportsubventionssystem nicht etwa durch die Decisión 31/00 gerechtfertigt werden könne, musste diese Frage aber ebenfalls verneinen. Ebenso verwarf es die von Uruguay herangezogene „exceptio non adimpleti contractus“, und zwar mit der Begründung, dass sie in einem „self contained regime“, wie dem des MERCOSUR, keinen Platz habe (Erwägungsgrund Nr. 66). Das in der Endphase des Verfahrens seitens Uruguay vorgelegte Decreto del Poder Ejecutivo 121/03 vom 28. März 2003, mittels dessen das Exportsubventionssystem zum 1. Juli 2003 abgeschafft werden soll, hinderte das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht nicht daran, mit dem Verfahren fortzufahren. In seinem (einstimmig ergangenen) Schiedsspruch vom 4. April 2003139 verurteilte das Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht im MERCOSUR Uruguay zur Abschaffung seines durch das Gesetz Nr. 13.695 eingerichteten Exportförderungssystem von Verarbeitungserzeugnissen aus Wolle, da dieses gegen die Bestimmung des Art. 12 der Decisión 10/94 des Rates des Gemeinsamen Marktes verstoße. Uruguay wird die Herstellung des rechtmäßigen Zustandes innerhalb von 15 Tagen aufgetragen, ohne dass ihm dabei aber seitens des Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts irgendwelche Vorschriften gemacht werden, wie das in concreto zu geschehen hat.

137

Relanzamiento del MERCOSUR. Incentivos a las inversiones, a la producción y a la exportación, incluyendo zones francas, admisión temporaria y otros regímenes especiales.

138

Vgl. Hummer/Weiss, supra Fn. 122, S. 682 ff.

139

Estímulo a la industrialización de lana, Tribunal Ad hoc del MERCOSUR, IX. Laudo vom 4. April 2003.

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IV.

Schlussbetrachtungen

Obwohl die Europäischen Gemeinschaften bereits seit mehr als zehn Jahren mit dem MERCOSUR und dessen Mitgliedstaaten in engen Handelsbeziehungen stehen und diese gegenwärtig auch noch weiter zu vertiefen versuchen, ist dieser Raum im Cono Sur Lateinamerikas für den europäischen Betrachter völlig unbekannt. Wenngleich es auf der parlamentarischen Ebene institutionalisierte Kontakte zwischen dem Europäischen Parlament (EP) und dem MERCOSUR im Rahmen der interparlamentarischen „Delegation für die Beziehung mit dem MERCOSUR“140 gibt, so betreffen diese eben nur die parlamentarische Ebene und nicht die europäische Öffentlichkeit und sind selbst dort – wie vorstehend erwähnt, wird das EP von den Handelsvertragsverhandlungen der EG mit Drittstaaten nicht informiert141 – nur von eingeschränkter Bedeutung. Aus europäischer Sicht bietet es sich daher geradezu an, einen Blick auf die Vorgänge im MERCOSUR, einer der wichtigsten regionalen Präferenzzonen in Lateinamerika, zu werfen. Die im November 1999 – für die nicht zollrechtlichen Fragen – bzw. im Juli 2001 – für die zollrechtlichen Fragen – begonnenen Verhandlungen zur Dynamisierung des Rahmenabkommens der EG mit dem MERCOSUR und seinen Mitgliedstaaten vom 15. Dezember 1995 sind nach nunmehr über acht Jahren noch immer nicht abgeschlossen. Grund dafür sind zum einen die nach wie vor unterschiedlichen wirtschafts- und integrationspolitischen Positionen der beiden Vertragspartner, zum anderen aber auch die politischen Spannungen, die zwischen einzelnen Mitgliedstaaten des MERCOSUR herrschen, und so dessen „externe Verhandlungsmacht“ gegenüber der EU schwächen. Waren es zunächst „hegemoniale“ Auseinandersetzungen zwischen den beiden Führungsmächten Argentinien und Brasilien im MERCOSUR, die das geschlossene Auftreten dieser Integrationszone nach außen schwächten, so waren es später Konflikte zwischen den kleineren Mitgliedstaaten dieser Integrationszone untereinander, oder zwischen diesen und einem der beiden größeren Staaten, die das Klima nachhaltig belasteten. Als symptomatisch können in diesem Zusammenhang die Streitigkeiten zwischen den beiden Nachbarstaaten Argentinien und Uruguay angesehen werden, die über lange Strecken hinweg gutnachbarschaftliche Beziehungen zueinander gepflegt hatten. Waren es zunächst kleine „Handelskriege“ im Warenverkehr – Fahrräder, runderneuerte Reifen und ein Exportförderungssystem für Wollstoffe betreffend – die seit der Jahrtausendwende die gegenseitigen Beziehungen zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay belasteten, so war es seit 2002 der Umweltstreit wegen der geplanten Errichtung zweier riesiger Zellstofffabriken am uruguayanischen Ufer des Grenzflusses Río Uruguay, der beinahe zum Abbruch der diplomatischen Beziehungen zwischen 140

Vgl. dazu grundlegend W. Hummer, „Europäisches Parlament und Lateinamerika/Karibik. Lateinamerika und die Karibik als Gegenstand der politischen Arbeit des Europäischen Parlaments im Zeitraum 1963-1988“, Forschungsberichte des Europäischen Dokumentationszentrums der EG (EDZ) am Institut für Völkerrecht, Europarecht und Internationale Beziehungen an der Universität Innsbruck (mimeo), Bd. I (1989).

141

Vgl. dazu vorstehend auf S. 871.

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beiden Nachbarstaaten geführt hatte. Dieser Streit um die zulässige Wassernutzung des Río Uruguay war – im Gegensatz zu den vorerwähnten „Handelskriegen“, denen zwar eine politische, aber doch keine große wirtschaftliche Bedeutung zukam – für Uruguay von elementarem ökonomischen Interesse. Der entscheidende Aspekt ist dabei allerdings der einer (möglichen) Umweltverschmutzung durch diese beiden Anlagen, die nicht nur das Flussregime des Río Uruguay selbst, sondern auch das des Unterliegerflusses, des „Río de la Plata“ sowie das eines ganzen Flusseinzugsgebietes (river or drainage basin, cuenca), nämlich der „Cuenca del Plata“ kontaminieren (könnte). Interessanterweise berief sich Argentinien in seiner Klage vor dem IGH aber nur auf die Verletzung des Flussstatuts des Rio Uruguay (1975) und nicht auch auf die beiden anderen, davon ebenfalls betroffenen Flusseinzugsgebiete. Da Argentinien somit den Streitfall als Problem der Verschmutzung der Gewässer eines Grenzflusses, nämlich des Río Uruguay, ansah, war es nur konsequent, dass es gem. Art. 60 Abs. 1 des Flussstatuts des Río Uruguay (1975) den IGH mit diesem Konflikt befasste, was in Uruguay allerdings als diplomatische „Überreaktion“ empfunden wurde, die geeignet ist, dem MERCOSUR den „Todesstoß“ zu versetzen142 – und das zu einem Zeitpunkt, in dem die EU ihre Bemühungen um den Abschluss des bereits seit Jahren geplanten präferentiellen Abkommens mit dieser Integrationszone noch mehr verstärken wollte.143 Während der Rechtsstreit meritorisch noch immer beim IGH behängt, wurde der gleichzeitig mit der Klage eingebrachte Antrag Argentiniens auf Erlass einer „einstweiligen Verfügung“ vom IGH abgewiesen. Im Gegensatz zu Argentinien sah Uruguay den Konflikt schwerpunktmäßig nicht so sehr als wasserrechtliches Verschmutzungsproblem des Río Uruguay, sondern vielmehr als Behinderung des Grundsatzes des freien Waren- und Dienstleistungsverkehrs im MERCOSUR durch Argentinien, da dieser Nachbarstaat keine Anstalten getroffen hatte, die von argentinischen Umweltaktivisten errichteten Straßensperren der wichtigsten Grenzübergänge nach Uruguay entsprechend aufzulösen. Dementsprechend stellte der Konflikt für Uruguay auch keinen Streitfall dar, der im Rahmen des Flussstatuts des Río Uruguay (1975) abzuhandeln wäre, sondern vielmehr eine Meinungsverschiedenheit handelsrechtlicher Natur betrachtet, die im Rahmen des Streitbeilegungssystems des MERCOSUR auf der Basis des „Protokolls von Olivos“ (2002) einer Lösung zugeführt werden müsse. Daher klagte Uruguay Argentinien auch vor einem Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht im MERCOSUR und nicht vor dem IGH. Nachdem Argentinien in der Folge den zugunsten Uruguays ausgefallenen Schiedsspruch des Ad hoc-Schiedsgerichts im MERCOSUR nicht befolgte, wäre an sich zu 142

„Lo de La Haya significaría años de pura confrontación, conflicto, alejamiento rencoroso con Uruguay. El Mercosur peligra: ese litigio sería su lápida [ ] La Argentina está a punto de cometer otra barrabasada diplomática“, Interview mit dem argentinischen Botschafter A. Posse, „Del conflicto inútil al diálogo“, http://buscador.lanacion.com.ar/Nota.asp?nota_ id=781624&high=papeleras.

143

Der uruguayanische Präsident Tabaré Vázquez wies in einem Interview darauf hin, dass der MERCOSUR „nichts mehr taugt“; Tabaré Vázquez, „El Mercosur no sirve“, La Nacion, 20. April 2006.

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erwarten gewesen, dass Uruguay die weiteren im Rahmen des MERCOSUR noch zur Verfügung stehenden Rechtswege – neuerliche Klage vor einem Ad hoc-Schiedsgericht im MERCOSUR oder vor dem Ständigen Revisionsgericht im MERCOSUR gem. Art. 30 PO oder sofortige Verhängung „kompensatorischer Ausgleichsmaßnahmen“ gem. Art. 31 PO – auszuschöpfen versucht. Interessanterweise ging Uruguay aber nicht diesen Weg, sondern beantragte beim IGH ebenfalls den Erlass einer „einstweiligen Verfügung“ gegen Argentinien auf sofortige Räumung der Grenzblockaden. Der im Jänner 2007 diesbezüglich ergangene Entscheid des IGH ging allerdings zuungunsten Uruguays aus, sodass man in dieser Rechtssache jetzt nur mehr auf die meritorische Streitentscheidung des IGH über die argentinische Klage warten kann, die voraussichtlich im Laufe des Jahres 2008 ergehen wird. Durch diesen die diplomatischen Beziehungen zwischen beiden Nachbarstaaten bereits sehr stark belastenden Streitfall wird aber nicht nur die „politische Kohäsion“ im MERCOSUR selbst, sondern auch die damit verbundene „bargaining power“ dieser Integrationszone nach außen merkbar beeinträchtigt. Dies trifft aber nicht nur auf die zurzeit stagnierenden Handelsverhandlungen zwischen dem MERCOSUR und der EU zu, sondern gilt auch für die Stellung des MERCOSUR zu den anderen regionalen Präferenzzonen in Lateinamerika. Da der MERCOSUR144 ja eine subregionale145 Präferenzzone iSv Art. 41 WVK (1969) in Bezug auf dessen „Muttervertrag“, den Vertrag von Montevideo (1980) – den Gründungsvertrag der „Lateinamerikanischen Integrationsassoziation“ (ALADI/ LAIA)146 – darstellt, haben die vier MERCOSUR-Staaten mit den weiteren acht Mitgliedstaten der ALADI eng zusammenzuarbeiten, um die notwenige Kompatibilität zwischen diesen beiden regionalen Präferenzzonen immer wieder herzustellen. Die gegenständlichen Unstimmigkeiten innerhalb des MERCOSUR wirken sich daher auch auf das MERCOSUR-ALADI – Verhältnis negativ aus. Durch diesen Streitfall wird aber auch die bisherige Frontstellung, die beide Staaten gegen das von den Vereinigten Staaten vorangetriebene Projekt einer beide Amerikas umfassenden (panamerikanischen) Freihandelszone [„Free Trade Area of the Americas/Area de Libre Comercio de las Américas“ (FTAA/ALCA)]147 eingenommen haben, aufgeweicht, tendiert Uruguay gegenwärtig doch zu einer stärkeren Annäherung an die USA, mit der es sogar einen bilateralen Präferenzvertrag abschließen will, was allerdings innerhalb des MERCOSUR auf heftigen Widerstand stößt. Durch den Abschluss der ALCA will die USA die (lateinamerikanische) Variante eines „Area de Libre Comercio Sudamericano/South America Free Commerce Area“ (ALCSA/ SAFCA)148 konterkarieren, ihren Einfluss in Lateinamerika wieder stärken und die 144

Vgl. dazu Hummer, supra Fn. 3, S. 11 ff. (22).

145

Zum Begriff des „Subregionalismus“ vgl. schon W. Hummer, „Subregionale Präferenzzonen als Mittel lateinamerikanischer Integrationspolitik“, 1975 Zeitschrift für Lateinamerika, Wien-Sonderband.

146

Vgl. W. Hummer, „Integration“, in G. Drekonja-Kornat (Hrsg.), Lateinamerikanistik. Der österreichische Weg (2005), S. 109 ff.

147

Vgl. Archiv der Gegenwart, 11. Dezember 1994, S. 39552 ff.

148

Hummer, supra Fn. 3, S. 32 ff.

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bereits bestehenden lateinamerikanischen Integrationszonen schwächen.149 Insoferne erscheint also eine baldige Wiederherstellung der bisherigen gutnachbarschaftlichen Beziehungen zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay dringend geboten. Aber auch noch aus einem anderen Grund würde sich eine rasche Konsolidierung der politischen Beziehungen zwischen den Mitgliedstaaten des MERCOSUR anbieten, und zwar unter dem Aspekt der enormen politischen Herausforderung, die der unmittelbar bevorstehende Beitritt der Bolivarianischen Republik Venezuela zum MERCOSUR darstellt. Bereits fünf Monate vor seinem Austritt aus der „Anden Gemeinschaft“ (Comunidad Andina, CAN) auf der Basis seines Kündigungsschreibens vom 22. April 2006150 stellte Venezuela am 15. Oktober 2005 ein Beitrittsgesuch zum MERCOSUR, das vom „Rat für den Gemeinsamen Markt“ (CMC) am 8. Dezember 2005 mittels Decisión No. 29/05 zustimmend zur Kenntnis genommen wurde.151 Durch einen gleichzeitig unterzeichneten „Rahmenvertrag“ zwischen den bisherigen vier MERCOSUR-Staaten und Venezuela152 wurde vereinbart, dass Venezuela bereits ab dessen bloßer Unterzeichnung (!) in den Organen des MERCOSUR beratend mitwirken kann (Art. 5). Auf der Basis dieses Rahmenvertrages unterzeichneten die Präsidenten der vier Mitgliedstaaten des MERCOSUR in der Folge am 4. Juli 2006 das „Beitrittsprotokoll Venezuelas zum MERCOSUR“153, das gem. seinem Art. 12 am dreißigsten Tag nach der Hinterlegung der fünften Ratifikationsurkunde in Kraft tritt. Nachdem Venezuela, Argentinien und Uruguay das Beitrittsprotokoll relativ rasch ratifiziert hatten, formierte sich in Brasilien und Paraguay Widerstand gegen einen Beitritt Venezuelas zum MERCOSUR, da dieses Land gerade zu diesem Zeitpunkt dem einzigen oppositionellen TV-Sender „Radio Caracas Televisión“ (RCTV) die Verlängerung seiner Sendelizenz verweigert hatte. Im Oktober 2007 erklärte sich der brasilianische Kongress aber überraschend bereit, dem Beitrittsprotokoll zuzustimmen, sodass für einen Beitritt Venezuelas zum MERCOSUR nur mehr der (parlamentarische) Widerstand in Paraguay überwunden werden muss. Es ist daher in Bälde mit einem Beitritt der Bolivarianischen Republik Venezuela zum MERCOSUR zu rechnen. Damit wird sich aber die politische Landschaft im Cono Sur im allgemeinen und im MERCOSUR im speziellen ganz entscheidend verändern. Vor allem vom venezolanischen Projekt einer „Bolivarianischen Alternative für unser Amerika“ (Alternativa Bolivariana para Nuestra América, ALBA), das als Gegenprojekt zum vorstehend erwähnten USA-Vorschlag einer ALCA konzipiert und seit Dezember 2001 konkret verhandelt wurde,154 geht dabei die größte „Gefahr“ für die bestehenden traditionellen regionalen Präferenzzonen in Lateinamerika aus. ALBA versteht sich in diesem Zusammenhang als eine „nueva y verdadera integración“, die gerechtere 149

„Streit um Zellulosefabriken“, Salzburger Nachrichten, 3. März 2006, S. 10.

150

Vgl. dazu Hummer, supra Fn. 9.

151

MERCOSUR/CMC/DEC. No 29/05 vom 8. Dezember 2005.

152

2005 Acuerdo Marco para la adhesión de la República Bolivariana de Venezuela al MERCOSUR, Annex zum Beschluß No 29/05 des CMC, supra Fn. 151.

153

2006 Protocolo de Adhesión de la República Bolivariana de Venezuela al MERCOSUR.

154

Vgl. dazu Hummer, supra Fn. 9.

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und weniger „neoliberale“ Integrationsformen herbeiführen soll, und stellt damit den bisherigen GATT-konform errichteten regionalen Präferenzzonen in Lateinamerika und der Karibik – wie zB CARICOM, SICA, ALADI, MERCOSUR, Comunidad Andina etc. – bewusst ein Gegenmodell an die Seite, das mit diesen nicht kompatibel ist. Um dieser konzeptuell völlig neuen Herausforderung entsprechend entgegnen zu können, wäre es hoch an der Zeit, dass sich die bisherigen MERCOSUR-Staaten zu einer konsistenten Gegenstrategie zusammenfinden. Dafür ist aber zunächst die Überwindung der bilateralen Streitigkeiten zwischen Argentinien und Uruguay notwendig.

44

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The 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia Territoral and Maritime Dispute (Preliminary Objections) Judgment: A Landmark in the Sound Administration of International Justice Barbara Kwiatkowska

I.

Introductory Remarks on the World Court’s Judicial Leadership

It is an honour to have been invited to contribute to the Festschrift for Professor Gerhard Hafner. In view of his longstanding expertise and interest in the peaceful settlement of disputes, this essay will be devoted to one of the latest judgments of the International Court of Justice (ICJ). The 2007 Judgment in Nicaragua v. Colombia Territorial and Maritime Dispute (Preliminary Objections) provides – like other decisions of the ICJ – an outstanding evidence of what former ICJ President Stephen M. Schwebel and current President Rosalyn Higgins perceive as the ‘intrinsic’ authority of the Court’s decisions and the coherence of its case-law in terms of fundamental factors which are characteristic to the unique role of the ICJ as ‘the principal judicial organ of the United Nations and the Court with the richest history, the broadest material jurisdiction and the most refined jurisdictional jurisprudence’.1 Within this ‘most refined jurisdictional jurisprudence’,

1

Statement of ICJ President S. M. Schwebel to the 54th UN General Assembly, which closed the Second and opened the Third Millennium, UN Doc.A/54/PV.39 (1999), at 1-5; 54 ICJ Yearbook 282-288 (1999-2000); and Statement of ICJ President Rosalyn Higgins to the 62nd UN General Assembly, 1 November 2007, http://www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=24516&Cr= international&Cr1=justice; S. M. Schwebel, ‘The Impact of the International Court of Justice’, in Liber Amicorum Boutros Boutros-Ghali: Peace, Development, Democracy, Vol. I, 663-674 (1998); and S. M. Schwebel, ‘The Contribution of the International Court of Justice to the Development of International Law’, in W. Heere (ed.), International Law and The Hague’s 750th Anniversary, Kurhaus Proceedings, 2-4 July 1998, at 406-408 (1999), relying on the concept of an ‘intrinsic’ authority of the Court’s decisions as expounded by Sir Hersch Lauterpacht, The Development of International Law by the International Court 22 (1982). For an analysis see B. Kwiatkowska, ‘The Law of the Sea Related Cases in the ICJ During the Presidency of Judge Stephen M. Schwebel (1997-2000) and Beyond’ (hereinafter: ‘President Schwebel’s Triennium’), 2 The Global Community Yearbook of International Law and Jurisprudence 27, at 29-42 (2002); and id., ‘Equitable Maritime Boundary Delimitation, as Exemplified in the Work of the ICJ During the Presidency of Judge Gilbert Guillaume (2000-2003) and Beyond’ (hereinafter: ‘ICJ President Guillaume’s Triennium’), 5 YILJ 51, at 55-56, 164 (2005); and Vols. 1-6 YILJ (2001-2006); id., ‘The World Court and Peaceful Settlement of Oceans Disputes’, in D. Freestone/R. Barnes (eds.), The Law of the Sea: Progress and Prospects 433-457 (2006). See

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 909-942, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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the 2002 Judgment in Land and Maritime Boundary between Cameroon and Nigeria (Cameroon v. Nigeria; Equatorial Guinea Intervening) completed the procedurally most complex proceedings in the Court’s history,2 while the 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Judgment can – on several counts analyzed in this essay – be singled out as a landmark in the sound administration of international justice, jurisdictional scrutiny and procedural economy. Along with its remarkable procedural virtues, the 2007 Judgment In Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) and the ensuing merits phase marked the highest prominence of peaceful settlement of territorial and maritime disputes in the strategically important Caribbean Sea region, as also evidenced by the preceding 2007 Judgment in Nicaragua v. Honduras Territorial and Maritime Dispute in the Caribbean Sea,3 both rendered under the Presidency of Judge Rosalyn Higgins (2006-2009). These two judgments were, in turn, preceded by two other Caribbean Sea decisions of arbitral tribunals established pursuant to Annex VII of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS)4 – the 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago (Jurisdiction and Merits) Award, rendered by the Tribunal presided over by former ICJ President Stephen M. Schwebel on the eve of the ICJ’s 60th Anniversary,5

also Former ICJ President Sir Humphrey Waldock, The International Court and the Law of the Sea (1979); M. Shahabuddeen, Precedent in the World Court (1996); G. Ziccardi Capaldo, ‘Global Trends and Global Court’, 4 YILJ 127, at 146-147 (2004); J. J. van Haersolte-van Hof, ‘Revitalization of the Permanent Court of Arbitration’, 54 Netherlands International Law Review 395-413 (2007); and an excellent appraisal by former British Legal Adviser A. Aust, ‘Peaceful Settlement of Disputes’, in T. M, Ndiaye/R. Wolfrum (eds.), Liber Amicorum Judge Thomas A. Mensah 131-141 (2007). For in-depth survey of an ‘intrinsic’ authority of the Court’s jurisprudence, see B. Kwiatkowska, Decisions of the World Court Relevant to the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea – A Reference Guide (2002). 2

Land and Maritime Boundary between Cameroon and Nigeria (Cameroon v. Nigeria; Equatorial Guinea Intervening), Merits, Judgment of 10 October 2002, 2002 ICJ Rep. 303. For an analysis see P. H. F. Bekker, ‘Case Report’, 97 American Journal of International Law 387-398 (2003). See also B. Kwiatkowska, ‘ICJ President Guillaume’s Triennium’, supra note 1, at 134-140, 150-163, 170-171, analyzing the various phases of the Cameroon v. Nigeria proceedings.

3

Territorial and Maritime Dispute in the Caribbean Sea (Nicaragua v. Honduras), Merits, Judgment of 8 October 2007, http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/120/14075.pdf (not yet published). Unless otherwise indicated, unpublished decisions and documents of the ICJ are available at the Court’s website http://www.icj-cij.org.

4

1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, 1833 UNTS 397, 21 ILM 1261 (1982). For the current status of the Convention and the Agreement for the Implementation of Its Part XI, see UNDOALOS website, http://www.un.org/Depts/los/.

5

UNCLOS Annex VII Maritime Delimitation (Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago), Jurisdiction and Merits, Award of 11 April 2006, http://www.pca-cpa.org/showfile.asp?fil_id=178; reprinted in 45 ILM 800 (2006). For comments see B. Kwiatkowska, ‘Case Report’, 101 AJIL 149-157 (2007); Y. Tanaka, ‘The Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Case Report’, 21 (4) International Journal of Marine and Coastal Law 523-533 (2006); B. Kwiatkowska, ‘The 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award: A Landmark in Compulsory Jurisdiction and Equitable Maritime Boundary Delimitation’, 22 IJMCL 7-60 (2007), id., ‘The 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Maritime Delimination (Jurisdiction and Merits Award)’, in Liber Amicorum Mensah, supra note 1, at

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and the 2007 Guyana/Suriname (Jurisdiction and Merits) Award presided over by former ITLOS President Dolliver Nelson.6 The two Annex VII Awards referred to above have given impetus to seeking progress in the UN Guyana/Venezuela Mediation7 and in resolving other Caribbean Sea territorial and maritime disputes, notably the Belize/Guatemala Mediation of the Organization of American States (OAS)8 and the dispute over the Aves Island claimed by Venezuela,9 as well as to delimiting France (French Guyana)/Suriname and other pending boundaries up to and beyond 200 miles between the states of the region.10 The close interest of Chile, Ecuador and Peru (CEP) – along with Venezuela and Jamaica – in the Nicaragua v. Honduras and Nicaragua v. Colombia proceedings11 led to increasing the ICJ docket of pending territorial and maritime (Romania v. Ukraine and Malaysia/ Singapore12) cases by the new Peru v. Chile Maritime Delimitation case instituted in

917-965; S. Rosenne, ‘Arbitrations Under Annex VII of the UNCLOS’, ibid., at 1003-1004; R. Churchill, ‘Dispute Settlement Under the UNCLOS: Survey for 2006’, 22 IJMCL 463, 470-483 (2007). 6

UNCLOS Annex VII Maritime Delimitation (Guyana/Suriname), Jurisdiction and Merits, Award of 17 September 2007, http://www.pca-cpa.org/showfile.asp?fil_id=664.

7

See B. Kwiatkowska, ‘The 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award’, 22 IJMCL 7-60 (2007), supra note 5, at 50-52, noting that the 1990 Trinidad and Tobago/Venezuela Delimitation Treaty, 1654 UNTS 293, 614, which superseded the 1942 Gulf of Paria Treaty, CCV LNTS 221 and played a major role in the Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago boundary delimitation, appears to be based upon the assumption that the disputed Esequibo land belongs to Venezuela and not to Guyana.

8

See Sir Elihu Lauterpacht CBE QC, Judge Stephen M. Schwebel, Shabtai Rosenne and Francisco Orrego Vicuna, Joint Legal Opinion on Guatemala’s Territorial Claim to Belize (2002), http:// www.belize-guatemala.gov.bz/library/legal_opinion/welcome.html and http://vandeplaspublishing.com; J.G. Merrills, ‘The Belize/Guatemala Territorial Dispute and the Legal Opinion’, 2 YILJ 77-95 (2002); and Vols 1-6 YILJ (2001-2006).

9

For references to the Aves Island dispute see the transcripts in Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Hearings, Day 6, 16 (Co-Agent Volterra, 25 October 2005), 68-69 (Agent Mottley), Day 7, 27-28 (Counsel Greenwood, 27 October 2005), Day 8, 26 (Counsel Crawford, 28 October 2005), 133 (Agent Jeremie), http://www.pca-cpa.org/showpage.asp?pag_id=1152.

10

On the Suriname/France (French Guyana) delimitation negotiations see the 2007 Guyana/ Suriname Award, supra note 6, paras. 132, 226 and 391; and 2007 France’s Submission (French Guyana) to the Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf (CLCS) and Suriname’s Letter of 17 August 2007, http://www.un.org/Depts/los/clcs_new/clcs_home.htm; and http://www. extraplac.fr/FR/extensions/geographie.php. On the unprecedented upholding by the Arbitral Tribunal of jurisdiction over the outer continental shelf beyond 200 miles in the 2006 Barbados/ Trinidad and Tobago Award, supra note 5, as reaffirmed by the ICJ in its 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment, supra note 3, see infra note 83 and corresponding text.

11

See infra note 21 and corresponding text.

12

Maritime Delimitation in the Black Sea (Romania v. Ukraine), Order of 30 June 2006, 2006 ICJ Rep. 110; and Sovereignty over Pedra Branca/Pulau Batu Puteh, Middle Rocks and South Ledge (Malaysia/Singapore), Orders of 1 September 2003 and 1 February 2005, 2003 ICJ Rep. 146 and 2005 ICJ Rep. 3.

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2008,13 while the Gulf of Fonseca states resumed their efforts to implement the 1992 El Salvador/Honduras; Nicaragua Intervening (Merits) Judgment.14 These developments in the Caribbean and Southeast Pacific regions, which have always been in the forefront of progressive development of the modern oceans regime,15 were paralleled by an ingenious application in 2006-2007 of the UNCLOS system of charts and geographical coordinates of points for the purpose of demarcating the land/ river boundary which was delimited by the 2002 UN Eritrea/Ethiopia Delimitation of the Border (Merits) Decision,16 as well as by the progress achieved in the UN Gabon/ Equatorial Guinea Corisco Bay Mediation,17 Croatia/Slovenia Piran Bay and land 13

Maritime Delimitation (Peru v. Chile) Case, ICJ Press Release No. 2008/1, 16 January 2008, increasing number of cases pending on the Court’s docket to 12 in total.

14

Land, Island and Maritime Frontier Dispute (El Salvador v. Honduras; Nicaragua Intervening), Merits, Judgment of 11 September 1992, 1992 ICJ Rep. 351; Request of Honduras of 20 January 2002 to the UN Security Council under art. 94(2) of the UN Charter for Assistance in Implementation of the 1992 Judgment, UN Docs. S/2002/108 and S/2002/251; A/57/299 and A/57/337 (2002); S/2002/1088, S/2002/1102 and S/2002/1194; and S/2003/306, S/2003/430 and S/2003/561, reprinted in: 18 International Organizations and the Law of the Sea 283-303 (2002); Application for Revision of the Judgment of 11 September 1992 in the Case Concerning the Land, Island and Maritime Frontier Dispute (El Salvador v. Honduras), Judgment of 18 December 2003, 2003 ICJ Rep. 392, which held that El Salvador’s Application for Revision under art. 61 of the ICJ Statute was inadmissible; Managua Declaration on the Gulf of Fonseca of El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua of 4 October 2007, UN Doc. A/62/486 (2007), http:// www.un.org/ga/62/agenda/justice.shtml.

15

While the credit for inauguration of the New Law of the Sea goes to two famous 1945 Proclamations of US President Harry S. Truman, 40 AJIL 45-47 (1946), the evolution of the doctrine of the continental shelf was initiated by the then unprecedented 1942 Gulf of Paria Treaty, supra note 7, and the spectacular 1952 CEP Declaration of Santiago, coupled with individual claims of CEP and other Latin American states which were triggered by Truman Proclamations, marked the beginning of the progressive development of the then revolutionary doctrine of 200-miles exclusive economic zone (EEZ), as recently followed by the Chile-led concept of the presential sea beyond 200 miles. See M. M. Whiteman, Digest of International Law, Vol. 4, 752-760 and 945-962 (Truman Proclamations), 763-764, 1060-1070, 1089-1096 and 1200-1201 (CEP and other Latin American states) (1965); and reliance in jurisprudence on the Truman Proclamations as marking the origins of the EEZ, in Kwiatkowska, Decisions (2002), supra note 1, at 39, 70.

16

Delimitation of the Border (Eritrea/Ethiopia), Merits, Decision of 13 April 2002, President Sir Elihu Lauterpacht CBE QC, 41 ILM 1057 (2002), reprinted with all the ensuing Decisions and Determinations of the UN Eritrea/Ethiopia Boundary Commission (UNEEBC), in XXV UNRIAA 83; UNEEBC Statement on Boundary Demarcation of 27 November 2006, 46 ILM 155 (2007) and at PCA website, http://www.pca-cpa.org. On the UNEEBC’s power to take binding decisions ‘on any matter it finds necessary for the performance of its mandate to delimit and demarcate the boundary’, see the 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award, supra note 5, paras. 278, 281; Kwiatkowska, ‘The World Court’, supra note 1, at 455-457.

17

Gabon/Equatorial Guinea Corisco Bay Mediation of the UN Secretary-General’s Representative, Judge L. Yves Fortier CC, QC of 23 January 2004, http://www.un.org/apps/news/story. asp?NewsID=9499&Cr=gabon&Cr1=guinea; 19 March 2004, http://aol.countrywatch.com/ aol_wire.asp?vCOUNTRY=62&UID=1044031; 6/7 July 2004, http://www.un.org/News/ Press/docs/2004/sgsm9407.doc.htm; 1974 Gabon/Equatorial Guinea Convention Demarcating the Land and Maritime Frontiers, 2248 UNTS 93; and Equatorial Guinea’s Second and Third Objections of 7 and 26 April 2004, 2261 UNTS 308, 319.

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delimitation negotiations18 and in efforts aimed at resolving many disputes pending in other regions of the World. All these judicial and arbitral decisions and ongoing developments confirm the ‘intrinsic’ authority of, and the leading role played continuously by, the World Court – through an ever-expanding concept of ‘judicial habit stimulates healthy imitation’ amongst international tribunals – in the development of the law of the sea and the law of territorial (land and insular) acquisition, as well as the peaceful resolution of territorial and oceans disputes within the framework of the United Nations Charter.19

II.

The Course of the Nicaragua v. Colombia Proceedings and Delivery of the 2007 Judgment

The Nicaragua v. Colombia Territorial and Maritime Dispute case, which concerns title to insular territory and maritime boundary delimitation, was instituted by means of Nicaragua’s Application of 6 December 2001, relying upon the compromissory clause in Article XXXI of the 1948 American Treaty on Pacific Settlement (Pact of Bogotá), and also relying upon the Optional Clause Declarations made by both parties which are deemed to be acceptance of compulsory jurisdiction pursuant to Article 36(5) of the ICJ Statute for the period which they still had to run and in accordance with their terms. Nicaragua first chose as its Judge ad hoc former ICJ President Mohammed Bedjaoui (Algeria), who was the member of the 1984-1986 Military and Paramilitary Activities (Nicaragua v. United States) and the 1988 Border and Transborder Armed Actions (Nicaragua v. Honduras) Bench, and upon his resignation from the Nicaragua v. Colombia case Professor Giorgio Gaja (Italy), while Colombia chose Mr. L. Yves Fortier CC QC (Canada), who was Bahrain’s Judge ad hoc in the Maritime Delimitation and Territorial Questions (Qatar v. Bahrain) case and who serves as the UN SecretaryGeneral’s Representative in the Gabon/Equatorial Guinea Corisco Bay Mediation.20 18

See T. Scovazzi, ‘Recent Developments as Regards Maritime Delimitation in the Adriatic Sea’, in R. Lagoni/D. Vignes (eds.), Maritime Delimitation 189-203 (2006); Slovenia’s White Book of 19 June 2006, Lubljana Ministry of Foreign Affairs, http://www.mzz.gov.si/en/newsroom/ events.

19

See 54th UN General Assembly Statement of ICJ President Schwebel, supra note 1, welcoming the creation of specialized international tribunals as making ‘international law more effective’ and reiterating that a ‘greater range of international legal fora is likely to mean that more disputes are submitted to international judicial settlement. The more international adjudication there is, the more there is likely to be; the ‘judicial habit’ may stimulate healthy imitation’. For an analysis see B. H. Oxman, ‘Comments on the Horizontal Growth of International Courts, in The Legalization of International Relations’, Proceedings of the 96th ASIL Annual Meeting, Washington D.C., 13-16 March 2002, at 373, 375-376 (2002); Kwiatkowska, ‘ICJ President Schwebel’s Triennium’ (2002), supra note 1, at 32-34; 62nd UN General Assembly Statement of ICJ President Higgins and other works quoted in supra note 1; and infra notes 42-45 and corresponding text.

20

Territorial and Maritime Dispute (Nicaragua v. Colombia), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 13 December 2007, 2007 ICJ Rep, para. 4 (not yet published, http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/

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The institution of the Nicaragua v. Colombia case was duly notified by the ICJ Registrar to states parties to the Pact of Bogotá and to the OAS Secretary-General, and upon agreement of Nicaragua and Colombia, the copies of their pleadings and documents annexed in the case were provided to Honduras, Jamaica, Chile, Ecuador, Peru (CEP) and Venezuela.21 During the oral hearings in Nicaragua v. Colombia held on 4-8 June 2007, the Court, presided over by Judge Rosalyn Higgins, heard the oral arguments and replies of Colombia’s Agent Julio Londono Paredes and Counsel Sir Arthur Watts KCMG QC, Prosper Weil and Judge Stephen M. Schwebel, as well as of Nicaragua’s Agent Carlos Arguello Gomez and Counsel Alain Pellet, Antonio Remiro Brotons and Ian Brownlie.22 The team of Colombia also included its Ambassador to the Netherlands and Co-Agent Guillermo Fernando de Soto, former ICJ Registrar and presently ILC member Eduardo Valencia-Ospina and former ICTY and IACHR Judge Rafael Nieto Navia, and the team of Nicaragua also included its Minister of Foreign Affairs Samuel Santos. Mr. Brownlie, Judge Schwebel and Sir Arthur served before as arbitrators of the Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Arbitral Tribunal in the 1984-1986 Nicaragua v. United States case, in which present Colombia’s Counsel Judge Schwebel strongly dissented from the decisions of the Court.23 Nicaragua’s Agent Arguello and Counsel Brownlie and Pellet (along with Alex Oude Elferink) were, moreover, involved in Nicaragua v. Honduras Territorial and Maritime Dispute referred to above. Sir Arthur Watts passed away on 16 November 2007, as was regretted by President Higgins

files/124/14305.pdf; in the following ‘2007 Judgment’). On the UN Gabon/Equatorial Guinea Mediation, see supra note 17, and on the Qatar v. Bahrain Judgments, see infra notes 67 and 70. 21

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 3 and 7; Hearings, CR 2007/16, 10 in fine (President Higgins). Diplomatic representatives of these states participated in both the Hearings and the Court’s sessions at which President Higgins read the 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras and Nicaragua v. Colombia Judgments. The institution of the Nicaragua v. Honduras case was duly notified not only to the states parties to the Pact of Bogotá and the OAS Secretary-General, but also to states parties to the UNCLOS and the European Union, supra note 4. See 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras (Merits) Judgment, supra note 3, paras. 3-4.

22

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 10.

23

On 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award, see supra note 5. On the infamous series of successive applications lodged by Nicaragua in three inter-related cases – profoundly prejudicial to the sound administration of justice – against the United States in 1984 and against Costa Rica and Honduras in 1986, see Border and Transborder Armed Actions (Nicaragua v. Honduras), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 20 December 1988, 1988 ICJ Rep. 69, at 126-132 (Judge Schwebel, Seperate Opinion). For an analysis see infra notes 118-124 and correspon ding text. On the busiest docket in the ICJ history of 22 new cases during President Schwebel’s triennium (1997-2000), as continued with six additional new cases during President Guillaume’s triennium (2000-2003), see Kwiatkowska, ‘ICJ President Schwebel’s Triennium’ (2002), supra note 1, at 27-75, updated as of 2007; and ‘ICJ President Guillaume’s Triennium’ (2005), supra note 1, at 51-171.

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at the official session of her reading one month later of the Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Judgment.24 Within its territorial claims, which Nicaragua considered as accessory and preliminary to its request to the Court to adjudicate the Colombia/Nicaragua maritime boundary delimitation, Nicaragua claimed sovereignty over the islands of San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina and all the appurtenant islands and cays. It contended that the Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty Concerning Territorial Questions at Issue Between Colombia and Nicaragua and Esguerra-Irias Protocol of Exchange of Ratifications were concluded by Nicaragua at Managua on 24 March 1928 and 5 May 1930 respectively, under coercion of the United States and that, therefore, the Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty was invalid and could not provide a legal basis for Colombia’s sovereignty over the San Andres Archipelago.25 Were the Court to adjudge this Treaty’s valid conclusion, its alleged breach by Colombia in 1969 was claimed by Nicaragua as entitling it to terminate the Treaty. In addition, Nicaragua reserved ‘the right to claim compensation for elements of unjust enrichment consequent upon Colombian possession of the Islands of San Andres and Providencia as well as the keys and maritime spaces up to the 82nd meridian, in the absence of lawful title’.26 With respect to maritime delimitation, Nicaragua requested the Court to determine – in the light of its findings concerning title – the course of the single maritime boundary between the areas of the 200-mile exclusive economic zone and the continental shelf (EEZ/CS, which involve some 50,000 square kilometres) appertaining to Nicaragua and Colombia, ‘in accordance with equitable principles and relevant circumstances recognized by general international law as applicable to such a delimitation of a single maritime boundary’.27 In case the Court were to find that, as Colombia contended, the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and its 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol had been validly concluded, Nicaragua asked the Court to determine that contrary to Colombia’s position, they did not establish a delimitation of the maritime areas along the 82nd meridian of longitude West. Nicaragua further requested the Court that San Andres and Providencia Islands be equitably enclaved and accorded only a 12-mile territorial sea (TS), that

24

For obituaries see Telegraph of 4 December 2007, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main. jhtml?xml=/news/2007/12/04/db0402.xml, and T. Daniel, ‘Sir Arthur Watts: Foreign Office Legal Adviser Who Became a Sought-After International Lawyer’, Independent of 5 December 2007, http://news.independent.co.uk/people/obituaries/article3223660.ece. See also President Lauterpacht’s 26th Report, UN Doc. S/2008/40, Annex II, para. 2; and UN Security Council Resolution 1798, UN Doc S/RES/1798 (2008); and M. Wood, ‘The Selection of Candidates for International Judicial Office’, in Liber Amicorum Mensah (2007), supra note 1, at 357-368. This Liber also contains what turned out to be his last, typically illuminating essay, A. Watts, ‘Preparation for International Litigation’, ibid., at 327-340.

25

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 11-12; US Department of State Press Release, in 23 AJIL 155 (1929); 25 AJIL 328 (1931).

26

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para.11.

27

Ibid.

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BARBARA KWIATKOWSKA

the Colombian cays be enclaved by a 3-mile TS and that a single EEZ/CS equidistant boundary be drawn between the mainland coasts of Nicaragua and Colombia.28 In its Preliminary Objections raised on 21 July 2003 and contested by Nicaragua, Colombia requested the Court to adjudge under Article 79 of its Rules and – at the hearings on 6 June 2007 – under Article 60 of the Rules, that pursuant to Articles VI and XXXIV of the Pact of Bogotá, that it lacked jurisdiction to hear the controversy submitted to it by Nicaragua under Article XXXI and that the controversy ‘ended’; that it also lacked jurisdiction under Article 36(2) of its Statute, and that Nicaragua’s Application be dismissed.29 In the oral hearings, Colombia’s Agent stressed that ‘Nicaragua’s attempt to appropriate the Archipelago of San Andres and its appurtenant maritime areas is deeply offensive to 43 million Colombians’, and that if Nicaragua’s attempt to reopen a controversy already settled and governed by a Treaty were to succeed, it would render the Pact’s provisions devoid of purpose, ‘with grave implications for regional security and stability in Latin America and the Caribbean Sea’.30 In its landmark Judgment in Nicaragua v. Colombia Territorial and Maritime Dispute (Preliminary Objections) of 13 December 2007,31 the ICJ – presided over by Judge Rosalyn Higgins – unanimously upheld its jurisdiction pursuant to Article XXXI of the Pact of Bogotá to the extent conforming with its preceding decisions.32 With respect to sovereignty over the islands of San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina, which was determined by the Court to having been attributed by the legally valid 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and its 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol to Colombia, the Court upheld Colombia’s First and Second Preliminary Objections by large majority of 13:4 and of 14:3, respectively.33 With respect to sovereignty over the other maritime features in dispute between the parties and the maritime boundary delimitation which were determined by the Court not to having been settled by the valid 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and its 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol, the Court unanimously rejected Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection (concerning Articles VI and XXXIV of the Pact of Bogotá) and decided by vote of 16:1 that it was not necessary to examine Colombia’s Second

28

Ibid., paras 11-12; Nicaragua’s Memorial, paras 3.11-3.12 (28 April 2003), noting that the distances between the Nicaraguan mainland coast and the islands of San Andres and Providencia are about 105 and 125 miles respectively, while those between the two islands and the mainland coast of Colombia are 385 and 384 miles respectively.

29

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 12-14; Colombia’s Preliminary Objections (21 July 2003).

30

Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Hearings, CR 2007/18, at 31, paras. 3-4 (Colombia’s Agent Paredes).

31

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, and Oral Hearings, supra note 22.

32

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, operative clause, para. 142. Note that ‘sovereignty over the other maritime features’, which was treated as one question in the respective decisions covered by para. 142, actually combined two questions considered separately in the Court’s reasoning analyzed below, namely that of sovereignty over maritime features of the San Andres Archipelago other than islands of San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina, and that of sovereignty over Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana.

33

Ibid., para. 142(1)(a).

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Preliminary Objection (based on the Optional Clause) in so far as it concerned these two issues.34 Accordingly, the Court found in its two unanimous decisions that it had jurisdiction on the basis of Article XXXI of the Pact of Bogotá to adjudicate upon the dispute concerning sovereignty over the mearitime features claimed by the parties other than the islands of San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina and the Colombia/ Nicaragua maritime delimitation.35 The four dissenting Judges Al-Khasawneh, Ranjeva, Abraham, Bennouna and Simma appended their Declarations and Opinions to the Judgment, as was also the case with concurring Judges Peter Tomka, Sir Kenneth Keith, Gonzalo Parra-Aranguren and Judge ad hoc Gaja. The concurring Judges included President Rosalyn Higgins, whose concurring vote testified that she had chaired the Drafting Committee of the Judgment.36

III.

Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection (Pact of Bogotá)

A.

The ‘Exclusively Preliminary’ Issue of the Validity of the 1928 Treaty and Its Protocol

The consideration of Colombia’s Preliminary Objections required the Court beforehand to determine the subject-matter of the dispute, taking account of the submissions of the parties. This task is a fundamental attribute of the judicial function.37 As a preliminary point, the

34

Ibid., para. 142(1)(b)-(c) and (2)(b).

35

Id., para.142(3)(a)-(b).

36

For examples of Opinions sometimes appended to the Judgments by the Court’s Presidents who voted in favour thereof and presided over the Drafting Committees, see The GabcikovoNagymaros Project (Hungary v. Slovakia), Merits, Judgment of 25 September 1997, 1997 ICJ Rep. 7, at 85 (President Schwebel, Declaration); Fisheries Jurisdiction (Spain v. Canada), Jurisdiction, Judgment of 4 December 1998, 1998 ICJ Rep. 432 at 470 (President Schwebel, Seperate Opinion); and The Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000 (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Belgium), Jurisdiction and Merits, Judgment of 14 February 2002, 2002 ICJ Rep. 3, at 35 (President Guillaume, Seperate Opinion). See also reference to Drafting Committee in ICJ President Higgins’ 62nd UN General Assembly Statement, quoted infra note 45.

37

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 38, reaffirming the 1998 Spain v. Canada Fisheries (Jurisdiction) Judgment, supra note 36, at 447-449, paras 29-32 and Nuclear Tests (Australia v. France) and (New Zealand v. France), Merits, Judgments of 20 December 1974, 1974 ICJ Rep. 262, para. 29 and at 466, para. 30. See also Southern Bluefin Tuna (Australia and New Zealand v. Japan), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Award of 4 August 2000, para. 48, in 39 ILM 1359 (2000); 119 ILR 508; Certain Property (Liechtenstein v. Germany), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 10 February 2005, 2005 ICJ Rep. 6, at 50, para.9 (Judge Owada, Dissenting Opinion); 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award, supra note 5, paras 196-198, 213-215, 277. For a authoritative and comprehensive definition of a legal dispute, see Land and Maritime Boundary (Cameroon v. Nigeria), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 11 June 1998, 1998 ICJ Rep. 314-315, para. 87. See also Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (New Application: 2002) (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Rwanda), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment

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Court recalled that Nicaragua and Colombia disagreed on whether or not the dispute between them had been settled by their 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and the 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol within the meaning of Article VI of the Pact of Bogotá which provides that the Pact’s dispute settlement procedures ‘may not be applied to matters already settled by arrangement between the parties, or by arbitral award or by decision of an international court, or which are governed by agreements or treaties in force on the date of the conclusion of the present Treaty’ (emphases added). The Court also recalled that under Article XXXIV of the Pact, such matters shall be declared ‘ended’.38 Nicaragua asserted that the issue of territorial title over the insular features in the disputed area, including the San Andres Archipelago, Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana and involving the question of validity or otherwise of the 1928 Treaty, was not the subject-matter of the dispute but a necessary prerequisite for the definitive resolution of the present dispute over maritime delimitation. Colombia claimed that all the matters in issue had already been settled by the 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol which were in force on the date on which the 1948 Pact of Bogotá was concluded. Therefore, the Court carefully and correctly concluded that all the contentious matters between Nicaragua and Colombia related to ‘the single question whether the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol settled the matters in dispute between the Parties concerning sovereignty over the islands and maritime features and the course of the maritime boundary’, and that in the circumstances of the present case, this single question was ‘a preliminary one’.39 It logically followed that ‘the questions which constitute the subject-matter of the dispute between the Parties on the merits are, first, sovereignty over territory (namely the islands and other maritime features claimed by the Parties) and, second, the course of the maritime boundary between the Parties’.40 In Colombia’s view, both these questions had already been ‘settled’ by the valid 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol and could be declared ‘ended’ pursuant to Articles VI and XXXIV of the Pact of Bogotá referred to above and the ICJ could therefore not exercise jurisdiction over so construed a dispute under Article XXXI of the Pact.41 Nicaragua for of 3 February 2006, 2006 ICJ Rep. 40, para. 90; 2007 Judgment, paras. 41 and 138, infra notes 91-94. 38

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 39, adding that there is no difference, for the purpose of applying art. VI of the Pact, between a given matter being ‘settled’ by the 1928 Treaty and being ‘governed’ by that Treaty and that the Court chose to hereafter use the word ‘settled’.

39

Ibid., paras 40-41 (emphasis added).

40

Ibid., paras. 4 and 83-84 and concurring Declarations of Judges Tomka, paras. 7-8 and Sir Kenneth Keith, paras. 1-3; supra notes 25-30 and corresponding text.

41

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 43 and 54-56, quoting arts. VI, XXXI and XXXIV of the 1948 Pact of Bogotá and art. 23 of the 1948 OAS Charter (whose 13 member states, including Colombia and Nicaragua, are at present also states parties to the Pact of Bogotá) and para. 60. Hearings, CR 2007/18, at 2-3, paras. 1-5 and at 5-6, paras. 11-13 (Colombia’s Counsel Weil), stating in para. 12: ‘The Court, we are confident, will not agree to the highest judicial body in the modern World being used as an instrument for destabilizing international relations. Pacta sunt servanda, I took the liberty of recalling – just as I recalled that there must be an end to every conflict – ut finis sit litium. That, Madam President, Members of the Court, is the real issue at

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its part was of the view that the Court could not at this stage pronounce upon the First Preliminary Objection because it did not possess an ‘exclusively preliminary character’ as required by Article 79(9) of the Rules of Court, and that it was too intimately related and too closely interconnected with the merits of the dispute. According to Nicaragua, the Court, without thorough examination of the merits, could not decide whether or not the 1928 Treaty was valid, what meaning was to be ascribed to the term ‘San Andres Archipelago’ and what the course of the Colombia/Nicaragua maritime boundary should be. If the Court did not reject the First Objection, which in Nicaragua’s view could not be upheld, it should join it to the merits because it did not possess an exclusively preliminary character in the circumstances of the case. However, the Court was unable to accept Nicaragua’s contentions and agreed with those of Colombia that when examining jurisdiction and admissibility, it is entitled, and in some circumstances may even be required, to go into ‘other questions which may not be strictly capable of classification as matters of jurisdiction or admissibility but are of such a nature as to require examination before those matters’.42 Conscious of its role as the principal judicial organ of the United Nations in promoting ‘the good administration of justice’, the Court displayed a remarkable jurisdictional scrutiny in supporting Colombia’s contentions: ‘In principle, a party raising preliminary objections is entitled to have these objections answered at the preliminary stage of the proceedings unless the Court does not have before it all facts necessary to decide the questions raised or if answering the preliminary objection would determine the dispute, or some elements thereof, on the merits. The Court finds itself in neither of these situations in the present case.’43 stake in the present case.’ Supra notes 29-30 and corresponding text. Note that art. XXXI of the Pact of Bogotá also served as the basis of the Court’s (contested) jurisdiction in the 1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras (Jurisdiction and Admissibility) Judgment (infra notes 85-89) and the Court’s (uncontested) jurisdiction in the 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras (Merits) Judgment (supra note 3) and was invoked by Peru in the Peru v. Chile Maritime Delimitation Case (supra note 13). 42

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 43 in fine and para. 49, and Nicaragua v. Colombia Judgment, para. 47, referring to Colombia’s position – based on the Lockerbie and other precedents in the Court’s jurisprudence – on the expanded definition of preliminary objections under art. 79 of the Rules as covering ‘any objection the purpose of which is to prevent, in limine, any consideration of the case on the merits’ and as covering any factual context which may well touch on issues the full exposition of which will occur in the merits phase. Hearings, CR 2007/18, at 19-21, paras. 1-16 (Sir Arthur Watts).

43

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 50. The Court further stated that it was not in the interest of ‘the good administration of justice’ for the Court to merely state that there is a disagreement between the parties as to whether the 1928 Treaty and 1930 Protocol settled the matters which are the subject of the present controversy within the meaning of art. VI of the Pact of Bogotá, leaving every aspect thereof to be resolved on the merits (ibid., para.51, reaffirming Certain German Interests in Polish Upper Silesia, Jurisdiction, Judgment No. 6, 1925 PCIJ (Ser. A) No. 6, at 15). See also 2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 73, and Dissenting Opinion of Vice-President Al-Khasawneh, para. 3 (supporting the permissibility of the Court to touch on the merits in order to establish its jurisdiction), as well as concurring Declarations of Judge Sir Kenneth Keith, paras. 1-3 and Judge Tomka, para. 8, stressing that in a situation where ‘the

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The Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Judgment stressed that the foregoing findings conformed to its preceding conclusion referred to above that the question of whether the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol settled the territorial and maritime delimitation matters in dispute did not constitute the subject-matter of the dispute on the merits, but was rather a preliminary question to be decided in order to ascertain whether the Court had jurisdiction. The Court therefore turned to considering this preliminary question, including the validity of the Treaty and its Protocol, and cautioned that in acting in conformity with Article 1 of its Statute, the Court was at this stage of the proceedings ‘only deciding, under Article 36(6) of the Statute, whether or not it has jurisdiction to hear the merits of the case and may not go further’.44 This legal reasoning was the result of its working methods which were characterized by President Rosalyn Higgins as follows: ‘The parties are entitled to expect that we will examine every single thing they put before us, and we do. There follows the often lengthy oral arguments that the States concerned wish to make. And our work on the Judgment that will follow is collegial – it is not passed over to a juge-rapporteur. We are, after all, the United Nations principal judicial organ, representing all the leading judicial systems of the World. So we draft every word ourselves; all of us deliberate as to what our findings will be; a small Drafting Committee, selected by the Court itself, prepares the draft Judgment; and every single Judge is engaged in the collegial process of polishing and refining the Judgment, making sure that no legal points are missed.’45

Court has at its disposal sound legal grounds to rule on the objection, the proper administration of justice and procedural economy justify the Court upholding or rejecting the objection already at this stage’. See also the observations on the ‘exclusively preliminary character’ of an preliminary objection in Questions of Interpretation and Application of the 1971 Montreal Convention Arising from the Aerial Incident at Lockerbie (Libya v. UK) and (Libya v. USA), Preliminary Objections, Judgments of 27 February 1998, 1998 ICJ Rep. 9, 115, at 71-73, 163-164 (President Schwebel, Dissenting Opinion). 44

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 59, and concurring Declarations of Judges Sir Kenneth Keith, para. 4 and Tomka, para. 8, supra note 43. See also S. M. Schwebel, Justice in International Law – Selected Writings of Judge Stephen M. Schwebel 11 (1994), stressing that ‘for the Court to be seen as impartial, it must be impartial and act impartially. That requires the most scrupulous adherence to its Rules and the most careful regard for its precedents’. See also Schwebel, The Impact of the International Court of Justice, supra note 1, at 671-672, stating: ‘Guided by considerations of judicial propriety and judicial economy, it is the practice of the Court to pronounce on the precise issues before it, and to go no further. This practice of judicial caution, if not always predictability, may be a major reason why the Judgments and Opinions of the Court are held in high regard.’ See further Schwebel, ‘The Reality of International Adjudication and Arbitration’, 12 Willamette Journal of International Law and Dispute Resolution 359-365 (2004).

45

ICJ President Higgins’ 62nd UN General Assembly Statement, supra note 1, at 1-2. On the meaning of ‘principal judicial organ’ under art. 92 of the UN Charter, repeated in art. 1 of the Court’s Statute, see S. Rosenne, The Law and Practice of the International Court 1920-2005, at 140-142 (2006); and on the Court’s working methods, see ibid., at 1507-1531.

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B.

921

Reaffirmation of the Validity of the 1928 Treaty and Its 1930 Protocol and Colombia’s Sovereignty

The preamble to the Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty Concerning Territorial Questions at Issue Between Colombia and Nicaragua of 24 March 1928 reads: ‘The Republic of Colombia and the Republic of Nicaragua, desirous of putting an end to the territorial dispute between them, and to strengthen the traditional ties of friendship which unite them, have decided to conclude the present Treaty.’

The Treaty’s substantive provisions are set down in Article I providing as follows: ‘1. The Republic of Colombia recognises the full and entire sovereignty of the Republic of Nicaragua over the Mosquito Coast between Cape Gracias a Dios and the San Juan River, and over Mangle Grande and Mangle Chico Islands in the Atlantic Ocean (Great Corn Island and Little Corn Island). The Republic of Nicaragua recognises the full and entire sovereignty of the Republic of Colombia over the islands of San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina and over the other islands, islets and reefs forming part of the San Andres Archipelago. 2. The present Treaty does not apply to the reefs of Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana, sovereignty over which is in dispute between Colombia and the United States of America.’46

On the occasion of the exchange of the instruments of ratification of the 1928 Treaty, Colombia and Nicaragua signed the Esguerra-Irias Protocol of Exchange of Ratifications of 5 May 1930, which noted that the 1928 Treaty was concluded ‘with a view to putting an end to the dispute between both republics concerning the San Andres and Providencia Archipelago and the Nicaraguan Mosquito Coast’ and which provided in the second paragraph: ‘The undersigned, in virtue of the full powers which have been granted to them and on the instructions of their respective Governments, hereby declare that the San Andres and Providencia Archipelago mentioned in the first Article of the said Treaty does not extend west of the 82nd degree of longitude west of Greenwich.’47

The 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol were promulgated in Colombia by Decree No. 993 of 23 June 1930, published in its Diario Oficial, and they were published in

46

As reproduced in the 2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 18. There the Court also noted that given certain differences between the Spanish original and the French and English translations would use the above translation of the League of Nations, but that it would employ the term ‘cays’ rather than ‘reefs’ when it itself referred to art. I(1). It added that without prejudice to the legal characterization of Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana referred to in art. I(2), the Court would not use any geographical qualification. For the text of the draft of the 1928 Treaty of 18 March 1925, see ibid., para. 69.

47

Ibid., paras. 20, 64 and 117.

922

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Nicaragua’s Diario Oficial on 2 July 1930.48 On 25 May 1932, Nicaragua registered the 1928 Treaty and 1930 Protocol with the League of Nations pursuant to Article 18 of the Covenant of the League, Colombia having already registered the Treaty on 16 August 1930.49 Fifty years later, the then freshly established Sandinista Government of Nicaragua raised for the first time in its Declaration and ‘White Paper’ (‘Libro Blanco’) of 4 February 1980 ‘the nullity and lack of validity of the Barcenas-Meneses-Esguerra Treaty […] concluded in a historical context which incapacitated as rulers the presidents imposed by the American forces of intervention in Nicaragua and which infringed [...] the principles of the National Constitution in force.’50

In his reply of 5 February 1980, Colombia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs stated that his Government rejected Nicaragua’s Declaration as ‘an unfounded claim that counters historical reality and breaches the most elementary principles of public international law’ and affirmed that the 1928 Treaty was ‘a valid, perpetual instrument, and in full force in light of the universally recognized legal norms’.51 For the purpose of determining the ‘exclusively preliminary question’ of critical importance whether, on the date of the conclusion of the 1948 Pact of Bogotá, the matters raised by Nicaragua were, pursuant to Article VI thereof, ‘governed by agreements or treaties in force’, namely the 1928 Treaty, ICJ recalled two reasons invoked by Nicaragua in support of the Treaty’s invalidity. First, the Treaty was allegedly concluded in manifest violation of Nicaragua’s 1911 Constitution. Second, at the time of its conclusion, Nicaragua was under military occupation by the United States and was allegedly precluded from concluding treaties that ran contrary to US interests and from rejecting the conclusion of treaties that the United States demanded it to conclude.52 In squarely rejecting Nicaragua’s contentions as unfounded and reaffirming the validity of the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty, the Court held that the clear purpose of Article VI was to preclude the use of judicial remedies in order to reopen such matters as were settled by judicial decision or a treaty between the parties to the Pact of Bogotá. Since Nicaragua did not enter any reservation regarding the 1928 Treaty when it became a party to the 1948 Pact, although it did make a reservation with regard to validity of the 1906 Honduras/Nicaragua Boundary Question Award of King Alphons XIII of Spain, the Court agreed with Colombia that there was no evidence that the states parties to the Pact of Bogotá, including Nicaragua, considered the 1928 Treaty to be invalid.53 48

Ibid., paras. 63, 70-72 and 78.

49

Ibid., para. 78.

50

Ibid., para. 28.

51

Ibid.

52

Ibid., paras. 75 and 76. Nicaragua’s Memorial, Chapter II, Section II, Part B: paras 2.122-2.138 (28 April 2003), http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/124/13870.pdf.

53

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 76-78. On Nicaragua’s reservation to the Pact concerning the Boundary Question (Honduras/Nicaragua), see Award of 23 December 1906, XI UNRIAA 111; and XXVIII UNRIAA 451.

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No less importantly, the Court was convinced by Colombia’s arguments that even assuming that the 1928 Treaty was incompatible with Nicaragua’s 1911 Constitution,54 or that Nicaragua lacked competence to freely conclude treaties due to occupation by the United States, these claims were never raised by Nicaragua for some 50 years which – based on the 1960 Arbitral Award Made by the King of Spain precedent – precluded Nicaragua from raising them now.55 In subsequently often quoted (in UN and elsewhere) passage of its 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Judgment, the Court asserted as follows: ‘For more than 50 years, Nicaragua has treated the 1928 Treaty as valid and never contended that it was not bound by the Treaty, even after the withdrawal of the last United States troops at the beginning of 1933. At no time in those 50 years, even after it became a Member of the United Nations in 1945 and even after it joined the Organization of American States in 1948, did Nicaragua contend that the Treaty was invalid for whatever reason, including that it had been concluded in violation of its Constitution or under foreign coercion. On the contrary, Nicaragua has, in significant ways, acted as if the 1928 Treaty was valid.’56

54

As Judge Tomka in his illuminating concurring Declaration in 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections), para. 6 recalled, Nicaragua previously argued the alleged violation of its Constitution as a ground for invalidating the 1858 Costa Rica/Nicaragua Treaty of Limits, but the Costa Rica v. Nicaragua Award of 22 March 1888, XXVIII UNRIAA 189; 10 AJIL 346 (1916), upheld the validity of the 1858 Treaty. In the view of Judge Tomka (at para. 9), which likely reflects the view of the Court’s majority, since Nicaragua by its conduct over 50 years must be considered as having acquiesced in the validity of the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and its maintenance in force, it could ‘no longer invoke the alleged manifest violation of its Constitution of 1911 as a ground for invalidating the 1928 Treaty’.

55

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 76, quoting the Arbitral Award Made by the King of Spain on 23 December 1906 (Honduras v. Nicaragua), Judgment of 18 November 1960, 1960 ICJ Rep. 213-214, in which the Court ruled that Nicaragua’s failure to question the validity of the Arbitral Award for six years after the terms of the Award had become known to it, precluded Nicaragua from relying subsequently on allegations of invalidity. See also the concurring Declaration of Judge Tomka, paras. 10-14. See further the 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras, Merits Judgment, supra note 3, para. 154, noting that the 1906 Honduras v. Nicaragua Award defined the territorial boundary with regard to the disputed portions of land from Portillo de Teotecacinte to the Atlantic Coast and that ‘[t]he validity and binding force of the 1906 Award have been confirmed by this Court in its 1960 Judgment and both Parties to the present dispute accept the Award as legally binding’. On the lack of boundary along the 15th parallel in the 1906 Honduras v. Nicaragua Award, see infra note 77.

56

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 79-81, adding that neither in 1969 when Nicaragua responded to Colombia’s claim that the 82nd meridian constituted the maritime boundary, nor in 1971 when Nicaragua made representations to the United States reserving its rights over Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana, did Nicaragua call into question the validity of the Treaty. Similarly the concurring Declaration of Judge Tomka, ibid., paras. 9-13. See also the quotations at supra notes 50-51. Hearings, CR 2007/18 (translation), 5-6, paras. 11-12 (Colombia’s Counsel Weil, 6 June 2007), stressing that to ‘call into question the 1928 Treaty, which has governed relations between the Parties for 70 years, would set a dangerous precedent for the stability of international relations based on the principle of respect for treaties’ and referring to the fundamental principle of pacta sunt servanda as expressed in The Gabcikovo-Nagymaros

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BARBARA KWIATKOWSKA

Having found that it was determinative to the Court’s jurisdiction under Article XXXI of the 1948 Pact of Bogotá that the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty was valid and in force on the date of the conclusion of the Pact, there was no need for the Court to address Nicaragua’s contention concerning the purported termination of the 1928 Treaty by material breach due to the interpretation adopted by Colombia from 1969 onwards.57 While turning to examination whether questions which constitute the subject-matter of the Colombia/Nicaragua dispute have been settled by the valid 1928 Treaty and 1930 Protocol and consequently whether the Court has jurisdiction over these matters under Article XXXI of the Pact of Bogotá, the Court followed its well-established practice of scrutinizing the well-foundedness of a Preliminary Objection in relation to different elements of the dispute, taken separately and including sovereignty over San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina, sovereignty over other maritime features of San Andres Archipelago, sovereignty over Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana, and the maritime boundary delimitation.58 With respect to the first of these questions, the Court held that the sovereignty over the three islands of the San Andres Archipelago expressly named (San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina) in Article I(1) of the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty was clearly awarded by that Treaty to Colombia. Consequently, Article VI of the Pact of Bogotá was applicable and therefore the Court upheld Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection that it did not have jurisdiction under Article XXXI of the Pact to adjudicate over the question of sovereignty over these three named islands.59 The Judges who dissented from this decision, as well as from that upholding Colombia’s Second Objection (on the Optional Clause), did so primarily because they doubted whether the issue of validity of the 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol was of ‘an exclusively preliminary’ character which will be discussed below.60 Although there was no need for the Court to consider the purported termination of the 1928 Treaty by Colombia from 1969 onwards, the 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Judgment made an important pronouncement that even if the Court were to find that – as Nicaragua claimed – the 1928 Treaty had been terminated, this would not affect the sovereignty of Colombia over San Andres, Providencia Project (Hungary v. Slovakia), Judgment of 25 September 1997, 1997 ICJ Rep. 68, para. 114. CR 2007/18, 23, paras. 24-26 (Colombia’s Counsel Sir Arthur Watts, 6 June 2007), countering Nicaragua’s ‘American control’ argument as ‘inherently flawed and totally untenable’. For a discussion see infra notes 110-124 and corresponding text. 57

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 21-23 and 82, para. 89 referred to infra note 59, and paras. 113 and 127 referred to infra notes 102-105.

58

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 83-85, referring to previous case law. See also the Statements of President Higgins to the 62nd UN General Assembly of 1 November 2007, supra note 1, to the 62nd UN General Assembly Legal Advisers of 29 October and to the 59th ILC of 10 July 2007.

59

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 86-90 and 138, stressing that the Court upheld Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection ‘after satisfying itself that the matter of sovereignty over these islands had been settled by the 1928 Treaty. The Court could not have concluded that it lacked jurisdiction over that matter under the Pact of Bogotá had there still been an extant dispute with regard thereto.’ For a discussion see infra notes 90-93 and corresponding text.

60

See infra notes 108-125 and corresponding text.

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and Catalina. This was due to a principle of international law elucidated in the 1994 Libya/Chad Territorial Dispute Judgment that a territorial regime established by a treaty ‘achieves a permanence which the treaty itself does not necessarily enjoy’ and the continued existence of that regime (resembling ‘the hallmarks of finality’) is not dependent upon the continuing life of the treaty under which the regime is agreed.61

C.

Pending Sovereignty over Other Maritime Features of San Andres Archipelago

With respect to maritime features (islands, islets, reefs and cays) of the Archipelago of San Andres other than the three islands named in Article I(1) of the 1928 Treaty, the Court considered that its terms did not provide the answer to the question as to which disputed features – apart from San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina – formed part of that Archipelago. Since contrary to the three named islands, this question was not settled under the 1928 Treaty within the meaning of Article VI of the Pact of Bogotá, the Court unanimously rejected Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection and decided that it had jurisdiction under Article XXXI of the Pact to adjudicate upon the sovereignty over these maritime features in the merits phase.62

D.

The 1972 Colombia/USA Vasquez-Saccio Treaty and Pending Sovereignty over Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana

With respect to Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana, Colombia argued that they form part of the San Andres Archipelago, as was testified by Article I(2) of the 1928 Treaty. These three features were excluded from application of the Treaty due to their sovereignty having been disputed at that time by Colombia and the United States, and not by Nicaragua, which did not assert a claim of sovereignty until 1971, when Colombia and the United States began negotiating their 1972 Vasquez-Saccio Treaty.63 Upon

61

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 89, reaffirming Territorial Dispute (Libyan Arab Jamahiriya v. Chad), Judgment of 3 February 1994, 1994 ICJ Rep. 37, paras. 72-73. See also 1969 UN Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties, 1155 UNTS 331, art. 62(2), as well as arts. 11-12 of the 1978 UN Vienna Convention on Succession of States in Respect of Treaties, 1946 UNTS 3. For an application of these principles see the 1997 Gabcikovo-Nagymaros Project Judgment, supra note 56, at 58-62, paras. 92-97, at 64-65, para. 104 and at 70-73, paras. 119-124. For an analysis see M. N. Shaw, International Law 873-875 (2003). For the travaux préparatoires of the Vienna Conventions see the invaluable work of A. Watts, The International Law Commission 1949-1998, Vol. II, The Treaties, at 759-766 (art. 62(2) of the 1969 Vienna Convention), 914-919, 1047 [art. 62(2) of the 1986 Vienna Convention), 1042-1070 (arts. 11-12 of the 1978 Vienna Convention).

62

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 91-97.

63

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 93, listing all maritime features comprised according to Colombia by the San Andres Archipelago; Hearings, CR 2007/16, at 20, para. 22 (Sir Arthur Watts); CR 2007/18, at 25-26, paras. 35-38 (Watts); and 2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 25-26 and 99-100.

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BARBARA KWIATKOWSKA

adoption of the 1972 Treaty, which entered into force in 1981 and by which the United States declared renunciation of its claims to Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana, Colombia had sovereignty over those maritime features and thus over the whole of the San Andres Archipelago. However, according to Nicaragua, the three features concerned were not part of the Archipelago, Article I(2) of the 1928 Treaty did not testify that Nicaragua relinquished its claim to them and following the signing of the 1972 United States/Colombia Vasquez-Saccio Treaty, Nicaragua’s National Assembly passed a formal Declaration of sovereignty over Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana and the Government made a formal protest to Colombia and the United States.64 Nicaragua also contended that as stated in the Senate Foreign Relations Committee and in a 1981 Aide-Mémoire presented by the United States to Nicaragua, the United States considered that the 1972 Treaty was without prejudice to Nicaragua’s claim to sovereignty over the three maritime features and did not intend to take any position regarding the merits of the competing claims of Colombia and Nicaragua.65 In the case of Quitasueno, Nicaragua’s Application in the Nicaragua v. Colombia case conditioned its claim of sovereignty upon prior determination by the Court that there are features on the bank of Quitasueno that qualify as islands under the rules codified in UNCLOS Article 121, while Colombia – in contrast to the US position – considered that the low-tide status of Quitasueno was not incompatible with the exercise of its own sovereignty over these features.66 It might be noted that during the earlier proceedings in Nicaragua v. Honduras, Nicaragua argued with respect to many disputed islets, cays, banks and rocks being seasonally located barely above water or even disappearing during hurricane that ‘these features have never been susceptible of effective occupation by any sovereign’ and that ‘while being miniscule and inhospitable, they are islands susceptible of appropriation’. Ultimately, the Court found itself unable in its 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras (Merits) Judgment to make a determinative finding on these disputed maritime features other than Bobel Cay, Savanna Cay, Port Royal Cay and South Cay which were found to qualify as islands and were awarded to the sovereignty of Honduras.67 64

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 23-24, 27 and 101-102.

65

Ibid., paras. 29 and 103.

66

Ibid., paras. 12 and 26, referring to the United States/Colombia Exchange of Notes, which was signed jointly with their 1972 Vasquez-Sacchio Treaty and where the US affirmed that ‘Quita Sueno, being permanently submerged at high tide, is at present time not subject to the exercise of sovereignty’.

67

Nicaragua v. Honduras, Merits, Hearings, CR 2007/1, at 38, para. 77 (Nicaragua’s Agent Arguello), stating that ‘these features have never been susceptible of effective occupation by any sovereign’, and CR 2007/11, at 35, para. 16 (Nicaragua’s Counsel Pellet), who advanced the contradicting contention that ‘while being miniscule and inhospitable, they are islands susceptible of appropriation’. This view was welcomed by Honduras, in CR 2007/13, at 40, para. 9 (Counsel Sands). 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment, supra note 3, paras. 133-145, reaffirming Maritime Delimitation and Territorial Questions Between Qatar and Bahrain (Qatar v. Bahrain), Merits, Judgment of 16 March 2001, 2001 ICJ Rep. 102, paras. 205-206, and at 123-125, paras. 5-9 (Judge Oda, Seperate Opinion). For a discussion see Prosper Weil, ‘Les

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In the present 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Judgment, the Court found it clear that under its Article I(2) quoted above, the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty did not apply to sovereignty over Roncador, Quitasueno and Serrana which did not fall within the ambit of settled issues referred to in Article VI of the Pact of Bogotá. Therefore the Court unanimously decided that it could not uphold Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection on this point and that the resolution of the title to these features fell within the Court’s jurisdiction under Article XXXI of the Pact.68

E.

Pending Colombia/Nicaragua Maritime Boundary Delimitation

With respect to the Colombia/Nicaragua maritime boundary delimitation in the western Caribbean Sea, the Court again carefully stcrutinized all the arguments of the parties with a view to determining whether the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol settled this core question within the meaning of Article VI of the Pact of Bogotá.69 The Court considered that contrary to Colombia’s claims, in their ‘plain and ordinary meaning’, the terms of the 1930 Protocol could not be interpreted as effecting a delimitation of the Colombia/Nicaragua maritime boundary, but only as intended to fix the western limit of the San Andres Archipelago at the 82nd meridian.70 While a careful examination of the pre-ratification discussions of the 1928 Treaty by and between the parties confirmed that neither party assumed that the Treaty and Protocol were designed to effect a general delimitation, the Court attached particular importance to the fact that Colombia did not find it necessary to resubmit the 1928 Treaty to its Congress because it believed that the reference to the 82nd meridian in the 1930 Protocol merely amounted to an interpretation of Article I(1) and thus had not changed the substance thereof.71 The Court also shared Nicaragua’s interpretation that the difference between the language of the Treaty (referring to the Hauts-fonds decouvrant dans la delimitation maritime’, in N. Ando et al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Judge Shigeru Oda 307-321 (2002). 68

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 104; supra notes 34-35 and corresponding text.

69

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 105-110 (Colombia’s contentions) and 111-114 (Nicaragua’s views).

70

Ibid., paras. 106, 111 and 115; and text of the 1930 Protocol cited at supra note 47. On Honduras’ claim that the 1928 Treaty set Colombia/Nicaragua boundary along the 82nd meridian from approx. the 11th to the 15th parallel and its treatment by the 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment, see infra notes 76-83 and corresponding text. For reaffirmation of the rule of ‘the ordinary meaning’ to be given to the terms of the treaty, see, e.g., 1994 Libya v. Chad Judgment, supra note 61, at 21-22; Maritime Delimitation and Territorial Questions (Qatar v. Bahrain), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 15 February 1995, 1995 ICJ. Rep. 6, at 27-32, 36 (Vice-President Schwebel, Dissenting Opinion); Kasikili/Sedudu Island (Botswana v. Namibia), Merits, Judgment of 13 December 1999, 1999 ICJ Rep. 1060, paras. 20 and 1075, para. 48; 2000 Southern Bluefin Tuna Award, supra note 37, para. 57; Sovereignty over Pulau Ligitan and Pulau Sipadan (Indonesia v. Malaysia), Merits, Judgment of 17 December 2002, 2002 ICJ Rep. 645-646, paras. 37-38; Iron Rhine (Belgium v. Netherlands), Award of 24 May 2005, paras. 45-47, 85-86, http://www.pca-cpa.org/showfile.asp?fil_id=377.

71

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 70-72 and 116; and supra notes 46-47.

928

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‘territorial dispute’) and that of the Protocol (referring to the ‘dispute between both republics’) could not be read to have transformed the territorial nature of the Treaty into one that was also designed to effect a general delimitation of the maritime spaces between the two states.72 In addition, the Court rejected Colombia’s contention that its maps, dating back to 1931, which allegedly showed the 82nd meridian as the Colombia/Nicaragua boundary, demonstrated that both parties believed that the 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol had effected a general delimitation of their maritime boundary. This was untenable in view of the ambiguous nature of the dividing lines and the fact that these maps contained no explanatory legend. Accordingly, the Court accepted Nicaragua’s argument that its failure to protest against these maps did not imply an acceptance of the 82nd meridian as the maritime boundary.73 Finally, with respect to Nicaragua’s claim that the negotiations between the two states in 1977, 1995 and 2001 dealt with their maritime boundary delimitation, the Court found that the material presented to it by the parties on this subject was inconclusive and did not allow it to evaluate the significance of the respective meetings for the question of whether the parties considered that the 1928 Treaty and 1930 Protocol had effected a maritime delimitation between them.74 In view of all these findings, the Court concluded that as Nicaragua claimed, the 1928 Treaty and 1930 Protocol did not effect a general delimitation of the Colombia/ Nicaragua boundary and that it was not necessary for the Court to consider the arguments advanced by the parties regarding the effect of changes in the law of the sea since 1930. Since the core dispute over maritime delimitation has not been settled by the 1928 Treaty and the 1930 Protocol within the meaning of Article VI of the 1948 Pact of Bogotá, the Court unanimously rejected Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection on this point and upheld its jurisdiction under Article XXXI of the Pact.75 In connection with Nicaragua’s request that the Court determine a single EEZ/CS equidistant boundary in Nicaragua v. Colombia Territorial and Maritime Dispute (Merits) proceedings, it seems noteworthy that in the preceding 2007 Judgment in Nicaragua v. Honduras Territorial and Maritime Dispute in the Caribbean Sea, the Court was typically cautious to ensure that the Nicaragua/Honduras single EEZ/CS boundary did not affect the future Colombia/Nicaragua boundary.76 72

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 108, 112 and 117, concluding that the dispute to which the 1930 Protocol refers ‘does not refer, even by implication, to a general maritime delimitation’.

73

Ibid., paras. 109, 113 and 118.

74

Ibid., paras. 32, 113 and 119.

75

Ibid., para. 112, noting Nicaragua’s contention that the 82nd meridian could not have effected a maritime delimitation, because the EEZ/CS concepts were in 1930 still unknown under international law (ibid., para. 120). See also supra notes 34-35 and corresponding text.

76

On Nicaragua’s request for a single EEZ/CS boundary, see supra notes 27-28 and corresponding text. For an appraisal of the substantive issues pertaining to the modern application of the law and process of equitable maritime boundary delimitation by mutually reinforcing decisions of the ICJ and Arbitral Tribunals, combining the need for predictability and stability within the rule of law and the need for flexibility (entailing certain degree of judicial discretion) in the outcome,

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In the context of the Court’s finding in the 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment that there was no indication in the 1906 Honduras/Nicaragua Boundary Question Award of King Alphons XIII of Spain that the 15th parallel was perceived as the boundary, it should be recalled that this finding ran counter to Honduras’ claim that the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and its 1930 Protocol was one of three bilateral treaties which, while res inter alios acta between Nicaragua and Honduras, nonetheless confirmed the 15th parallel as the maritime boundary between Honduras and Nicaragua.77 The claim of Honduras that the 1928 Treaty set the boundary between Colombia and Nicaragua along the 82nd meridian up to the 15th parallel was opposed by Nicaragua on the ground that the 1928 Treaty concerned the attribution of sovereignty over the San Andres Archipelago near the 82nd meridian and that neither in its letter nor in its spirit did the Treaty delimit a maritime boundary.78 While determining the endpoint of the boundary between Honduras and Nicaragua, the Court noted Honduras’ suggestion that Colombia had interests under various treaties that would be affected by a delimitation continuing beyond the 82nd meridian and that, indeed, all the maps produced by Honduras took the 82nd meridian as the implied endpoint to the delimitation.79 The Court found it useful to recall that according to Honduras, the Colombia/Nicaragua boundary line under the 1928 Treaty runs along the 82nd meridian from approximately the 11th parallel to the 15th parallel, where it would presumably intersect the traditional Honduras/Nicaragua boundary line along the 15th parallel and thus mark the endpoint of the traditional boundary.80 Without prejudicing the pending Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) proceedings, the Court held that even if Honduras’ interpretation of the 1928 Treaty was correct, Honduras maintained only that, at most, the line set by the 1928 Treaty continued along the 82nd meridian up to the 15th parallel. Since the Honduras/Nicaragua boundary drawn by the Court in the 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment lies well north of the 15th parallel when it reaches the 82nd meridian, the Court was satisfied that, contrary to Honduras’ argument, this line would not cross the 1928 Colombia/Nicaragua Treaty line and therefore could not affect Colombia’s rights.81 Since the same conclusion applied to two other bilateral treaties involving Colombia, (that is, the 1986 Colombia/Honduras Lopez-Ramirez Maritime Delimitation Treaty and the 1993 Colombia/Jamaica Delimitation Treaty which both have played a major role in the pending Nicaragua v. Colombia (Merits) proceedings), the Court stated see 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award, supra note 5, Chapter V, paras. 219-245. For an analysis see B. Kwiatkowska, ‘The 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award’, supra note 5, at 38-43. 77

On the lack of boundary along the 15th parallel in the 1906 Honduras v. Nicaragua Award, supra notes 53 and 55, see 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment, supra note 3, paras. 235-259.

78

Ibid., paras. 246 (Honduras’ contentions) and 251 (Nicaragua’s opposite views). This is the same argument as that in the subsequent Nicaragua v. Colombia proceedings analyzed above.

79

Ibid., paras. 312-313.

80

Ibid., paras. 314-315.

81

Ibid., para. 315, dispositif, para. 321(3) and Sketch-Map No. 7.

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that the determined Honduras/Nicaragua boundary extended beyond the 82nd meridian without affecting any third-state rights.82 Given that the future Colombia/Nicaragua boundary may involve certain areas of the outer continental shelf beyond 200 miles, it is important that the 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment reaffirmed the findings of the 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award that any claim of such rights must be in accordance with UNCLOS Article 76 and reviewed by the Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf (CLCS) established thereunder.83

IV.

Colombia’s Second Preliminary Objection (Optional Clause)

A.

Relationship Between Two Distinct Bases of the Court’s Jurisdiction and the Non-Applicability of the Optional Clause

Since in the case of San Andres Archipelago other than San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina Islands, which are all three named in the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty the Court upheld Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection and found itself without jurisdiction under the compromissory clauses of the Pact of Bogotá falling within an ambit of Article 36(1) of the ICJ Statute,84 it turned now to examining whether the dispute over these islands could be alternatively adjudged under the Optional Clause which Colombia in its Second Preliminary Objection considered inapplicable. With respect to all the other questions referred to above which were already determined to fall within the Court’s jurisdiction under the Pact of Bogotá, the Court, basing itself on the 1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras Border and Transborder Armed Actions (Jurisdiction and Admissibility) Judgment, almost unanimously decided that no practical purpose was

82

2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment, paras. 316-319, noting in para. 316 that any boundary between Honduras and Nicaragua extending east beyond the 82nd meridian and north of the 15th parallel (as the bisector adopted by the Court would do) would not actually prejudice Colombia’s rights because these rights under the 1986 Colombia/Honduras Lopez-Ramirez Maritime Delimitation Treaty did not extend north of the 15th parallel. On the Lopez-Ramirez Treaty, see also 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment, supra note 3, paras. 18, 59-71, 222-225, 246, 251 and 255; Hearings, CR 2007/1, at 29, para. 47 (Agent Arguello), CR 2007/8, at 23, para. 26 (Counsel Quéneudec), CR 2007/10, at 32, para. 153 (Counsel Colson), CR 2007/11, at 13, para. 9 and at 21, para. 45 (Agent Arguello), at 37, para. 19 (Counsel Pellet). With respect to the 1993 Colombia/Jamaica Maritime Delimitation Treaty, the 2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 317, held that the Court’s Honduras/Nicaragua boundary would not intersect with the line of the joint jurisdictional regime established by that Treaty in an area south of Rosalind Bank near the 80th meridian.

83

2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment, supra note 3, para. 319 in fine. On the unprecedented holdings of the 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award assuming the Arbitral Tribunal’s jurisdiction over the outer continental shelf beyond 200 miles, see B. Kwiatkowska, ‘The 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award’, supra note 5, at 30-35.

84

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 132.

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served by examining whether the Optional Clause Declarations could also provide a basis of jurisdiction in relation to these questions.85 Colombia claimed that as the 1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment held, jurisdiction under the Pact of Bogotá was ‘governing and hence exclusive’, because the commitment in the Pact’s Article XXXI was ‘an autonomous commitment’, independent from Optional Clause declarations. Colombia also asserted that the 1988 Judgment established ‘the principle of the primacy’ of jurisdiction under the Pact, a primacy even stronger in the present case, where – in view of the fact that Optional Clause declarations were made by Nicaragua (1929) and Colombia (1937) before the Pact’s entry into force86 – the Pact of Bogotá was not only lex specialis but also lex posterior.87 However, according to Nicaragua, the primacy of the Pact of Bogotá could not signify its exclusiveness, because the two bases of jurisdiction were ‘complementary’ and it was for the Court to decide whether to rely upon only one of them or to combine them.88 In light of its analysis of the 1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras (Jurisdiction and Admissibility) holdings and taking account of the 1939 Belgium v. Bulgaria Electricity Company of Sofia Judgment, the Court agreed with Nicaragua’s position by concluding that ‘the provisions of the Pact of Bogotá and the declarations made under the Optional Clause represent two distinct bases of the Court’s jurisdiction which are not mutually exclusive’, and by adding that the scope of its jurisdiction could be wider under the Optional Clause than under the Pact of Bogotá.89 While the so construed relationship between distinct bases of the Court’s compromissory and compulsory jurisdiction did not by itself preclude adjudging the question of sovereignty over San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina under the Optional Clause, the Court was – within the proper administration of international justice90 – entitled to do so under Article 36(2) only if there existed ‘a legal dispute’ concerning 85

Ibid., para. 132, reaffirming Border and Transborder Armed Actions (Nicaragua v. Honduras), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 20 December 1988, 1988 ICJ Rep. 90, para. 48, which stated that since art. XXXI of the Pact of Bogotá conferred jurisdiction upon the Court, it did not need to consider whether it might have jurisdiction by virtue of Optional Clause declarations made by Nicaragua and Honduras. See 2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 140, and Seperate Opinion of Judge Abraham, para. 50, who fully agreed with the Judgment’s conclusion in para. 132. See also supra notes 33-34 and corresponding text.

86

On the Optional Clause declarations of the parties, see infra notes 96-107 and corresponding text.

87

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 123-125, citing the 1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras, Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment, supra note 85, at 82, para. 27, stating that ‘in relations between the States parties to the Pact of Bogotá, that Pact is governing’, and at 85, para. 36; 2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 126, noting Colombia’s contention that were the Court to declare the dispute ‘ended’ pursuant to art. XXXIV of the Pact of Bogotá, this would apply ‘not only for the purposes of the Court’s jurisdiction under the Pact, but for all purposes’, including the Optional Clause.

88

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 128-130.

89

Ibid., paras. 133-137, reaffirming the 1939 Belgium v. Bulgaria Electricity Company of Sofia and Bulgaria Judgment, supra note 58, at 76.

90

See supra notes 42-45 and corresponding text.

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BARBARA KWIATKOWSKA

this question between the parties. However, the Court’s previous resolution of the ‘exclusively preliminary’ issue of the validity of the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol, which reaffirmed Colombia’s sovereignty over these islands (which sovereignty could not be affected even by subsequent termination of the 1928 Treaty) and which provided the ground for upholding Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection, left no doubt that there was no extant legal dispute – pursuant to its authoritative and widely applied definition – between the parties on the question of sovereignty over these islands.91 There could be no doubt that Article VI of the Pact of Bogotá expressly excluded the application of dispute settlement procedures under its Article XXXI to matters already ‘settled’ by treaties being in force on the date of the conclusion of the Pact and that such undisputed (‘settled’) matters, including in the instant case the question of sovereignty over the three islands which was awarded to Colombia under the binding 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol, were considered to be ‘ended’ pursuant to Article XXXIV.92 As the 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Judgment held: ‘The Court could not have concluded that it lacked jurisdiction over that matter under the Pact of Bogotá had there still been an extant dispute with regard thereto.’93 The Court thus upheld Colombia’s Second Preliminary Objection that it did not have jurisdiction under the Optional Clause to adjudicate over the title to the three islands of the San Andres Archipelago which were named in the 1928 Treaty.94 The Judges who dissented from this decision, as well as from that upholding Colombia’s First Objection (Pact of Bogotá) on this point, did so primarily due to their doubt as to whether the issue of validity of the 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol was of ‘an exclusively preliminary’ character discussed further below.95

91

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 138. On the authoritative definition of a legal dispute and attribution of the Court’s judicial function of determining the subject-matter of the dispute, see supra note 37.

92

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 126, supra note 87 and para. 138. The critique with respect to the Court’s reasoning in para. 138 by Seperate Opinion Judge Abraham, paras. 57-65, is entirely unpersuasive. On the terms of arts. VI and XXXIV of the Pact of Bogotá, see supra notes 38 and 41. On the Court’s decisions reaffirming Colombia’s sovereignty over the three islands under the 1928 Treaty and upholding Colombia’s First Preliminary Objection, see supra notes 53-61 and corresponding text.

93

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 138, and concurring Declaration of Judge Sir Kenneth Keith, para. 3. See also Hearings, CR 2007/16, 46-47, paras 1-7 (Counsel Schwebel), pointing out in para. 7 on behalf of Colombia that ‘once the controversy between the Parties has been declared by the Court to be ended, there is no controversy outstanding to which jurisdiction could attach under any other title, including that of the declarations of the Parties under the Optional Clause’. For the arguments of Colombia’s Counsel Weil see CR 2007/18, at 2-3, paras. 1-5 and at 5-6, paras. 11-13, cited supra notes 41 and 56.

94

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 138.

95

See supra note 33 and infra notes 108-125 and corresponding text.

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B.

933

Termination of Colombia’s Declaration with Immediate Effect and Impact of Its Reservation Ratione Temporis

In view of the Court’s upholding of Colombia’s Second Preliminary Objection on the Optional Clause due to the absence of a legal dispute over the title to the three islands, the Court found it unnecessary to proceed further with the other matters raised in that Second Objection, including the examination of Colombia’s contentions that, firstly, its Optional Clause declaration was terminated on 5 December 2001 with immediate effect or in other words, with legal effect by the date on which Nicaragua filed its Nicaragua v. Colombia Application of 6 December 2001, and, secondly, that the whole Colombia/ Nicaragua dispute fell outside the scope of Colombia’s declaration due to the effect of its reservation ratione temporis.96 The comprehensive and forceful arguments concerning these issues consumed half of the Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Oral Hearings held on 4-8 June 2007, where they were presented by former ICJ President Stephen M. Schwebel on behalf of Colombia and by Ian Brownlie and Alain Pellet on behalf of Nicaragua, and these arguments of both parties likely played an important role in the Court’s deliberations, as Judges’ opinions evidence and/or imply.97 It therefore seems useful to recall that under Article 36(5) of the ICJ Statute, the Optional Clause declarations of Nicaragua of 24 September 1929 and Colombia of 30 October 1937 were deemed by the Court as acceptance of its compulsory jurisdiction for the period which they still had to run and in accordance with their terms.98 A reservation made on 22 October 2001 by Nicaragua to its declaration did not have, in the Court’s view, any relevance to its dispute with Colombia but related to that with Costa Rica, while Colombia notified the UN Secretary-General on 5 December 2001 of the termination, ‘with immediate effect from the date of this notification’, of its declaration of 30 October 1937, which provided: ‘The Republic of Colombia recognizes as compulsory, ipso facto and without special agreement, on condition of reciprocity, in relation to any other State accepting the

96

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 139.

97

See supra notes 20, 22-24 and corresponding text. Nicaragua’s assignment of leading international Counsel Brownlie and Pellet to deal almost exclusively with arguments of Colombia’s Counsel Schwebel testified to the particular strength of Colombia’s arguments relating to the Optional Clause.

98

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 121; concurring Declaration of Judge Tomka, para. 11, noting that the 1929 Optional Clause declaration of Nicaragua was also relied upon as a basis of the Court’s jurisdiction in all the other proceedings involving Nicaragua before the ICJ, including the following: 1960 Honduras v. Nicaragua Judgment, supra note 55, at 194; Military and Paramilitary Activities In and Against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 26 November 1984, 1984 ICJ Rep. 442, para. 113(1); 1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras, Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment, supra note 85, at 71, para. 1 and at 82, para. 25; and 2007 Nicaragua v. Honduras Judgment, supra note 3, para. 1.

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same obligation, the jurisdiction of the Permanent Court of International Justice in accordance with Article 36 of the Statute. The present Declaration applies only to disputes arising out of facts subsequent to 6 January 1932.’99

According to Colombia the dispositive fact in the present case was that both Nicaragua (in its case with Costa Rica) and Colombia (in its case with Nicaragua) had treated their Optional Clause declarations as subject to termination (Colombia) or modification (Nicaragua) with immediate effect.100 Such immediate effect was, moreover, expressly recorded in the ICJ Yearbook 2001-2002 (No. 56), whose general importance was earlier described by Nicaragua itself as ‘most authoritative public record of the acceptance of the compulsory jurisdiction of the Court’.101 Nicaragua denied that Colombia’s 1937 Declaration (withdrawn on 5 December 2001) was not in force at the time of the filing of Nicaragua’s Application on 6 December 2001 because in Nicaragua’s view reasonable notice was required for the withdrawal of declarations which was however not complied with by Colombia.102

99

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 122, which does not refer to ‘immediate effect’ of Colombia’s withdrawal of its 1937 Declaration, as was expressly stated in CN 1401.2001.Treaties-1 (Depositary Notification), Colombia’s Preliminary Objections, at 114, para. 3.13 (21 July 2003) and, in ICJ Yearbook (No. 56). See Optional Clause Declarations, in ICJ Yearbook 1998-1999, at 95 (Costa Rica), 101 (Honduras), 108 (Colombia) and 116 (Nicaragua); ICJ Yearbook 2001-2002, at 117 (Nicaragua, Colombia, Costa Rica), 124 (Costa Rica), 131 (Honduras), 146 (Nicaragua), stating at 117: ‘On 5 December 2001, Colombia notified the Secretary-General of its decision to withdraw, with immediate effect, the Declaration which it had deposited on 30 October 1937’ (emphasis added), and that accordingly, the number of seven declarations made under the PCIJ Statute was now reduced to ‘six such Declarations’; ICJ Yearbook 2002-2003, at 134 (Costa Rica), 141 (Honduras), 156 (Nicaragua). For a formal objection lodged by Costa Rica on 9 January 2002 to Nicaragua’s reservation of 22 October 2001, see also ICJ Yearbook 2002-2003, and UN Doc. A/56/770 (2002), reprinted in 18 International Organizations and the Law of the Sea (2002), supra note 14, at 276.

100

Nicaragua v. Colombia, Preliminary Objections, Hearings, CR 2007/16, at 48, para.10 (Colombia’s Counsel Schwebel), relying upon the 1984 Nicaragua v. United States, Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment, supra note 98, at 419-421, para. 65, where the Court treated notification as tantamount to termination. See also Judge Schwebel’s arguments, in CR 2007/16, at 49-52, paras 15-24 that Nicargua’s 2001 reservation was intended to amend its 1929 declaration with immediate effect in connection with the then anticipated application by Costa Rica in Navigational and Related Rights of Costa Rica on the San Juan River (Costa Rica v. Nicaragua), supra note 20. On that case, see also Nicaragua v. Colombia, Preliminary Objections, Hearings, CR 2007/18, at 14-15, paras. 6-14 (Colombia’s Counsel Schwebel) and CR 2007/19, at 16, paras. 30-31 (Nicaragua’s Agent Arguello).

101

Nicaragua v. Colombia, Preliminary Objections, Hearings, CR 2007/16, at 49, para. 14 (Schwebel), quoting Nicaragua v. United States, Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Pleadings, Vol. I, at 374, para. 54 and ICJ Yearbook 2001-2002 (No. 56), supra note 99; CR 2007/17, at 52-53, paras. 19-21 (Brownlie); CR 2007/18, at 14, para. 10 (Counsel Schwebel).

102

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, paras. 127 and 131; Hearings, CR 2007/17, at 51, para.15 (Brownlie), concluding that ‘the principle of reasonable notice is not in any sense radical or

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Colombia further contended that even if its declaration were found to be in force at the time when Nicaragua filed its Application, the alleged dispute would fall outside the scope of Colombia’s Declaration as a result of its reservation ratione temporis, and that Colombia’s intention as the depositing state would have to prevail in accordance with the well-established jurisprudence of the Court.103 Nicaragua did not dispute that Colombia’s declaration applied only to disputes arising from facts subsequent to 6 January 1932, but it argued that the generating fact of the present dispute, namely the interpretation of the 1928 Treaty and 1930 Protocol adopted by Colombia from 1969 onwards, arose after 6 January 1932.104 Nicaragua’s contentions were forcefully contested as profoundly unpersuasive by Colombia in whose view the diplomatic notes of 1969 might be argued to have triggered the dispute, but the facts which have given rise to the dispute between Nicaragua and Colombia, namely the conclusion of the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol predated 6 January 1932. These facts represented what the 2005 Liechtenstein v. Germany Certain Property (Preliminary Objections) Judgment construed as ‘the source of the dispute, its real cause’, which resulted in the Court’s upholding of Germany’s Preliminary Objection and deciding that it lacked jurisdiction ratione temporis.105 Nicaragua’s Judge ad hoc Gorgio Gaja concurred with the majority with regard to the legal effect of Colombia’s reservation ratione temporis. He expressly referred to it in his declaration as the reason of his vote in favour of upholding of Colombia’s Second Preliminary Objection and deciding that the Court did not have jurisdiction under the Optional Clause to adjudicate over the title to San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina.106 While one could reasonably differ on the principle of notice concerning the withdrawal of Optional Clause declarations, the Colombia’s objection to the Court’s jurisdiction ratione temporis (invoking the Liechtenstein v. Germany precedent) would likely be sustained, if the Court proceeded to its consideration, which in the circumstances of the present case turned out to be unnecessary.107

eccentric but represents a natural ramification of the principle of good faith’; CR 2007/19, at 35-36, paras. 18-25 (Brownlie). 103

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 127; and Hearings, CR 2007/16, at 53-54, paras. 30-31 (Counsel Schwebel), relying upon Phosphates in Morocco, Judgment, 1938, PCIJ (Ser.) A/B, No. 74, at 24; 1998 Spain v. Canada Fisheries, Jurisdiction, Judgment, supra note 36, at 453-455.

104

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 131; supra notes 57 and 61 and corresponding text.

105

2007 Judgment, supra note 20, para. 127; Hearings, CR 2007/16, at 54-56, paras. 33-39 and 41 (Schwebel); CR 2007/18, at 15-19, paras. 15-28 (Schwebel), at 20, para. 9 (Sir Arthur Watts), both relying upon Certain Property (Liechtenstein v. Germany), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 10 February 2005, 2005 ICJ Rep. 58, 62, para. 33, 64-65, para. 44, and 52, paras. 48 and 52; CR 2007/19, at 21-29, paras 10-31 (Nicaragua’s Counsel Pellet, 8 June 2007), http://www. icj-cij.org. See also Rosenne (2006), supra note 45, at 562-567.

106

2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia, Preliminary Objections, Declaration of Judge ad hoc Gaja and supra notes 33, 94-95 and corresponding text.

107

See supra note 85 and corresponding text.

936

V.

BARBARA KWIATKOWSKA

Some Concluding Reflections on the Sound Administration of International Justice

The foregoing analysis allows to conclude that the 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia Territorial and Maritime Dispute (Preliminary Objections) Judgment is a landmark procedural decision reinforcing the role played by the Court as the principal judicial organ of the United Nations in the sound administration of international justice, which requires ‘the most scrupulous adherence to the Court’s Rules and the most careful regard for its precedents’.108 At the same time, the views expressed in the opinions of dissenting Vice-President Al-Khasawneh and Judges Ranjeva, Abraham, Bennouna and Simma, as well as in the concurring declaration of Nicaragua’s Judge ad hoc Giorgio Gaja on the points of their disagreement with the large majority of the Court led by President Rosalyn Higgins, in fact fully confirm the soundness of the approach chosen by the Court.109 While testifying with respect to various specific issues that, as Judge Abraham put it, ‘le bon sens des uns n’est pas forcement celui des autres’,110 the doubts raised in the opinions of dissenting Judges centered on the fact that the Court’s majority rejected Nicaragua’s contentions that the First (Pact of Bogotá) and the Second (Optional Clause) Preliminary Objections of Colombia did not possess ‘an exclusively preliminary character’ and that therefore these Objections were not joined to the merits. The reason of the minority’s regret and their voting against the Court’s upholding of both Colombia’s Preliminary Objections was principally their disappointment that Nicaragua was thus not given an opportunity to properly submit its arguments contesting the validity of the 1928 Barcenas-Esguerra Treaty and 1930 Esguerra-Irias Protocol during the merits phase. Vice-President Al-Khasawneh and Judges Ranjeva, Abraham, Bennouna and Simma stressed that their views were neither implying that the Treaty and Protocol were invalid, nor that the islands of San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina appertained to Nicaragua, but that they all regretted that Nicaragua was prevented from fully exposing its arguments concerning alleged invalidity of the 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol on the ground of their conclusion by Nicaragua under alleged coercion by the United States.111 108

Schwebel, Justice in International Law, supra note 44. See also other works and the jurisprudence cited at supra notes 37, 42-45 and corresponding text.

109

See the summary of the decisions taken in the 2007 Judgment, supra notes 31-36 and corresponding text. Note that the majority reasoning was in many respects otherwise supported by dissenters.

110

2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia, Preliminary Objections, para. 58 (Seperate Opinion, Judge Abraham).

111

See supra notes 50-56 and corresponding text. Art. 52 VCLT provides: ‘A treaty is void if its conclusion has been procured by the threat or use of force in violation of the principles of the Charter of the United Nations.’ On coercion as a ground for invalidaty, see Sir Arthur Watts, supra note 61, Vol. II (1999), at 738-740 and 904-907. It could not be excluded with certainty that such strong regret of dissenting Judges over Nicaragua’s missed opportunity of presenting its arguments relating to coercion during the phase of merits perhaps partly resulted from their

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937

The perfectly sound legal reasons, for which the Court found itself empowered as the principal judicial organ of the United Nations to adjudge upon the validity of the 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol for the purposes of establishing its jurisdiction in accordance with its Statute and Rules, were already scrutinized in this article and do not need to be restated here. Instead, given the regrets of dissenting Judges, it could be noted that coercion as a ground for invalidating a treaty might not be easily established in practice due to usual difficulties arising from the application of an abstract rule. As Lord McNair put it: ‘Whereas I may have thought, as a teacher or as the author of a book or an article, that I had adequately examined some particular rule of law, I have constantly found that, when I have been confronted with the same rule of law in the course of writing a professional opinion or of contributing to a judgment, I have been struck by the different appearance that the rule of law may assume when it is being examined for the purpose of its application in practice to a set of ascertained facts. As stated in a textbook it may sound the quintessence of wisdom, but when you come to apply it many necessary qualifications or modifications are apt to arise in your mind.’112

Such a ‘different appearance that the rule of law may assume’ – as McNair had advocated – can be particularly demanding in the case of coercion by a threat or use of force as a ground for invalidating a treaty, because such threats, relied upon by Nicaragua, might not be easily distinguished from other forms of coercion. As Malcolm N. Shaw in his textbook remarked while commenting on the issue of coercion as invalidating consent: ‘In international relations, the variety of influences which may be brought to bear by a powerful state against a weaker one to induce it to adopt a particular line of policy is wide-ranging and may cover not only coercive threats but also subtle expressions of displeasure. The precise nuances of any particular situation will depend on a number of factors, and it will be misleading to suggest that all forms of pressure are as such violations of international law.’113

Special attention to many difficulties surrounding the application of coercion as ground of invalidity pursuance to Article 52 VCLT is also paid in the recent textbook of Vaughan Lowe, who perceptively remarks as follows: ‘Instances are few, but not unknown. History records that the German Ministers Goering and Ribbentrop physically harassed President Hacha of Czechoslovakia, and respect for former ICJ President Guillaume, who has been serving as Nicaragua’s Judge ad hoc in Costa Rica v. Nicaragua case referred to supra notes 20 and 100. 112

R. Jennings, ‘The Discipline of International Law’, in Report of the 57th Conference of the International Law Association, Madrid, 30 August-4 September 1976, 622, at 624 (1978).

113

Shaw, supra note 61, at 849. On multiple arguments and counter-arguments and continuous uncertainties surrounding the legal rules governing the threat or use of force, see T. D. Gill, ‘The Temporal Dimension of Self-Defense: Anticipation, Pre-emption, Prevention and Immediacy’, in M. N. Schmitt/J. Pejic (eds.), International Law and Armed Conflict: Exploring the Faultlines 113-155 (2007).

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threatened the immediate bombardment of Prague, in order to coerce him into signing in the earky hours of the morning the Treaty that established a German protectorate over Bohemia and Moravia in 1939. That, clearly, is coercion. But what of situations where one State makes it known that unless the other State signs a treaty, it will lose all manner of economic and political benefits in the gift of the first State? Is that coercion? Or is that just how the world is? And what of “unequal treaties”, made between a very powerful State and a weak State which may think that it has no option but to go along with the wishes of the stronger State? It has been said that treaties procured by the threat or use of force by imperialist powers during the period of colonization should be regarded as invalid. In practice, however, this idea has not taken root, and States have not sought to escape from large number of treaties by pleading coercion. The reasons are plain. What effect would the renunciation of the treaty have? What practical effects would have followed if China had purported to terminate the leases and the cession of the territories around Hong Kong? Would the United Kingdom have simply walked out of the territory? What would renunciation have done that China could not do by persuading the United Kingdom to negotiate its withdrawal? It was in the interest of both States to have an agreed termination of the treaty arrangements.’114

The difficulties which Nicaragua’s arguments of coercive threats of the United States could encounter were addressed in the illuminating concurring declaration of Judge Tomka, who considered that if these arguments were to be understood broadly, then they would run counter to the Court’s compulsory jurisdiction, because Nicaragua’s 1929 Optional Clause declaration would be invalidated too.115 This aspect was explored during the oral hearings in Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) by Colombia’s Counsel Sir Arthur Watts, who countered Nicaragua’s ‘American control’ argument that it had no independent treaty-making capacity from the 1920s until establishment of Sandinista Government in 1979 by stating: ‘Really?! No United Nations Charter? No Statute of the Court? No Organization of American States Charter? No Pact of Bogotá? No Optional Clause Declarations? No 1971 Treaty with the United States abrogating the Chamorro-Bryan Treaty? And so on, through all of Nicaragua’s international acts over a half of a century? Those consequences of Nicaragua’s “American control” argument are alone sufficient to show that the argument is totally untenable. There is no need to have a discussion on the merits in order to conclude that the argument is inherently flawed – and, moreover, has been advanced far too late in the day to be lawfully made – also a consideration which has nothing to do with the merits. In fact, Madam President and Members of the Court, Nicaragua has painted itself into a corner with this argument. If “American control” deprived Nicaragua of the 114

V. Lowe, International Law 74-75 (2007), adding that sometimes it suits the weaker state to maintain the treaties, as can be illustrated by the 1903 Cuba/United States Treaty under which Cuba leased Guantánamo Bay to the United States.

115

2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia, Preliminary Objections, Declaration of Judge Tomka, paras. 10-13 and supra note 98.

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capacity to conclude the Esguerra-Barcenas Treaty of 1928-1930, it also deprived Nicaragua of the capacity to have made its Optional Clause Declaration of 1929 and to have become a party to the Pact of Bogotá – and as a consequence, the two titles on which Nicaragua relies as the basis for the Court’s jurisdiction in this case must be equally null and void!’116

No less importantly, as was noted only in declaration of Judge Tomka, but must have been well appreciated by all other majority and minority Judges, if the Court had joined the consideration of the Preliminary Objection to the merits, it would have heard Nicaragua’s arguments on the alleged US coercion, but would not have been able to rule on the lawfulness of the United States’ conduct under Article 52 of the Vienna Convention in the absence of the consent of the United States as a third state concerned.117 If former President Sir Robert Jennings was correct that ‘life must be lived forward but understood backwards’,118 Nicaragua’s arguments concerning the alleged US coercion and maximalist attitude reflected by its envisaged claim to compensation for unjust enrichment consequent upon Colombia’s possession of the San Andres Archipelago, could perhaps revive the less glorious image acquired by Nicaragua in the Court’s history. Ambassador Carlos Arguello Gomez, who also acted as Nicaragua’s Agent in the 1984-1986 Nicaragua v. United States Military and Paramilitary Activities case, the Nicaragua v. Costa Rica Border and Transborder Armed Actions case, discontinued in 1987, and the 1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras Border and Transborder Armed Actions case, discontinued in 1992, as preceded by the discontinuation in 1991 of Nicaragua v. United States (Compensation), used his best diplomatic skills to turn experience from these cases into Nicaragua’s advantage. As he stated during the oral hearings in Nicaragua v. Honduras Maritime Delimitation: ‘The attempt by Honduras to portray before this Court the events after 1979 as being caused by a change by the Nicaraguan Government of its previous territorial policy is frankly beyond words. It was this same Court to which Nicaragua had recourse in

116

Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections) Hearings, CR 2007/18, 23, paras. 24-26 (Counsel Sir Arthur Watts), supra note 56. See also Declaration of Judge Tomka, para. 12, observing that Nicaragua’s further argument that it was deprived by the US coercion of its international capacity of concluding treaties that ran against the interests of the United States and of rejecting the conclusion of treaties that the United States demanded it to conclude, could not be sustained either, because the interests of a third state, even its demand to conclude a treaty, do not render such a treaty null and void ab initio. That could only be a consequence if a state was coerced to conclude a treaty by threat or use of force in violation of art. 52 of the 1969 Vienna Convention.

117

2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia, Preliminary Objections, Declaration of Judge Tomka, para. 13, citing East Timor (Portugal v. Australia), Judgment of 30 June 1995, 1995 ICJ Rep. 105, para. 35, stating: ‘The Court concludes that it cannot, in this case, exercise the jurisdiction it has by virtue of the declarations made by the Parties under Article 36(2) of its Statute because, in order to decide the claims of Portugal, it would have to rule, as a prerequiste, on the lawfulness of Indonesia’s conduct in the absence of that State’s consent.’

118

Sir Robert Jennings, ‘Universal International Law in a Multicultural World’, in M. Bos/I. Brownlie (eds.), Liber Amicorum for The Rt. Hon. Lord Wilberforce 39, at 43 in fine (1987).

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March 1984 when it filed an Application that initiated the case concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America). It was this same Court to which Nicaragua had recourse in July 1986 when after the Judgment in the previous case it filed a parallel Application against the Government of Honduras that is known as the case concerning Border and Transborder Armed Actions (Nicaragua v. Honduras). Both of these cases involved inter alia armed actions against Nicaragua from Honduran territory. Most of these were land incursions but there were also numerous encounters at sea both in the Caribbean – including the areas presently in dispute and further south – and in the Gulf of Fonseca on the Pacific side.’119

And this perception was echoed shortly thereafter by Agent Arguello’s remarks during the oral hearings in Nicaragua v. Colombia (Preliminary Objections), when he again stated: ‘In the 1980s and 1990s and during this decade Nicaragua has been an almost permanent fixture of this Court. In all these years Nicaragua has never attempted to avoid the jurisdiction of this Court and on the contrary has been faced on several occasions with parties who have tried to avoid its jurisdiction. It is astounding that Colombia would dare question Nicaragua’s record of compliance with international decisions whilst it is attempting to avoid the jurisdiction of this Court, something which Nicaragua has never done.’120

What the above optimistic perception of Ambassador Arguello misses is the actual effect of the Nicaragua v. United States, Nicaragua v. Costa Rica and Nicaragua v. Honduras cases, which – in a follow-up to forceful dissenting opinions appended by Judge Stephen M. Schwebel to the three Nicaragua v. United States decisions – were not without reasons perceived in his 1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras (Preliminary Objections) Separate Opinion as the ‘serial’ proceedings forming part of the general conflict then existing in Central America, in which Nicaragua levelled grave and erroneous accusations against not only the United States, but against Honduras, Costa Rica and El Salvador, with these Nicaragua’s litigating tactics notably prejudicing the sound administration of international justice.121 This perception has been affirmed by all editions of Shabtai Rosenne’s The World Court: What It Is and How It Works, 119

Nicaragua v. Honduras Hearings, CR 2007/10, at 16, para. 25 (Arguello)].

120

Nicaragua v. Colombia, Preliminary Objections, Hearings, CR 2007/17, 17, para. 42 (Arguello).

121

1988 Nicaragua v. Honduras, Preliminary Objections, Seperate Opinion of Judge Schwebel, supra note 85, at 126-132, and Judges Oda and Shahabuddeen, ibid., at 109 and 133; Discontinuance, Order of 27 May 1992, 1992 ICJ Rep. 222; as preceded by Military and Paramilitary Activities In and Against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Declaration of Intervention of the Republic of El Salvador, Order of 4 October 1984, 1984 ICJ Rep. 215, at 219, 220, 223 (Dissenting Judges Ruda, Mosler, Ago, Sir Robert Jennings and de Lacharriere, Oda, Schwebel); Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 26 November 1984, 1984 ICJ Rep. 392, at 471, 514, 533, 558 (Dissenting Judges Oda, Ago, Jennings and Schwebel); Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14, at 212, 259, 528 (Dissenting Judges Oda, Schwebel, Jennings); Discontinuance, Order of 26 September 1991, 1991 ICJ Rep. 47; Border and Transborder Armed

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including the latest edition by Professor Terry Gill, who reiterated that a noteworthy feature of these ‘serial’ cases ‘is the skilful use made by Nicaragua of the political and the legal machinery available to it under the United Nations Charter’, but that there are many who continue to believe that Nicaragua made an abuse of Court procedures for the attainment of political objectives, and that the Court failed to give sufficient weight to these abusive tactics.122 In his recent review of the valuable book by Vaughan Lowe and former Nicaragua’s Judge ad hoc John Collier, Judge Schwebel appraised the mistreatment by the Court of due process (at the stage of El Salvador’s intervention) and certain facts and the law (at the merits stage) in Nicaragua v. United States as follows: ‘There are no default judgments in the ICJ. But in the face of the public record, which was brought to the attention of the Court, and despite the responses of Nicaragua’s witnesses to questions from the Bench, the Court swallowed whole Nicaragua’s factual contentions (despite their dubiety at the time and proven falsehood since). The authors’ analysis also fails to take into account why the United States withdrew from the proceedings: the United States had become convinced, as it publicly stated, that the Court was not proceeding objectively. That charge was true, as demonstrated by several departures from due process, the most serious of which was refusing intervention by El Salvador. [...] Subsequently, the Court’s whitewash of Nicaragua’s actions became all too clear. It had chosen to endorse Nicaragua’s claim that it was lending no material support to rebellion in El Salvador. But in 1993, an explosion in Managua of an arms cache of the Salvadoran rebels led to condemnation by the UN Secretary-General and the Security Council and to an admission and apology by the rebels. The loose and expansive view of its jurisdiction adopted by the Court in the case, coupled with its mistreatment of the facts and the law at the stage of the merits, may well be a factor in the suspicion with which the U.S. Senate today confronts the question of adherence to the Statute of the International Criminal Court.’123

Actions (Nicaragua v. Costa Rica), Discontinuance, Order of 19 August 1987, 1987 ICJ Rep. 182. See also references to these decisions at supra notes 20 and 23 and corresponding text. 122

T.D. Gill, Rosenne’s The World Court: What It Is and How It Works 183 (2003). For Gill’s views on the threat or use of force, see supra note 113.

123

Review by S. M. Schwebel of the book by J. Collier/V. Lowe, The Settlement of Disputes in International Law (1999), 95 AJIL 464, at 465 (2001) (emphasis added, footnote omitted). See also Schwebel, Justice in International Law, supra note 44, at 134-139; Oil Platforms (Iran v. United States of America), Preliminary Objection, Judgment of 12 December 1996, 1996 ICJ Rep. 803, at 888-889 (Vice-President Schwebel, Dissenting Opinion); S. M. Schwebel, ‘National Judges and Judges ad Hoc of the International Court of Justice’, 48 ICLQ 889-900 and 894 n. 16 (1999); id., ‘Clean Hands Doctrine’, in ASIL (ed.), The World Bank, International Financial Institutions, and the Development of International Law 74-78 (1999); Gill, supra note 122, at 125: Postscript on Nicaragua v. United States Case; Schwebel, ‘The Reality of International Adjudication’, supra note 44, at 363; Rosenne, supra note 45, at 1247-1248, 1275; Kwiatkowska, ‘The 2006 Barbados/Trinidad and Tobago Award’, supra note 5, at 16, stressing that the satisfactory treatment by the Arbitral Tribunal under Judge Schwebel’s Presidency of vast evidentiary materials and procedural issues confirmed the highest importance – also reflected in his 1984-1986 Nicaragua v. United States Dissenting Opinions – which Judge Schwebel has always been attaching to issues of evidence.

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It is not impossible to think that since in Nicaragua v. United States, Nicaragua lodged on several counts extreme and partly fraudulent claims based on false testimonies and since the Court – perhaps even to Nicaragua’s own surprise –, ‘swallowed’ them, it encouraged Nicaragua to now contest the validity of the 1928 Treaty and its 1930 Protocol on the excessive ground of coercion by a threat or use of force on the part of the United States, in a hope that the Court would ‘swallow’ these claims anew. Be that as it may, by dismissing these claims, the 2007 Nicaragua v. Colombia Judgment contributed to the stability of international relations based on the fundamental principle of respect for treaties and prevented what Colombia’s Agent Julio Londono Paredes characterized as opening Pandora’s box, which would result from giving parties to the Pact of Bogotá a freeway to argue the emergence of fabricated disputes.124 Given that the wheel of sound administration of international justice, with due regard to the requirements of procedural economy, has completed its full circle, the parties can now focus their skills on the broad spectrum of questions pertaining to the title to maritime features of San Andres Archipelago other than the islands of San Andres, Providencia and Santa Catalina, as well as their title to Roncandor, Quitasueno and Serrana, and on important legal issues involved in the delimitation of the Colombia/Nicaragua maritime boundary. Statements issued by Colombia and Nicaragua upon the delivery of the final and binding 2007 Judgment testify that both parties have welcomed the Judgment as ‘a significant step forward’ in promoting their friendly relations in the strategically important Caribbean Sea region and in resolving all the issues referred to above in the future within the framework of the United Nations Charter and by the International Court.125

124

See the Closing Statement and Final Submissions of Agent Paredes, supra note 30 and corresponding text; and the arguments of Counsel Weil, supra note 56.

125

See Statements and press comments cited at supra note 31.

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Some Thoughts on Compliance with International Obligations Markus A. Reiterer* klfklkflkfk lklkökökkö1

I.

Introduction

Throughout his career, Professor Gerhard Hafner has approached the phenomenon of law from various angles: be it as scientist, practitioner, negotiator – and hence lawcreator – arbitrator, member of the International Law Commission etc. With this paper I will try to address some issues occuring in relation to the actual implementation of the law, or better: compliance with its rules. Everyone knows that no existing legal order in the world enjoys perfect compliance. And the international legal order is no exception to this rule. Perhaps, the only exceptional element in that context is that the international legal order tends to receive more and fiercer criticism for this inability to command absolute and rigorous compliance than any other legal order in the world. The well-known reference to speed-limits which are infringed on a regular basis or red traffic lights for pedestrians in – say – Vienna, Manhattan or Mexico City just highlight this characteristic of all our legal systems. Yet, even the severest forms of punishment do not bring about, let alone guarantee, perfect compliance – and even the severest forms of punishment do not prevent all crimes. Humankind has developed and is still developing mechanisms to ensure the highest degree of compliance possible – be it on the domestic or the international level. Due to the specificities of international law as a law of coordination, different mechanisms needed to be developed to ensure to the maximum extent possible compliance with its rules. The present contribution aims at providing some thoughts on a systematic approach to compliance with a view to identify the various areas where action could be effected to increase compliance. One of the essential features of compliance with international law is not only the will to comply, but also the capacity to do so, as it might happen that States become bound by obligations and yet do lack the capacity to act accordingly. Any attempt to improve compliance by countries experiencing such problems thus needs to address the issue of capacity. In addition, the norm itself comprises characteristics that will make compliance easier or more difficult to achieve. Almost naturally, the notion of compliance is linked to the concept of ‘sovereignty’. During the last couple of years, the term ‘sovereignty’ in political science dialogue almost received a connotation of indecency. Some authors lead us to believe that without sovereignty it would be much easier to ensure compliance. The absence of

*

The views expressed in this contribution are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the institution he is working for.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 943-958, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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sovereignty would allow credible punishment of wrongdoers, or at least sufficient interference to bring relevant decision-makers to their senses. To some extent, of course, there is truth behind this idea, but in the long run it merely seems to contribute to the disease it purports to cure: disorder or the replacement of the rule of law, by the rule of power. However, sovereignty has witnessed a certain dismantlement over the last couple of years: it is now possible that former heads of State or government face international criminal proceedings, the UN Security Council more than once was united in authorizing the use of force against a State, and the idea of humanitarian intervention, now advertised as responsibility to protect, is re-occuring with greater vigour. But, whether we like it or not, sovereignty will remain with us for a long time to come. Yet, if we understand international cooperation as being all about solving problems, sovereignty is a method to distribute responsibilities and work in a manner that a single body (however powerful and big) would never be able to master.

II.

The Meaning of Compliance

As a basic assumption for the purposes of this contribution, I would suggest to regard compliance as the actual performance of a behaviour required by a norm. If the behaviour carried out matches the norm, compliance occurs. Compliance thus comprises two basic elements: behaviour and norm.1 The behaviour needs to be performed by an actor and, hence, depends on its will and capacity to perform the required behaviour. Under international law, the actors required to perform a specific behaviour are the ‘subjects of international law’, that is predominantly States.2 Yet, it is a commonplace to state that compliance at some point in time requires a behaviour carried out by human beings. These persons need to be stirred to perform the behaviour. As international law predominantly binds subjects of international law and not individuals, (additional) norms requiring individuals to carry out a specific behaviour may be needed. These additional norms generally need to be set by subjects of international law to their subordinates. Improper transformation of international law into domestic law as well as improper functioning of domestic legal systems is thus a source of possible non-compliance. In order to perform a specific behaviour the actor needs to have the will and the capacity to do so. The will to comply is influenced by various factors including international law, ideology, lobbying, religious beliefs, historical experience, etc. Capacity relates to the economic, social, administrative, and other capabilities of the actor concerned.

1

Although different types of norms exist, some prescribing a certain behaviour, some authorizing such a behaviour, etc., it is submitted, that for analysing compliance issues, the norms prescribing or prohibiting a certain behaviour are the most important ones.

2

The following only deals with compliance issues in relation to States, not to other subjects of international law.

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Also, the norm exerts certain properties which are relevant for an analysis of compliance. Among those properties the following questions seem to be of importance: Does the norm operate under the condition of reciprocity? Does the norm fulfil the condition of basic fairness and legitimacy? Is the norm conducive to achieving the result aspired? It follows that if we wish to bring about better levels of compliance, we need to address the three main elements depicted above: the will to comply, the capacity to comply and the properties of the norm in question. The best norms will be meaningless in the absence of the will or capacity to comply with them.

III.

Will and Capacity to Comply

Understanding compliance in the sense of setting the behaviour that fits the norm, the international community has developed a striking variety of instruments that – given the lack of centralized enforcement and punishment systems – are designed to motivate the greatest degree of compliance possible. To motivate, let alone ensure, compliance is not an easy task, neither for domestic legal systems, nor for the international legal system. Doing so requires a continuous effort which needs to address complex questions of will and capacity, analyse rather consistently the situation at hand and adapt it accordingly. The capacity to comply is of particular importance in the development context. Developing States are indeed (and in many instances rightly so) reluctant to take on new international commitments, without mirroring commitments on behalf of developed nations for international cooperation and assistance. This holds true for areas as divergent as international environmental law and international humanitarian law or disarmament obligations. In the context of the latter, the new Convention on Cluster Munitions clarifies in its Article 6 that in ‘fulfilling its obligations under this Convention each State Party has the right to seek and receive assistance’ and lists a whole variety of areas where measures are to be taken by all States in a position to do so.3 In the context of environmental law, for example the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) and the Convention on Biological Diversity contain specific obligations of developed countries concerning international cooperation and assistance. These conventions even go a step further by making compliance by developing countries dependent on compliance of developed countries with their obligations to assist by providing that the ‘extent to which developing country Parties will effectively implement their commitments under the Convention will depend on the effective implementation by developed country Parties of their commitments under the Convention related to financial resources and transfer of technology’.4 These provisions also require to take ‘fully into account that economic and social development and poverty eradication are 3

See 2008 Convention on Cluster Munitions, http://www.clusterconvention.org.

4

Cf. 1992 United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, 31 ILM 848, art. 4, para. 7; and 1992 Convention on Biological Diversity, 1760 UNTS 79, art. 20, para. 4.

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the first and overriding priorities of the developing country Parties’. On the one hand, these seem to be necessary reflections of reality, but it also comes dangerously close to establishing new legal justifications for unlawful behaviour. It seems that mechanisms aiming at fostering compliance initially concentrated on the will of States to comply with their commitments under international law. Mechanisms that have been developed more recently tend to apply mixed approaches which also highlight the capacity to comply, in particular through indicating assistance measures. The most striking example of this development is probably the compliance mechanism established under the Kyoto Protocol to the UNFCCC, which comprises an enforcement branch and a facilitative branch – the latter concentrating on capacity issues.5 In a wider sense and outside the boundaries of the compliance mechanism established by the States Parties, a whole variety of assistance and financial measures is provided in the context of climate change, including the Special Climate Change Fund, the Least Developed Countries Fund, the Adaptation Fund, a technology clearing house, etc.6 However, facilitative measures, advice, etc. are not only relevant in the development context; the compliance mechanism of the Kyoto Protocol foresees the activities of the facilitative branch also in relation to so-called Annex I States, i.e. developed countries. And even in the context of the Alpine Convention, which is solely comprised of highly developed countries, facilitative measures are foreseen in the decision establishing the compliance meachnism.7

IV.

Compliance and the Norm Concerned

Let us start with a commonplace: different norms have different properties. They may have reciprocal or objective character, they may require their subordinates to carry out a certain behaviour (act or omission) or to achieve a certain result. Norms may order or authorize action. As regards compliance with international legal norms the most important property of a norm seems to be whether it has reciprocal character or not. ‘Classical’ international norms to a large extent are of a reciprocal character – that is to say that an obligation of one State is mirrored by a parallel obligation of another State. To give an example: State A’s obligation to ensure the immunity and inviolability of State B’s diplomats as enshrined in the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations is mirrored by State B’s obligation to ensure the immunity and inviolability of State A’s diplomats. Consequently, if State A neglects diplomatic immunity and inviolability of State B’s diplomats, State B may be justified in acting the same way towards State A’s diplomats. As both, States A and B, will have an interest that their diplomats 5

Cf. Decision 24/CP.7. On the compliance mechanism under the Kyoto Protocol, cf. http:// unfccc.int/kyoto_protocol/compliance/items/2875.php.

6

For an overview, see http://unfccc.int/cooperation_and_support/items/2664.php.

7

Cf. Alpine Conference, Chapter IV.2 of decision VII/4, which provides that the compliance committee may provide or facilitate advice and support to States Parties facing compliance difficulties. See M. Reiterer, ‘The Alpine Convention and Beyonds Recent Developments Concerning Mountainous Regions’, 6 ARIEL 241-251 (2001).

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are protected and treated properly by the other State, the reciprocity existing in the situation at hand helps to ensure compliance with the norms. This also holds true for other reciprocal relations, such as rules of trade, traffic rights, etc.8 The story is, however, totally different when it comes to non-reciprocal or objective norms.9 The Parties to the Montreal Protocol, for example, have the obligation to refrain from the use of specific substances that deplete the ozone layer. If one were to apply the reasoning of reciprocity as given in the example above, State B could assert to be justified to emit such substances in response for State A doing the same. As we can see from this example, reciprocity is not only not helpful to ensure compliance with such norms protecting collective or community interests, it would even be detrimental to the aims pursued. It follows that unlike reciprocal norms, non-reciprocal norms are not in themselves conducive to compliance. Not surprisingly, it was particularly for non-reciprocal norms that specific mechanisms needed to be developed to promote further compliance. Such mechanisms comprise a whole variety including formalized non-compliance mechanisms elaborated under multilateral environmental agreements, but also mechanisms allowing for claims by individuals for instance in the area of international protection of human rights. The international community has also developed less formal mechanisms which show a surprisingly high degree of effectiveness.10

V.

A Typology of Mechanisms Aiming at Fostering Compliance

A typology of existing mechanisms to foster compliance could comprise the following basic types of mechanisms: 1.

Procedural systems for State-to-State dispute resolution (bilateral systems);

8

Reciprocity, however, is not only a quality of the norm in question, but may also refer to the factual relation between two States, including factors such as economic and military power. Thus, even in situations where the norm in itself would be of reciprocal character, but the factual situation of two States is imbalanced, the ‘stronger’ State could avoid compliance with rules more easily than the ‘weaker’.

9

In the past, a number of international courts, including the ICJ (Cf. i.a. Reservations to the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, 1951 ICJ Rep. 23), the European Court of Human Rights (cf. Pfunders Case (Austria v. Italy), 4 Yearbook of the European Convention of Human Rights 116 (1961)), and the Inter-American Court of Human Rights (Cf. The Effect of Reservations on the Entry into Force of the American Convention, Advisory Opinion, OC-2/82, 1982 Inter-American Court of Human Rights (Ser. A) No. 2) had to deal with norms of that kind. In the words of the Inter-American Court the American Convention on Human Rights did not embody a ‘reciprocal exchange of rights for the mutual benefit of the contracting parties’ but these parties submitted themselves ‘to a legal order within which they, for the common good, assume various obligations, not in relation to other States, but towards all individuals within their jurisdiction.’

10

See infra sec. V.D.

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2. Procedural systems involving a group of States or international bodies (multilateral systems); 3. Procedural systems involving individuals (individualised systems); 4. Informal pragmatic approaches.

A.

Bilateral Systems

Historically, bilateral dispute resolution systems stood at the beginning of international efforts in that regard.11 They reflect the primarily reciprocal character of international obligations at that historic period: If State A breached an international obligation it owed towards State B, State B instead of having recourse to measures involving the use of force should use a ‘classical’ tool of bilateral peaceful dispute settlement, for example negotiation, enquiry, mediation, conciliation, arbitration or judicial settlement.12 The emergence of non-reciprocal norms, however, has revealed difficulties in the context of bilateral dispute resolution as these norms are not owed vis-à-vis another State, but rather towards a community of States and/or individuals within the jurisdiction of States. In reality, judicial or quasi-judicial mechanisms for inter-State dispute settlement have only been used on extremely rare occasions in the context of objective norms: According to Article 33 of the European Convention on Human Rights any ‘High Contracting Party of the Convention may refer to the Europen Court of Human Rights (ECHR) any alleged breach of the provisions of the Convention and the protocols thereto by another High Contracting Party’. Whereas some 54,000 petitions by individuals were filed with the Court, 41,700 of which were allocated to a decision body in 2007 alone,13 the Court only was seized of 13 inter-State Cases in its some five decades of existence.14 This small number of inter-State cases shows the reluctance of States to point the finger of blame to other States for breaches of human rights obligations, especially in formal court procedures. This is also evidenced by the fact that the ECHR has so far attracted more inter-State applications than any other institution under international human rights instruments allowing for such petitions.15 Likewise, inter-State dispute settlement in 11

Cf. The 1899 and 1907 Peace Conferences at The Hague which culminated in the foundation of the Permanent Court of Arbitration which still functions to date.

12

Cf. 1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 33.

13

See European Court of Human Rights, Survey of Activities 2007, http://www.echr.coe. int/NR/rdonlyres/D0122525-0D26-4E21-B9D4-43AEA0E7A1F5/0/SurveyofActivities 2007.pdf.

14

Cf. also C. Grabenwarter, Europäische Menschenrechtskonvention (2003).

15

Inter-State complaints are also possible under the 1966 UN Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, 6 ILM 368 (1967); the 1966 UN Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Racial Discrimination, 660 UNTS 195; the 1984 Convention against Torture and other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment; 1465 UNTS 85; the 1969 American Convention on Human Rights, 1144 UNTS 123; and the 1981 African Charter on Human and Peoples’

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environmental questions has played a very minor role. None of the major environmental disasters of recent years, such as the Chernobyl incident or the Exxon Valdez, the Prestige and Erika oil spills have lead to inter-State claims.16 Yet, judicial or quasi-judicial dispute settlement remains an important tool, not only in regard of helping promoting compliance in contentious cases, but also due to the fact that judgments and awards by courts or tribunals may clarify existing legal commitments. Lastly, the mere possibility of such recourse to courts functions as a Damocles’ sword. The combination of the reluctance of States to use such mechanisms with the fact that non-reciprocal norms are not in themselves conducive to compliance reveals a clear need to elaborate appropriate procedures to cushion the substantive rules. The international community responded by using basically two main approaches: a) multilateralisation of the response system and b) individualisation of the response system. Multilateralisation of the response system means that issues are removed from a mere one-State to one-State level and embedded in the framework of a common institution of cooperating States, for instance treaty bodies such as the Conference of the Parties or bodies especially established for the purpose of monitoring compliance. Individualisation means that issues are removed from the State-to-State level by allowing individual persons to bring claims to international bodies or by providing for criminal responsibility of individuals for acts outlawed by international law.

B.

Multilateral Systems

These systems may take various forms, including reporting, inspection, fact-finding and so-called compliance or non-compliance mechanisms.17 Whereas reporting mechanisms can be found in numerous international treaties concerning various fields such as human rights protection,18 environment,19 arms control and disarmament20 as well as international labour law,21 the more intensive methods of scrutiny, such as inspection, tend to occur less frequently.

Rights, 21 ILM 58 (1982). The number of actual inter-State applications under theses systems is even smaller than the one for the European Convention on Human Rights. 16

P. Birnie/A. Boyle, International Law and the Environment (2002) 178 et seq., 220 et seq.

17

For a comprehensive overview of relevant instruments see UNEP, Emerging Policy Issues – Study on Dispute Avoidance and Dispute Settlement in International Environmental Law, UN Doc. UNEP/GC.20/INF/16 (1999).

18

Cf. i.a. 1966 UN Covenant on Cultural, Economic and Social Rights, 6 ILM 368 (1967), arts. 16 et seq.; 1966 UN Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, supra note 15. art. 40; American Convention on Human Rights,supra note 15, art. 42; African Convention on Human and Peoples’ Rights, supra note 15, art. 62.

19

Cf. i.a. UN Convention on Biological Diversity, supra note 4, art. 26; and United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, supra note 4, art. 12.

20

Cf. the detailed reporting requirements under 1993 Chemical Weapons Convention, 32 ILM 800 (1993), art. 3.

21

Cf. 1946 Constitution of the International Labour Organisation, 15 UNTS 35, art. 22.

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As inspection aims at clarifying and verifying the accuracy of certain facts, such mechanisms – if conducted by independent and objective organs in an objective manner – further compliance and contribute to fostering mutual trust. Two examples highlight the significance of inspection: Inspection is perhaps the single most important building block of the Non-Proliferation Treaty.22 Inspection is also at the centre of the European Convention for the Prevention of Torture and Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment. This Convention establishes the Committee for the Prevention of Torture which ‘shall, by means of visits, examine the treatment of persons deprived of their liberty with a view to strengthening, if necessary, the protection of such persons from torture and from inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment’. These visits are in general conducted periodically, but the Committee is also empowered to carry out ad hoc visits. Under the Convention, the Committee has unlimited access to places of detention and the right to move inside such places without restriction; it interviews persons deprived of their liberty in private and communicate freely with anyone who can provide information. Since its inception in 1989 the Committee has carried out 173 visits, consisting of 111 periodic visits and 62 ad hoc visits.23 The number of international agreements allowing for inspection is, however, limited. This fact may primarily be due to the restriction of sovereignty that goes together with any inspection system. Yet, these systems do have a considerable potential for furthering compliance, simply because independent inspections make it harder to cheat. Thus, it seems that the potential of inspection systems is not yet fully appreciated in other areas. It could therefore be considered to introduce additional or strengthen existing inspection schemes to facilitate clarification and verification also in areas not yet or not sufficiently covered by such systems. However, the ongoing dispute over Iran’s nuclear ambitions highlights the limits to the effectiveness of this mechanism. Another striking new development is the establishment of the so-called Universal Periodic Review (UPR) to be carried out by the Human Rights Council. Under this Review the human rights records of 48 States per year will be analyzed in a process that allows input from the various countries, but also the High-Commissioner for Human Rights as well as NGOs. The establishment of such a procedure in itself is a remarkable step and its further record will warrant close scrutiny also in terms of achieving higher levels of compliance.

C.

Individualized Systems

Individualized systems have two sides: the ‘rights side’ and the ‘responsibility side’. They may either allow individual persons to bring claims to international bodies or provide for criminal responsibility of individuals for acts outlawed by international law.

22

Cf. 1968 Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons, 729 UNTS 161, art. III, and the some 140 ‘safeguard agreements’ concluded between individual States and the International Atomic Energy Agency.

23

See http://www.cpt.coe.int/en.

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1.

951

The Rights Side

The first approach can predominantly be found in the area of international protection of human rights. Varying in their intensity, procedures admitting individual petitions are foreseen in the framework of a number of human rights treaties, such as the 1966 UN Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the 1966 Convention on the Elimination of all Froms of Racial Discrimination the 1984 Convention against Torture and other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment, the the 1979 Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women the ECHR 1950, the 1969 American Convention on Human Rights, the 1981 African Charter on Human and People’s Rights 1981. Under the Inter-American and the European Conventions on Human Rights fullyfledged international courts with independent judges presiding over cases were created to hear cases brought before them by individuals. In 2004, the Additional Protocol to the African Charter entered into force which provides for the establishment of an African Court for Human and People’s Rights. A look at some statistics reveals that such procedures tend to be widely used. At the European Court of Human Rights, for example, a total number of 79,427 applications where pending in 2007.24 While this method of individualisation concentrates on human rights protection, i.e. a field where clearly substantive rights of individuals are enshrined in international law, this phenomenon is not widely appreciated in other areas. In the environmental field, Rio Principle 10 states that individuals should have access to effective remedies in environmental matters. This approach, however, hardened into treaty language only within the ECE region and, still, the Aarhus Convention’s method is different from the one applied for human rights protection. Instead of opening up the possibility to seize an international court with a matter, the Aarhus Convention obliges States to provide for effective remedies within their respective legal systems. Consequently, while the Aarhus Convention itself might contribute to better compliance with other environmental agreements (as environmental decisions can be challenged in the Parties’ legal systems), the Convention itself might risk a low degree of compliance.25 According to Article 15 of the Convention, a compliance mechanism has been adopted by the first meeting of the Parties to the Aarhus Convention in 2002.26 This mechanism cannot only be triggered by Parties or the Secretariat, but also by ‘one or more members of the public’. In essence this means that individuals may raise issues before an international body concerning the Convention – a possibility that only rather rarely occurs outside the realm of human rights protection. Still, this possibility needs to be distinguished from human rights courts, as the Compliance Committee is not a court of law and the

24

See supra note 12.

25

On the Aarhus Convention in general and the mechanisms in place for access to justice in environmental matters in 15 European States, see J. Ebbeson (ed.) Access to Justice in Environmental Matters in the EU/Accès à la justice en matière d’environnement dans l’UE (2002).

26

See Decision I/7, http://www.unece.org/env/pp/mop1/decision.1.7.e.doc.

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members of the compliance committee are not judges. The compliance mechanism does not culminate in a ‘judgment’.

2.

The Responsibility Side

Starting with the war crimes trials in Tokyo and Nuremberg after the Second World War, an increasing internationalisation of criminal law has taken place particularly after the end of the cold war. Especially the two ad hoc tribunals established by the Security Council for the atrocities that took place in Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia are important examples of how individual criminal responsibility under international law can work. While international law generally binds subjects of international law, international criminal law creates direct international legal obligations of human beings. Already the 1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide defined genocide as a crime under international law. Article VI of this Convention contains the obligation that persons charged with genocide shall be tried by a competent tribunal of the State in the territory of which the act was committed, or by such international penal tribunal as may have jurisdiction with respect to those Contracting Parties which shall have accepted its jurisdiction. Thus, already the 1948 convention envisaged the creation of an international court competent to hear genocide cases. It was not until the year 1998 that the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court was concluded; it entered into force on 1 July 2002. A number of prominent instances had highlighted the issue. Most notably, the arrest of Augusto Pinochet in London on 16 October 1998 or the arrest of Slobodan Milosevic on 1 April 2001 in Belgrade and his subsequent transferral to the ICTY on 29 June 2001, the recent transferral to the ICTY of the long sought after Radovan Karadzic in July 2008 are prominent cases that show that it is no more as easy as it might have been to get away with heinous crimes. On 14 July 2008, the ICC Prosecutor requested an arrest warrant against the incumbent Sudanese President, Hassan Ahmad Al Bashir for genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes in Darfur.27 This is also corroborated by a certain strain on the law of immunity from unlawful acts. While, traditionally, heads of State enjoyed absolute immunity for their acts, the introduction and increased emphasis on individual criminal responsibility under international law has lead to a decrease in immunity afforded to high level representatives of States – and hence transforms the rather abstract notion of State responsibility to a concrete individual responsibility which may lead to court sentences and imprisonment. Already the Genocide Convention provided that persons committing genocide shall be punished, whether they are constitutionally responsible rulers, public officials or private individuals. Similarly, the Statute of the International Criminal Court, which is

27

Cf. ICC Press Release, ICC Prosecutor presents case against Sudanese President, Hassan Ahmad AL BASHIR, for genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes in Darfur, 14 July 2008, http://www.icc-cpi.int/press/pressreleases/406.html.

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competent to hear cases of the crime of genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes and the crime of aggression, provides for the ‘irrelevance of official capacity’.28 Already now these developments29 highlight the importance of individual responsibility under international law as a means to bring about greater compliance with the rules of international law, particularly for areas where these rules aim to prevent the most atrocious acts.

D.

Informal Pragmatic Approaches

From a practitioner’s perspective, one might draw a distinction between international agreements that do have an ongoing ‘culture of implementation’, and others that restrict themselves to the one-time act of international norm-setting and refrain from specific follow-up activities. As regards the first group of agreements, many examples could be found, but I will only highlight one of them, i.e. the 1997 Convention on the Prohibition of the Use, Stockpiling, Production, and Transfer of Anti-Personnel Mines and on their Destruction, also known as the Mine-Ban Treaty or Ottawa Convention.30 This Convention, while setting clear norms, i.e. a total ban of AP Mines and a – somewhat imprecise, but hugely important – commitment to take care of the victims of such weapons, has managed to develop a multifaceted, quite complex system which also serves to ensure compliance with its norms. Remarkably, Article 8 of the Convention sets out a formal compliance system which, however, has never been used and remains unlikely to be used in the future. The practice under the Convention has created a system which, inter alia, comprises the following elements: –

a creation ‘not merely of a Secretariat’, but an Implementation Support Unit;

28

1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, 2187 UNTS 90, art. 27, provides: ‘(1) This Statute shall apply equally to all persons without any distinction based on official capacity. In particular, official capacity as a Head of State or Government, a member of a Government or parliament, an elected representative or a government official shall in no case exempt a person from criminal responsibility under this Statute, nor shall it, in and of itself, constitute a ground for reduction of sentence. (2) Immunities or special procedural rules which may attach to the official capacity of a person, whether under national or international law, shall not bar the Court from exercising its jurisdiction over such a person.’

29

Cf. also in this regard the records of the ICTY and ICTR: As of October 2003, the ICTY had completed 35 cases; 5 accused were found not guilty or acquitted, 13 were transferred to serve sentence; 51 accused are currently in custody (cf. ICTY, Fact Sheet on ICTY Proceedings, http://www.un.org/icty/glance/profact-e.htm. The ICTR has so far completed 20 cases, including the case against Jean Kambanda, the former Prime Minister, the first Head of Government to be convicted for such crimes, who has been sentenced to life imprisonment; see http://www.ictr.org.

30

Cf. S. Maslen, The Convention on the Prohibition of the Use, Stockpiling, Production, and Transfer of Anti-Personnel Mines and on their Destruction, in Commentaries on Arms Control Treaties, Vol. I, (2004); see also the very resourceful homepage maintained by the Convention’s Implementation Support Unit: http://www.apminebanconvention.org.

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–

the establishment of a work programme of the Convention, including regular meetings of the States Parties and an intersessional work programme dealing with the four major areas of the Convention (i.e. general status, mine clearance, stockpile destruction and victim assistance);

–

the concrete and all-embracing involvement of a coalition of NGOs, the International Campaign to Ban Landmines (ICBL), which may point the finger of blame to those having troubles fulfilling their commitments;

–

a strong cooperation with an array of international actors, most notably the ICRC;

–

an annual publication by NGOs of the so-called Landmine Monitor, a lengthy and comprehensive book of several hundred pages providing in-depth information on a State-by-State basis collated by researches all over the globe;

–

a method to collectively report on progress in annual progress reports elaborated under the auspices of the Meeting of States Parties;31

–

the strong commitment of States in a position to do so to provide assistance to those countries in the process of fulfilling their clearance, stockpile destruction or victim assistance obligations.

Being largely informal, this system can be adapted as needed and remains surprisingly flexible. Because of this flexibility and bearing in mind the slightly unorthodox way in which it was elaborated, the Convention is sometimes jokingly described as the ‘hippie’ among international disarmament agreements; a hippie – one needs to remark – which has attracted ratification by 156 States Parties in its first 10 years of existence. In any event, the system employed by this Convention allows that instances of possible noncompliance can be diagnosed rather speedily and can often be effectively addressed in an informal and efficient manner. Nevertheless, the Convention currently has to cope with four cases of apparent noncompliance with the obligation under Article 4 to destroy all stockpiled anti-personnel mines within four years after its entry into force for the State Party concerned. While this clearly shows the ubiquitous problems of establishing perfect compliance with 31

These regular progress reports have been established following an initiative by Austria and Croatia. At the first Review Conference of the Convention, the 2004 Nairobi Summit on a Mine Free World, chaired by Austrian ambassador Wolfgang Petritsch, the States Parties had agreed on a comprehensice five year plan of 70 actions to be taken in implementing the Convention. To avoid a five year gap of relative inactivity, it became evident that annual activities were required. Therefore, in 2005 Austria as the out-going presidency and Croatia as the incoming presidency of the Convention proposed to the meeting of States Parties to elaborate what came to be known as the Zagreb Progress Report which has been developed in a multi-stakeholder process. In 2006 the second such report, the Geneva Progress Report, was welcomed by the Parties. Most recently, the Dead See Progress Report has been welcomed by the meeting of States Parties that was held in Jordan in November 2007.

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legal norms, in all four instances a variety of activities have been triggered, either by the States concerned, the ICRC, ICBL or others to speedily rectify the situation.

VI.

Some Remarks on International Law and Punishment of States

Critics of international law often link the ‘lack of compliance’ with its norms to the lacking possibility of punishing states; and at first sight, the argument has some appeal: after all – the argument goes – all domestic legal systems are essentially based on the ‘credible threat’ of punishment! This analogy, however, is misleading. The concept of punishment denotes a penalty inflicted upon a wrongdoer as a result of a penal procedure.32 Punishment presupposes ahierarchy between the punisher and the punished. International law, however, is based on ‘sovereign equality’. It is important to note that the legal concept of sovereignty endeavours to avoid emotive connotations often given to the term in political science or international relations doctrine. As Michael Akehurst put it: ‘When international lawyers say that a State is sovereign, all that they really mean is that it is independent, that it is not a dependency of some other State.’33 The International Law Commission has worked on the law of State responsibility for some five decades. During that work the issue of punishment and so-called ‘punitive damages’ gave rise to quite extensive discussions. After long scrupulous analysis, the ‘Articles on State Responsibility’ were finally adopted by the ILC and endorsed by the UN-General Assembly displaying the most authoritative statement on the law of State responsibility in existence today. It does not provide for the punishment of States for wrongful acts. The Articles require ‘full reparation for the damage caused by the internationally wrongful act’ Article 31. Such reparation can take the form of restitution, compensation and satisfaction, neither of which would amount to punishment.34 In legal systems punishment plays an important role. But in order to be fair and legitimate a system of punishment would have to be applied in an equitable and just 32

See Oxford Concise Dictionary of Law (1998).

33

P. Malanczuk, Akehurst’s Modern Introduction to International Law 9, 17 (1997): ‘They do not mean that it is in any way above the law. It would be far better if the word “sovereignty” were replaced by the word “independence”. In so far as “sovereignty” means anything in addition to “independence”, it is not a legal term with any fixed meaning, but a wholly emotive term.’ See also A. Verdross/B. Simma, Universelles Völkerrecht – Theorie und Praxis, para. 35 (1984) and the landmark arbitral award in the Island of Palmas Case (The Netherlands v. United States of America), Award of 23 April 1928, 2 RIAA 829, at 838: ‘Sovereignty in the relations between States signifies independence.’

34

Cf. United Nations – International Law Commission, Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts, Report of the ILC on the work of its 53rd Session, UN GAOR, 56th Session, Supplement No. 10, UN Doc. A/56/10 (2001), Ch. IV.E.I, http://www.un.org/ law/ilc/texts/State_responsibility/responsibilityfra.htm. See also S. Wittich, ‘Awe of the Gods and Fear of the Priests: Punitive Damages and the Law of State Responsibility’, 3 ARIEL 101 (1998); id., ‘The International Law Commission’s Articles on the Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts Adopted on Second Reading’, 15 LJIL 891, 898-905 (2002).

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manner, treating similar misconduct similarly and differentiate where differentiation is justified on substantive grounds. Thus, a legitimate system of punishment would also have to have functioning mechanisms to ensure that even the strong and powerful are treated the same way as the weak. And, indeed, the credibility of domestic punishment systems within States is often questioned because of the system not being able to properly prosecute the powerful. Another important element of domestic punishment systems has been detected which mutatis mutandis also holds true for international relations: This difficulty was i.a. diagnosed by Roscoe Pound who noted: ‘It is an inherent difficulty in the administration of punitive justice that criminal law has a much closer connection with politics than has the law of civil relations. There is no great danger of oppression through civil litigation. There is constant fear of oppression through the criminal law. Not only is one class suspicious of attempts by another to force its ideas upon the community under penalty of prosecution, but the power of a majority to visit with punishment practices which a strong minority considers in no way objectionable is liable to abuse and, whether rightly or wrongly used, puts a strain upon criminal law and administration.’35

What is difficult on the national level, might prove monstrous on the international plane. Proceedings on the assumption that if a punishment system should be applied, such system should be legitimate, it is submitted that a number of pertinent questions, including the following, would need to be clarified and regulated: What kind of punishment could possibly be inflicted on States? Should there be economic sanctions? Military action? Should States lacking basic capacities be fined? Which entity would decide the question which State shall be punished and to what extent? Is the creation of fair and legitimate tribunals in which such enormous powers are vested imaginable at all? How could the independence and objectivity of such entities be ensured? Who would select persons to sit in such tribunals? Who would pay for such entities? Who would enforce punishments and how? Who would cover enforcement costs? The list of questions could be prolonged without greater difficulty – and benefit. It merely shows that punishment and international law do not go together easily, and as long as these and similar questions are not adressed and in fact regulated satisfactorily, demands for punishment of States on a global level not only lack a sense of reality, but might create far more problems than they solve. In international relations, punishment might thus contribute to a (perceived or actual) ‘danger of oppression’ through criminal law. A more subtle response than the mere demand for punishment is thus required. Additional measures need to be implemented to motivate the highest degree of compliance attainable particularly for norms that, like non-reciprocal norms, are not in and by themselves conducive to compliance. Moreover, in many instances, the most basic question whether the infliction of a punishment on a State would help to solve the problem at hand remains to be asked: What if the failure of a State to adhere to an environmental standard has lead to the extinction of a species? In that case the

35

R. Pound, ‘Introduction’, in R. Saleilles, The Individualization of Punishment (1911).

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damage done is irreversible. Punishment would be the consequence of a mere ex-post evaluation which would and could not help to re-establish the situation which would exist had the State acted lawfully (i.e. existence of the species). Terminological caution is required. Legally, not all negative consequences of wrongful conduct amount to punishment, yet they can exert a certain ‘persuasive’ power to act lawfully. But terminological caution is not only required for legal reasons; it is also warranted for political motives: Which government would like to be seen to allow its country to be punished? In sum, a more sophisticated approach to ‘enforcement’ of international law than mere punishment is needed.

VII. Some Concluding Remarks It seems that the concrete mix of compliance activities needs to be shaped according to the specific needs of the treaty in question. As emphasized, the shape of a compliance mechanism for a specific treaty depends to a large extent on the character of the norms concerned, i.e. their reciprocity or lack thereof. The success of the WTO dispute settlement mechanism for example shows that the Damocles’ sword of bilateral dispute settlement works quite well for instances of bilateral concern, e.g. imports and exports to and from two specific countries (or a group of countries in the case of the EU). At the same time, the extremely hesitant use of bilateral dispute settlement mechanisms for objective norms such as human rights and international environmental obligations shows that bilateral mechanisms may not appropriately deal with non-compliance in case of objective obligations. In areas of objective norms, multilateralized or individualized systems tend to be more effective than bilateral systems; hence, their increased use should be considered. Multilateralized systems would include so-called non-compliance procedures and inspections. As inspections carried out by independent bodies in an objective manner help to clarify and verify data, and thus considerably contribute to a greater degree of compliance, their wider use could be considered. Individualized systems of both kinds mentioned above do have a great potential. Individualized systems that create rights of individuals to petition tend to de-politicize compliance questions; their wide use contributes to higher levels of compliance. Individualized systems that create legal responsibility of individuals under international law directly target the decision-makers; their strengthening should be contemplated. Compliance questions are now centre-stage in international theory and practice. International practice has been remarkably innovative to address compliance concerns, and it has developed a number of methods to make compliance more rewarding than non-compliance or non-compliance more costly than compliance. It has done so without falling into the trap of the tempting domestic law anology and inventing systems to (merely) ‘punish’ states. The main motive of all systems which function to foster compliance is – to use the words of Jan Egeland – to make ‘compliance more attractive than non-compliance and non-compliance less attractive than compliance’. This motive is equally relevant to practically all areas of international relations: international criminal

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law, humanitarian law, disarmament, international trade, human rights, environment, civil aviation, etc. If generally heeded, this kind of thinking will yield the desired result: better compliance with international commitments.

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What is a Legal Dispute? Christoph Schreuer*

I.

Do You Really Know It When You See It?

It may seem inappropriate to write about disputes in a volume dedicated to Gerhard Hafner. He is the most peaceable and good natured person one could possibly imagine. If international politics were run by people of his disposition, the world would be a much better place. Alas, this is not the case and Gerhard Hafner is fully aware of this reality. Indeed his work reflects the importance of methods for the peaceful settlement of international disputes.1 Provisions on the peaceful settlement of disputes, by definition, presuppose the existence of disputes for their application. Article 33 of the UN Charter is an obvious example.2 The definition of a dispute may appear superfluous at first sight. Everyone knows the meaning of a dispute and one may presume that one will recognize a dispute when one sees it. However, in actual practice the existence of a dispute may be in doubt and may itself be disputed. At times, the existence of a dispute is denied in order to contest the jurisdiction of an international court or tribunal. The existing definitions have done little to clarify questions that arise in this context. Black’s Law Dictionary circumscribes ‘dispute’ as ‘a conflict or controversy, esp. one that has given rise to a particular lawsuit’.3 The Permanent Court of International Justice (PCIJ) and the International Court of Justice (ICJ) have addressed the issue of the existence of a dispute in several cases. In

*

The author wishes to express his gratitude to Ursula Kriebaum and to Clara Reiner for valuable comments on an earlier version of this paper.

1

G. Hafner, ‘The Physiognomy of Disputes and the Appropriate Means to Resolve Them’, in United Nations (ed.), International Law as a Language for International Relations. Proceedings of the United Nations Congress on Public International Law 559 (1995); G. Hafner, ‘Some Legal Aspects of International Disputes’, 104 The Journal of International Law and Diplomacy 65 (2005).

2

1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 33(1): ‘The parties to any dispute, the continuance of which is likely to endanger the maintenance of international peace and security, shall, first of all, seek a solution by negotiation, enquiry, mediation, conciliation, arbitration, judicial settlement, resort to regional agencies or arrangements, or other peaceful means of their own choice.’

3

B. A. Garner (ed.), Black’s Law Dictionary (1999).

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 959-980, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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the Mavrommatis Palestine Concessions case, the Permanent Court gave the following broad definition: ‘A dispute is a disagreement on a point of law or fact, a conflict of legal views or of interests between two persons.’4

In another case, the ICJ referred to ‘a situation in which the two sides held clearly opposite views concerning the question of the performance or non-performance of certain treaty obligations.’5

The Tribunal in Texaco v. Libya referred to a ‘present divergence of interests and opposition of legal views’.6 ICSID tribunals have adopted similar descriptions of ‘disputes’, often relying on the PCIJ’s and ICJ’s definitions.7 Gerhard Hafner has described these definitions as too wide and too narrow at the same time.8 A look at judicial practice proves him right. Whether a dispute in the technical sense exists is rather more complex than these definitions would suggest. Practice also demonstrates that, far from being a purely academic issue, the existence vel non of a dispute can be decisive to determine a court’s or tribunal’s jurisdiction. The present contribution seeks to shed some light on the concept of disputes, particularly legal disputes, by reference to the practice of the International Court and investment tribunals. Taking the PCIJ’s definition in Mavrommatis as a starting point, it addresses the following issues: — Under what circumstances does ‘a disagreement’ or ‘conflict’ become a dispute? Does the communication between the parties need to reach a certain level of intensity to qualify as a dispute?

4

Mavrommatis Palestine Concessions (Greece v. Great Britain), Judgment of 30 August 1924, 1924 PCIJ (Ser. A) No. 2, at 11.

5

Interpretation of the Peace Treaties with Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania, Advisory Opinion of 30 March 1950 (first phase), 1950 ICJ Rep. 65, at 74.

6

Texaco Overseas Petroleum Company and California Asiatic Oil Company v. Libyan Arab Republic, Preliminary Award of 27 November 1975, 53 ILR 389, at 416 (1979).

7

Maffezini v. Spain, Decision on Jurisdiction of 25 January 2000, 40 ILM 1129, at paras. 93, 94 (2001); Tokios Tokelės v. Ukraine, Decision on Jurisdiction of 29 April 2004, at paras. 106, 107; Lucchetti v. Peru, Award of 7 February 2005, at para. 48; Impregilo v. Pakistan, Decision on Jurisdiction of 22 April 2005, at paras. 302, 303; AES v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 26 April 2005, at para. 43; El Paso Energy Intl. Co. v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 27 April 2006, at para. 61; Suez, Sociedad General de Aguas de Barcelona S.A., and InterAguas Servicios Integrales del Agua S.A. v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 16 May 2006, at para. 29; M.C.I. v. Ecuador, Award of 31 July 2007, at para. 63.

8

G. Hafner, ‘The Physiognomy of Disputes and the Appropriate Means to Resolve Them’, supra note 1, at 560.

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— Who determines whether the dispute is ‘on a point of law or fact or a conflict of legal views’? What if a party describes the dispute as political and hence as non-legal? — How does the court or tribunal determine whether the dispute represents a conflict ‘of interests between’ the parties? How does it deal with the argument that the issue before it is hypothetical and not sufficiently concrete to be susceptible of judicial resolution? In addition to definitional issues, certain jurisdictional arguments are closely related to the existence of a dispute: — One party may argue that the dispute, if indeed there is one, is with a third party to which the claimant should turn. — The existence of a dispute may be uncontested but it may be disputed whether it has arisen before a date critical for the jurisdiction of a court or tribunal.

II.

The Process of Communication Leading to a Dispute

The existence of a dispute presupposes a certain degree of communication between the parties. The matter must have been taken up with the other party, which must have opposed the claimant’s position if only indirectly. Practice demonstrates that the threshold required in terms of communication between the parties for the existence of a dispute is fairly low. In certain situations a dispute may exist even in the absence of active opposition by one party to the claim of the other party.

A.

Intensity of Communication

In a number of cases the question arose as to whether the communications between the parties, before the initiation of proceedings, had reached an intensity that deserved the designation as a dispute.9 In the Interpretation of Peace Treaties case the ICJ was confronted with the question as to whether the diplomatic exchanges between Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania on the one hand, and certain Allied and Associated Powers signatories to the Peace Treaties on the other, amounted to a dispute. The Court gave an affirmative response on the basis of a finding that the two sides had expressed clearly opposing views concerning their treaty obligations. The Court said: ‘Whether there exists an international dispute is a matter for objective determination. The mere denial of the existence of a dispute does not prove its non-existence. In the 9

See also Applicability of the Obligation to Arbitrate under Section 21 of the United Nations Headquarters Agreement of 26 June 1947, Advisory Opinion of 26 April 1988, 1988 ICJ Rep. 12, at para. 35.

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diplomatic correspondence submitted to the Court, the United Kingdom, acting in association with Australia, Canada and New Zealand, and the United States of America charged Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania with having violated, in various ways, the provisions of the articles dealing with human rights and fundamental freedoms in the Peace Treaties and called upon the three Governments to take remedial measures to carry out their obligations under the Treaties. The three Governments, on the other hand, denied the charges. There has thus arisen a situation in which the two sides hold clearly opposite views concerning the question of the performance or non-performance of certain treaty obligations. Confronted with such a situation, the Court must conclude that international disputes have arisen.’10

In the South West Africa cases, the ICJ found that it had to address the preliminary question as to the existence of a dispute since its competence under the Mandate and under Articles 36 and 37 of its Statute depended on a positive finding on this issue. After quoting the well-known definition from Mavrommatis it said: ‘In other words it is not sufficient for one party to a contentious case to assert that a dispute exists with the other party. A mere assertion is not sufficient to prove the existence of a dispute any more than a mere denial of the existence of the dispute proves its nonexistence. Nor is it adequate to show that the interests of the two parties to such a case are in conflict. It must be shown that the claim of one party is positively opposed by the other. Tested by this criterion there can be no doubt about the existence of a dispute between the Parties before the Court, since it is clearly constituted by their opposing attitudes relating to the performance of the obligations of the Mandate by the Respondent as Mandatory.’11

In the Certain Property case, there had been bilateral consultations between Germany and Liechtenstein. Germany argued that ‘a discussion of divergent legal opinions should not be considered as evidence of the existence of a dispute in the sense of the Court’s Statute “before it reaches a certain threshold”’.12 After quoting from the South West Africa cases and briefly describing the divergences between the parties, the Court said: ‘The Court thus finds that in the present proceedings complaints of fact and law formulated by Liechtenstein against Germany are denied by the latter. In conformity with well-established jurisprudence (…), the Court concludes that ‘[b]y virtue of this denial, there is a legal dispute’ between Liechtenstein and Germany.’13

These cases indicate that the threshold for the existence of a dispute in terms of prior communication between the parties is fairly low. The exchanges between the parties 10

Interpretation of Peace Treaties with Bulgaria, Hungary and Romania, supra note 5, at 74.

11

South West Africa (Ethiopia v. South Africa; Liberlia v. South Africa), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 21 December 1962, 1962 ICJ Rep. 319, at 328.

12

Certain Property (Liechtenstein v. Germany), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 10 February 2005, 2005 ICJ Rep. 6, at para. 23.

13

Ibid., para. 25.

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do not require a high degree of intensity or acrimony. The formulation of opposing positions by the parties is sufficient.

B.

Absence of Opposition

If a dispute and hence the jurisdiction of international courts and tribunals depends on the formulation of opposing positions, what if the respondent simply acknowledges the position of the claimant yet fails to provide a remedy? The mere admission of liability cannot be a valid defence in legal proceedings and will not deprive the court or tribunal of its jurisdiction. Under these circumstances, the absence of an overt disagreement between the parties will not negate the existence of a dispute. Sir Robert Jennings has described this dilemma in the following terms with respect to the ICJ: ‘[C]an the Court, in its contentious jurisdiction, pass upon a question of law or fact, even if that point is not strictly disputed between the parties? For it is not difficult, certainly in municipal law, to imagine cases in which there is no real legal dispute between two persons; yet a court might have undoubted competence. If a debtor freely acknowledges the sum and due day of a debt but simply does nothing about it, the creditor can surely sue and get the court to enforce payment of the debt, even if there is no true ‘legal dispute’ or even dispute about fact, before the Court. [...] Even in a case which follows normal procedures there is often agreement between the parties on certain points of law or fact, often quite important ones. It has never been suggested that this absence of dispute removes the point from the Court’s competence.’14

The Headquarters Agreement case15 concerned the Headquarters Agreement between the United Nations and the United States. The United Nations, noting the existence of a dispute, invoked the Agreement’s Article 21 that provides for arbitration. The United States took the position that it ‘had not yet concluded that a dispute existed’.16 The General Assembly requested an advisory opinion from the ICJ on the question as to whether the United States was under an obligation to enter into arbitration under Article 21 of the Agreement.17 One of the questions before the Court was whether there was, in fact, a dispute triggering the obligation to go to arbitration. The United Nations had on several occasions asserted the incompatibility of certain US legislation with the Headquarters Agreement. But the United States had never formally contested that

14

R. Jennings, ‘Reflections on the Term “Dispute”’, in R. St. J. Macdonald (ed.), Essays in Honour of Wang Tieya 401, at 404 (1993).

15

Applicability of the Obligation to Arbitrate under Section 21 of the United Nations Headquarters Agreement of 26 June 1947, supra note 9.

16

Ibid., 29, para. 39.

17

Ibid., 13.

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position. The Court found that the lack of refutation of the UN position by the United States did not negate the existence of a dispute. The Court said: ‘37. The United States has never expressly contradicted the view expounded by the Secretary-General and endorsed by the General Assembly regarding the sense of the Headquarters Agreement. Certain United States authorities have even expressed the same view, but the United States has nevertheless taken measures against the PLO Mission to the United Nations. It has indicated that those measures were being taken ‘irrespective of any obligations the United States may have under the [Headquarters] Agreement’ […]. 38. In the view of the Court, where one party to a treaty protests against the behaviour or a decision of another party, and claims that such behaviour or decision constitutes a breach of the treaty, the mere fact that the party accused does not advance any argument to justify its conduct under international law does not prevent the opposing attitudes of the parties from giving rise to a dispute concerning the interpretation or application of the treaty.’18

In AGIP v. Congo,19 the Government had expropriated the Claimant’s assets without compensation in violation of a prior agreement. Before the ICSID Tribunal, the Government declared that there was no longer any dispute since it had recognised the principle of compensation.20 The Tribunal found that the declarations made by the Government were so lacking in precision that the continuing existence of the dispute was not in doubt. It noted that the Claimant had not, in fact, received any compensation. In addition, the claim was directed not only at compensation for the nationalisation but also at damages for losses resulting from the Government’s violations of its contractual obligations.21

C.

Failure to Respond

Failure to respond to the demands of the other party will not exclude the existence of a dispute. Silence of a party in the face of legal arguments and claims for reparation by the other party cannot be taken as expressing agreement and hence the absence of a dispute. In the Headquarters Agreement case, the ICJ, referring to the Teheran Hostages case,22 noted the lack of appearance of Iran in that case. It saw no obstacle

18

Ibid., 28.

19

AGIP v. Congo, Award of 30 November 1979, 1 ICSID Rep. 306 (1993).

20

Ibid., 307, 317.

21

Ibid., 317, 326.

22

United States Diplomatic and Consular Staff in Tehran (United States of America v. Iran), Judgment of 24 May 1980, 1980 ICJ Rep. 3, at 24.

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to the existence of a dispute and hence to its jurisdiction in the lack of response to the claims of the United States on the part of Iran. The Court said: ‘Iran, which did not appear in the proceedings before the Court, had acted in such a way as, in the view of the United States, to commit breaches of the Conventions, but, so far as the Court was informed, Iran had at no time claimed to justify its actions by advancing an alternative interpretation of the Conventions, on the basis of which such actions would not constitute such a breach. The Court saw no need to enquire into the attitude of Iran in order to establish the existence of a ‘dispute’; in order to determine whether it had jurisdiction […].’23

Investment tribunals have similarly noted the lack of response by a party to the demands of the other.24 This did not affect the existence of a dispute between them. It follows that normally a dispute will be characterized by a certain amount of communication demonstrating opposing demands and denials. This is obviously what the PCIJ had in mind in Mavrommatis when it referred to a ‘conflict of legal views or of interests between two persons’. But an acknowledgement of the other side’s position unaccompanied by a remedy or even a simple failure to respond will not exclude the existence of a dispute. The decisive criterion for the existence of a dispute is not an explicit denial of the other party’s position but a failure to accede to its demands.

III.

The Legal Nature of the Dispute

If dispute settlement is to be achieved by judicial means, such as the ICJ or investment arbitration, the use of these means is conditioned on the existence of a legal dispute. Article 36(3) of the UN Charter states that legal disputes should, as a general rule, be referred to the ICJ.25 Article 36(2) of the ICJ’s Statute refers to legal disputes when providing for submission by States under the so-called optional clause. Article 38(1) of the Statute states that the ICJ’s function is to decide the disputes submitted to it in accordance with international law.26 The ICSID Convention in Article 25(1) refers to legal disputes that may be resolved by conciliation or arbitration.27 23

Applicability of the Obligation to Arbitrate under Section 21 of the United Nations Headquarters Agreement of 26 June 1947, supra note 9, at 28, para. 38.

24

Tradex v. Albania, Decision on Jurisdiction of 24 December 1996, 5 ICSID Rep. 60, at 61 (2002); AAPL v. Sri Lanka, Award of 27 June 1990, 4 ICSID Rep. 251 (1997).

25

1945 Charter of the United Nations, art. 36(3): ‘In making recommendations under this Article the Security Council should also take into consideration that legal disputes should as a general rule be referred by the parties to the International Court of Justice in accordance with the provisions of the Statute of the Court.’

26

1945 Statute of the International Court of Justice, art. 38(1): ‘The Court, whose function is to decide in accordance with international law such disputes as are submitted to it, shall apply: […].’

27

1965 Convention on the Settlement of Investment Disputes between States and Nationals of other States (1965 ICSID Convention), 575 UNTS 159, 4 ILM 524 (1965), art. 25(1): ‘The

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Even where the existence of a dispute is admitted, its legal nature may be contested. Some respondents have argued that the nature of the dispute at issue was not legal and that hence the court or tribunal lacked jurisdiction. The legal nature of disputes is sometimes described in terms of factual situations and the consequences engendered by them. Examples are the use of force, application of a treaty, expropriation or breach of an agreement. But fact patterns alone do not determine the legal or non-legal character of a dispute. Rather, it is the type of claim that is put forward and the prescription that is invoked that decides whether a dispute is legal or not. Thus, it is entirely possible to react to a breach of an agreement by relying on moral standards by invoking concepts of justice or by pointing to the lack of political wisdom of such a course of action. The dispute will only qualify as legal if legal rules contained, for example, in treaties or legislation are relied upon and if legal remedies such as restitution or damages are sought. Consequently, it is largely in the hands of the claimant to present the dispute in legal terms. The ICJ has looked unfavourably upon the argument that disputes before it were of a political rather than legal nature and were hence outside its jurisdiction. It has stated repeatedly, both in contentious proceedings and in proceedings leading to advisory opinions, that it will not abdicate its function, merely because a case before it has political implications. In the Teheran Hostages case,28 Iran advanced the argument that the question before the ICJ represented only a marginal and secondary aspect of an overall situation containing much more fundamental and complex elements. The Court should examine the whole political dossier of the relations between Iran and the United States over the last 25 years.29 The Court rejected this argument. After noting that the seizure of the US Embassy and Consulate and the detention of internationally protected persons as hostages cannot be considered as something marginal or secondary, it said: ‘legal disputes between sovereign States by their very nature are likely to occur in political contexts, and often form only one element in a wider and longstanding political dispute between the States concerned. Yet never has the view been put forward before that, because a legal dispute submitted to the Court is only one aspect of a political dispute, the Court should decline to resolve for the parties the legal questions at issue between them. Nor can any basis for such a view of the Court’s functions or jurisdiction be found in the Charter or the Statute of the Court; if the Court were, contrary to its settled jurisprudence, to adopt such a view, it would impose a far-reaching and unwarranted restriction upon the role of the Court in the peaceful solution of international disputes.’30

jurisdiction of the Centre shall extend to any legal dispute arising directly out of an investment […].’ 28

United States Diplomatic and Consular Staff in Tehran, supra note 22.

29

Ibid., 19, para. 35.

30

Ibid., 20, para. 37.

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In the Nicaragua case,31 the United States objected to the claim not because the dispute was political but because the matter was essentially one for the Security Council since it involved a complaint involving the use of force.32 This argument also did not find favour with the ICJ: ‘[T]he Court is of the view that the fact that a matter is before the Security Council should not prevent it being dealt with by the Court and that both proceedings could be pursued pari passu. […] The Council has functions of a political nature assigned to it, whereas the Court exercises purely judicial functions. Both organs can therefore perform their separate but complementary functions with respect to the same events. 96. It must also be remembered that, as the Corfu Channel case (I.C.J. Reports 1949, p. 4) shows, the Court has never shied away from a case brought before it merely because it had political implications or because it involved serious elements of the use of force.’33

The ICJ restated its dismissal of a ‘political questions doctrine’ in 2004 in an advisory opinion. In the Israeli Wall case,34 it rejected the view that it had no jurisdiction because of the political character of a question put before it. The fact that a legal question also has political aspects was not sufficient to deprive it of its character as a legal question. The Court summarized its own practice in the following terms: ‘[T]he Court cannot accept the view, which has also been advanced in the present proceedings, that it has no jurisdiction because of the ‘political’ character of the question posed. As is clear from its long standing jurisprudence on this point, the Court considers that the fact that a legal question also has political aspects, “as, in the nature of things, is the case with so many questions which arise in international life, does not suffice to deprive it of its character as a “legal question” and to deprive the Court of a competence expressly conferred on it by its Statute’ (Application for Review of Judgement No. 158 of the United Nations Administrative Tribunal, Advisory Opinion, I.C.J, Reports 1973, p. 172, para. 14). Whatever its political aspects, the Court cannot refuse to admit the legal character of a question which invites it to discharge an essentially judicial task, namely, an assessment of the legality of the possible conduct of States with regard to the obligations imposed upon them by international law (cf. Conditions of Admission of a State to Membership in the United Nations (Article 4 of the Charter), Advisory Opinion, 1948, I.C.J. Reports 1947 1948, pp. 61 62; Competence of the General Assembly for

31

Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 26 November 1984, 1984 ICJ Rep. 293.

32

Ibid., 431-436, paras. 89-98.

33

Ibid., paras. 93, 95, 96; see also Case Concerning Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14, at 26-28, paras. 32-35.

34

Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, Advisory Opinion of 9 July 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 136.

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the Admission of a State to the United Nations, Advisory Opinion, I.C.J. Reports 1950, pp. 6 7; Certain Expenses of the United Nations (Article 17, paragraph 2, of the Charter), Advisory Opinion, I.C.J. Reports 1962, p. 155).” (Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, I.C.J. Reports 1996 (I), p. 234, para. 13.)

In its Opinion concerning the Interpretation of the Agreement of 25 March 1951 between the WHO and Egypt, the Court indeed emphasized that, “in situations in which political considerations are prominent it may be particularly necessary for an international organization to obtain an advisory opinion from the Court as to the legal principles applicable with respect to the matter under debate …”. (I.C.J. Reports 1980, p. 87, para. 33).

Moreover, the Court has affirmed in its Opinion on the Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons that “the political nature of the motives which may be said to have inspired the request and the political implications that the opinion given might have are of no relevance in the establishment of its jurisdiction to give such an opinion” (I.C.J. Reports 1996 (I), p. 234, para. 13).

The Court is of the view that there is no element in the present proceedings which could lead it to conclude otherwise.’35

The ICSID Convention specifically refers to a ‘legal dispute’ when circumscribing the competence of tribunals.36 The legal character of disputes gave rise to some debate in the Convention’s drafting.37 The Report of the Executive Directors offers the following clarification: ‘26. [...] The expression ‘legal dispute’ has been used to make clear that while conflicts of rights are within the jurisdiction of the Centre, mere conflicts of interests are not. The dispute must concern the existence or scope of a legal right or obligation, or the nature or extent of the reparation to be made for breach of a legal obligation.’38

Investment tribunals were also confronted with the argument that disputes before them, or certain aspects of these disputes, were not legal in nature and hence outside 35

Ibid., 155, para. 41.

36

1965 ICSID Convention, art. 25(1): ‘The jurisdiction of the Centre shall extend to any legal dispute arising directly out of an investment, between a Contracting State (or any constituent subdivision or agency of a Contracting State designated to the Centre by that State) and a national of another Contracting State, which the parties to the dispute consent in writing to submit to the Centre.’

37

C. Schreuer, The ICSID Convention: A Commentary, art. 25, at paras. 39, 40 (2001).

38

Report of the Executive Directors on the Convention on the Settlement of Investment Disputes between States and Nationals of Other States (18 March 1965), adopted by Resolution No. 214 of the Board of Governors of the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development on 10 September 1964, 1 ICSID Rep. 23, at 28 (1993).

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their jurisdiction. CSOB v. Slovakia arose from arrangements for the privatization and consolidation of the Claimant, a former State bank, after the separation of the Czech and Slovak Republics.39 Under these arrangements, Slovakia had assumed a guarantee for a loan but then defaulted on this obligation. Before the Tribunal, Slovakia, while not questioning the legal nature of the dispute, stressed its political nature and its close link with the dissolution of the former Czech and Slovak Federal Republic. The Tribunal pointed out that the claim was based on an agreement between the parties to the dispute. It said: ‘While it is true that investment disputes to which a State is a party frequently have political elements or involve governmental actions, such disputes do not lose their legal character as long as they concern legal rights or obligations or the consequences of their breach.’40

In Continental Casualty v. Argentina41 the Claimant had invested in the insurance business in Argentina. It claimed that Argentina had enacted a series of decrees and resolutions that destroyed the legal security of the assets held by the investor. Argentina submitted that in order to meet the requirement of a legal dispute the claim must concern rights, obligations and legal titles, not some undesirable consequences whose proximate cause is not the host State’s conduct in respect of its investment.42 The Tribunal found that the Claimant had made legal claims. It said: ‘67. In this case, the Claimant invokes specific legal acts and provisions as the foundation of its claim: it indicates that certain measures by Argentina have affected its legal rights stemming from contracts, legislation and the BIT. The Claimant further indicates specific provisions of the BIT granting various types of legal protection to its investments in Argentina, that in its view have been breached by those measures.’43

In Suez v. Argentina,44 the Claimants had invested in water distribution and waste water services in Argentina. When the Argentine economy experienced a severe crisis, the government enacted measures that resulted in a significant depreciation of the Argentine Peso. Claiming that these measures injured their investments in violation of the commitments made to them, the Claimants sought to obtain adjustments in the tariffs as well as modifications in their operating conditions.45 Argentina argued that there was no legal dispute but rather a business or commercial dispute. The dispute

39

CSOB v. Slovakia, Decision on Jurisdiction of 24 May 1999, 5 ICSID Rep. 335 (2002).

40

Ibid., paras. 60, 61.

41

Continental Casualty v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 22 February 2006.

42

Ibid., para. 37.

43

Ibid., para. 67.

44

Suez, Sociedad General de Aguas de Barcelona S.A., and InterAguas Servicios Integrales del Agua S.A. v. The Argentine Republic, supra note 7.

45

Ibid., para. 24.

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CHRISTOPH SCHREUER

over the effects of the devaluation measures was one over policy and fairness and hence not legal in nature. The Tribunal rejected this objection and said: ‘A legal dispute, in the ordinary meaning of the term, is a disagreement about legal rights or obligations. [...] In the present case, the Claimants clearly base their case on legal rights which they allege have been granted to them under the bilateral investment treaties that Argentina has concluded with France and Spain. In their written pleadings and oral arguments, the Claimants have consistently presented their case in legal terms. [...] [T]he dispute as presented by the Claimants is legal in nature.’46

Other ICSID tribunals have similarly held that the decisive factor in determining the legal nature of the dispute was the assertion of legal rights and the articulation of the claims in terms of law.47 It follows from the practice, as set out above, that the legal nature of a dispute depends not on the factual circumstances of a case but on the position taken by the claimant. If the claimant presents its claim in terms of rights and legal remedies, the argument that the dispute is not legal will be to no avail.

IV.

Hypothetical Disputes

In order to amount to a dispute capable of judicial settlement, the disagreement between the parties must have some practical relevance to their relationship and must not be purely theoretical. It is not the task of international adjudication to clarify legal questions in abstracto.48 The dispute must relate to clearly identified issues between the parties and must be more than academic. This is not to say that a specific action must have been taken by one side or that the dispute must have escalated to a certain level of confrontation, but merely that it must be of immediate interest to the parties. Actual or concrete damage is not required before such a party may bring legal action. But the dispute must go beyond general grievances and must be susceptible of being stated in terms of a concrete claim.

46

Ibid., paras. 34, 37.

47

Lanco v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 8 December 1998, at para. 47; Gas Natural SDG, S.A. v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 17 June 2005, at paras. 20-23; Camuzzi v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 11 May 2005, at para. 55; AES Corp. v. Argentina, supra note 7, at paras. 40-47; Sempra Energy Intl. v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 11 May 2005, at paras. 67, 68; Bayindir v. Pakistan, Decision on Jurisdiction of 14 November 2005, at paras. 125, 126; El Paso Energy Intl. Co. v. Argentina, supra note 7, at paras. 47-62; Jan de Nul et al. v. Egypt, Decision on Jurisdiction of 16 June 2006, at para. 74; National Grid PCL v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 20 June 2006, at paras. 142, 143, 160; Pan American and BP Argentina Exploration Company v. Argentina, Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 27 July 2006, at paras. 71-91; Saipem v. Bangladesh, Decision on Jurisdiction and Recommendation on Provisional Measures of 21 March 2007, at paras. 93-97.

48

See also AES Corp. v. Argentina, supra note 7, at para. 43.

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In the Headquarters Agreement case,49 the United States had passed legislation designed to lead to the closure of the PLO Mission to the United Nations, but had not actually taken action to close the Mission. The United States took the position that there was no dispute, since the legislation had not yet been implemented. Also, pending litigation in the domestic courts, no other action to close the Mission would be taken.50 The ICJ refused to accept, under these circumstances, that there was no dispute. It said: ‘The Court cannot accept such an argument. While the existence of a dispute does presuppose a claim arising out of the behaviour of or a decision by one of the parties, it in no way requires that any contested decision must already have been carried into effect. What is more, a dispute may arise even if the party in question gives an assurance that no measure of execution will be taken until ordered by decision of the domestic courts. [...] [T]he Court is obliged to find that the opposing attitudes of the United Nations and the United States show the existence of a dispute between the two parties to the Headquarters Agreement.’51

In the Arrest Warrant Case,52 the ICJ ruled that Belgium had violated international law by allowing a Belgian judge to issue and circulate an arrest warrant against the incumbent Foreign Minister of the Congo. No actual arrest had ever taken place under the arrest warrant. The Court did not accept the distinction between actual arrest and the circulation of a document that may lead to an arrest. It found that the mere issue of the warrant violated immunity, which the Foreign Minister enjoyed.53 In Enron v. Argentina,54 some provinces of Argentina had assessed taxes that the Claimants described as exorbitant and sufficient to wipe out the entire value of their investment. Argentina argued that the claim was hypothetical since the taxes had been assessed but not collected. Claimants pointed out that the taxes had not been collected only because the Supreme Court ordered a temporary injunction. The Tribunal refused to accept, under these circumstances, that the dispute was merely hypothetical. It said: ‘The Tribunal is mindful of the fact that once the taxes have been assessed and the payment ordered there is a liability of the investor irrespective of the actual collection of those amounts. This means that a claim seeking protection under the Treaty is not hypothetical but relates to a very specific dispute between the parties.’55 49

Applicability of the Obligation to Arbitrate under Section 21 of the United Nations Headquarters Agreement of 26 June 1947, supra note 9.

50

Ibid., 29-30, paras. 39-43.

51

Ibid., paras. 42-43.

52

Case Concerning the Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000 (Democratic Republic of Congo v. Belgium), Judgment of 14 February 2002, 2002 ICJ Rep. 3.

53

Ibid., 29-30, paras. 70-71.

54

Enron v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 14 January 2004, 11 ICSID Rep. 273 (2007).

55

Ibid., para. 74. See also Continental Casualty v. Argentina, supra note 41, at para. 92.

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In some cases, the allegedly hypothetical nature of the claims is related to the quantum of damages. In Pan American v. Argentina,56 the Respondent complained that the damages claimed were hypothetical, conjectural and speculative.57 The Tribunal found that a certain degree of uncertainty about the quantum of damages was inevitable at the jurisdictional stage. This did not affect its jurisdiction, provided the Claimants were able to demonstrate prima facie that some damage had occurred. The Tribunal said: ‘177. It is, […] in the nature of disputes such as the present one that some of the damage is concrete and specific in that it has occurred already, while some, which may occur later, is not yet specified but is more or less foreseeable under the circumstances. As shown in Enron I […], the threshold of certainty in that respect is relatively low. 178. This fact is easily explained. Many investment disputes arise from situations with continuing adverse effects on the claimants and these will have to be taken into account by the arbitral tribunal called upon to deal with those disputes, at least regarding damage that was uncertain at the jurisdictional phase but crystallised at the merits stage. This is one of the reasons why the present Tribunal, at this point, dismisses the present objection, all the more so because the Claimants, prima facie, have demonstrated their assertion that some damage has occurred. The final amount of damages will of course have to be determined during the proceedings on the merits if the Respondent is held liable. At that stage, a final assessment will have to be made, and damage that remains contingent or hypothetical at that moment will have to be ruled out.’58

In other cases, tribunals rejected arguments by respondents to the effect that they had recognized their liability to pay compensation but had not yet managed to calculate the amounts due.59 Also, in a number of decisions, tribunals rejected the argument that pending negotiations between the parties made their claims premature or hypothetical.60 These cases demonstrate that disputes will not be found hypothetical and unfit for judicial resolution because actual damage has not yet occurred. A dispute may well be the result of preliminary steps that are likely to lead to subsequent prejudicial action. Also, difficulties in quantifying damages or uncertainties about the outcome of negotiations do not negate the existence of a dispute.

56

Pan American and BP Argentina Exploration Company v. Argentina, supra note 47.

57

Ibid., paras. 162-168.

58

Ibid., paras. 177, 178.

59

AGIP v. Congo, supra note 19, at 317; Siemens v. Argentina, Decision on Jurisdiction of 3 August 2004, paras. 152, 158-161.

60

AES Corp. v. Argentina, supra note 7, at paras. 62-71; Camuzzi v. Argentina, supra note 47, at paras. 92, 94, 97; Sempra Energy Intl. v. Argentina, supra note 47, at para. 108; Continental Casualty v. Argentina, supra note 41, at para. 93.

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973

The Proper Parties to the Dispute

In a number of cases before the ICJ, respondents have argued that, even if a dispute existed, they were not the proper party. In the Northern Cameroons case, the United Kingdom objected that no dispute existed between itself and Cameroon and that, if any dispute did exist, it was between Cameroon and the United Nations. The ICJ rejected this contention and said: ‘The Court is not concerned with the question whether or not any dispute in relation to the same subject-matter existed between the Republic of Cameroon and the United Nations or the General Assembly. In the view of the Court it is sufficient to say that, […] the opposing views of the Parties as to the interpretation and application of relevant Articles of the Trusteeship Agreement, reveal the existence of a dispute […] between the Republic of Cameroon and the United Kingdom at the date of the Application’61

In the East Timor case, Australia contended that no dispute existed between itself and Portugal. Rather, Australia was being sued in place of Indonesia.62 The Court, after repeating the definition given by the PCIJ in Mavrommatis, rejected this argument and said: ‘[I]t is not relevant whether the “real dispute” is between Portugal and Indonesia rather than Portugal and Australia. Portugal has, rightly or wrongly, formulated complaints of fact and law against Australia which the latter has denied. By virtue of this denial, there is a legal dispute.’63

The Court found that on the record, it was clear that Portugal and Australia were in disagreement on points of law and fact. Therefore, it upheld its jurisdiction. In the Certain Property case, Germany argued that the only dispute was one between Liechtenstein and the successor States of the former Czechoslovakia. Liechtenstein argued that the dispute that it had with the Czech Republic did not negate the existence of a separate dispute between itself and Germany, based on Germany’s unlawful conduct in relation to Liechtenstein.64 The ICJ found that complaints of fact and law had been formulated by Liechtenstein against Germany and denied by the latter. It followed that a legal dispute existed between these two countries.65 In Wena v. Egypt, the Claimant had been deprived of its investment by actions of Egyptian Hotel Company (EHC), a State controlled entity. Before the Tribunal, Egypt

61

Case concerning the Northern Cameroons (Cameroon v. United Kingdom), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 2 December 1963, 1963 ICJ Rep. 15, at 27.

62

East Timor (Portugal v. Australia), Judgment of 30 June 1995, 1995 ICJ Rep. 90, at 99, para. 21.

63

Ibid., para. 22.

64

Certain Property, supra note 12, at 17-18, paras. 21, 22.

65

Ibid., para. 25.

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contended that Wena’s dispute was with EHC and that no dispute existed between Egypt and the Claimant. The Tribunal rejected this contention. It said: ‘Wena has raised allegations against Egypt – of assisting in, or at least failing to prevent, the expropriation of Wena’s assets – which, if proven, clearly satisfy the requirement of a “legal dispute” under Article 25(1) of the ICSID Convention. In addition, Wena has presented at least some evidence that suggests Egypt’s possible culpability.’66

What matters for the establishment of a dispute for purposes of jurisdiction is the formulation of claims by one side that are opposed by the other side. Therefore, at the stage of jurisdiction, an international court or tribunal will be disinclined to entertain arguments as to the true parties to the conflict underlying the case. Whether these claims should be directed at another person will be decided at the merits stage of proceedings.

VI.

The Time of the Dispute

The jurisdiction of international courts and tribunals is often subject to limitations ratione temporis. Typically, jurisdiction will extend only to events that occurred after a certain date – most often the effective date of the instrument expressing consent to jurisdiction. The relevant events may be actions leading to the dispute but may also be the dispute itself. Therefore, the existence of a dispute at a particular date may be of importance for a court or tribunal’s jurisdiction. The ICJ and its predecessor have addressed inter-temporal issues of jurisdiction in a series of decisions.67 Three of these cases concerned declarations of States under the optional clause of Article 36(2) of the Court’s Statute.68 The fourth case concerned jurisdiction under the European Convention for the Peaceful Settlement of Disputes.69 What these cases have in common is that the acceptances of the Court’s jurisdiction excluded disputes relating to facts or situations prior to a certain date.70 In all four cases the disputes arose after the critical dates. But the decisive issue was not the date when the dispute arose but the date of the facts or situations in relation

66

Wena Hotels v. Egypt, Decision on Jurisdiction of 29 June 1999, 41 ILM 881, at 891 (2002).

67

Phosphates in Morocco (Italy v. France), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 14 June 1938, 1938 PCIJ (Ser. A/B) No. 74; Electricity Company of Sofia and Bulgaria (Belgium v. Bulgaria), Preliminary Objections, Judgment of 4 April 1939, 1939 PCIJ (Ser. A/B) No. 77; Right of Passage over Indian Territory (Portugal v. India), Merits, Judgment of 12 April 1960, 1960 ICJ Rep. 6; Certain Property, supra note 12.

68

Phosphates in Morocco, Electricity Company of Sofia and Bulgaria, Right of Passage over Indian Territory, all supra note 67.

69

Certain Property, supra note 12.

70

A detailed overview of the earlier cases can be found in the case concerning Certain Property, supra note 12, at 22-25, paras. 40-45.

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to which the dispute arose. In the Phosphates in Morocco case and in the Certain Property case, the facts for which the dispute arose were found to have predated the critical date. The objections ratione temporis were consequently upheld.71 In the Electricity Company and in the Right of Passage cases, the disputes were found to have had their source in facts or situations subsequent to the critical date. The objections ratione temporis were consequently rejected.72 It follows that in these cases before the International Court, the exact date of the dispute was not decisive. Rather, the date of the events leading to the dispute determined jurisdiction. By contrast, investment tribunals in a number of cases have had to decide whether a particular dispute was in existence at a critical date. Many bilateral investment treaties (BITs) limit consent to arbitration to disputes arising after their entry into force.73 For instance, the Argentina-Spain BIT provides: ‘This agreement shall apply also to capital investments made before its entry into force by investors of one Party in accordance with the laws of the other Party in the territory of the latter. However, this agreement shall not apply to disputes or claims originating before its entry into force.’

Under a provision of this kind, the time at which the dispute arises will be of decisive importance for the applicability of the consent to arbitration. The time of the dispute is not identical with the time of the events leading to the dispute. By definition, the incriminated acts must have occurred some time before the dispute. Therefore, the exclusion of disputes occurring before a certain date should not be read as excluding jurisdiction over events occurring before that date.74 A dispute requires not only that the events have developed to a degree where a difference of legal positions can become apparent but also communication between the parties that demonstrates that difference. In Maffezini v. Spain,75 the Respondent challenged ICSID’s jurisdiction alleging that the dispute originated before the entry into force of the Argentina-Spain BIT. The Claimant relied on facts and events that antedated the BIT’s entry into force but argued that a ‘dispute’ arises only when it is formally presented as such. This, according to Claimant,

71

Phosphates in Morocco, supra note 67, at 25; Certain Property, supra note 12, at 25-27.

72

Electricity Company of Sofia and Bulgaria, supra note 67, at 82; Right of Passage over Indian Territory, supra note 67, at 35.

73

The Tribunal in Salini v. Jordan, Decision on Jurisdiction of 29 November 2004, at para. 170 found that the phrase ‘any dispute which may arise’ did not cover disputes that had arisen before the BIT’s entry into force. See also Impregilo v. Pakistan, supra note 7, at paras. 297-304.

74

For a case that fails to make this distinction see M.C.I. v. Ecuador, supra note 7.

75

Maffezini v. Spain, supra note 7.

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had occurred only after the BIT’s entry into force.76 The Tribunal, after quoting the definitions by the International Court of Justice,77 distinguished between the events giving rise to the dispute and the dispute itself. After noting that the events on which the parties disagreed began years before the BIT’s entry into force it said: ‘But this does not mean that a legal dispute as defined by the International Court of Justice can be said to have existed at the time.’78

The Tribunal described the development towards a dispute in the following terms: ‘[T]here tends to be a natural sequence of events that leads to a dispute. It begins with the expression of a disagreement and the statement of a difference of views. In time these events acquire a precise legal meaning through the formulation of legal claims, their discussion and eventual rejection or lack of response by the other party. The conflict of legal views and interests will only be present in the latter stage, even though the underlying facts predate them. It has also been rightly commented that the existence of the dispute presupposes a minimum of communications between the parties, one party taking up the matter with the other, with the latter opposing the Claimant’s position directly or indirectly. This sequence of events has to be taken into account in establishing the critical date for determining when under the BIT a dispute qualifies as one covered by the consent necessary to establish ICSID’s jurisdiction.’79

On that basis, the Tribunal reached the conclusion that the dispute in its technical and legal sense had begun to take shape after the BIT’s entry into force: ‘At that point the conflict of legal views and interests came to be clearly established leading not long thereafter to the presentation of various claims that eventually came to this Tribunal.’80

It followed that ICSID had jurisdiction and that the Tribunal was competent to consider the dispute. In Lucchetti v. Peru,81 the BIT between Chile and Peru also provided that it would not apply to disputes that arose prior to its entry into force. A series of administrative measures by local authorities had denied or withdrawn construction and operating licenses from the investors. The investors had successfully challenged the earlier administrative acts through court proceedings that took place entirely before the BIT’s entry into force. A few days after the BIT’s entry into force, the municipality issued

76

Ibid., paras. 92, 93.

77

East Timor, supra note 62, at para. 22, with reference to earlier decisions of both the PCIJ and the ICJ.

78

Maffezini v. Spain, supra note 7, at para. 95.

79

Ibid., para. 96 (footnote omitted).

80

Ibid., para. 98.

81

Lucchetti v. Peru, supra note 7.

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further adverse decrees. The Tribunal found that the dispute had arisen already before the BIT’s entry into force and declined jurisdiction.82 In Jan de Nul v. Egypt,83 the BIT between the BLEU84 and Egypt also provided that it would not apply to disputes that had arisen prior to its entry into force. A dispute already existed when in 2002 the BIT replaced an earlier BIT of 1977. At that time, the dispute was pending before the Administrative Court of Ismaïlia, which eventually rendered an adverse decision in 2003, approximately one year after the new BIT’s entry into force. The Tribunal accepted the Claimants’ contention that the dispute before it was different from the dispute that had been brought to the Egyptian court: ‘[W]hile the dispute which gave rise to the proceedings before the Egyptian courts and authorities related to questions of contract interpretation and of Egyptian law, the dispute before this ICSID Tribunal deals with alleged violations of the two BITs […]’85

This conclusion was confirmed by the fact that the court decision was a major element of the complaint. The Tribunal said: ‘The intervention of a new actor, the Ismaïlia Court, appears here as a decisive factor to determine whether the dispute is a new dispute. As the Claimants’ case is directly based on the alleged wrongdoing of the Ismaïlia Court, the Tribunal considers that the original dispute has (re)crystallized into a new dispute when the Ismaïlia Court rendered its decision.’86

It followed that the Tribunal had jurisdiction over the claim. Helnan v. Egypt87 concerned a clause in the BIT between Denmark and Egypt that excluded its applicability to divergences or disputes that had arisen prior to its entry into force. The Tribunal distinguished between divergences and disputes in the following terms: ‘Although, the terms “divergence” and “dispute” both require the existence of a disagreement between the parties on specific points and their respective knowledge of such disagreement, there is an important distinction to make between them as they do not imply the same degree of animosity. Indeed, in the case of a divergence, the parties hold different views but without necessarily pursuing the difference in an active manner. On the other hand, in case of a dispute, the difference of views forms the subject of an active exchange between the parties under circumstances which 82

Ibid., paras. 48-59. An application for the annulment of the Award was not successful: Industria Nacional de Alimentos (Lucchetti) v. Peru, Decision on Annulment of 5 September 2007.

83

Jan de Nul & Dredging International v. Egypt, supra note 47.

84

Belgo-Luxembourg Economic Union.

85

Jan de Nul & Dredging International v. Egypt, supra note 47, at para. 117.

86

Ibid., para. 128.

87

Helnan International Hotels A/S v. The Arab Republic of Egypt, Decision on Jurisdiction of 17 October 2006.

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indicate that the parties wish to resolve the difference, be it before a third party or otherwise. Consequently, different views of parties in respect of certain facts and situations become a “divergence” when they are mutually aware of their disagreement. It crystallises as a “dispute” as soon as one of the parties decides to have it solved, whether or not by a third party.’88

On that basis, the Tribunal found that, even though a divergence had existed before the BIT’s entry into force, the divergence was of a nature different from the dispute that had arisen subsequently. It followed that the Tribunal had jurisdiction over the dispute.89 The cases involving inter-temporal issues differ from the cases discussed earlier in one important respect: whereas in other contexts the existence of a dispute will lead to a finding of jurisdiction, here it is the non-existence of a dispute before a certain date that supports jurisdiction. Whether this situation influences the way tribunals establish the existence of a dispute and whether they will apply a higher threshold to this test as a consequence is an interesting question. The cases involved are too fact-specific and the available sample is too small to draw any reliable conclusions.

VII. Conclusion Arguments attempting to deny the existence of a dispute have hardly ever succeeded. Therefore, an objection to jurisdiction based on the denial of a dispute between the parties is not a promising strategy. Very little is required in the way of the expression of opposing positions by the parties to establish a dispute. In particular, the denial of the existence of a dispute by one party will be to no avail. A dispute may exist even if one party does not oppose the other party’s position but fails to provide a remedy. The existence of a legal dispute is determined by the type of claim put forward and by the nature of the arguments supporting it. A dispute will be legal if the claim is based on treaties, legislation and other sources of law and if remedies such as restitution or damages are sought. It is in the hands of the claimant to present its claim in legal terms. Attempts by respondents to characterize disputes as political rather than legal have not succeeded. What matters are not the political circumstances but the assertion of legal rights. A dispute must relate to clearly identified issues and must have specific consequences in order to serve as a basis for jurisdiction. A disagreement on a theoretical question is not sufficient. This does not mean that actual damage must have occurred, but merely that the issue must have some practical relevance. The argument that the dispute is really with a third party to which the claimant should turn is unlikely to succeed. Jurisdiction will not be defeated by the fact that

88

Ibid., para. 52 (emphasis in original).

89

Ibid., paras. 53-57.

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a claimant has a related dispute with another party. What matters is the existence of legal claims against the party named in the application. The question as to whether a dispute existed at a certain point in time for purposes of jurisdiction has received diverse responses. Interestingly, in these cases it is the non-existence of a dispute before a certain date that supports jurisdiction.

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47

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The Judicial Functions of the International Court of Justice Stephan Wittich

I.

The Judicial Function as a Leitmotif of the Court’s Activity

The peaceful settlement of disputes is no doubt one of the core areas where the effectivity of any given legal order is tested. Effective dispute settlement procedures are one way to raise the effectivity of a legal order and reduce the recourse to forcible self-help. In view of its largely decentralized structure, this holds particularly true for the international legal order. The more international law offers effective implementation and enforcement mechanisms, the more its substantive rules will be observed and respected. Thus, it comes as no surprise that, given its central importance to the international legal order, the issue of dispute settlement has always been a major part of Gerhard Hafner’s agenda.1 In particular, he dealt with the question as to what extent the physiognomy of a given dispute bears on the means to resolve it, and gave a nuanced answer.2 At the outset, Gerhard Hafner clarified that the adequacy of dispute settlement procedures would invariably depend on one’s understanding of the concept of dispute and the dispute settlement function in general.3 It is the latter aspect, as examined in the context of the International Court of Justice, on which the present contribution dedicated to Gerhard Hafner will focus. Indeed, the International Court has on various occasions invoked its judicial function in order to ascertain or delimit its overall task, powers and competence. First, the Court has used the term ‘judicial function’ to distinguish legal from political disputes, or more accurately to distinguish legal from political aspects of a pending dispute. This feature of the judicial function has several facets. For one, it is the logical consequence of the International Court as one of the main organs and, in particular, as the ‘principal judicial organ of the United Nations’ (article 92 UN Charter). Parties in proceedings before the Court have frequently advanced the argument that the Court could not exercise its jurisdiction because the dispute involved political aspects. The Court, however, has

1

See, e.g., G. Hafner, ‘Should One Fear the Proliferation of Mechanisms for the Peaceful Settlement of Disputes?’, in L. Caflisch (ed.), The Peaceful Settlement of Disputes between States: Universal and European Perspectives 25 (1998); id., ‘Some Legal Aspects of International Disputes’, 104 The Journal of International Law and Diplomacy 65 (2005).

2

G. Hafner, ‘Introductory Statement’ to ‘The Physiognomy of Disputes and the Appropriate Means to Resolve Them’, in United Nations (ed.), International Law as a Language for International Relations 559 (1996).

3

Ibid., 560-561.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 981-1000, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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never been sympathetic to this kind of argument. Rather, it has regularly invoked its judicial function to dismiss it. The mere fact that a dispute between two states is of a highly political nature does not prevent the Court from performing its tasks.4 In the Diplomatic and Consular Staff case the Court, while admitting that ‘legal disputes between sovereign States by their very nature are likely to occur in political contexts, and often form only one element in a wider and longstanding political dispute between the States concerned’, unambiguously stated that ‘never has the view been put forward before that, because a legal dispute submitted to the Court is only one aspect of a political dispute, the Court should decline to resolve for the parties the legal questions at issue between them. Nor can any basis for such a view of the Court’s functions or jurisdiction be found in the Charter or the Statute of the Court; if the Court were, contrary to its settled jurisprudence, to adopt such a view, it would impose a far-reaching and unwarranted restriction upon the role of the Court in the peaceful solution of international disputes’.5

More recently, in the Nuclear Weapons opinion, the Court without hesitation rejected the argument that if a question was of a political nature it did not come within its jurisdiction. The Court further stressed that there is no doubt that the question it had been requested to answer also had a political aspect. However, the Court added: ‘The fact that this question also has political aspects, as, in the nature of things, is the case with so many questions which arise in international life, does not suffice to deprive it of its character as a “legal question” and to “deprive the Court of a competence expressly conferred on it by its Statute” (Application for Review of Judgement No. 158 of the United Nations Administrative Tribunal, Advisory Opinion, I. C. J. Reports 1973, p. 172, para. 14). Whatever its political aspects, the Court cannot refuse to admit the legal character of a question which invites it to discharge an essentially judicial task, namely, an assessment of the legality of the possible conduct of States with regard to the obligations imposed upon them by international law.’6

Similarly, the Court took a clear position when faced with the argument that a matter essentially fell within the competence of the political organs of the United Nations, especially the Security Council, and that, therefore, the Court was not competent to hear and decide the dispute. As is well-known, in Military and Paramilitary Activities,

4

See already Aegean Sea Continental Shelf (Greece v. Turkey), Judgment of 19 December 1978, 1978 ICJ Rep. 3, at 13, para. 31.

5

Diplomatic and Consular Staff in Tehran (United States v. Iran), Judgment of 24 May 1980, 1980 ICJ Rep. 3, at 20, para. 37.

6

Legality of the Threat or Use of Nuclear Weapons, Advisory Opinion of 8 July 1996, 1996 ICJ Rep. 234, para. 13. The Court’s long-standing practice was summarized in Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, Advisory Opinion of 9 July 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 136, 155, para. 41.

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the United States put forth this argument. However, the Court disagreed and drew a clear distinction between its own functions and those of the Security Council: ‘The Council has functions of a political nature assigned to it, whereas the Court exercises purely judicial functions. Both organs can therefore perform their separate but complementary functions with respect to the same events.’7

Here, the Court continued the theme it had established in its previous case law where it distinguished between its own position and that of the political organs of the United Nations. In doing so, the Court has always had recourse to the notion of its judicial function.8 Second, as we have already seen, the concept of judicial function is also relevant in advisory proceedings. In fact, it seems that statements of the Court about its judicial function can be found more frequently in advisory opinions than judgments. For instance, in determining its competence to render an opinion in a given case, the Court often refers to the ‘discharge of its judicial function’,9 ‘the exercise of its judicial function’,10 or to its ‘judicial character’.11 In view of the fact that in advisory opinions the Court is requested to render an opinion about a general legal question rather than resolve an existing legal dispute, the Court enjoys a broader discretion as to whether or not to exercise its jurisdiction and if it does so, how it will exercise it.12 It is by exercising such discretionary power that the Court usually refers to the notion of its judicial function or to its judicial character as a Court of Justice.13

7

Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Jurisdiction and Admissibility, Judgment of 26 November 1984, 1984 ICJ Rep. 392, at 435, para. 95.

8

See especially Diplomatic and Consular Staff, supra note 5, at 22, para. 40.

9

Certain Expenses of the United Nations, Advisory Opinion of 20 July 1962, 1962 ICJ Rep. 151, at 157.

10

Legal Consequences for States of the Continued Presence of South Africa in Namibia (South West Africa) notwithstanding Security Council Resolution 276 (1970), Advisory Opinion of 21 June 1971, 1971 ICJ Rep. 16, at 45, para. 89.

11

Judgments of the Administrative Tribunal of the ILO, Advisory Opinion of 23 October 1956, 1956 ICJ Rep. 77, at 84-86; Constitution of the Maritime Safety Committee of the IMCO, Advisory Opinion of 8 June 1960, 1960 ICJ Rep. 150, at 153; Application for Review of Judgment No. 158 of the UNAT, Advisory Opinion of 12 July 1973, 1973 ICJ Rep. 166, at 181, para. 36.

12

Cf. H. Mosler/K. Oellers-Frahm, ‘Article 92’, in B. Simma (ed.), The Charter of the United Nations – A Commentary 1151, MN 51 (2002); H. Mosler/K. Oellers-Frahm, ‘Article 96’, in A. Zimmermann et al. (eds.), The Statute of the International Court of Justice – A Commentary 1185, MNN 23-26 (2006); J. Frowein/K. Oellers-Frahm, ‘Article 65’, ibid., at 1411-1415, MNN 30-42.

13

See, e.g., Application for Review of Judgment No. 158, supra note 11, at 181, para. 36: ‘In exercising that discretion, the Court will have regard both to the provisions of its Statute and to the requirements of its judicial character.’ Most recently see Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall, supra note 6, at 156, para. 44.

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Furthermore, the Court’s judicial function serves as a yardstick in responding to any real or purported political pressure. Thus, the Court has on occasion rejected the idea that it could give in to wishes or considerations from outside the Court, or that it might be subjected to political pressures: ‘It would not be proper for the Court to entertain these observations, bearing as they do on the very nature of the Court as the principal judicial organ of the United Nations, an organ which, in that capacity, acts only on the basis of the law, independently of all outside influence or interventions whatsoever, in the exercise of the judicial function entrusted to it alone by the Charter and its Statute. A court functioning as a court of law can act in no other way.’14

Yet, despite these unambiguous statements affirming its judicial character and function, the Court does not turn a blind eye to political factors. In practice, the Court has of course always been cognizant of the overall political cirumstances of a case if and to the extent this was necessary to settle the legal question put before it.15 Likewise, the Court is mindful of the attitude of the political organs regarding a specific issue and, more importantly, the impact the Court’s own decision may have on the position adopted by the political organs.16 Finally, the Court employs the term ‘judicial function’ as an overall concept to address specific problems that may arise during judicial proceedings. This technique especially allows the Court to resolve procedural issues for which neither the Statute nor the Rules provide an answer.17 Here, the judicial function serves the purpose of justifying the resort to inherent powers or to its ‘inherent jurisdiction’, as the Court held on several occasions.18 The Court elaborated extensively on the notion of inherent jurisdiction in

14

Namibia, supra note 10, at 23, para. 29.

15

See, e.g., Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo (Democratic Republic of the Congo v. Uganda), Judgment of 19 December 2005, para. 26 (not yet published, available at http:// www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/116/10455.pdf), where the Court stated that in interpreting and applying the law ‘it will be mindful of context’.

16

Such considerations of mutual respect and comity prevailing between the main organs of the United Nations may also have been at issue in the Judgment on the Merits in the Genocide case, see Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro) Judgment of 26 February 2007 (not yet published, available at http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/91/13685.pdf). There the Court refrained from definitively deciding on the status of Serbia and Montenegro as a member of the United Nations between 1992 and 2000, presumably because it considered questions concerning admission to membership in the United Nations as prerogatives of the General Assembly and the Security Council. See S. Wittich, ‘Permissible Derogation from Mandatory Rules? The Problem of Party Status in the Genocide Case’, 18 EJIL 591, 617 (2007).

17

See, e.g., Judgments of the Administrative Tribunal of the ILO, supra note 11, at 86.

18

For a discussion of this notion see C. Brown, ‘The Inherent Powers of International Courts and Tribunals’, 76 BYIL 195 (2005); id., A Common Law of International Adjudication 5582 (2007).

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the Nuclear Tests cases. In dealing with questions it considered preliminary to matters of jurisdiction and admissibility, the Court emphasized that it ‘possesses an inherent jurisdiction enabling it to take such action as may be required, on the one hand to ensure that the exercise of its jurisdiction over the merits, if and when established, shall not be frustrated, and on the other, to provide for the orderly settlement of all matters in dispute, to ensure the observance of the “inherent limitations on the exercise of the judicial function” of the Court, and to “maintain its judicial character” […]. Such inherent jurisdiction, on the basis of which the Court is fully empowered to make whatever findings may be necessary for the purposes just indicated, derives from the mere existence of the Court as a judicial organ established by the consent of States, and is conferred upon it in order that its basic judicial functions may be safeguarded.’19

In view of the many contexts in which the Court has invoked its judicial function, it seems therefore appropriate to take a closer look at this notion and, if possible, its individual components. For this purpose, I will first examine the general features of the term ‘function’ and then address individual aspects of the judicial function with special reference to the International Court of Justice. The main question will be as to what are the overall purposes of proceedings in the International Court.

II.

Different Meanings of the Term ‘Judicial Function’

A.

In General

As we have seen thus far, the ‘judicial function’ is a very broad term conveying different meanings and is understood in various ways. Generally, regarding the term ‘function’ in a legal context, one may identify three distinct meanings. First, ‘function’ may connote a professional or official position. Used in this sense, a person’s function refers to the capacity in which this person is acting. For example, this meaning of the term is conveyed in article 13 of the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations (VCDR) which sets out the conditions under which the head of the mission is considered as having taken up his ‘functions’ in the receiving State.20 Here, the term ‘function’ refers to the official capacity of a diplomat (or other person with privileged status under the VCDR). Secondly, ‘function’ means the performance of a specific task or activity, an action for which a person or thing is specially fitted or used, or for which a thing exists. In brief, this meaning of function denotes a particular kind of work a person is intended to perform. Again, the VCDR provides a useful example of this meaning of the term function. Article 3(1) VCDR lays down the functions of a diplomatic mission, i.e. the tasks to be 19

Nuclear Tests (Australia v. France), Judgment of 20 Decenber 1974, 1974 ICJ Rep. 253, at 259-260, para. 23. In the passage quoted, the Court referred to the Northern Cameroons case, infra note 41, at 29.

20

1961 Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations, 500 UNTS 95.

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carried out (such as representing the sending state in the receiving state, protecting in the receiving state the interests of the sending state and its nationals etc.). Thirdly, ‘function’ denotes any of a group of related actions contributing to a larger action. In the context of diplomatic law, one could mention in this context paragraphs 4 and 5 of the preamble to the VCDR which specify in general terms the overall and final objectives of diplomatic law. Here, the term implies a definite end or ultimate purpose that the function in question serves. It is only in the two latter meanings that the term ‘function’ is relevant for present purposes. The first meaning denoting the official position would only be relevant in relation to the judicial function of the individual who is charged with performing a specific function, i.e. a judge or member of a tribunal, as distinct from the judicial function of the court or tribunal as a collegiate body or institution. It is of course true that there is no sharp distinction between these different meanings, and while it must not be ignored that the overall judicial function of a court or tribunal is, to be sure, influenced by the self-conception that individual judges of a court have about their own professional task, I attempt to examine a more ‘objective’, statutory-based understanding of the judicial function of the International Court of Justice. In conformity with this terminological clarification, it follows that the judicial function of a court or tribunal is usually considered as encompassing the competence, powers and specific tasks of the judicial branch as distinct from the legislative and executive branches. On this note, the judicial function is regarded as a distinguishing aspect of the separation of powers.21 Often the term judicial function is used in a very loose sense, describing attributes or elements of a judicial body.22 Within the context of the International Court it would seem that the term ‘judicial function’ is most commonly perceived as referring to the various roles the Court may play in international law. In doctrine, for instance, one may find four roles the Court performs in the discharge of its judicial function: the dispute settlement role, the supervisory role within the institutional structure of the United Nations, the advisory role, and the legislative role.23 In contrast, the present understanding of the judicial function is more specific and refers to the ends of judicial proceedings. It describes the ultimate aim or purpose judicial proceedings before the International Court may serve.24

21

H. Kelsen, General Theory of Law and the State 273 (1945).

22

See, e.g., C. F. Amerasinghe, ‘Reflections on the Judicial Function in International Law’, in T. Malick/R. Wolfrum (eds.), Law of the Sea, Environmental Law and Settlement of Disputes: Liber Amicorum Judge Thomas A. Mensah 121 (2007).

23

A. S. Muller et al. (eds.), The International Court of Justice. Its Future Role after Fifty Years xxviii (1997). On the judicial role of the International Court see also S. Rosenne, The Law and Practice of the International Court, vol. I, 168-174 (2006).

24

On a very similar understanding of the functions of (international) adjudication see also Brown, A Common Law, supra note 18, at 72-78.

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B.

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Judicial Functions in Particular

It is of course tempting to look for an overall definition or description of the judicial function and its constituent elements that are valid for any court or tribunal and thus would also apply tel quel to the International Court of Justice. But a generalization of the concept of the judicial function is virtually impossible to find and, in any event, not very useful. It can no doubt be said that the main function of any court or tribunal is to settle disputes, and this is also the main function of the International Court. However, to say that the function of a court is to settle disputes amounts to stating the obvious and, as will be seen later (see below section III.A.), even dispute settlement as the main judicial function entails a host of ‘derivative’ or ‘secondary’ functions which may vary from court to court. Similarly, while it is certainly correct to say that the function of a court of law is to apply existing law rather than make new law,25 this is not a feature that distinguishes the judicial from other functions, such as administrative or executive functions that are also confined to merely applying existing law. With regard to international law, the usefulness of a general concept of the judicial function is also very doubtful for the simple reason that many international courts and tribunals carry out particular judicial functions as laid down in their constituent instruments, and those functions are mostly tailored to meet the specific needs of the relevant court or tribunal.26 Thus, the mandates of international tribunals usually restrict the latters’ function to specific matters or disputes arising under the treaty by which they were established. Although in most cases these ‘statutory’ limitations on the function of the particular tribunal will be a matter of the scope of jurisdiction, it may also have a significant impact on the general function of the tribunal and, with it, on its self-conception. In other words, in order to fullfil its assigned tasks, a tribunal will always be mindful of its mandate in performing these tasks. In practice, this may lead to the result that specific treaty-based tribunals will validly pursue a judicial policy that stresses the general objectives of the constituent treaty and the regime created by it, rather than performing a judicial function of a more general kind. Good examples of such international tribunals are those established in the European context. Thus, according to article 19 of the European Convention on Human Rights, the European Court of Human Rights was established to ‘ensure the observance of the engagements undertaken by the High Contracting Parties in the Convention and the protocols thereto’. Similarly, article 220 of the Treaty Establishing the European Community (ECT) provides that the function of the European Court of Justice is to ensure that in the interpretation and application of the ECT the law is observed. International criminal courts and tribunals, for their part, perform a different function that is of a 25

See, e.g., the statement by Francis Bacon, Of Judicature as quoted in R. Jennings, ‘The Judicial Function and the Rule of Law’, in International Law at the Time of Its Codification. Essays in Honour of Roberto Ago, vol. III, 139, 141 (1987): ‘Judges ought to remember that their office is jus dicere, and not jus dare; to interpret law, and not make law, or give law.’

26

Brown, A Common Law, supra note 18, at 77-78. This fact is of course not unique to international law. On the domestic level, too, different courts perform different functions (e.g. civil courts, criminal courts, constitutional courts, administrative tribunals, etc.).

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repressive and preventive kind.27 Although, as already mentioned above, the main judicial function is often said to consist of the peaceful settlement of disputes – and in most cases, including that of the International Court of Justice, this will certainly be accurate – it may well be doubtful that for instance the International Criminal Court or the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia are indeed dispute settlement bodies. This brief comparison shows that a useful common or unitary judicial function of international courts and tribunals does not exist, and that the proper functions can only be determined in relation to a specific court or tribunal. These considerations demonstrate that the diversity of the meaning of the judicial function is the reason for the limitation of the subsequent analysis to the judicial function of the International Court of Justice. But even with regard to the International Court, the judicial function may vary, especially depending on the type of proceeding carried out. It is obvious that the Court’s advisory function differs from the functions it performs in contentious proceedings. What is more, a close look at the tasks of the International Court of Justice reveals that there is a sort of hierarchial relationship between the different judicial functions. As will be explained below, the dispute settlement function no doubt is the most general and most important task of the International Court and thus its primary function. However, while any activity of the Court in contentious proceedings will ultimately serve the purpose of settling the dispute it is asked to decide, the function of dispute settlement is a broad one that may be carried out in different ways and therefore will usually consist of implied or deritative functions.28 Derivative functions do not stand on their own but fulfill auxiliary tasks in that they may be resorted to by a court or tribunal, and may even be indispensable, to allow the court to discharge its primary judicial functions. An example of a derivative judicial function is the proper administration of justice. This is a flexible concept that a court may be required to apply in order to reach a decision in accordance with generally accepted standards and requirements of the judicial process. The International Court has frequently invoked the proper administration of justice in the context of the principle of equality of the parties. Thus, in Military and Paramilitary Activities, the Court stated: ‘The provisions of the Statute and Rules of Court concerning the presentation of the pleadings and evidence are designed to secure a proper administration of

27

See, e.g., paragraphs 4 and 5 of the preamble to the ICC Statute affirming the aims, and in this sense the functions, of the ICC: ‘Affirming that the most serious crimes of concern to the international community as a whole must not go unpunished and that their effective prosecution must be ensured by taking measures at the national level and by enhancing international cooperation, Determined to put an end to impunity for the perpetrators of these crimes and thus to contribute to the prevention of such crimes’.

See M. Gergsmo/O. Triffterer, in O. Triffterer (ed.) Commentary on the Rome Statute preamble, 11-12, MN 12-15 (1999). 28

Cf. A. Pellet, ‘Article 38’, in Zimmermann et al. (eds.), supra note 12, at 693, MN 55.

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justice and a fair and equal opportunity for each party to comment on its opponent’s contentions.’29

On that basis, the proper administration of justice is a procedural maxim or guiding principle rather than an ‘autonomous’ judicial function of a court or tribunal. Likewise, the concept of procedural economy can hardly be considered an end in itself. Instead, it is a procedural principle directing a court or tribunal to fulfill its main task.30 Finally, it should be mentioned that, as is the case with all categorizations or distinctions, the following presentation of ‘types’ of judicial functions of the International Court is not black and white. A sharp distinction is often not possible, especially because the prime task, that is, dispute settlement, is very broad and indeterminate and leaves the International Court of Justice a broad margin of appreciation as to how it should perform this function. Thus, instead of distinguishing individual judicial functions and treating them as independent of each other, it is preferable to consider them interdependent and interrelated to each other. Most importantly, the general dispute settlement function may well be conceived as encompassing other aspects of the judicial function too. These aspects therefore are called implied functions. Despite this linkage, the following presentation will, for the sake of clarity, consider the different aspects of the judicial function separately.

III.

Judicial Functions of the International Court

A.

Dispute Settlement

It was already mentioned several times that the overall task and function of the International Court of Justice is to settle an existing dispute brought before it. This is clearly conveyed by the UN Charter and the Statute, both of which provide some clarification on the prime function of the Court. Thus, apart from the general reference to judicial settlement of disputes in article 33 of the Charter, article 36(3) requires the Security Council, when recommending to the parties to a dispute appropriate procedures for its settlement to ‘take into consideration that legal disputes should as a general rule be referred by the parties to the International Court of Justice in accordance with the provisions of the Statute of the Court’. Furthermore, article 38 of the Statute expressly provides that the Court’s ‘function is to decide in accordance with international law such disputes as are submitted to it’. That the settlement of international disputes is the main function of the Court was already emphasized by the Permanent Court of International Justice in the Serbian Loans case, where it said that ‘the true function of the Court [was] to decide disputes 29

See, e.g., Military and Paramilitary Activities in and against Nicaragua (Nicaragua v. United States of America), Merits, Judgment of 27 June 1986, 1986 ICJ Rep. 14, at 26, para. 31.

30

R. Kolb, ‘General Principles’, in Zimmermann et al. (eds.), supra note 12, at 806-809, MN 22-26.

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between States’.31 Similarly, in the Free Zones case, the Permanent Court stated that it had been established with a view to the judicial settlement of international disputes,32 and this function has also been confirmed by the International Court ever since its establishment.33 To state that dispute settlement is the prime function of the Court is certainly a truism. An existing dispute between subjects of the law may always turn into a threat to the peaceful co-existence between the members of society, and the risk of self-help and individual enforcement of claims may disrupt orderly relations and stability. But in relation to the International Court, this function probably is even more important than in case of domestic courts because at the international level, the disruption of friendly relations has a greater potential to result in violent conflict involving various actors and entities, and may entail unforeseeable consequences. This fear is implied in article 33 and Chapter VI of the Charter. According to its wording, article 33 is not so much concerned with peaceful settlement of disputes in general, but primarily focuses on the peaceful settlement of ‘disputes the continuation of which is likely to endanger the maintenance of international peace and security’.34 This aspect of the Court’s judicial function is of an inherently political nature, especially given the still rather weak entrenchment of the rule of law in international relations.35 From a pragmatic point of view, one may recall in this context the fine distinction made by Shabtai Rosenne when evaluating this aspect of the Court’s judicial function. In his seminal work on the law and practice of the International Court, Rosenne emphasizes the close interrelationship between political and legal factors and distinguishes between ‘the function performed by the existence of the Court […] from the performance of that function by the Court itself’. In Rosenne’s view, the former function is, in the ultimate analysis, a political one36 and the Court’s recent practice testifies to this overall political function of the Court as a forum of dispute settlement. Indeed, incidental proceedings concerning provisional measures nowadays occasionally serve the purpose not only of settling disputes but even of assisting in crisis management, which no doubt is a highly sensitive political task.37 Yet, acknowledging 31

Serbian Loans case, 1929 PCIJ (Ser. A) No. 20, at 19.

32

Free Zones of Upper Savoy and the District of Gex, 1929 PCIJ (Ser. A) No. 22, at 13.

33

See, e.g., the statement of the International Court in Diplomatic and Consular Staff, as reproduced in the quote to supra note 5. Further references are provided by Brown, A Common Law, supra note 18, at 72 in note 230.

34

See R. Jennings, ‘The Proper Work and Purposes of the International Court of Justice’, in Muller et al., supra note 23, at 42. See also P. Tomka, ‘Article 92’, in J.-P. Cot et al. (eds.), La Charte des Nations Unies. Commentaire article par article 1946 (2005), referring to the overall purpose of the United Nations as laid down in article 1(1) of the Charter.

35

O. Yasuaki, ‘The ICJ: An Emperor Without Clothes? International Conflict Resolution, Article 38 of the ICJ Statute and the Sources of International Law’, in N. Ando et al. (eds.), Liber Amicorum Judge Shigeru Oda 191, 193-195 (2002).

36

Rosenne, supra note 23, vol. I, 5. 161-162.

37

This is exemplified by the recent application of Georgia against the Russian Federation in Application of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination, http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/140/14657.pdf, in which Georgia also

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the political nature of the dispute settlement function does not mean that the Court is empowered to base its decisions on merely political factors or considerations of pure expediency.38 What it however does mean is that the Court, as a principal organ of the United Nations, operates in a very political and politicized environment of a loosely framed international society. The question as to whether dispute settlement is a function of non-contentious, that is advisory, proceedings is less clear. On the one hand, the advisory function may well be helpful in settling a dispute, for instance as a means of preventive diplomacy.39 On the other hand, rendering an adivsory opinion may turn out to be an insurmountable obstacle to the settlement of a given dispute because the state or states concerned have not given their consent to this kind of settlement.40

B.

Determination and Clarification of the Law

By its very nature, any form of dispute settlement through judicial means involves the task of interpreting and applying the law. This task, which is already expressed in article 38 of the Statute providing that the Court’s function is to decide disputes ‘in accordance with international law’, in turn implies the task of ascertaining and determining the applicable law. In performing this task, the Court will also have to clarify the legal problems at issue and establish the relevant rules of international law. The Court has stressed this aspect of its judicial function in a number of cases. Thus, in the Northern Cameroons case, the Court said that its function was ‘to state the law’ and to establish certainty with regard to the legal relations of the disputing parties.41 Viewed from a strictly legal point of view, disputes brought before the International Court are invariably disputes concerning the interpretation or application of norms and rules of international law.42 Since the judicial function is confined to the legal aspects of disputes and since, moreover, legal disputes always involve contesting views requested the indication of provisional measures. See in general S. Rosenne, ‘A Role of the International Court of Justice in Crisis Management?’, in G. Kreijen (ed.), State, Sovereignty, and International Governance 195 (2002). 38

Free Zones, supra note 32, at 15; See also Rosenne, supra note 23, vol. I, at 161-168.

39

M. Koskenniemi, ‘Advisory Opinions of the International Court of Justice as an Instrument of Preventive Diplomacy’, in N. Al-Nauimi/R. Meese (eds.), International Legal Issues Arising under the United Nations Decade of International Law 599 (1995).

40

D. W. Greig, ‘The Advisory Jurisdiction of the International Court and the Settlement of Disputes between States’, 15 ICLQ 325 (1966).

41

Northern Cameroons (Cameroon v. United Kingdom), Judgment of 2 December 1963, 1963 ICJ Rep. 15, at 33-34. For further references see Pellet, supra note 28, at 696-697, MN 66.

42

This is illustrated by compromissory clauses in treaties conferring jurisdiction on arbitral tribunals or courts. In such clauses, the parties to a treaty usually agree that any dispute concerning the interpretation or application of the treaty may or even shall be submitted to the relevant court or tribunal. See C. Tomuschat, ‘Article 36’, in Zimmermann et al. (eds.), supra note 12, at 618-626, MN 46-60. A chronological list of treaties containing a compromissory clause in relation to the International Court is provided by the Court’s website at http://www. icj-cij.org/jurisdiction/index.php?p1=5&p2=1&p3=4.

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of the parties on the applicable law, the function of determining and clarifying the law will regularly be performed by the Court in deciding a case. Thus, determination and clarification are implied functions of the Court’s main function to settle disputes in contentious cases. In advisory proceedings, which are not necessarily concerned with a concrete dispute between states and whose function therefore is not dispute settlement in its strict meaning, the clarification of the law is even the Court’s principal function. In the Nuclear Weapons opinion, for instance, the Court stated that ‘its task is to engage in its normal judicial function of ascertaining the existence or otherwise of legal principles and rules applicable to the threat or use of nuclear weapons’.43

The significance of the judicial function of clarifying the law cannot be over-emphasized. Despite the growing number and importance of treaties, international law is largely still goverened by international customary law. By its nature, customary law is unwritten and indeterminate, and in most cases requires interpretation. But even with regard to treaties, that function is no less important. In view of the multitude of parties in the process of negotiating a treaty and the number of frequently conflicting interests of the states concerned, treaty provisions often remain vague and thus call for interpretation and construction.44 These necessities render the International Court ‘the agent of authoritative interpretation of international law’.45

C.

Legal Stability

Similar considerations apply to legal stability as a function of the International Court. It is closely related to the aforementioned function of ascertaining and clarifying the law. Thus, a further implicit aspect of the dispute settlement function is that proceedings serve the purpose of restoring or maintining legal stability among the parties to the dispute. Every legal dispute brought before the Court implies a friction of the legal relations of the parties involved and, moreover, undermines the legal certainty of norms and thus has adverse effects on the stability of the law. This function has been affirmed by the Court on several occasions. In the Northern Cameroons case, for instance, the Court held that its function was to remove uncertainty from the legal relations between 43

Nuclear Weapons opinion, supra note 6, at 237, para. 18.

44

This problem was succinctly summarized by K. Zemanek, ‘Majority Rule and Consensus Techniques in Law-Making Diplomacy’, in R. Mac Donald/D. Johnston (eds.), The Structure and Process of International Law 857, 879 (1983): ‘Ambiguity in international documents or instruments has many reasons. It is often deliberate, desired even by those who ostensibly support the act but do not wish to define their obligations too clearly. Furthermore, even majorities must sometimes be put together through a compromise and it may be that it was the deplored ambiguity which enabled a marginal group to vote affirmatively. The famous “security of the law” is a mythical idea which, in any case, could not be achieved by texts but only through good faith.’

45

Yasuaki, supra note 35, at 192.

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the parties.46 In the Genocide case, the Court implicated the requirement of legal stability with the judicial function. It did so in the context of the principle res iudicata pro veritate habetur when it denied the re-opening of issues which the Court, in its view, had already decided previously. The Court stated that re-opening a matter once it had authoritatively determined it, would run counter to its judicial function and the need for legal stability: ‘For the Court res judicata pro veritate habetur, and the judicial truth within the context of a case is as the Court has determined it, subject only to the provision in the Statute for revision of judgments. This result is required by the nature of the judicial function, and the universally recognized need for stability of legal relations.’47

The Court invoked its judicial function to contribute to producing stability of institutional structures and, with it, legal relationships, also in the context of international organizations. Thus, in its Advisory Opinion on Application for Review of Judgement No. 273 of the United Nations Administrative Tribunal, the Court stated: ‘The stability and efficiency of the international organizations, of which the United Nations is the supreme example, are […] of such paramount importance to world order, that the Court should not fail to assist a subsidiary body of the United Nations General Assembly in putting its operation upon a firm and secure foundation. While it would have been a compelling reason, making it inappropriate for the Court to entertain a request, that its judicial role would be endangered or discredited, that is not so in the present case, and the Court thus does not find that considerations of judicial restraint should prevent it from rendering the advisory opinion requested. In the present case such a refusal would leave in suspense a very serious allegation against the Administrative Tribunal, that it had in effect challenged the authority of the General Assembly. While there can be no question […] of any restriction on the Court’s discretion, the Court will not refuse “its participation in the activities of the Organization” (I.C.J. Reports 1950, p. 71), so that the important legal principles involved may be disposed of, whilst at the same time the Court must point out the various irregularities. It is not by appearing to shy away from the latter that the Court can discharge its true judicial functions.’48

46

Northern Cameroons, supra note 41, at 34.

47

Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro), Merits, Judgment of 26 February 2007, para. 139 (not yet published, available at http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/files/91/13685.pdf). On the stability and finality of legal agreements see also Temple of Preah Vihear (Cambodia v. Thailand), Merits, Judgment of 15 June 1962, 1962 ICJ Rep. 6, at 34-35, discussing the stability and finality of boundary treaties.

48

Application for Review of Judgement No. 273 of the UNAT, Advisory Opinion of 20 July 1982, 1982 ICJ Rep. 325, at 347-348, para. 45.

994

D.

STEPHAN WITTICH

Law-Making and Development of the Law

In many cases, the Court’s function cannot be confined to the mere application, determination and clarification of existing law but may also be understood as involving a certain degree of development of the law. There is no doubt that this phenomenon of ‘judicial law-making’ may at times be part of the judicial function.49 In a study on the work of the International Court during the first twenty years of its existence, the International Peace Research Association analyzed the Court’s attitude towards a norm-creating function as distinct from the traditional function of dispute settlement. The report offers an astonishing summary of the results of this analysis: ‘The function of the ICJ in the period 1946 to 1966 is compared to a traditional image of the function of an international judicial conflict resolution mechanism, and it is found that the ICJ differs from this image in that the function of the ICJ has primarily been a norm creative function, and not one of settling disputes by means of established norms of international behaviour.’50

However, this conclusion must be put into perspective, not only because its author proceeds on a very broad understanding of the norm-creating judicial function as encompassing any decision on the contents of disputed norms.51 According to the present understanding, this task would come under the function of clarifying and determining a norm or rule of international law.52 What is more, in its case law the International Court has always taken a restrictive approach towards the idea of expressly contributing to the development of international law (let alone international law-making). In fact, when this question was at issue, the Court denied that its judicial function included any law-making aspect. Thus, in South West Africa, it clearly stated that, ‘[a]s implied by the opening phrase of Article 38, para. 1 of its Statute, the Court is not a legislative body’.53 In Legality of Nuclear Weapons, the Court was faced with the allegation that

49

For an excellent comparative analysis and discussion of the law-making power of judges and its limits see M. Cappelletti, The Judicial Review Process in Comparative Perspective 3-57 (1989).

50

M. I. Jarvad, ‘Power versus Equality. An Attempt at a Systematic Analysis of the Role and Function of the International Court of Justice, 1945 to 1966’, in Proceedings of the International Peace Research Association Second Conference 297 (1968).

51

Ibid., at 303.

52

Supra section III.B.

53

South West Africa (Ethiopia/Liberia v. South Africa), Merits, Judgment of 18 July 1966, 1966 ICJ Rep. 6, at 48, para. 89. As already mentioned (supra note 41), the Court in Northern Cameroons emphasized that its proper function was to ‘state the law’. In that case, however, the context was different as the Court was not concerned with the question of broadening its functions so as to include law-making tasks. On the contrary, the Court restricted its judicial function of stating the law by refusing to exercise this function in cases where such exercise would, in the Court’s view, not have any practical consequence on the legal rights or obligations of the parties to the dispute.

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in answering the question posed, it would be going beyond its judicial role and would be taking upon itself a law-making capacity. The Court said: ‘It is clear that the Court cannot legislate […]. The contention that the giving of an answer to the question posed would require the Court to legislate is based on a supposition that the present corpus juris is devoid of relevant rules in this matter. The Court could not accede to this argument; it states the existing law and does not legislate. This is so even if, in stating and applying the law, the Court necessarily has to specify its scope and sometimes note its general trend.’54

In Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo, after admitting that the complexities of the pending dispute would require a comprehensive settlement to the problems involved, the Court stated that ‘the task of the Court must be to respond, on the basis of international law, to the particular legal dispute brought before it. As it interprets and applies the law, it will be mindful of context, but its task cannot go beyond that’.55

This restrictive approach by the Court does not really come as a surprise since a clear avowal of any form of judicial activism partially amounting to law-making by the Court would certainly run counter to its judicial function as clearly expressed in article 38(1) of its Statute.56 However, the question as to whether the Court’s function is confined to merely finding, determining and applying the law or whether it includes some measure of development of the law is, to be sure, not black and white. Just as a clear-cut distinction between strict codification of existing law and progressive development is virtually impossible to make,57 so it is impossible to always distinguish clearly between mere law-finding and law-creating. Thus, whenever the Court has to deal with questions of international law that have not yet been authoritatively decided, the Court’s decision will no doubt involve a measure of development. Despite the Court’s understandable disinclination to an extensive, activist exercise of its judicial function, development of the law certainly is inseparably linked with the performance of its task, and this is probably what the Court was pointing out in Legality of Nuclear Weapons when it stated that in applying the law it ‘necessarily has […] sometimes note its general trend’.58

54

Nuclear Weapons opinion, supra note 6, at 237, para. 18.

55

Armed Activities on the Territory of the Congo, supra note 15, para. 26.

56

Cf. H. Thirlway, ‘Judicial Activism and the International Court of Justice’, in N. Ando et al., Liber Amicorum Judge Shigeru Oda 96 (2002), who, however, cautiously states that article 38(1) is not ‘in any way a conclusive argument against activism’.

57

As is envisaged in article 13(1)(a) of the UN Charter, on the basis of which the International Law Commission was established. See also article 1(1) of the ILC Statute: ‘The International Law Commission shall have for its object the promotion of the progressive development of international law and its codification.’ See R. Jennings/A. Watts, Oppenheim’s International Law, vol. I, part 2, 110 § 31 (1992), stating that ‘the theoretical value of the distinction is limited and its practical application insignificant’.

58

See the quote at supra note 54.

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STEPHAN WITTICH

In view of the caution the Court exhibited when faced with requests that would amount to a development of law and thus transgress the strict exigencies of disposing of a dispute, it appears that the proposition by the International Peace Research Association does not withold critical analysis. In a general way, Sir Robert Jennings provided a much more balanced approach to the problem: ‘The primary task of a court of justice is not to “develop” the law, but to dispose, in accordance with the law, of that particular dispute between the particular parties before it. This is not to say that development is not frequently a secondary part of the judge’s task. […] And it is to say that any development should be integral and incidental to the disposal according to the law of the actual issues before the court. For the strength of “case law” is precisely that it arises from actual situations rather than being conveived a priori.’59

On the face of it, this statement is readily transferable to the International Court of Justice and reflects the implied character of the Court’s task of developing the law as ‘integral and incidental’ to the prime function of deciding the case before the Court.60

E.

Ensuring the Observance of the Law

A further judicial function is the ‘realization’ or fulfilment of the objective legal order (objektives Rechtswahrungsverfahren/contentieux objectif), that is, the control of compliance with legal norms by the addressees of these norms. There is no doubt that the proceedings in the International Court fulfil the function of assuring observance of, and respect for, international law in general and hence serve the purpose of maintaining the integrity and effectiveness of international law. It is probably in this sense that one may read the dictum in the Corfu Channel case where the Court considered it as one of its tasks ‘to ensure respect for international law, of which it is the organ’.61 This is certainly an aspect of the judicial function inherent in any type of judicial proceedings where norms of positive law are applied. The function to ensure the compliance with law is, again, one that is implied in the dispute settlement function. Professor Abi-Saab qualified this function of the International Court as a judicial organ of the

59

Jennings, supra note 34, at 41.

60

See also H. Thirlway, ‘The Role of the International Court of Justice in the Development of International Law’, in Proceedings of the African Society of International and Comparative Law, vol. 7, at 103 (1995).

61

Corfu Channel (United Kingdom v. Albania), Merits, Judgment of 9 April 1949, 1949 ICJ Rep. 4, at 35. Similarly already the Permanent Court in Certain German Interests, 1925 PCIJ (Ser. A) No. 6, 19.

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international legal order as even prevailing, at least in theory, over the function of dispute settlement: ‘[I]f the Court represents and is designed to serve the international community in its entirety, then its first and foremost role is to uphold the global values of that community rather than to act as a mere mediator between two disputing parties.’62

However, there is no indication, either in the Statute and Rules or in the case law of the Court, that proceedings in the International Court fulfil the distinct purpose of protecting the objective integrity of international legal norms. Typical procedures of such type are actions for annulment or proceedings to review the ‘constitutionality’ of individual acts of state organs (or, for that matter, of organs of international organizations). Also, enforcement actions, that is, actions directed against breaches of the law and aimed at upholding the respect for and observance of legal norms irrespective of whether they have caused any actual damage or loss or whether there is an injured or aggrieved party, may be considered as procedures in the public interest. Such procedures, however, do not exist in general international law. With specific regard to the International Court, the question of ‘public interest litigation’, especially in the context of powers of judicial review by the Court of resolutions of the political organs of the UN or concerning the enforcement of obligations erga omnes,63 is highly disputed and in fact unsettled. While it is no doubt true that the procedure in the International Court does not preclude public interest litigation, it would nevertheless seem that the overall structure of proceedings in the International Court does not ‘encourage’ enforcement of public interest claims. For instance, the largely bilateral structure that is expressed by article 59 of the Court’s Statute, limiting the binding force of judgments to the parties and the particular dispute, clearly shows that the procedure applied in the International Court is similar to that in domestic civil courts. Furthermore, a court whose primary function is the realization and enforcement of the ‘objective’ legal order as distinct from individual (hence ‘subjective’) claims would certainly have to enjoy compulsory rather than mere optional jurisdiction as is the case with the International Court. Therefore, it is highly doubtful as to whether the judicial function of the Court is to conduct ‘objective’ proceedings in the public interest as narrowly understood.64 62

G. Abi-Saab, ‘The International Court as a World Court’, in V. Lowe/M. Fitzmaurice (eds.), Fifty Years of the International Court of Justice: Essays in Honour of Sir Robert Jennings 3, 7 (1996).

63

For an excellent balanced discussion see C. Tams, Enforcing Obligations Erga Omnes in International Law 158-197 (2005). See also C. Annacker, Die Durchsetzung von erga omnes Verpflichtungen vor dem Internationalen Gerichtshof (1994).

64

One may refer here also to the Court’s dictum in South West Africa that international law as it stood at the time did not know of legal action in vindication of a public interest, South West Africa, supra note 53, at 47, para. 88. See also C. Gray, Judicial Remedies in International Law 214-215 (1987), who aptly concluded her outlook of judicial remedies for breaches of community obligations: ‘So problems which do not involve any direct injury to a particular state but rather affect the international community as a whole cannot be dealt with by means

998

F.

STEPHAN WITTICH

Enforcement of Individual Claims

Court proceedings may also serve the opposite function of enforcing individual rights or claims. Thus, the function of civil courts usually is to remedy private legal wrongs (especially contract or tort claims). It has already been explained that the Court’s procedural structure is very similar to that of civil proceedings in municipal law. The ultimate purpose of such proceedings is to enforce or recover an individual, ‘subjective’ right. The idea is that every person should be entitled to a remedy for his or her right in order to render the enjoyment of this right effective. It follows that in such proceedings the individual legal positions and interests at the disposition of the parties are the central issues. The proceedings thus have a predominantly private character (Rechtsschutzverfahren/contentieux subjectif).65 The reason for the overwhelmingly bilateral structure of the Court’s procedure is that despite the growing importance of public interest norms in international law, that is, norms protecting a collective or common interest of a transnational kind over and above interests allocatable to individual states, individual interests of a private law character still form the backbone of international law. This is of course not to say that in proceedings concerning private law disputes before civil courts, the more ‘public’ aspects inherent in the judicial function in general (such as the clarification of the law, the maintenance or restoration of legal stability, or the safeguarding of the observance of the law) are immaterial. For every dispute concerning individual ‘private’ rights is at the same time a threat to the maintenance of legal stability and peaceful relations between the subjects of the law. By offering the latter a forum to exchange different views and conflicting opinions on their legally protected interests and to provide them with a court as an effective dispute settlement forum, judicial proceedings invariably serve these public purposes. However, in proceedings concerning private law disputes these purposes – while forming part of the general function of a civil court – are not an end in themselves but only ancillary to the main purpose which is the purpose of protecting and enforcing individual rights.

G.

Legitimacy

Finally, judicial proceedings may also perform a legitimizing function.66 Procedures that adhere to a predetermined concept of due process may contribute to legitimizing of bilateral claims for a declaratory judgment. In the absence of an actio popularis such problems […] will depend on organizational mechanisms of enforcement. For in so far as the concept of responsibility to the international community as a whole is a reality this is through the functioning of international organizations rather than any formal judicial procedure. International organizations provide a partial substitute for the lack of any general action on behalf of the world community and also for the lack of compulsory judicial settlement.’ (Footnotes omitted.) 65

P. van Dijk, Judicial Review of Governmental Action and the Requirement of an Interest to Sue 11 (1980).

66

See also Brown, A Common Law, supra note 18, at 77.

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legally binding decisions and the substantive rules applied. According to sociological systems theory, every form of orderly process regulated by law is a system and thus serves the purpose of reducing the complexities of the world by limiting the possible ways of behaviour of the parties concerned.67 In judicial proceedings, this is achieved by institutionalizing conflict, particularly by delegating the decision-making power to a third party, and to confer upon the disputing persons the role of parties to proceedings.68 By accepting their role, the parties recognize the rules of procedure in order to succeed and win their case. The main driving force behind proceedings is the uncertainty of the outcome which must be preserved until the decision is rendered. The legitimizing force of procedure also induces the defeated party to accept the decision as binding, irrespective of whether that party considers the decision correct, just, fair or accurate.69 In fact, this is the core element of the concept of legitimacy underlying this approach to the function of regulated procedures, including court proceedings. On that basis, legitimacy is perceived as a generalized willingness to accept a priori, albeit within certain limits of tolerance, decisions that are still undetermined regarding their content.70 In other words, legitimacy means a readiness to accept the binding character of a decision that is the result of institutionalized, regulated procedure. This specific understanding of the legitimizing function of proceedings was of course developed in the purely domestic context, and the structural characteristics of the international legal system make a direct application of these considerations difficult.71 However, the point is also made by ‘genuine’ scholars of international law that judicial proceedings may have a legitimizing function and that legitimacy is established by accepting the outcome of proceedings and confirming the substantive and procedural rules applied. Most notably in this respect is of course Thomas Franck’s theory on legitimacy among nations which he bases on the concept of legitimacy mainly as conveying a high degree of acceptance of a rule or decision.72 He further argues that a decision by the International Court of Justice may well ‘validate’ a substantive rule of international law and thereby enhance the ‘compliance pull’ of that rule.73

67

Luhmann, Legitimität durch Verfahren 40-41 (1978).

68

Ibid., at 103.

69

Ibid., at 116-117.

70

Ibid., at 28.

71

For a discussion of legitimacy in the international context see M. Brus, Third Party Dispute Settlement 96-127 (1995), and particularly at 102-104 for a discussion of Luhmann’s theory of legitimacy through procedure.

72

T. Franck, The Power of Legitimacy 3-26, especially at 24 (1990).

73

Thus id., ‘Legitimacy in the International System’, 83 AJIL 705, 726-727 (1988) argues: ‘The compliance pull of a rule is enhanced by a demonstrable lineage. A new rule will have greater difficulty finding compliance, and even evidence of its good sense may not fully compensate for its lack of breeding. Nevertheless, a new rule may be taken more seriously if it arrives on the scene under the aegis of a particularly venerable sponsor such as a widely ratified multilateral convention, or a virtually unanimous decision of the International Court of Justice.’

1000

IV.

STEPHAN WITTICH

Evaluation

The foregoing analysis has revealed that there is not just one judicial function of the International Court. Rather, in discharging its task the Court performs various aspects of the judicial function and while some of them overlap to a certain degree, they are all somewhat different. What is more, there is an inherent tension between the judicial functions of the International Court because they seemingly serve two masters. On the one hand, it is the Court’s function to pursue ‘objective’ or ‘public’ purposes, that is, purposes in the interest of the general public. Thus, the task to provide the parties with a means of dispute settlement in order to maintain peaceful co-existence no doubt is predominantly in the interest of the general public. Other such mainly public functions prevailing over the interests of the individual parties to the dispute are determination, clarification and development of the law, the maintenance of legal stability or the function to ensure that international law is observed and respected. On the other hand, the aspect of enforcing private, that is, individual rights of states not only pervades the structure of the Court’s proceedings (as exemplified for instance by article 59 of its Statute) but is also reflected in the Court’s case law. For the overwhelming portion of cases brought before and eventually decided by the Court have concerned traditional ‘contractual’‚ ‘reciprocal‘ or ‘bilateral’ rights not involving broader community interests of a public nature. While civil courts in domestic law are also faced with this dilemma in performing both public and private functions, it would seem that in domestic law, the dispute settlement function (‘peace through justice’) is subordinated to the central purpose of enforcing individual private rights,74 especially because the dispute settlement function is mainly exercised by other branches of the public authority (especially the executive branch). In other words, on the domestic level, the maintenance of law and order is an ‘automatic’ corollary of the protection and recovery of individual interests. In the International Court, however, the situation would seem a bit different. For in international relations, the maintenance of international peace and security is usually more fragile than on the domestic level.75 Thus, proceedings in the International Court are characterized by an inherent tension between the fulfilment of both public and private functions, and the answer to the question as to which of these functions is to prevail will depend on the specific rights and obligations at issue in the particular case.

74

Van Dijk, supra note 65, at 10.

75

In Certain Expenses (supra note 9, at 168), the International Court evaluated the relation among the principles of the United Nations Charter and justified the supremacy of international peace and security as follows: ‘The primary place ascribed to international peace and security is natural, since the fulfilment of the other purposes will be dependent upon the attainment of that basic condition.’

1001

XX – XXX

CHAPTER IX

European Law

1002

XX

48

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1003

The ‘Second Pillar’ in a Union without Pillars – A New Quality of the Common Foreign and Security Policy with the Treaty of Lisbon? Hubert Isak

I.

Introduction: The Importance of the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP) in and for the European Integration Process

It was only in 1987, after a period of more than 15 years of informal practice, that the then so-called European Political Cooperation got a formal legal basis in the Single European Act (Article 30 SEA). This was further developed by the Treaty of Maastricht in 1992 when the European (Political) Union was established, including the second pillar on common foreign and security policy. According to Article 2, 2nd indent, of the Treaty on European Union (as amended by the Treaty of Nice)1 it is one of the objectives of the Union ‘to assert its identity on the international scene’. This should in particular be effected ‘through the implementation of a common foreign and security policy including the progressive framing of a common defence policy, which might lead to a common defence’. Therefore, since the establishment of the European Union, the development of the European Union as one of the three big world economic powers into a global political actor has also been a top priority in each of the following intergovernmental conferences. In particular during the elaboration of the Draft Constitutional Treaty by the European Convention2 and also as part of the Intergovernmental Conference leading to the adoption of the Treaty,3 the CFSP was a core issue. However, it has always been questioned whether the Treaty provides the necessary conditions for the European Union (EU) to become the global player it wants to be. One of the objectives of this paper is to analyse to what extent the amendments which will be brought about by the Treaty of Lisbon (ToL)4 to the Treaty on European Union (TEU) and to the former Treaty establishing the European Community, which will be

1

2001 Treaty of Nice amending the Treaty on European Union, the Treaties establishing the European Communities and certain related acts, OJ C 80 of 10 March 2001, at 1.

2

2003 Draft Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe, CONV 850/03 of 18 July 2003.

3

2004 Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe, OJ C 310 of 16 December 2004, at 1.

4

2008 Consolidated versions of the Treaty on European Union and the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union, OJ C 115 of 9 May 2008, at 1.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 1003-1026, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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renamed as the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU),5 will help to achieve this goal. The CFSP has also always been a key research interest of Gerhard Hafner. ‘Socialized’ in the public international law research community and having acquired tremendous practical experience as a long-time advisor to the Austrian Foreign Office6 and as a representative of Austria in many international conferences, Gerhard Hafner has always shown great interest in the legal analysis of this policy area on the one hand, and its impact on the Austrian legal order on the other hand. Particular interest has been devoted to the compatibility of the status of a neutral state like Austria with the obligations under the CFSP regime. For example, in 1996, just one year after Austria’s accession to the European Union, Gerhard Hafner delivered an in-depth analysis of the CFSP legal framework as created by the Maastricht Treaty.7 In this paper, Gerhard Hafner denied the qualification of the European Union as a subject of international law and also as an international organization although it fulfilled almost all criteria of an international organization. The reason for the non-qualification was the absence of corresponding will of the member states. At the same time, however, this caused a more fundamental problem, that is, it hindered the EU in the implementation of its task, which is to develop the Union’s identity. Another aspect of the CFSP which provoked Gerhard Hafner’s interest was the legal effect of the different means of action in the CFSP provided for by the Treaty, such as common positions or joint actions. They were and are not considered binding in the member states, but only for them as is the case with traditional public international law. However, according to Gerhard Hafner, the problem would be that there is no separate legally relevant will of the Union apart from the member states. As a consequence, these acts could not be considered traditional international legal acts of the EU as they could not be attributed to it as a legal person under international law.

5

Article 2 No 1 ToL. Note: In this text the abbreviation ‘EU’ or ‘EC’ will be used in the context of articles of the Treaties referring to the EC and EU Treaties as they are in force now. The abbreviation follows the practice of the European Court of Justice (ECJ) after the renumbering of the articles as a consequence of the entry into force of the Treaty of Amsterdam on 1 November 1999, cf. http://curia.europa.eu/de/content/juris/index_infos.htm. The abbreviation used for the amended EU and EC Treaties will be ‘TEU’ and ‘TFEU’ respectively.

6

It was in 1985/1986 when I served as a civil servant in the Legal Adviser’s Office of the Austrian Foreign Office when Gerhard Hafner offered me the opportunity to substantial discussions about fundamental questions of public international law – to discussions which did not limit themselves to an extremely fruitful academic exchange of views but always had in mind the possible implications of one or the other conclusion for the immediate or long-term practice of states and the development of the international legal system as a whole. Thus profiting from both his enormous academic knowledge and his practical experience I do not hesitate to admit that Gerhard Hafner is among those very few who definitely had a lasting effect on my understanding of and approach to legal questions in general and those of public international law and European Union law in particular.

7

G. Hafner, ‘Die Gemeinsame Außen- und Sicherheitspolitik: Eher Vorstellung denn Wille’, in W. Hummer/M. Schweitzer (eds.), Österreich und das Recht der Europäischen Union 123 (1996).

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In 2000, Gerhard Hafner again discussed the specific legal problems of the CFSP.8 Proceeding from the assumption that in the history of international relations there had been no precedent for such an attempt to create and support the European identity through a specific organizational structure with further reference to the necessity of a CFSP (which would result from the development of the first pillar and the possible spill-over effects not only on the economic sector but also with regard to the third pillar) and finally the fact that Article 2 EU refers to a CFSP that includes all three pillars of the European Union, Gerhard Hafner came to the conclusion that such a CFSP necessarily would imply an appropriate mechanism to establish and conduct such a policy. It is only by this way that the different wills of the states could be merged into one unitary will as was the case in international organizations by using legal structures. Gerhard Hafner then discusses three major questions in regard to the EU’s foreign policy: 1.

What are the requirements for an effective foreign policy?

2. What does the current status quo of the CFSP look like? 3. How can the relationship between foreign policy and public international law be described? With regard to the first question, Gerhard Hafner enumerates a number of requirements for an effective foreign policy such as a clear statement of aims and consistency of policy; the policy must be attributed to a certain (legal) person and there must also be flexibility and adaptability. Gerhard Hafner draws attention to the fact that the CFSP – like no other international organization – has the task to steer the policy of the member states towards third states. As to the status quo of the CFSP he comes to the conclusion that almost none of the requirements for an effective policy have been fulfilled. He particularly mentions the amorphous objectives, the lack of coherence and consistency of the institutions involved and the lack of adaptability, in particular due to the uncertain legal character of the CFSP acts. All in all the CFSP, although of a traditional intergovernmental nature, could not be classified into the international legal structure of international relations. As a consequence, the CFSP could in his view not benefit from the stabilizing function of international law either. In 2001, Gerhard Hafner delivered a lecture at the Université Pierre-Mendès-France in Grenoble/France where he devoted his interest to the question as to whether a treaty-making power of the European Union exists in the framework of the CFSP.9 Despite the heterogeneous elements to be found in Article 24 EU itself and the declaration thereto, Gerhard Hafner held the view that there was such a treaty-making power, in particular when taking into account the amendments to Article 24 EU brought about by the Treaty of Nice. 8

G. Hafner, ‘Rechtsprobleme der GASP’, in H. Neuhold (ed.), Die GASP: Entwicklungen und Perspektiven. La PESC: Evolution et perspective, Diplomatische Akademie Wien, Occasional Paper No. 4/2000, at 45.

9

G. Hafner, ‘Existe-t-il un treaty making power de l’Union Européenne dans le cadre de la PESC? L’Article 24 du Traité sur l’Union Européenne: problèmes particuliers’, Grenoble, 3 May 2001.

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The Union in his view would need such a treaty-making power for implementing an effective CFSP in order to be capable of acting on the global scene. In the textbook on European Law co-edited by Gerhard Hafner,10 he once again confirms the fact that the CFSP is located outside the Community but that there are ‘close connections’ between the two pillars, such as the ‘leasing’ of the Community institutions by the European Union or approximation to the Community way of decision-making. Compared to the European Political Cooperation of the early 70s and 80s, Gerhard Hafner in particular mentions the new means of actions and procedures, such as the legally binding joint action and the possibility of adopting decisions by qualified majority, which would show some ‘rudiments pointing in a supranational direction’. In 2006, Gerhard Hafner delivered a comprehensive evaluation of the first ten years of participation of Austria in the CFSP.11 This paper focuses mainly on the compatibility of the Austrian status of neutrality with the obligations under the CFSP. Step-by-step Gerhard Hafner describes the metamorphoses of the Austrian understanding of neutrality from July 1989 when the country applied for membership and obtained a negative ‘avis préliminaire’ from the Commission, until 2005/2006, when the Constitutional Treaty seemed to change the legal nature of this CFSP and its effect on the member states dramatically.12 Although in these ten years Austria took all necessary measures to bring its policy and its legal order in line with the requirements of the EU Treaty, the Constitution with its provisions on the supremacy of all European Union law, on enhanced cooperation and on common defence and solidarity, constituted a major challenge for a neutral state, even if that state has been calling itself only a ‘non-allied’ state, since the revision of its security and defence doctrine in 2001. As was already mentioned, some new developments have occurred since the adoption of the Constitutional Treaty and by now the ToL has to serve as the primary reference for any analysis of the CFSP of the European Union and its possible impact on the legal framework of its member states. The key question therefore is whether we are really confronted with new challenges or whether it is more or less ‘just old wine in new skins’. In order to have a solid basis for further analysis, we will describe in section II the provisions relating to the EU’s external action under the Lisbon Treaty before we proceed in section III to the analysis of the (remaining or non-remaining) specificity of this policy in a Union without pillars.

10

Ch. Thun-Hohenstein/F. Cede/G. Hafner, Europarecht. Ein systematischer Überblick mit den Auswirkungen der EU-Erweiterung 33 (2005).

11

G. Hafner, ‘Österreich und die GASP: 10 Jahre Beteiligung’, in W. Hummer/W. Obwexer (eds.), 10 Jahre EU-Mitgliedschaft Österreichs. Bilanz und Ausblick 109 (2006).

12

With regard to the changes in the understanding of Austria’s neutrality see also P. Luif, ‘Die Teilnahme an der Außen-, Sicherheits- und Verteidigungspolitik der EU’, in id. (ed.), Österreich, Schweden, Finnland. Zehn Jahre Mitgliedschaft in der Europäischen Union 225 (2007).

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II.

1007

The EU’s External Action Under the Lisbon Treaty

Both in the negotiations for the Constitutional Treaty (CT) and for the Reform Treaty (the Treaty of Lisbon), the future arrangement of the CFSP framework was being considered, together with the institutional aspects in general, both of them with a view to more efficiency in the European Union’s work. We will not reproduce here the provisions on the CFSP (and the EU’s external action in general) as they were agreed for in the Constitutional Treaty, neither is it necessary to compare the (minor) changes that were made from the CT to the ToL, as there is general agreement that the content of the ToL is based ‘very substantially’ on the draft EU Constitution.13 A major change of some relevance (as it indicates a certain tendency in the member states’ approach towards the CFSP) is the fact that the CFSP provisions no longer figure as part of the Title V TFEU on External Action, together with all other aspects of external action both at the ‘Community’ and the ‘Union’ level; the CFSP is now the only policy directly regulated in the TEU while the provisions on all other Union policies are collected in the TFEU. It was the stated purpose of the Reform Treaty ‘to enhance the efficiency and democratic legitimacy of the Union and to improve its coherence’.14 It may also be called a ‘stated expectation’ of the Commission in its Communication on the Annual Policy Strategy for 2009 that the ‘entry into force of the Treaty of Lisbon should significantly raise the Union’s external profile’.15 Hereafter the major innovations regarding the CFSP framework as compared to the rules under the Nice Treaty will be described. In section III it will be analysed to what extent the new rules will or will not change the very nature of the CFSP in the context of the ‘unitary’ Union.

A.

General Provisions on the Union’s External Action

In contrast to the CT, the provisions on external action under the ToL are split. Whereas the ‘General Provisions on the Union’s external action and specific provisions on the common foreign and security policy’ are inserted into the TEU (Articles 21-46) all other provisions on the ‘External Action by the Union’ are brought together in a new Part Five of the TFEU (Articles 205-222). Part Five TFEU will not be subject to

13

Irish Government, Department of Foreign Affairs, ‘Guide on the Reform Treaty’, 13 February 2008, at 5, http://www.reformtreaty.ie/eutreaty/guide-eng (last visited 19 February 2008). See also the evaluation of the development from the CT to the ToL in the ‘Erläuternden Bemerkungen’ to the ‘Regierungsvorlage betreffend Vertrag von Lissabon zur Änderung des Vertrags über die Europäische Union und des Vertrags zur Gründung der Europäischen Gemeinschaft samt Protokollen, Anhang und Schlussakte der Regierungskonferenz einschließlich der dieser beigefügten Erklärungen (“Reformvertrag”)’ at 12, 417 d.B. (XXIII.GP) (2007).

14

Cf. Irish Government, Department of Foreign Affairs, ‘Guide on the Reform Treaty’, 13 February 2008, at 5 (emphases added).

15

Communication from the Commission to the European Parliament, the Council, the European Economic and Social Committee and the Committee of the Regions. Annual Policy Strategy for 2009, COM (2008) 72 fin., 13 February 2008, at 6.

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further consideration. Suffice to mention that it contains ‘General provisions on the Union’s external action’ as well as those provisions which relate to specific policy areas, such as the Common Commercial Policy (Articles 206-207), cooperation with third countries and humanitarian aid (Articles 208-214), restrictive measures (Article 215), the conclusion of international agreements (Articles 216-219), the Union’s relations with international organizations and third countries and Union delegations (Articles 220-221) as well as a new solidarity clause in Article 222 TFEU. Paragraph 11 of the TEU’s preamble confirms the Contracting Parties’ resolution ‘to implement a common foreign and security policy including the progressive framing of a common defence policy, which might lead to a common defence […] thereby reinforcing the European identity and its independence in order to promote peace, security and progress in Europe and in the world’. According to Article 3(5) TEU it is one of the objectives of the European Union to ‘uphold and promote its values and interests and contribute to the protection of its citizens’ in ‘its relations with the wider world’. With its policy the Union shall ‘contribute to peace, security, the sustainable development of the Earth, solidarity and mutual respect among peoples, free and fair trade, eradication of poverty and the protection of human rights, in particular the rights of the child as well as to the strict observance and the development of international law, including respect of the principles of the United Nations Charter’. Thereby the Treaty for the first time formulates more substantially the values and principles on which this CFSP shall be based. These principles are further elaborated in Article 21 TEU which is the central general provision on the Union’s external action. The Union’s action in the field shall be guided by principles which have also inspired its own creation, development and enlargement and which it further seeks to advance in the wider world; these are the principles of democracy, the rule of law, the universality and indivisibility of human rights and fundamental freedoms, the respect for human dignity, the principles of equality and solidarity, and respect for the principles of the United Nations Charter and international law (Article 21(1)(1) TEU). The Union will also seek partners and develop relations and build partnerships with those third countries and international or regional organizations which share these principles. Contrary to other big powers of the world, the Union will prefer to promote multilateral solutions to common problems, in particular in the framework of the United Nations (Article 21(1)(2) TEU). The essential ‘added value’ of these principles however lies in the fact that the Union is obliged under Article 21(3) TEU to ‘respect the principles and [to] pursue the objectives […] in the development and implementation of the different areas of the Union’s external action covered by this Title and by Part Five of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union, and of the external aspects of its other policies’ (italics by the author). In other words, Article 21(3) TEU constitutes a horizontal clause which commits the Union to taking into consideration these principles in any external or even internal policy which might have external implications. The provision also requests the Union’s institutions to make sure that for instance the common commercial policy and development policy of the Union are consistent and that they are based on the same principles. It will be the task of the European Council to identify the strategic interests and objectives of

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the Union (Article 22(1)(1) TEU). The European Council will have the power to adopt the necessary decisions not only in the CFSP, but also in the other areas of the external action of the Union. These decisions would concern the relations of the Union with a specific country or region or may also be thematic in their approach (Article 22(1) (2) TEU). The European Council will act unanimously on a recommendation from the Council (Article 22(1)(3) TEU). The High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy16 (HR/VP) and the Commission will have the right to submit joint proposals to the Council for such a recommendation, the HR/VP for the CFSP area, the Commission for other areas of external action (Article 22(2) TEU).

B.

Specific Provisions on the Common Foreign and Security Policy

Chapter 2 of Title Five TEU contains the ‘Specific provisions on the common foreign and security policy’ which include ‘Common provisions’ (Articles 23-41 TEU) and ‘Provisions on the common security and defence policy’ (Articles 42-46 TEU). Article 23 TEU reconfirms that the Union’s action on the international scene pursuant to this Chapter shall be guided by the aforementioned principles and shall also pursue the objectives and be conducted in accordance with the general provisions laid down in Article 21 TEU. While reaffirming that the Union’s competence in the CFSP will cover all areas of foreign policy and all questions relating to the Union’s security, including the ‘progressive framing of a common defence policy that might lead to a common defence’ (Article 24(1) TEU), Article 24(1) (2) TEU17 at the same time distinctly makes it clear that the CFSP is subject to very specific rules and procedures. These will be discussed in further detail in section III below. Suffice to say at this point that according to Article 24(2) TEU the conduct, definition and implementation of the CFSP shall be based on the development of mutual political solidarity among member states, the identification of questions of general interest and the achievement of an ever-increasing degree of convergence of member states’ actions. Accordingly, the member states have to support the Union’s policy actively and unreservedly in the spirit of loyalty and mutual solidarity; they shall comply with the Union’s action (Article 24(3)(1) TEU). But the member states also have to work together on the horizontal level to enhance and develop their mutual political solidarity; the member states shall also refrain from any action which would be contrary to the interests of the Union or likely to impair the Union’s effectiveness as a cohesive force in international relations (Article 24(3)(2) TEU). How general and weak it might be drafted, Article 24(2) TEU, perhaps for the first time, contains a formal definition of what the CFSP should be. Article 25 TEU lists the instruments available for the CFSP. These instruments are quite similar to those already used under the Nice Treaty, but have been partly 16

Who will also be a Vice-President of the Commission; the abbreviation therefore will be HR/VP.

17

Together with Declaration (No. 13) concerning the common foreign and security policy and Declaration (No. 14) concerning the common foreign and security policy, OJ C 115 of 9 May 2008, at 343. For details see infra Chapter III.

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reformulated in a different way. They will include the definition of general guidelines (Article 25(a) TEU), the adoption of decisions which will define either actions to be undertaken by the Union or positions to be taken by the Union (Article 25(b) (i) and (ii) TEU) and also arrangements for the implementation of such decisions (iii). The strengthening of systematic cooperation between member states in the conduct of their policy shall be another important element of the CFSP (Article 25(c) TEU). The European Council will play a key role in the identification of the Union’s strategic interests, in the determination of the objectives and the definition of general guidelines for the CFSP, including matters with defence implications (Article 26(1)(1) TEU). It is the European Council that will also adopt the necessary decisions. If necessary, the President of the European Council will have the (new) right to convene an extraordinary meeting of the European Council if international developments so require (Article 26(1) (2) TEU). It is the Council that will frame the CFSP and take the decisions necessary to define and implement this policy on the basis of the general guidelines and strategic lines defined by the European Council (Article 26(2) TEU). The task of putting the CFSP into effect is entrusted to the HR/VP and to the member states, using national and Union resources (Article 26(3) TEU). However, it will be the common responsibility of the High Representative and the Council to ensure the unity, consistency and effectiveness of the Union’s actions (Article 26(2)(2) TEU). The High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy18 will play a key role in a successful CSDP, given its tasks and powers: He or she shall ensure more consistency and effectiveness of the CFSP. The HR/VP shall chair the Foreign Affairs Council (Article 27(1) TEU), the High Representative shall contribute through his proposals towards the preparation of the CFSP and he or she shall ensure the implementation of the decisions adopted either by the European Council or the Council. The High Representative shall also represent the Union in CFSP matters, while representation in other external affairs is entrusted to the Commission (of which, however, the High Representative is a Vice-President). In this function the High Representative will also conduct the political dialogue with third parties on behalf of the Union and will express the Union’s position in international organizations and at international conferences (Article 27(2) TEU). In the future, the High Representative shall be assisted by a European External Action Service.19 Article 28 TEU contains the provisions corresponding to former Articles 14 and 15 EU on joint actions and common positions. The action or position will be adopted by the Council as a decision. The decision shall lay down the objectives, the scope and the means to be made available to the Union for operational actions (Article 28(1) TEU), or it shall define the approach of the Union to a particular matter of a geographical or thematic nature (Article 29 TEU). Decisions on an operational action shall commit the 18

Named the ‘Union Minister for Foreign Affairs’ under the Constitution (art. I-28 CT).

19

Cf. ‘Declaration No. 15 on Article 27 a of the Treaty of the European Union’, adopted by the Intergovernmental Conference, according to which the Secretary General of the Council, the High Representative for CFSP, the Commission and the member states should begin preparatory work on this European External Action Service as soon as the Treaty of Lisbon is signed, OJ C 115 of 9 May 2008, at 343.

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member states in the positions they adopt and in the conduct of their activity (Article 28(2) TEU); in case of a ‘common position’, the member states have the obligation to ensure that their national policies conform to the Union’s positions (Article 29 TEU). Among the means of action, the conclusion of international agreements by the Union and other states or international organizations in the areas covered by the CFSP chapter should be borne in mind too (Article 37 TEU). For the conclusion of such agreements basically the same procedure as for all types of agreements applies, as Article 218 TFEU does not differentiate in principle between ‘EC’- and ‘EU’-agreements. All agreements will be equally ‘binding upon the institutions of the Union and on its Member States’. (Article 216 (2) TFEU). Two derogations from the general rules are worth mentioning. For agreements relating ‘exclusively’ or ‘principally’ to the CFSP it is (only) the High Representative who shall submit a recommendation to the Council for the opening of negotiations (Article 218(3) TFEU). The second exception regarding CFSP agreements concerns the non-participation of the European Parliament in the process of their conclusion (Article 218(6)(2) TFEU). Interestingly enough, there are no specific voting rules for the Council with respect to ‘CFSP’-agreements20 and therefore Article 218(8) TFEU applies: The Council shall act by a qualified majority ‘throughout the procedure’ (sub-paragraph 1), except for the cases explicitly referred to in sub-paragraph 2 for which unanimity is required, for example, if ‘the agreement covers a field for which unanimity is required for the adoption of a Union act’.21 Any member state, the High Representative or the High Representative with the support of the Commission may refer any question relating to the CFSP to the Council and they also may submit initiatives or proposals to it as appropriate (Article 30(1) TEU). The role of the European Parliament in the elaboration and conduct of the CFSP will remain as limited as it is now – with the sole difference that in the future it will be the High Representative (and no longer the Presidency or the Commission) who shall regularly consult the EP on the main aspects and the basic choices of CFSP and CSDP and who shall inform it on how those policies evolve. Special representatives may be involved in briefing the EP. The EP may ask the Council questions or make recommendations to it and to the High Representative. Twice a year the Parliament shall hold a debate on the progress in implementing the CFSP, under the new provisions including the common security and defence policy (Article 36 TEU). The decision-making rules for the CFSP do not substantially22 change as compared to the situation under the Treaty of Nice. Decisions are basically taken unanimously, except where the Treaty provides otherwise. What is new is the formal statement that the adoption of legislative acts shall be excluded (Article 31(1)(1) TEU). Qualified 20

Art. 37 TEU just states that ‘[t]he Union may conclude agreements with one or more States or international organisations in areas covered by this Chapter’.

21

In a way the relationship between qualified majority and unanimity voting seems to be turned upside down: The agreement in principle may be concluded by majority vote unless the internal Union act requires unanimity. The CFSP (Union) act in principle requires unanimity, unless the specific derogations of art. 31 (2) TEU allowing qualified majority voting apply.

22

Except for a minor extension of qualified majority voting.

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abstention from the vote is still possible (Article 31(1)(2) TEU). However, other than under Article 23(1)(2) EU the blocking effect of such abstentions requires not only that the members of the Council qualifying the abstention in this way represent at least one third of the member states, they also must comprise at least one third of the population of the Union. Article 31(2) TEU enumerates those cases where qualified majority voting is possible. These cases concern the adoption of a decision defining the Union’s action or position based on either a decision of the European Council relating to the Union’s strategic interests and objectives; or on a proposal which the High Representative has presented following a specific request from the European Council, made on its own initiative or that of the High Representative; or the adoption of any decision implementing a decision defining the Union’s action or position, and finally the appointment of a special representative. Yet, Article 31(2)(2) TEU still contains an ‘emergency brake’. If a member of the Council declares that for ‘vital and stated reasons of national policy’ (italics added) it intends to oppose the adoption of a decision by qualified majority, a vote shall not be taken. It will be the task of the High Representative to search, in close consultation with the member state involved, for a solution acceptable to that member state. If he does not succeed, the Council may (as is already the case now), by qualified majority request the matter to be referred to the European Council for a decision by unanimity. The qualified majority voting option does not apply to decisions having military or defence implications (Article 31(4) TEU). Article 32 TEU reinforces and extends the obligation of the member states to consult one another on any matter of CFSP of general interest in order to reach a common approach. This provision also commits the member states to consult the others within the European Council or the Council before undertaking any action on the international scene or entering into any commitment potentially affecting the interests of the Union (Article 32(1) TEU). Diplomatic missions of the member states and the Union delegations in third countries and international organizations shall cooperate and contribute to the formulation and in particular to the implementation of a common approach (Article 32(3) TEU). Article 39 TEU contains a new provision according to which the Council shall adopt a decision laying down the rules relating to the protection of individuals with regard to the processing of personal data by the member states when they carry out activities falling under the scope of the CFSP, and the rules relating to the free movement of such data. Compliance with these rules shall be subject to the control of independent authorities. Article 41 TEU regarding the financing of the CFSP provides for two new elements. The first concerns the adoption of a decision which establishes specific procedures to guarantee rapid access to appropriations in the Union budget if this is necessary for the urgent financing of certain activities and initiatives in the framework of CFSP (in particular for the preparatory activities of EU missions, Article 41(3)(1) TEU). The second innovation concerns the establishment of a so-called ‘start-up fund’. The new fund will be made up of member states’ contributions and shall serve to finance preparatory activities for the above-mentioned task, if they are not charged to the Union budget (Article 41(3)(2) TEU). The procedures for setting up and financing, administering and

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financially controlling this fund will be adopted by the Council by qualified majority on a proposal of the High Representative (Article 41(3)(3) TEU). Before proceeding to the provisions of the common security and defence policy, let me summarize the main new elements of the CFSP: 1.

Instruments: all external action of the Union will be regulated in the form of a ‘decision’. The common strategy of the European Council is replaced by ‘general guidelines’ according to Article 25(a) TEU. The right to initiative is vested in the member states, the High Representative or the High Representative with the support of the Commission. In other words, the Commission no longer has the exclusive right to initiative, nor will it have the right to convene an extraordinary Council meeting.

2. Institutions: the European Council, the Council and, more than ever before, the High Representative will play a key role in several respects. First of all, the High Representative of the Union will be the representative of a new legal person. Second, it is the ‘double-hatted’ High Representative who will be responsible for both areas of external relations – the CFSP and other external relations, the latter currently being represented by several members of the Commission. The High Representative will be appointed by the European Council acting by a qualified majority and with the agreement of the President of the Commission (Article 18(1) TEU). The High Representative will be one of the Vice-Presidents of the Commission and as such will have to ensure the consistency of the Union’s external action (Article 18(4) TEU). However, only in the exercise of the responsibilities within the Commission will the High Representative be bound by Commission procedures to the extent this is consistent with his or her other rights and obligations under Article 18(2) and (3) TEU. These other obligations concern the conduct of the Union’s CFSP, the right to make proposals to the development of that policy and also the carrying out of this policy as mandated by the Council. The same shall apply to the CSDP (Article 18(2) TEU). The High Representative shall also preside permanently over the Foreign Affairs Council (Article 18(3) and Article 27(1) TEU) while the Presidency of the other Council configurations shall be held by the member states’ representatives in the Council on the basis of a system of equal rotation (Article 16(9) TEU). The High Representative shall represent the Union in CFSP matters, shall conduct the political dialogue with third parties on the Union’s behalf and shall also express the Union’s position in international organizations and international conferences (Article 27(2) TEU). This function may come into conflict with the role of the President of the European Council who shall, at his level and in that capacity, ‘ensure the external representation of the Union on issues concerning its common foreign and security policy’ (Article 15(6)(2) TEU), without prejudice to the powers of the High Representative. What this will mean in practice remains to be seen. It will very much depend on the personalities performing the role of

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the High Representative on the one hand and the President of the European Council on the other hand. 3. Decision-making: whereas the system continues to be dominated by unanimity voting, there are some new elements to be noted. While some have already been mentioned (cf. Article 31(2) TEU), the ‘bridging-clause’ in Article 31(3) TEU deserves particular attention. It would allow the European Council to unanimously adopt a decision stipulating that the Council shall act by qualified majority even in cases other than those referred to in Article 31(2) TEU. The clause introduces a kind of simplified treaty revision procedure, but with a remarkable difference to the simplified revision procedure provided for in Article 48(6) TEU. There will be no information or veto right of national parliaments against such a decision as provided for by or allowed under Article 48(7)(3) TEU for the normal simplified revision procedures. The exercise of the veto power thus is reserved for the member state’s head of state or government in the European Council.

C.

Provisions on Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP)

Article 42 TEU lays the common ground for the CSDP, which shall form an integral part of the CFSP (Article 42(1) TEU). What is striking is the shift in wording from Article 17(1) EU to Article 42(1) TEU. While in the former the progressive framing of a common defence policy ‘might lead to a common defence, should the European Council so decide’, under the new provision (Article 42(2)(1) TEU) the progressive framing of a common Union defence policy as part of the CSDP ‘will lead to a common defence, when the European Council, acting unanimously, so decides’ (italics added). This new wording suggests that it is not a mere possibility, but certain that the development will lead to a common defence one day and that it is only a question when the European Council so decides, and not whether the Council will make this decision.23 The decision has to be taken by unanimous vote. Of course the decision of the European Council will require its adoption by the member states in accordance with their respective constitutional requirements (Article 42(2)(1) TEU). The primary objective of the CSDP is to provide the Union with the operational capacity drawing both on civilian and military assets; a capacity which may be used by the Union on missions outside the Union for peace-keeping, conflict prevention and strengthening international security. In all these missions, the Union will have to act in accordance with the principles of the United Nations Charter. The capacity shall be provided by the member states (Article 42(1) TEU). The missions which the Union may perform shall include (Article 43(1) TEU) joint disarmament operations, humanitarian and rescue tasks, military advice and assistance tasks, conflict prevention and peace-keeping tasks, tasks of combat forces in crisis management, including peace-making and post-conflict stabilization. Article 43(1) TEU 23

Note that art. 42(1) on his part is not consistent with art. 24(1) TEU!

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not only extends the scope of possible missions, it also introduces a new element in so far as these tasks may contribute to the fight against terrorism including support for third countries in combatting terrorism in their territory. Implicitly, the fight against terrorism is recognized as part of the security and defence policy of the European Union. Decisions relating to these tasks defining their objectives, scope and general conditions for the implementation shall be adopted by the Council. It is the task of the High Representative, who will act under the authority of the Council and in close and constant contact with the Political and Security Committee, to ensure the coordination of the civilian and military aspects of such tasks (Article 43(2) TEU). As a general decision-making rule for CSDP, Article 42(4) TEU provides that all decisions relating to CSDP, including those initiating missions outside the Union, be adopted by the Council by unanimity on a proposal of the High Representative or an initiative from a member state. The High Representative may also propose the use of both national resources and Union instruments, together with the Commission where appropriate (Article 42(4) TEU). As a general rule, however, and this is pointed out in Article 42(1) TEU, it is up to the member states to provide the necessary civilian and military capabilities. Article 42(3) TEU lays down the corresponding obligation of the member states because civilian and military capabilities made available to the Union by the member states are necessary to contribute to the objectives as defined by the Council (Article 42(3) (1) TEU). Correspondingly, (all) member states shall undertake progressively to improve their military capabilities. They will be supported in that undertaking by the European Defence Agency (Article 42(3)(2) and Article 45 TEU). Article 45 TEU provides a new legal basis for the European Defence Agency (EDA) which is currently based on Council Joint Action 2004/551/CFSP of 11 July 2004 on the establishment of the European Defence Agency.24 This Council Joint Action is based on Article 14 EU. Major innovations with potentially substantial impact on the future development of the CSDP are contained in Article 42(5-7) TEU. Article 42(5) TEU allows the Council to ‘entrust the execution of a task [...] to a group of Member States in order to protect the Union’s values and serve its interests’. The provision refers to those member states ‘which are willing and have the necessary capability for such a task’ (Article 44(1) TEU). These member states, in association with the High Representative, shall agree among themselves on the management of the task entrusted to them. The management of the task thereby is de facto exclusively in the hands of this group of states. However, they have to inform the Council regularly either upon request of other member states or on their own initiative. Such information is in particular requested if the completion of the task entrusted entails major consequences or requires amendments of the objective, scope and conditions determined for the task in their basic decision (Article 44(2) TEU). While this possibility obviously has in mind the entrusting ad hoc of a group of states, the other innovation has a permanent character: Article 42(6) TEU allows the establishment of a so-called ‘Permanent Structured Cooperation’ (PSC) within the Union framework. This PSC would include member states whose military capabilities 24

Council Joint Action 2004/551/CFSP of 11 July 2004 on the establishment of the European Defence Agency, OJ L 245 of 17 July 2004, at 17.

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fulfil higher criteria and which also have made more binding commitments to one another in this area with a view to the most demanding missions.25 The details for such PSC are to be found in Article 46 TEU and in the Protocol on permanent structured cooperation established by Article 42 of the Treaty on European Union.26 The establishment of such a PSC shall not affect the performance of EU missions according to Article 43 TEU. Member states who wish to establish a PSC and which fulfil the criteria and have made commitments to the military capabilities as set out in the Protocol shall notify the Council and the High Representative of their intention. Within three months following the notification, the Council shall adopt by qualified majority the decision establishing the PSC and also determining the list of participating member states (Article 46(2) TEU). The PSC is open for any other member state willing to participate at a later stage. In such a case only members of the Council representing the participating member states in the Council shall take part in the (qualified majority) vote. A qualified majority, in accordance with Article 238(3) TFEU, would be defined as at least 55% of the members of the Council representing the participating member states, comprising at least 65% of the population of these states. The blocking minority must include at least the minimum number of Council members representing more than 35% of the population of the participating member states, plus one member. In other words, the qualified majority is calculated only on the basis of the states participating in this PSC (Article 46(3)(3) TEU in connection with Article 238(3)(a) TFEU). If a participating member state no longer fulfils the criteria or is no longer able to meet the commitments, the Council may adopt a decision suspending the participation of the state concerned (Article 46(4)(1) TEU). Furthermore, any participating member state has the right to withdraw from PSC by notifying the Council (Article 46(5) TEU). Any decision and recommendation within the framework of PSC, as being part of the CSDP, shall be adopted by unanimity (Article 46(6) TEU). One may summarize these provisions in so far as the new Treaty basically provides for three types of CSDP missions or operations: 1.

missions entrusted to a group of states according to Article 42(5) TEU,

2. missions performed within the framework of Permanent Structured Cooperation (Article 42(6) TEU), and 3. EU missions according to Article 43 TEU (the former Petersberg missions). For the first time, the Treaty also contains a provision regarding mutual assistance (Article 42(7) TEU). If a member state is a victim of armed aggression on its territory, the other member states shall be obliged to offer aid and assistance to the victim by 25

The PSC concept does not only find positive reception. Some critics consider it to be the first step towards the formation of a military ‘core Europe’.

26

Protocol (No 10) on permanent structured cooperation established by Article 42 of the Treaty on European Union, OJ C 115 of 9 May 2008, at 275.

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all the means in their power in accordance with Article 51 of the UN Charter. Article 42(7)(2) TEU however makes it clear that any commitment or operation in this area has to be consistent with the commitments under the North Atlantic Treaty. For the states members of NATO the NATO Treaty will remain the foundation of their collective defence. The obligation to provide mutual assistance, which is in conformity with the obligations under Article 51 of the UN Charter, does not prejudice the specific character of the security and defence policy of certain member states (Article 42(7)(1) TEU). This so-called ‘Irish formula’ ensures that neutrality is respected by the Treaty and allows a neutral state to decide on an ad hoc basis whether or not it will provide aid and assistance and if so what kind of aid and assistance.

D.

Provisional Evaluation of the CFSP/CSDP Chapters of the ToL

It is not really possible to assess at this moment the concrete effects of the new provisions in view of the objectives, namely to make the Union’s external action more efficacious, more efficient and more coherent. However, one might go along with the assessment given by the Robert Schuman Foundation27 according to which there will be progress towards a single external representative of the European Union, which would provide more coherence and unity for external action. The existence of the High Representative with the support of the European External Action Service should foster not only the development of a common external policy but also the coherence and unity of the Union’s external action in general. There may also be progress towards an increase of the European Union’s international influence mainly by granting a clear legal status to the Union, which would imply the capacity of treaty-making power and which would also enable the Union to increase its role and place in the international arena and promote its values and interests. Finally, there is also progress towards a European defence policy properly speaking with the mutual defence clause, the solidarity clause and the extension of the EU’s potential concerning the fight against terrorism, conflict prevention missions, post-conflict stabilization missions, etc. Also, the introduction of the PSC should reinforce the Union’s military and defence potential. This assessment largely conforms to the position expressed by the European Parliament in its ‘Resolution of 20 February 2008 on the Treaty of Lisbon’.28 The EP expects the new Treaty to provide greater effectiveness which will strengthen the capacity of the Union’s institutions to carry out their tasks effectively, inter alia because ‘the Union’s visibility and capacity as a global actor will be significantly enhanced’ (Res. No. 5e). This positive assessment is explained more extensively in the Report on the Treaty of Lisbon.29 In its Explanatory Statement, the Report of the Committee on Constitutional Affairs highlights the following positive elements of the Treaty. The 27

Robert Schuman Foundation (ed.), ‘The Lisbon Treaty. 10 easy-to-read fact sheets’, December 2007, at 23, www.robert-schuman.eu.

28

Resolution of 20 February 2008 on the Treaty of Lisbon, P6_TA(2008)0055.

29

Rapporteurs: Richard Corbett and Iñigo Méndez de Vigo, A6-0013/2008, 29 January 2008, at Nos. 6.5 and 9.3.

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creation of the High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy is one of the main institutional innovations in view of the objective to ensure that all external actions of the Union are consistent and have a high profile. The special status of the High Representative is not only reflected in his function of Vice-President of the Commission, but also in the procedures for his or her appointment and the possible ending of his or her tenure. He or she will be appointed and may be dismissed by the European Council acting by qualified majority with the agreement of the President of the Commission. In the view of the EP, the High Representative will be able to increase the coherence and efficiency of the Union’s international action, to promote the emergence of a genuine CFSP and he or she will raise the Union’s international profile by giving it a face. There is threefold political accountability of the High Representative to the EP, the Council and the President of the Commission. However, the EP is not ignorant of the potential conflicts within the power triangle formed by the High Representative, the President of the Commission and the President of the European Council (No.6.5 of the Explanatory Statement). The Report also highlights the substantial departure of the Chapter on Foreign and Security Policy from the CT as regards its structure, namely the fact that these provisions have been moved from the former Part III CT into the Treaty on European Union. Although the TEU and the TFEU have the same legal value which should safeguard the progress achieved by the abolition of the pillar structure and minimize any reduction in the coherence of these provisions, constant efforts would be needed to safeguard this process and ward off the danger of ‘contamination’ of the more ‘communitised’ arrangement used in the other areas of external relations (No. 9.3 of the Explanatory Statement). In a quite realistic assessment the EP comes to the conclusion that at the current stage of European integration, ‘foreign policy is so central to the hard core of national competences that a genuine common external policy is inconceivable as long as the Member States fail to demonstrate a collective political will required to reach agreement’ (No.9.3(1)). But the institutional arrangements should at least encourage the member states to take concerted action to define a common approach to international problems as well as to consult one another before taking unilateral action that is potentially harmful to the interests of other member states or to the Union as a whole. As for the common defence policy, this has become a more realistic prospect in the eyes of the EP, and the Treaty would provide the Union with an operational capacity based on civil and military assets (No. 9.3(2)). For the EP the progress in CSDP is significant, but does not undermine the specific character of the security and defence policy of certain member states or the commitments under NATO. In contrast to certain parts of public opinion, these provisions will certainly not transform the Union into an aggressive military block.

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III.

The Continuing Specific Character of the CFSP in the Unitary Union

A.

Provisions in the TEU

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The provisions on the CFSP have not been among the decisive reasons which made the ratification process for the Constitutional Treaty fail. However, in the aftermath of this failure and during the reflection period, it turned out that for some member states any tendency towards a ‘communitarisation’ of the CFSP, how weak it may be, was unacceptable. As a consequence, the report of the German presidency at the end of the reflection period in June 200730 recommended, based on the consultations of the past six months, a number of changes in order to reach an overall agreement on the Treaty. To that end, the German presidency stated that there should be ‘further discussions’ with regard to some issues, among them the ‘specificity of the CFSP’. Which meant that the specificity of the CFSP had to be maintained in the wording of the Treaty and that all provisions questioning that specificity had to be eliminated from the draft. As a consequence, the provisions on the CFSP, unlike those of the third pillar which were integrated totally into the TFEU, were re-transferred into the TEU. This should manifestly show that the foreign security and defence policy would keep its intergovernmental character. Under these circumstances it must be considered a progress that, according to Article 23 TEU and Article 205 TFEU, the principles of Article 21 TEU would apply to all of the Union’s action on the international scene; that is, both to the foreign security and defence policy, as well as to other external action.31 However, the Treaty could not have been clearer on the reaffirmation of the specific character of the CFSP as it was in Article 24(1)(2) TEU: The common foreign and security policy is subject to specific rules and procedures. It shall be defined and implemented by the European Council and the Council acting unanimously, except where the Treaties provide otherwise. The adoption of legislative acts shall be excluded. The common foreign and security policy shall be put into effect by the High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy and by Member States, in accordance with the Treaties. The specific role of the European Parliament and of the Commission in this area is defined by the Treaties. The Court of Justice of the European Union shall not have jurisdiction with respect to these provisions, with the exception of its jurisdiction to monitor compliance with Article 40 of this Treaty and to review the legality of certain decisions as provided for by the second paragraph of Article 275 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union.

30

Council of the European Union, Report from the Presidency to the European Council: Pursuing the Treaty Reform Process, Doc. 10.659/07, 14 June 2007, at 5.

31

S. Kurpas, ‘The Treaty of Lisbon – How much “Constitution” is Left? An Overview of the Main Changes’, CEPS Policy Brief, No. 148, at 2 (2007), http://shop.ceps.eu/BookDetail. php?item_id=1568 (last visited 1 January 2008).

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Yet, presumably upon pressure from the member states eager to protect their powers and independence in the field, the Intergovernmental Conference went so far as to adopt two (more than redundant) Declarations32 which should provide additional and comprehensive ‘guarantees’ to that end: In Declaration No. 13 concerning the common foreign and security policy, the Conference ‘underlines’ that the CFSP provisions including those regarding the creation of the High Representative and the establishment of the EEAS ‘do not affect the responsibilities of the Member States, as they currently exist, for the formulation and conduct of their foreign policy nor of their national representation in third countries and international organisations’. Yet, nobody would seriously claim such a Union competence for which there is no basis in the Treaty. Further, the Conference ‘recalls’ that the CSDP provisions ‘do not prejudice the specific character of the security and defence policy of the Member States’. This note adds nothing new to Article 42 (2)(2) and Article 42 (7) TEU. Third, Declaration No. 13 ‘stresses that the EU and its Member States will remain bound by the provisions of the Charter of the United Nations and, in particular, by the primary responsibility of the Security Council and of its Members for the maintenance of international peace and security’. This seems to ignore that Article 42 (1) TEU states that the Union may use its assets for missions outside the Union ‘in accordance with the principles of the United Nations Charter’. Even if one were to draw a line between the ‘principles’ of the UN Charter and ‘the provisions of the Charter’, it should be kept in mind that in the very first ‘general provision’ on the Union’s external action it is clearly stated that the Union’s action will be guided for example by the ‘respect for the principles of the United Nations Charter and international law’ – which should include the treaty provisions of the Charter too (Article 21 (1) TEU). Declaration No. 14 also addresses three aspects relating to the division of powers between the member states and the Union. ‘In addition’ (sic!) to the relevant provisions of the TEU, the Conference also ‘underlines’ that, in short, the CFSP provisions ‘will not affect the existing legal basis, responsibilities, and powers of each Member State in relation to the formulation and conduct of its foreign policy, its national diplomatic service, relations with third countries and participation in international organisations, including a Member State’s membership of the Security Council of the United Nations’. In my view, nothing in the TEU may be understood as providing a competence for the Union to adopt acts which might affect – without the consent of the member states if at all – one of the mentioned areas of national foreign policy. The second paragraph of Declaration No. 14 is ‘[p]articularly unjustified, not to say partially incorrect’33 when it states that the provisions covering the CFSP ‘do not give new powers to the Commission to initiate decisions nor do they increase the role of the European Parliament’. To give but one example: The EP has to be ‘regularly’ consulted by the High Representative, and not only on the CFSP, but also on the CSDP.

32

Declaration No. 13 concerning the common foreign and security policy and Declaration No. 14 concerning the common foreign and security policy, OJ C 115 of 9 May 2008, at 343.

33

Corbett/Méndez de Vigo, supra note 29, at 49.

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Furthermore, the EP shall be ‘informed’ ‘of how those policies evolve’. In the future the EP will hold a debate twice a year on the progress of the implementation of both the CFSP and the CSDP (Article 36 TEU). Once again, Declaration No. 14 ‘recalls’ that the CSDP provisions ‘do not prejudice the specific character of the security and defence policy of the Member States’. It should be noted that in both Declarations this phrase has a slightly different wording than the ‘Irish formula’ in Article 42(2)(2) and Article 42(7) TEU: Whereas the ‘formula’ applies to the security and defence policy of ‘certain’ member states only, the Declaration addresses the security and defence policy of ‘the’ member states. It cannot be said whether this deviation in the wording has a substantial meaning or just results from a drafting error. The specificities of the CFSP according to this provision thereby may be summarized as follows. It is the only policy area which is defined in the TEU; specific procedures and rules apply; the general rule for the adoption of decisions is unanimity; the decisions adopted by the Council may not be legislative acts; the European Parliament plays a very limited role in the process; the European Commission does not have an exclusive right to initiative; the implementation of the decisions is entrusted to the High Representative and to the member states; for questions having military or defence implications, any form of majority voting is definitely excluded. The specific character of that chapter is also confirmed by Article 40 TEU, which constitutes a new version of the former separation clause of Article 47 EU. Article 40 TEU makes clear that the implementation of the CFSP shall not affect the application of the procedures and the extent of powers of the institutions as laid down in the Treaties, that is, the exercise of Union competences referred to in Articles 3 to 6 of the TFEU, in other words, the exercise of other competences of the Union which under the existing Treaty would be attributed to the European Community or to the third pillar. In this respect, Article 40 TEU corresponds to Article 47 EU, but now only applies for provisions of the CFSP. However, Article 40 TEU also contains a sub-paragraph 2 which constitutes a kind of a ‘reverse parallel separation clause’ in favour of CFSP procedures and powers: ‘Similarly, the implementation of the policies listed in those Articles shall not affect the application of the procedures and the extent of the powers of the institutions laid down by the Treaties for the exercise of the Union competences under this Chapter.’

In other words, as the traditional Community powers under the TFEU are protected against any kind of ‘contamination’ from the CFSP side, now the CFSP in its intergovernmental character is equally protected against any kind of interference from the implementation of the policies listed in Articles 3 to 6 TFEU.

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B.

Provisions in the TFEU

1.

Flexibility Clause (Article 352 TFEU)

Pursuant to its paragraph 4, the new flexibility clause (ex-Article 308 EC) explicitly ‘cannot serve as a basis for attaining objectives pertaining to the common foreign and security policy and any acts adopted pursuant to this article shall respect the limit set out in Article 40, second paragraph, of the Treaty on European Union’.

2.

Jurisdiction of the ECJ (Article 24(1)(2) TEU) in Connection with Article 275 TFEU

In principle, the Court of Justice of the European Union shall not have jurisdiction with regard to provisions of the CFSP chapter, with two exceptions. The first exception refers to the application of Article 40 TEU which also concerns provisions of the TFEU for which the Court has full jurisdiction. The other exception pertains to the review of legality of certain decisions under Article 275 TFEU and decisions based on Article 215 TFEU providing for restrictive measures against natural or legal persons adopted by the Council on the basis of Chapter 2, Title V of the Treaty on European Union (that is, sanctions against natural or legal persons, Article 275(2) TFEU).

C.

The Type of the CFSP Competence

Questions about the nature of the CFSP’s competence to conduct and implement foreign and security policy have prompted an extended debate among scholars. According to Article 2(4) TFEU the Union ‘shall have competence, in accordance with the provisions of the Treaty on European Union, to define and implement a common foreign and security policy, including the progressive framing of a common defence policy’. Unlike the other categories of competences, this title of the TFEU does not contain further explanation which definitely leaves its character open. In legal literature, different explanations have been given. According to Vedder,34 Article I-12(4) of the CT (which corresponds to Article 2(4) TFEU) would not describe a category of competence but would just name the responsibility of the Union for the area of CFSP as a particular field of competence and thereby exclude it from the general system of competences. Despite the abolition of the pillar structure, the CFSP would live its own life given the structure of competences and the system of legal acts. For Calliess35 the inclusion of a proper article on competence in the CFSP would be a logical consequence of the merger of the EC and the Union into a uniform European Union. Calliess does not deny the character of Article I-16 CT as a competence 34

Ch. Vedder, in Ch. Vedder/W. Heintschel von Heinegg (eds.), Europäischer Verfassungsvertrag, Article I-12, § 17 (2007).

35

Ch. Calliess, in Ch. Calliess/M. Ruffert (eds.), Verfassung der Europäischen Union. Kommentar der Grundlagenbestimmungen, Teil I, Article I-16 (2006).

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article. Like the competence to coordinate the economic and employment policies of the member states, the CFSP competence in his view was not defined by the type of competence shared between the Union and the member states, but solely by its subject, which would it make difficult to attribute this competence either to the shared or the supporting competences. Other authors like Schröder36 or Thym37 hold the view that the CFSP constitutes a specific category of competence, substantially located somewhere between shared and supporting or coordinating competences. Still others consider it as being ‘substantially’ a shared competence.38 In support of their argument these authors refer to Article I-14(1) CT according to which an area has to be attributed to the shared competences unless it is classified among the exhaustive list of the other competences established in Article I-13 or Article I-17 CT.39 Maybe the category of competences to support, coordinate or supplement the actions of the member states would have been the most appropriate one. Calliess concludes that qualification as a shared competence has to be excluded because the member states would retain their competence in the area anyway, even if the Union has exercised its respective competence. The concrete division of competences in the CFSP between the Union and the member states therefore would only result from the concrete provisions on the CFSP (Part III of the CT, now Article 23 et seq. TEU). In her analysis of the Draft Constitutional Treaty (DCT) as adopted by the European Convention in 2003,40 Cremona41 recalls Article I-1 DCT which reads as follows: ‘1. […] the Union shall coordinate the policies by which the Member States aim to achieve these objectives, and shall exercise in the Community way the competences they confer on it.’42 In other words, not only does this provision not differentiate between (former) EC competences and (special) former (Union) competences, it moreover seems to imply that all Union competences will carry certain communautaire characteristics, such as

36

M. Schröder, ‘Vertikale Kompetenzverteilung und Subsidiarität im Konventsentwurf für eine europäische Verfassung’, 8 Juristenzeitung 9 (2004).

37

D. Thym, ‘Die neue institutionelle Architektur europäischer Außen- und Sicherheitspolitik’, 42 Archiv des Völkerrechts 44, at 46 (2004).

38

M. Nettesheim, ‘Die Kompetenzordnung im Vertrag über eine Verfassung für Europa’, 2004 Europarecht 511, at 530 (2004).

39

Cf. art. 4(1) TFEU: ‘The Union shall share competence with the Member States where the Treaties confer on it a competence which does not relate to the areas referred to in Article 3 and 6.’

40

2003 Draft Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe, supra note 2.

41

M. Cremona, ‘The Draft Constitutional Treaty. External Relations and External Action’, 40 Common Market Law Review 1347 (2003).

42

Italics added. It should be recalled that in the course of the European Convention, some members of Working Group VII on External Action had proposed to turn the CFSP into an exclusive or at least shared competence, but this position did not prevail. Cf. ‘Report of Working Group VII on External Action’, CONV 459/02 (WG VII 17), 16 December 2002, Part B, at 20. See also A. Severin, ‘Promoting the Community Method in the External Actions of the EU’, Working Document of 28 October 2002. This Document may also be retrieved from the European Convention’s Website http://european-convention.eu.int.

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the potential of direct effect, and primacy over national law.43 But at the same time it was clear that the CFSP provision would preserve to some (unclear) degree aspects of its special nature. What kind of competence was it then? Cremona considers that it may not be conceived as a shared competence although there are examples (for instance development cooperation44) that shared competence does not necessarily include preemption. The concept of supporting, coordinating or supplementary action might be suitable because it does not ‘supersede’ member states’ competence and does not reflect the desire that the Union develops its own CFSP which would go beyond mere supplementing and co-ordinating member states’ actions. ‘Thus we are left with something special or sui generis’.45 In summary, the progress achieved by the adoption of the CT – and the same would hold true for the Reform Treaty – with regard to external relations consists in the fact that the objectives would now cover the whole of the EU’s external action; and that the whole system of competences would show a more transparent, systematic and precise delimitation in external relations (with the exception of the CFSP) and a certain rationalization of the substantive and procedural provisions. On the other hand, the nature of the CFSP is still not clearly identified and it is not clear whether the CFSP acts keep the international legal status. In concluding the question of competence, one may state that the situation certainly has not improved in the Treaty of Lisbon as compared to the Treaty of Nice. Given the strong opposition of some member states against fostering any potential Union competence for independent external action, one cannot but describe it as a sui generis competence. It is certainly not the intention to support or supplement the member states action, on the other hand it is not the will of the member states to enable an independent Union action and, lastly, it is not a shared competence – be it with or without a pre-emptive effect.

IV.

Conclusions

The rules and procedures for the CFSP as provided for by the ToL offer many opportunities in terms of greater policy coherence, effectiveness and visibility. They constitute a good legal basis and have great potential for a common European foreign and security policy.46 The concrete progress as compared with the situation under the

43

Cremona, supra note 41, at 1351 (italics added by Cremona).

44

Cf. art. 4(4) TFEU.

45

Cremona, supra note 41, at 1354.

46

‘Foreign Policy: Many Opportunities and a Few Unknowns’, in The Treaty of Lisbon: Implementing the Institutional Innovations. Joint Study CEPS, EGMONT and EPC, at 121 123, 137 (2007).

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Treaty of Nice47 has been described and analysed in sections II and III. In contrast to the CFSP, the new Treaty’s impact on defence policy seems to be less clear. In a European Parliament workshop held in early 2008, parliamentarians and experts were split over the assessment of the changes for the CSDP.48 Opinions ranged from a ‘massive boost’ that the new provisions would provide, to a much less enthusiastic assessment that ‘no big step forward’ had been made. A. Missiroli of the Brussels-based CEPS stated that the Treaty admittedly offered opportunities for improvements, but also included ‘many unknowns’. This would hold particularly true for the position of the HR/VP whose impact in terms of coherence and efficiency would very much depend not only on the personality to be chosen for the post, but also on the composition of and interrelationships between the new ‘troika’ to be appointed in 2009, namely the President of the European Council (formally also entrusted with some representational tasks), the President of the Commission (who certainly will not entirely abstain from any interference in the sphere of foreign relations) and the HR/VP.49 Also the functioning and effectiveness of a rotational presidency for all Council configurations parallel to a Foreign Affairs Council under the permanent chairmanship of the HR/VP remains to be seen, not to forget the COREPER which remains a major player in foreign policy matters too.50 Our concern does not primarily relate to the improvement in substance, but rather possible changes or clarifications as to the nature of this policy and of the competence to ‘define and implement’ a common foreign and security policy, also as a possible consequence of the abolition of the pillar structure. In this respect, the balance is less encouraging. Having in mind the history of the CFSP Chapter in the course of the negotiations and consultations after the failure of the CT, reading the relevant provisions, in particular Article 24(2) TEU, and ‘listening’ to the spirit behind the words, one cannot but state that with the ToL the intergovernmental character of the CFSP has been even cemented for a long time. Thanks to certain institutional precautions there will be – allegedly and hopefully – improvements in terms of efficiency, coherence and flexibility of the Union’s foreign policy. But as Kurpas felicitously concluded, ‘the second pillar will thus de facto largely be maintained’, if the word ‘pillar’ simply signifies a distinct set of decision-making rules.

47

In view of the CT one may say that its achievements in terms of ‘practical arrangements’ for the CFSP have been adopted in the ToL, with the exception that the CFSP rules as such again have been separated from the rest of the ‘External Action’ – Part V in the TFEU, together with also some verbal affirmations of the ‘specific character’ of this policy area.

48

For some observers, the CSDP is the integration project for the next decade!

49

http://www.euractiv.com/en/future-eu/eu-treaty-impact-defence-policy-remains-unclear/ article-170256, 13 February 2008 (last visited 22 February 2008).

50

The General Affairs Council will e.g. deal with enlargement issues; and the COREPER remains responsible for preparing the work of the Council (art. 240 TFEU).

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HUBERT ISAK

Even worse, compared to the CT, there are increased safeguards (such as Article 40(2) TEU) ‘against possible “spill-overs” from the “communitarised” decision-making’.51 Or is it just a matter of realism to accept that the political will of the member states even to think of giving up some power in this area in order to allow the EU to develop its international profile not only in ‘low-key’ matters, but also in contested areas is definitely (and for some of them very) limited? The recent split of the 27 over the position on whether or not to recognize the newly independent ‘Republic of Kosovo’ is more than illustrative in this respect.

51

S. Kurpas, ‘The Treaty of Lisbon - How much “Constitution” is Left? An Overview of the Main Changes’, CEPS Policy Brief, No. 148, at 2 (2007), http://shop.ceps.eu/ BookDetail. php?item_id=1568 (last visited 1 January 2008).

49 – NAIADES AND BEYOND

49

1027

Naiades and Beyond: Stand und Perspektiven der geplanten „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa Richard Regner

I.

Gemeinsame Binnenschiffsverkehrspolitik, NAIADES und die geplante „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa

Obwohl bereits der Vertrag zur Gründung der Europäischen Wirtschaftsgemeinschaft weit reichende Kompetenzen der Gemeinschaft – auch – für eine gemeinsame Binnenschiffsverkehrspolitik enthielt,1 verlief die Entwicklung einer solchen gemeinsamen Politik und damit auch eines gemeinschaftlichen Binnenschiffsverkehrsrechts zunächst nur sehr schwerfällig. Nach einer lang währenden Stagnationsphase, die sich im wesentlichen bis Mitte der 80er Jahre hinzog,2 kam es erst in einer darauf folgenden Binnenmarktphase zu einer Dynamisierung und Konturierung der Grundzüge einer gemeinsamen Marktordnung für den Binnenschifffahrtssektor.3 In der Phase der Erweiterung der Gemeinschaft um die ost- und südosteuropäischen Mitgliedstaaten, die neben einer massiven Ausdehnung des gemeinschaftlichen Binnenwasserstraßennetzes4 – unter anderem – auch dazu führte, dass neben dem Rhein nun auch die Donau fast zur Gänze im Gebiet

1

Vgl. EWGV, Art. 74-84, die mit den derzeit in Geltung stehenden Regelungen des EGV, Art. 7080, – im Wesentlichen – wortgleich waren.

2

Im Zeitraum zwischen 1958 und 1985 konnten – im Wesentlichen – nur eine Vereinheitlichung schiffstechnischer Vorschriften und die Absicherung des Zuganges auf den Rheinmarkt erzielt werden; vgl. dazu im Detail R. Regner, Das Binnenschiffsverkehrsrecht der EG, S. 9 ff., sowie 86 ff. und 235 ff. (2008).

3

Im Zeitraum zwischen 1985 und 2000 wurden vor allen den sachlichen und persönlichen Marktzugang liberalisierende und ordnende Regelungen erlassen, noch bestehende Beschränkungen von freier Befrachtung und freier Preisbildung abgebaut und das Problem der Überkapazitäten an Binnenschiffsraum durch wirtschaftslenkende Strukturbereinigungsmaßnahmen gelöst; vgl. dazu im Detail Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 11 ff., sowie 105 ff., 201 ff. und 217 ff.

4

Vgl. dazu etwa via donau – Donau Transport Entwicklungsgesellschaft mbH (Hrsg.), Handbuch der Donauschifffahrt (2002), Anhang E8 Karte „Europäische Binnenwasserstraßen“.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 1027-1044, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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der Europäischen Union liegt, fand zunächst erneut eine gewisse Verlangsamung der Entwicklung einer gemeinsamen Binnenschiffsverkehrspolitik statt.5 Hintergrund dieser insgesamt nur sehr schleppend voranschreitenden Entwicklung einer gemeinsamen Politik für den Binnenschifffahrtssektor bildet neben der – den Bereich der gemeinsamen Verkehrspolitik insgesamt durchziehenden – divergierenden Markordnungsvorstellungen der Mitgliedstaaten6 auch ein bereichsspezifischer Sonderfaktor: Für den Binnenschifffahrtssektor in Europa hatte sich – bereits vorgemeinschaftlich – eine eigene rechtliche und institutionelle Architektur herausgebildet, die – sowohl rechtlich, als auch politisch – vielfach die Entwicklung und Ausgestaltung einer gemeinsamen Binnenschiffsverkehrspolitik behinderte, beschränkte und verzögerte. Wesentlichste Eckpfeiler dieser vorgemeinschaftlichen europäischen Architektur für die Binnenschifffahrt bildeten – aus Gemeinschaftssicht – das für die bedeutendste Binnenwasserstraße in der Gemeinschaft, den Rhein, mit der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte7 in Kraft stehende eigene völkerrechtliche Rechtsregime bzw. in institutioneller Hinsicht die Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt.8 Die genannten Faktoren hatten zur Folge, dass die gemeinsame Binnenschiffsverkehrspolitik lange Zeit – im Wesentlichen – von einem nur auf Einzelmaßnahmen bezogenen Ansatz geprägt war und eine gemeinsame und integrierte Binnenschiffsverkehrspolitik – im Sinne einer strukturierten und integrierten Marktordnungspolitik für die Binnenschifffahrt mit aufeinander bezogenen und miteinander abgestimmten, 5

Im Zeitraum zwischen 2000 und 2008 wurden das gemeinschaftliche Strukturbereinigungssystem in ein – dauerhaftes – Kapazitätsüberwachungs- und –steuerungssystem überführt, schiffstechnische Vorschriften modernisiert und harmonisiert und gemeinschaftliche Rahmenbedingungen für innovative Binnenschifffahrtsinformationsdienste festgelegt; vgl. dazu im Detail Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 13 f., sowie 222 ff., 267 ff. und 279 ff.

6

Aufgrund unterschiedlicher nationaler Ordnungsvorstellungen und historisch bedingter divergierender nationaler Verkehrsmarktordnungen prägte das Spannungsverhältnis zwischen liberalen und marktdirigistischen Vorstellungen lange Zeit die Entwicklung der gemeinschaftlichen Verkehrspoliktik; vgl. dazu etwa P. Mückenhausen, „Grundzüge der gemeinsamen Verkehrspolitik“, in P. Mückenhausen/D. Boeing (Hrsg.), EG-Verkehrsrecht, Binnenmarkt, Sozialrecht, Umweltrecht, Verkehrssicherheit, Transeuropäische Netze, EG-Außenbeziehungen im Verkehr, Loseblattausgabe, Stand: Dezember 2003, Nr. 1, Rz. 1; sowie J. Erdmenger, EG unterwegs – Wege zur gemeinsamen Verkehrspolitik, Schriftenreihe zum Handbuch für europäische Wirtschaft Bd. 111, S. 22, 42 (1981); W. A. G. Blonk, „Stand und Perspektiven der gemeinsamen Verkehrspolitik“, in F. Voigt/H. Witte (Hrsg.), Integrationswirkungen von Verkehrssystemen und ihre Bedeutung für die EG, Verkehrswissenschaftliche Forschungen Bd. 44, S. 95-96 (1985); J. Basedow, „Verkehrsrecht und Verkehrspolitik als europäische Aufgabe“, in J. Basedow (Hrsg.), Europäische Verkehrspolitik, Nach dem Untätigkeitsurteil des Europäischen Gerichtshofes gegen den Rat vom 22.05.1985 – Rechtssache 13/83 (Parlament/Rat), S. 12 f. (1987).

7

Vgl. Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte vom 17 Oktober 1868, Preußische Gesetzessammlung 1869, S. 798 ff. idF des Revisionsübereinkommens vom 20 November 1963, dBGBl. 1966 II S. 560 und der Änderungen durch Zusatzprotokoll Nr. 1 vom 25 Oktober 1972, dBGBl. 1974 II S. 1385, Zusatzprotokoll Nr. 2 samt Schlussprotokoll und Zeichnungsprotokoll zu Zusatzprotokoll Nr. 2, dBGBl. 1980 II S. 870 und dBGBl. 1980 II S. 873, Zusatzprotokoll Nr. 3 vom 17 Oktober 1979, dBGBl. 1980 II S. 875 sowie Zusatzprotokoll Nr. 7 vom 27 November 2002, dBGBl. 2003 II S. 1912 (im Folgenden: Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte).

8

Vgl. insbesondere Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte, supra Fn. 7, Art. 43-47.

49 – NAIADES AND BEYOND

1029

von einem klaren Ordnungskonzept getragenen Maßnahmen9 – auch nach den ersten fünfzig Jahren des Bestehens der Gemeinschaft noch nicht Realität wurde. Um endlich zu dem – vom EWGV bzw. EGV seit Gründung der Gemeinschaft vorgegebenen – Ziel einer gemeinsamen und integrierten Binnenschiffsverkehrspolitik zu gelangen, wurde von der Europäischen Kommission im Jänner 2006 – nach entsprechenden Vorarbeiten10 – dem Europäischen Parlament und dem Rat als Impuls in Richtung einer integrierten und strukturierten gemeinsamen Politik für den Binnenschifffahrtssektor das „Integrierte Europäische Aktionsprogramm für die Binnenschifffahrt“11 – mit der Kurzbezeichnung „NAIADES“12 – vorgelegt. Das Aktionsprogramm NAIADES sieht neben – aufeinander abzustimmenden – weitreichenden Legislativ-, Koordinierungs- und Unterstützungsmaßnahmen der Gemeinschaft, der Mitgliedstaaten und der Marktteilnehmer in fünf strategischen und voneinander abhängigen Bereichen einer umfassenden Binnenschifffahrtspolitik (Märkte, Flotte, Arbeitsplätze und Fachkenntnisse, Image und Infrastruktur), die bis 2013 umgesetzt werden sollen,13 auch die „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa vor.14 Hintergrund dieser von der Europäischen Kommission im Aktionsprogramm NAIADES angedachten Strukturreform des rechtlichen und institutionellen Rahmens für die Binnenschifffahrt ist der oben angesprochene Sonderfaktor der – eigenen vorgemeinschaftlichen – völkerrechtlichen und institutionellen Organisationsstruktur für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa, die – nach einhelliger Auffassung15 – zu einer 9

In diese Richtung geht auch die Vorstellung des Europäischen Gerichtshofes von einer „Gemeinsamen Binnenschiffsverkehrspolitik“; vgl. Rs. 13/83 (Parlament/Rat), Slg. 1985, 1513, Rz. 46, 62-68 und 76. Vgl. dazu auch die Schlussanträge von GA Lenz in der Rs. 13/83, Slg. 1985, 1513, 1531.

10

Vgl. insbesondere die von der Europäischen Kommission in Auftrag gegebene Studie, „PINE: Prospects of Inland Navigation within the enlarged Europe“ (Perspektiven der Binnenschifffahrt im erweiterten Europa) vom März 2004, http://ec.europa.eu/transport/iw/studies/doc/2004_ pine_report_report_full_en.pdf; und den Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe (European Framework for Inland Navigation), „Neuer institutioneller Rahmen für die Europäische Binnenschiffahrt“ vom Oktober 2004, S. 27 ff., http://www.efingroup.net/files/r_de.pdf.

11

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“ – Integriertes Europäisches Aktionsprogramm für die Binnenschifffahrt, Dok. KOM (2006) 6 endg. vom 17 Januar 2006.

12

„NAIADES“ ist das Akronym für „Navigation And Inland Waterway Action and Development in Europe – Europäisches Aktions- und Entwicklungsprogramm für die europäische Binnenschifffahrt“. Wie das Aktionsprogramm NAIADES erläutert, sind „in der griechischen Mythologie [...] die Najaden Süßwassernymphen, die über Flüsse, Teiche, Quellen, Seen und Sümpfe wachen“; vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“ , supra Fn. 11, S. 5 Fn. 3.

13

Vgl. ibid., S. 5 ff., 7 f., 8 f., 9 f. und 10 ff.

14

Vgl. ibid., S. 12 ff.

15

Vgl. etwa Stellungnahme des Europäischen Wirtschafts- und Sozialausschusses zum Thema „Streben nach einer gesamteuropäischen Regelung der Binnenschifffahrt“, ABl. Nr. C 10 vom 14 Januar 2004, S. 49 sowie Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 27 ff und S. Klein, Die Kompetenz der Europäischen Union in Anbetracht der Schifffahrt auf Rhein und Donau unter besonderer

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„Fragmentierung der Ressourcen und Tätigkeiten auf verschiedenen Ebenen“ und einem „Mangel an Effizienz“ führt.16

II.

Derzeitige „Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa

Die derzeitige „Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa zeichnet sich zum einen durch eine Mehrzahl an – einander bedingenden und miteinander verzahnten – Rechtsebenen aus.17 Neben der Ebene der nationalen Rechtsordnungen und dem durch diese geschaffenen Rechtsrahmen18 ist für den Sektor der Binnenschifffahrt die völkerrechtliche, insbesondere völkervertragsrechtliche, Ebene traditionell von großer Bedeutung.19 Dazu

Berücksichtigung der Europäischen Stromakten, Mannheimer Beiträge zum Binnenschifffahrtsrecht Bd. 10, Duisburg, S. 184 f. (2004) und E. Riedel, „Mannheimer Akte, Belgrader Akte und Europäische Union. Rechtsregimes im Wandel“, in E. Riedel/G. Wiese (Hrsg.), Probleme des Binnenschifffahrtsrechts X, Mannheimer rechtswissenschaftliche Abhandlungen Bd. 28, S. 11 f. (2004). 16

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 12 f.

17

Bei genauerer Betrachtung wäre insoweit noch zwischen Gestaltungs- und Regelungsebenen zu unterscheiden. Rechtsgestaltungsebenen wären – im vorliegenden Zusammenhang – die nationale, die gemeinschaftsrechtliche und die völkerrechtliche Ebene, wobei allenfalls – aufgrund ihrer spezifischen Rechtsgestaltungszusammenhänge – noch die regimerechtliche Gestaltungsebene des Rheinregimes als Sonderebene angesprochen werden könnte. Die folgende Darlegung bezieht sich hingegen auf die für die Binnenschiffahrt in Europa bestehenden Regelungsebenen.

18

Binnenschifffahrtsrechtliche Regelungen der nationalen Rechtsordnungen der Mitgliedstaaten beschäftigen sich mit vielen, sehr unterschiedlichen, die Binnenschifffahrt betreffenden marktordnungsrechtlichen Fragen, wie Berufs- und Marktzugang, aber auch mit schiffstechnischen, schifffahrtsanlagenrechtlichen oder schifffahrtspolizeilichen Fragen. Vgl. etwa für Österreich vor allem die Regelungen des Bundesgesetzes über die Binnenschifffahrt (Schifffahrtsgesetz – SchFG), öBGBl. I Nr. 62/1997 idF öBGBl. I Nr. 9/1989, öBGBl. I Nr. 32/2002, öBGBl. I Nr. 65/2002, öBGBl. I Nr. 102/2003, öBGBl. I Nr. 151/2004, öBGBl. I Nr. 41/2005, öBGBl. I Nr. 123/2005 und öBGBl. I Nr. 2/2008 sowie die binnenschifffahrtsrechtlichen Nebenregelungen und für Deutschland vor allem die Regelungen des Gesetzes über die Aufgaben des Bundes auf dem Gebiet der Binnenschifffahrt (Binnenschifffahrtsaufgabengesetz – BinSchAufgG), dBGBl. 1956 II S. 317 neugefasst durch dBGBl. 1986 I S. 270 und zuletzt durch dBGBl. 2001 I S. 2026, geändert durch dBGBl. 2006 I S. 2407 und die zahlreichen deutschen binnenschifffahrtsrechtlichen Nebenregelungen. Zur binnenschifffahrtsrechtlichen Rechtslage in Österreich vgl. auch im Detail G. Muzak, Österreichisches, Europäisches und Internationales Binnenschifffahrtsrecht, S. 9 ff., 101 ff. und 177 ff. (2004).

19

Insoweit lassen sich insbesondere bi- und multilaterale Verträge, die sich vorrangig mit grundlegenden binnenschifffahrtsrechtlichen Fragen, wie dem Transitrecht und dem Recht auf grenzüberschreitenden und innerstaatlichen Verkehr sowie damit zusammenhängenden Fragen und bi- und multilaterale Verträge, die sich vorrangig mit Fragen technischer und privatrechtlicher Natur befassen, unterscheiden; vgl. dazu etwa G. Hafner, „Räumliche Regime und Nutzungen über die

49 – NAIADES AND BEYOND

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traten neben primärrechtlichen Bestimmungen des EGV20 vor allem – mit zunehmender Bedeutung für die europäische Binnenschifffahrt – die marktordnenden Regelungen der Europäischen Gemeinschaft21 als dritte und vierte Regelungsebene. Eine fünfte Ebene bilden schließlich die für die bedeutendsten Binnenwasserstraßen im Gebiet der Gemeinschaft geltenden eigenen Rechtsregime,22 von denen der die Schifffahrt auf dem Rhein regelnden Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte und der die Schifffahrt auf der Donau regelnden Donaukonvention23 die größte Bedeutung zukommt.24 Für die – wirtschaftlich – bedeutendste Binnenwasserstraße der Gemeinschaft, den

und jenseits der Staatsgrenzen“, in H. Neuhold/W. Hummer/C. Schreuer (Hrsg.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts, Bd. 1, S. 398 ff., Rz. 2110 ff. (2004); sowie – im Detail – Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 45 ff. (mit zahlreichen weiteren Nachweisen). 20

Insoweit kommt vor allem den spezifischen primärrechtlichen Bindungen der Art. 72, 74 und 77 EGV besondere Bedeutung zu; vgl. dazu Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 41 ff. (mit zahlreichen weiteren Nachweisen).

21

Bei sehr grober Betrachtung lassen sich insoweit Regelungen, die den persönlichen und sachlichen Markzugang betreffen, Regelungen hinsichtlich Befrachtung und Frachtratenbilung, Regelungen hinsichtlich Kapazitätssteuerung und -überwachung, Regelungen, die binnenschiffstechnische Fragen und Regelungen betreffend Binnenschifffahrtsinformationsdienste und -systeme unterscheiden; vgl. dazu im Detail Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 86 ff., 132 ff., 201 ff., 217 ff., 235 ff. und 279 ff. Eine Übersicht der derzeit in Kraft stehenden binnenschiffsverkehrsrechtlichen Rechtsakte der Gemeinschaft, findet sich ibid., S. 329 ff.

22

Wenngleich diese – an sich – grundsätzlich ebenfalls der völkerrechtlichen Ebene zuzuordnen sind, rechtfertigt ihre spezifische Bedeutung für den Binnenschifffahrtssektor und die Dichte der aus diesen ableitbaren Rechte und Pflichten im vorliegenden Zusammenhang ihre Sonderqualifikation als eigene Regelungsebene.

23

Vgl. Konvention über die Regelung der Schifffahrt auf der Donau vom 18 August 1948, öBGBl. Nr. 40/1960 idF des Zusatzprotokolls vom 26 März 1998, öBGBl. III Nr. 188/1999 (im Folgenden: Donaukonvention).

24

Diese legen den – im Einzelnen hinsichtlich der daraus ableitbaren Rechte aber unterschiedlich ausgestalteten – Grundsatz der „Schifffahrtsfreiheit“ fest, der auch – ebenfalls unterschiedlich ausgestaltete – Abgabenfreiheit, Diskriminierungsverbote, Behinderungs- und Störungsverbote, Durchfahrtverzögerungsverbote und die Einhaltung eines Äquivalenzprinzips umfasst; vgl. insbesondere Revidierte Reinschifffahrtsakte, supra Fn. 7, Art. 1-9, 12, 14, 26, 30 und 36 und insbesondere Donaukonvention, supra Fn. 23, Art. 1, 3, 24, 26, 27, 29, 31, 35-38, 40 und 42. Einem weiteren eigenen völkerrechtlichem Regime untersteht auch die Mosel; vgl. Vertrag zwischen der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, der Französischen Republik und dem Großherzogtum Luxemburg über die Schiffbarmachung der Mosel vom 27 Oktober 1956, dBGBl.1956 II S.1838 idF des 1., 2. und 3. Protokolles zur Änderung des Vertrages vom 27 Oktober 1956 über die Schiffbarmachung der Mosel, dBGBl.1975 II S.1110, 1984 II S. 539 und 1988 II S. 587. Einem eigenen völkerrechtlichen Regime, das auch binnenschiffahrtsrechtliche Regelungen enthält, wurde neuerdings auch die – inzwischen zum Teil im Gebiet der Gemeinschaft liegende – Save unterworfen. Vertragsparteien dieses neuen völkerrechtlichen Flussregimes für die Save sind Slowenien, Kroatien, Bosnien und Herzegowina und Serbien. Die Verwaltung dieses Regimes obliegt der neu eingerichteten Savekommission (mit Sitz in Zagreb). Vgl. dazu insbesondere Art. 10 Framework Agreement on the Sava River Basin und Protocol on the Navigation Regime to the Framework Agreement on the Sava River Basin. Die genannten Dokumente sind unter http://www.savacommission.org abrufbar.

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Rhein25, ließe sich als sechster Regelungskomplex schließlich noch das im Rahmen der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt durch Verordnungen geschaffene „Rheinrecht“ (der zweiten Ebene) identifizieren.26 Neben der – dargelegten – Vielzahl an den Binnenschiffsverkehr im Gebiet der Europäischen Gemeinschaft ordnenden Regelungsebenen zeichnet sich die derzeitige „Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa aber zum anderen auch dadurch aus, dass eine große Anzahl an Institutionen bzw. Akteuren mit binnenschiffsverkehrspolitischen und binnenschifffahrtsrechtlichen Fragen betraut ist. Zu den von den Rechtsordnungen der Mitgliedstaaten mit der Gestaltung, Steuerung und Verwaltung des Binnenschifffahrtssektors betrauten Stellen und Einrichtungen27 und den insoweit betrauten Gemeinschaftsorganen bzw. Gemeinschaftsdiensten, denen die im EGV bzw. die in sekundärrechtlichen binnenschiffsverkehrsrechtlichen Rechtsakten der Gemeinschaft festgelegten Zuständigkeiten und Aufgaben zukommen,28 kommen die – mit unterschiedlich weit reichenden Kompetenzen ausgestatteten – Stromkommissionen, von denen in der Binnenschifffahrtspraxis der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt29 und der Donaukommission30 die größte Bedeutung zu kommt.31 Eine weitere Institution, die sich insbesondere um die Weiterentwicklung vereinheitlichter europäischer Vorschriften für verschiedene

25

Der Rhein bildete lange Zeit das „Rückgrat“ des Binnenschiffsverkehrs in der Gemeinschaft, den etwa zwei Drittel aller innergemeinschaftlichen Binnenschiffsgütertransporte berührten; vgl. dazu etwa Erdmenger, supra Fn. 6, S. 84; sowie J. Whitelegg, Transport Policy in the EEC, S. 142 (1988); und W. Hönemann, „Vollendung des Binnenmarktes aus der Sicht der deutschen Binnenschifffahrt“, in Bertelsmann Stiftung (Hrsg.), Binnenmarkt ’92: Perspektiven aus deutscher Sicht, Strategien und Optionen für die Zukunft Europas, Arbeitspapiere 1, S. 124 ff., 125 (1988).

26

Vgl. insbesondere Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte, supra Fn. 7, Art. 46 und die im Wege solcher „Verordnungen“ erlassenen fahrerlaubnisrechtlichen, schiffstechnischen, schiffssicherheitsrechtlichen, schifffahrtspolizeilichen und gefahrgutrechtlichen Bestimmungen; vgl. insoweit vor allem Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt (Hrsg.), Verordnung über die Erteilung von Patenten auf dem Rhein (Rheinpatentverordnung – RheinPatV), Ausgabe 1998; Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt (Hrsg.), Verordnung über die Erteilung von Radarpatenten (RadarPatV); Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt (Hrsg.), Rheinschiffsuntersuchungsordnung (RheinSchUO) 1995, Ausgabe 2003; Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt (Hrsg.), Verordnung über Sicherheitspersonal in der Fahrgastschifffahrt (FSV); Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt (Hrsg.), Rheinschifffahrtspolizeiverordnung (RheinSchPV) 1995, Ausgabe 2007; Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt (Hrsg.), Verordnung über die Beförderung gefährlicher Güter auf dem Rhein – ADNR 2003.

27

Vgl. etwa zur komplexen Rechtslage im österreichischen Vollzugsbereich Muzak, supra Fn. 18, S. 530 ff.

28

Vgl. dazu etwa Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 36 f. und 39 f.

29

Vgl. insbesondere Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte, supra Fn. 7, Art. 43-47.

30

Vgl. Donaukonvention, supra Fn. 23, Art. 5-19.

31

Vgl. etwa Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 2 f. Dies erhellt auch aus der Tatsache, dass auf der Rheinachse über 80 Prozent und auf der Donau und dem Rhein-Main-Donau-Kanal etwa 10 Prozent aller Binnenschifffahrtsdienstleistungen in der Gemeinschaft erbracht werden; vgl. Bericht der EFINGruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 18.

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Fragen der Binnenschifffahrt bemüht, ist die Economic Commission for Europe (ECE).32 Schließlich werden binnenschifffahrtsrechtliche und -politische Fragen auch noch im Rahmen der Europäischen Konferenz der Verkehrsminister (EKVM) bzw. des International Transport Forum (ITF)33 behandelt.34 Im weiteren Sinn sind dazu schließlich auch noch verschiedene Interessenvertretungen des Binnenschifffahrtssektors auf europäischer Ebene zu zählen.35 Als Sonderfaktor ist zudem einerseits noch hervorzuheben, dass nur zwei Drittel aller Mitgliedstaaten über Binnenwasserstraßen verfügen und von diesen wieder nur zwölf Mitgliedstaaten in das kontinentale Binnenwasserstraßennetz in der Gemeinschaft eingebunden sind, während die restlichen sechs Binnenschifffahrt betreibenden Mitgliedstaaten nur über isolierte Binnenwasserstraßen bzw. Binnenwasserstraßennetze verfügen.36 Andererseits ist als Sonderfaktor der derzeitigen „Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa auch noch festzuhalten, dass Vertragsparteien der – als

32

Vgl. dazu etwa Übereinkommen über die Eichung der Binnenschiffe vom 15 Februar 1966, Dok. ECE/TRANS/546; Übereinkommen über die Haftungsbeschränkung der Eigentümer von Wasserfahrzeugen für die Binnenschifffahrt(CLN) vom 01 März 1973, Dok. ECE/TRANS/3, samt Zusatzprotokoll vom 05 Juli 1978, Dok. ECE/TRANS/32; Übereinkommen über den Beförderungsvertrag für Reisende und Gepäck in der internationalen Binnenschifffahrt (CVN) vom 06 Februar 1976, Dok. ECE/TRANS/20 samt Zusatzprotokoll vom 05 Juli 1978, Dok. ECE/ TRANS/33; Übereinkommen über die zivilrechtliche Haftung für Schäden bei der Beförderung gefährlicher Güter auf der Straße, auf der Schiene und auf Binnenschiffen (CRTD) vom 10 Oktober 1989, Dok. ECE/TRANS/133; Europäisches Übereinkommen über die internationale Beförderung von gefährlichen Gütern auf Wasserstrassen (ADN) vom 26 Mai 2000, Dok. ECE/TRANS/182. Im Rahmen der ECE beschäftigt sich vor allem die Arbeitsgruppe Inland Water Transport mit diesen Fragen; vgl. etwa United Nations Economic Commission for Europe (Hrsg.), ECE 1949 – 1987, S. 71 ff. (1987).

33

Die EKVM bzw. CEMT bzw. ECMT wurde 2006 in International Transport Forum (ITF) umfirmiert und der Teilnehmerkreis sowie der Aufgabenbereich dabei auch erweitert; vgl. zum ITF auch die unter http://www.internationaltransportforum.org abrufbaren Detailinformationen.

34

Vgl. Anhang zur Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“Integriertes Europäisches Aktionsprogramm für die Binnenschifffahrt, Dok. SEK (2006) 34/3 vom 17 Januar 2006, S. 40.

35

Vgl. etwa Europäische Binnenschifffahrtsunion (EBU), Europäische Schifferorganisation (ESO), Internationale Vereinigung des Rheinschiffsregisters (IVR), Verein für europäische Binnenschifffahrt und Wasserstraßen (VBW), Inland Navigation Europe (INE), Europäischer Verband der Binnenhäfen (FEPI) oder Internationaler Ständiger Verband für Schifffahrtskongresse (ISVSK bzw. PIANC); vgl. dazu auch Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 15, S. 27 ff.

36

Vgl. Anhang zur Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 34, S. 43. In das kontinentale Binnenwasserstraßennetz eingebunden sind neben den Hauptbinnenschifffahrtsstaaten der Gemeinschaft – Niederlande, Deutschland, Frankreich und Belgien – noch die Mitgliedstaaten Luxemburg, Österreich, Slowakei, Ungarn, Bulgarien, Rumänien, Polen und Tschechien, während etwa die britischen, italienischen und finnischen Binnenwasserstraßennetze zur Gänze nur über isolierte Binnenwasserstraßen verfügen; vgl. dazu auch via donau, supra Fn. 4, Anhang E8 Karte „Europäische Binnenwasserstrassen“.

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„Altverträge“ im Sinne des Art. 307 EGV zu qualifizierenden37 – Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte bzw. Donaukonvention neben den Mitgliedstaaten der Gemeinschaft, die Vertragsparteien dieser völkerrechtlichen Übereinkommen sind,38 auch noch die Schweiz – hinsichtlich der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte – und Kroatien, Moldau, Serbien,39 die Russische Föderation und die Ukraine – hinsichtlich der Donaukonvention – sind.

III.

Problematik der derzeitigen „Organisationsstruktur“

Schon angesichts der Tatsache, dass nur etwa 8000 Binnenschifffahrtsunternehmen im Gebiet der Gemeinschaft ansässig sind,40 die etwa 12.500 Schiffe betreiben41 und etwa 4 % des gesamten Güterverkehrs in der Gemeinschaft erbringen,42 scheint der 37

Vgl. dazu etwa M. Sengpiel, Das Recht der Freiheit der Schifffahrt auf Rhein und Donau. Eine regimerechtliche Analyse, Mannheimer Beiträge zum Binnenschifffahrtsrecht Bd. 5, S. 160 ff. (1998); sowie Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 52, 55. Diese Qualifikation gilt allerdings nicht für Deutschland hinsichtlich der Donaukonvention. Dementsprechend hat etwa auch Deutschland anlässlich des Beitritts zur Donaukonvention folgende Erklärung abgegeben: „Verpflichtungen der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, die sich aus ihrer Zugehörigkeit zur Europäischen Gemeinschaft ergeben, werden durch ihren Beitritt zum Übereinkommen nicht berührt“; vgl. Punkt 1 des Unterzeichnungsprotokolls zum Zusatzprotokoll vom 26 März 1998 zum Übereinkommen über die Regelung der Schifffahrt auf der Donau vom 18 August 1948, öBGBl. III Nr. 188/1999.

38

Für die Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte sind dies Belgien, Deutschland, Frankreich und die Niederlande. Für die Donaukonvention sind dies Bulgarien, Deutschland, Österreich, Rumänien, die Slowakei und Ungarn. Großbritannien trat Ende 1993 aus der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt aus und beteiligte sich auch nicht mehr an der Ausarbeitung und Verhandlung der Zusatzprotokolle Nr. 5, Nr. 6 und Nr. 7; vgl. dazu im Detail Sengpiel, supra Fn. 37, S. 54. Im Jahr 2004 wurde Großbritannien – wie anderen Drittstaaten – der Status als Beobachter bei der Zentralkommission für die Rheinwirtschaft eingeräumt; vgl. Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt (Hrsg.), Herbstsitzung 2004. Angenommene Beschlüsse einschließlich der Anlagen (2004-II) Dok. CC/R (04)2-Endg. vom 25 November 2004, Protokoll 3. Daraus könnte geschlossen werden, dass sowohl Großbritannien als auch die Vertragsstaaten der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte mittlerweile davon ausgehen, dass Großbritannien nicht mehr Vertragspartei der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte ist.

39

Aufgrund völkerrechtlicher Staatennachfolgeregelungen ist davon auszugehen, dass Serbien nunmehr Vertragspartei zur Donaukonvention ist; vgl. zur Staatennachfolge in radizierte Verträge I. Seidl–Hohenveldern/W. Hummer, „Die Staaten“, in H. Neuhold/ W. Hummer/ C. Schreuer (Hrsg.), Österreichisches Handbuch des Völkerrechts, Bd. 1, S. 160, Rz. 824 (2004).

40

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 16 Anhang 2 „Binnenschifffahrtsunternehmen“. Die Zahl bezieht sich auf das Jahr 2001. Außer Betracht bleiben dabei die im Vor- und Nachlauf tätigen Unternehmen ebenso wie die im Bereich der Neben- und Hilfsgewerbe tätigen Unternehmen des gesamten Verkehrssystems Binnenschifffahrt.

41

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 3.

42

Vgl. Europäische Kommission (Hrsg.), Weissbuch „Die europäische Verkehrspolitik bis 2010: Weichenstellungen für die Zukunft“, S. 11 (2001). Die Zahl bezieht sich auf das Jahr 2001.

49 – NAIADES AND BEYOND

1035

institutionelle und rechtliche Rahmen für diesen Verkehrssektor überdimensioniert und zu komplex. Dazu kommt, dass vielfach Überschneidungen hinsichtlich der örtlichen und sachlichen Zuständigkeiten der involvierten Institutionen bzw. Akteure bestehen. Hinsichtlich der örtlichen Zuständigkeit stellt sich die Situation grundsätzlich wie folgt dar: Während EKVM bzw. ITF und ECE gesamteuropäische Zuständigkeit in Anspruch nehmen,43 sind die Gemeinschaft, die Mitgliedstaaten und die Stromkommissionen grundsätzlich auf das Gemeinschaftsgebiet44, das jeweilige Gebiet des Mitgliedstaates45 bzw. den dem völkerrechtlichen Flussregime unterworfenen Flussabschnitt beschränkt.46 Daraus erhellt, dass lediglich die jeweiligen örtlichen Zuständigkeitsbereiche der Mitgliedstaaten im Verhältnis zu einander und die örtlichen Zuständigkeitsbereiche der Stromkommissionen im Verhältnis zu einander nicht überlappende Bereiche aufweisen, während im Verhältnis aller anderen beteiligten Institutionen bzw. Akteure zueinander Überlappungsbereiche schon in örtlicher Hinsicht bestehen. Hinsichtlich der sachlichen Zuständigkeit stellt sich die Situation noch wesentlich komplexer dar. Während EKVM bzw. ITF sich – im Wesentlichen auf politischer Ebene – mit Fragen des europäischen Inlandtransports beschäftigt,47 hat die ECE die – weitgefasste – Aufgabe, sich mit Fragen der wirtschaftlichen Kooperation und dem wirtschaftlichen Zusammenhalt in Europa zu befassen.48 Der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt kommt – neben ihrer Funktion als Berufungsinstanz gegen Urteile der Rheinschifffahrtsgerichte49 – die Befugnis zur Erlassung bindender „Verordnungen“ zu Fragen der Schifffahrt auf dem Rhein50, die Überwachung der Einhaltung der Bestimmungen der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte und der von ihr erlassenen Verordnungen durch die Vertragsstaaten sowie strombautechnische 43

Vgl. dazu etwa Hafner, supra Fn. 19, S. 396, Rz. 2103 und 2105 (2004); sowie zur ECE auch etwa United Nations Economic Commission for Europe (Hrsg.), ECE 1947- 1987, S. 1 (1987).

44

Vgl. zum Umfang des Gemeinschaftsgebiets etwa C. Thun- Hohenstein/F. Cede/G. Hafner, Europarecht. Ein systematischer Überblick mit den Auswirkungen der EU-Erweiterung, S. 48 f (2005).

45

Dies ergibt sich schon aus allgemeinen völkerrechtlichen Grundsätzen; vgl. Seidl-Hohenveldern/ Hummer, supra Fn. 39, S. 142, Rz. 716 f., S. 145 ff., Rz. 739 ff.

46

Für den Rhein legt die Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte, supra Fn. 7, Art. 1 Abs. 1, den räumlichen Geltungsbereich dieses völkerrechtlichen Flussregimes mit dem Rheinabschnitt von Basel bis zur Mündung des Rheins in die Nordsee fest; vgl. zum räumlichen Geltungsbereich des Rheinregimes im Detail auch Sengpiel, supra Fn. 37, S. 63 ff. Für die Donau legt die Donaukonvention, supra Fn. 23, Art. 2, den räumlichen Geltungsbereich dieses Flussregimes mit dem Donauabschnitt von Kehlheim bis zum Schwarzen Meer über den Arm von Sulina mit Zugang zum Meer durch den SulinaKanal fest.

47

Vgl. etwa Hafner, supra Fn. 19, S. 396, Rz. 2105.

48

Vgl. etwa ibid., S. 396, Rz. 2103 sowie Art.1 lit. a ECE Terms of Reference; vgl. United Nations Economic Commission for Europe, supra Fn. 43, S. 122 ff.

49

Vgl. dazu Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte, supra Fn. 7, Art. 33-40 bis sowie insbesondere Art. 45 lit.c, Art. 45 bis und Art. 45.

50

Vgl. insbesondere Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte, supra Fn. 7, Art. 46.

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RICHARD REGNER

Befugnisse zu.51 Der Donaukommission andererseits kommen – mit Ausnahme der Befugnis, grundsätzliche Bestimmungen über die Schifffahrt auf der Donau zu erlassen und Maßnahmen zur Verwirklichung der Vorschriften über die Stromüberwachung zu setzen52 – im Wesentlichen nur koordinierende und beratende Funktionen hinsichtlich der Schifffahrt auf der Donau zu.53 Der Gemeinschaft kommt – in diesem Zusammenhang – die sehr weit reichende und inhaltlich kaum determinierte Aufgabe zu, die Ziele des EGV „im Rahmen einer gemeinsamen Verkehrspolitik“ zu verfolgen.54 Teil dieser gemeinsamen Verkehrspolitik ist auch die Binnenschifffahrt.55 Der Gemeinschaft steht dabei die ganze Bandbreite sekundärrechtlicher Handlungsformen zur Verfügung.56 Soweit die Mitgliedsstaaten primär– bzw. sekundärrechtlich nicht beschränkt sind oder sich durch völkerrechtliche Regelungen selbst beschränkt haben, kommt ihnen schließlich die – grundsätzlich unbeschränkte – Befugnis zur Regelung und Ordnung der nationalen Binnenschifffahrtsmärkte sowie zur Vollziehung ihrer nationalen Rechtsordnungen zu. Es zeigt sich somit bereits bei oberflächlicher Betrachtung, dass eine klare Abgrenzung der sachlichen Zuständigkeiten zwischen den mit der Binnenschifffahrt in Europa befassten Stellen und Einrichtungen sehr schwierig ist bzw. es jedenfalls einer sehr detaillierten Einzelprüfung der jeweils in Betracht kommenden Fragestellung bedarf und eine Überschneidung von sachlichen Zuständigkeiten – theoretisch – zwischen allen beteiligten Ebenen denkbar ist. Damit ist zum einem vor allem das – komplexe – Verhältnis zwischen Gemeinschaftsrecht und nationalem Recht bzw. zwischen Gemeinschaftspolitik und nationaler Politik im Bereich der Binnenschifffahrt angesprochen, die sich – politisch – im wesentlichen zwischen den Polen divergierender Verkehrsmarktordnungsvorstellungen57 und – rechtlich – im Wesentlichen zwischen den Eckpunkten von Subsidiarität und Loyalität, verbunden mit einem Stand-Still-Gebot, bewegen.58 Eine Sonderthematik bildet in diesem Zusammenhang die – für die Binnenschifffahrt besonders wichtige –

51

Vgl. insbesondere Revidierte Rheinschifffahrtsakte, supra Fn. 7, Art. 31 und 45 lit. a und b. Vgl. dazu auch Hafner, supra Fn. 19, S. 401, Rz. 2123.

52

Vgl. Donaukonvention, supra Fn. 23, Art. 8 Abs. 2 lit. f. und g iVm Art. 23 Abs. 2. Vgl. dazu auch Muzak, supra Fn. 18, S. 66 f.

53

Vgl. insbesondere Donaukonvention, supra Fn. 23, Art. 8. Vgl. dazu auch Hafner, supra Fn. 19, S. 400, Rz. 2119; sowie Muzak, supra Fn. 18, 67 ff. Weitergehend sind allerdings die Kompetenzen der Sonderstromverwaltungen für die untere Donau und den Stromabschnitt des Eisernen Tores; vgl. Donaukonvention, supra Fn. 23, Art. 20 Abs. 1 und Art. 21 Abs. 1 iVm Art. 23 Abs. 1 erster Satz.

54

Vgl. EGV, Art. 70 sowie dazu im Detail Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 18 ff. (mit zahlreichen weiteren Nachweisen).

55

Vgl. EGV, Art. 80 Abs. 1 iVm den verkehrsrechtlichen Sonderbestimmungen des EGV.

56

Vgl. EGV, Art. 71 Abs. 1 iVm EGV, Art. 249. Vgl. dazu auch Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 30 (mit weiteren Nachweisen).

57

Vgl. etwa Mückenhausen, supra Fn. 6, Nr. 1, Rz. 1.

58

Vgl. dazu im Detail Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 15 ff., 49 ff.; sowie Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 39 ff.

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Frage der Zuständigkeit im Außenbereich.59 Insoweit hat der Europäische Gerichtshof in jüngeren Entscheidungen Klarheit in verschiedene Fragen der diesbezüglichen Kompetenzabgrenzung gebracht.60 Zum anderen ist damit vor allem die Frage des Verhältnisses des Gemeinschaftsrechts zu den völkerrechtlichen Flussregimen für Rhein und Donau, insbesondere die Frage des Verhältnisses des Gemeinschaftsrechts zum „Rheinrecht“ angesprochen, die bereits vielfach untersucht wurde.61 Insoweit bestehen – rechtlich letztlich nicht lösbare – Kollisionskonstellationen62, die bisher im wesentlichen im Wege eines „zweigleisigen Modells“ in pragmatischer Weise gelöst wurden.63 Vor allem im Dreiecksverhältnis zwischen Gemeinschaft, Mitgliedstaaten und Stromkommissionen, und hier insbesondere der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt, liegt demnach auch der Kern der Problematik der derzeitigen „Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa, deren Konsequenzen vor allem ein schleppender und nach wie vor nicht vollendeter Integrationsprozess des Binnenschifffahrtsmarkts in der Gemeinschaft und daher auch eine nach wie vor fehlende Einheit von technischen und rechtlichen Regelwerken für die Binnenschifffahrt in der Gemeinschaft sind.64 Neben der oben skizzierten – zu komplexen – rechtlichen und institutionellen Architektur für die Binnenschifffahrt – mit ihren Konsequenzen – wurden allerdings auch noch weitere Problemstellungen der derzeitigen „Organisationsstruktur“ identifiziert: Beklagt wird auch eine zu geringe politische Wahrnehmung binnenschiffsverkehrspolitischer und binnenschifffahrtsrechtlicher Belange, nicht ausreichende und dazu noch zu weit gestreute Ressourcen, mangelnde Kohärenz bei der Ausübung der Zuständigkeiten, ein zu stark regulatorischer und zu wenig strategischer Ansatz und die

59

Vgl. dazu im Detail Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 43 ff.; sowie Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 31 ff.

60

Gegenstand der Entscheidungen des EuGH waren Abkommen über die Binnenschifffahrt zwischen Luxemburg und der Tschechoslowakei 1992, Luxemburg und Rumänien 1993 und Luxemburg und Polen 1994 sowie Abkommen über die Binnenschifffahrt zwischen Deutschland und der Tschechoslowakei 1988, Deutschland und Ungarn 1988, Deutschland und Rumänien 1991, Deutschland und Polen 1991 und Deutschland und der Ukraine 1992; vgl. Rs. C-266/03 (Kommission/Luxemburg), Slg. 2005, I-4805 und Rs. C-433/03 (Kommission/Deutschland), Slg. 2005, I-6985.

61

Vgl. etwa G. Matschl, Die Europäischen Gemeinschaften und die Freiheit der Rheinschifffahrt (1965); H. Rittstieg, Rheinschifffahrt im gemeinsamen Markt. Eine Untersuchung zur Kollision zwischenstaatlicher Rechtsordnungen, Schriftenreihe Europäische Wirtschaft Bd. 62 (1971); F. Meißner, Das Recht der Europäischen Wirtschaftsgemeinschaft im Verhältnis zur Rheinschifffahrtsakte von Mannheim. Ein Beitrag zur völkervertragsrechtlichen Bedeutung des Artikels 234 EWGV, Schriften zum Völkerrecht Bd. 27 (1973); Sengpiel, supra Fn. 37; Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 159 ff.

62

Vgl. etwa Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 113 ff.

63

Dieses „zweigleisige Modell“ besteht – im wesentlichen – im Nachvollzug eines Rechtsaktes der Gemeinschaft durch die Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt bzw. einer Verordnung der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt durch die Gemeinschaft, um einen einheitlichen Rechtsrahmen für die Gemeinschaft und den Rhein zu schaffen; vgl. dazu im Detail Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 70, 83 ff.

64

Vgl. dazu etwa Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 31 ff. und 34 ff.

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RICHARD REGNER

unzureichende Eignung der einzelnen bestehenden Institutionen für eine integrierte europäische Binnenschifffahrt65.

IV.

Optionen für eine „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“

Ausgehend von der Feststellung, dass „Übereinstimmung“ bestehe, „dass der derzeitige organisatorische Rahmen modernisiert werden muss“, werden im Integrierten Europäischen Aktionsprogramm für die Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“ zunächst folgende Zielparameter für die „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa festgelegt: Zum einen sollen „gegenwärtige Errungenschaften gewahrt bleiben“, zum anderen soll „ein Mehrwert hinsichtlich Effizienz, Legitimität, Strategieplanung und Kostenwirksamkeit herbeigeführt“ werden, zum dritten soll eine Vereinheitlichung binnenschifffahrtsrechtlicher Regelungen auf gesamteuropäischer Ebene stattfinden und zum vierten soll die geplante „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ auch „den bestehenden Verpflichtungen und internationalen Übereinkünften, denen die Mitgliedstaaten und Drittstaaten beigetreten sind, und die den Rhein, die Donau und andere Flüsse betreffen, Rechnung tragen“.66 Die Europäische Kommission präsentiert im Aktionsprogramm „NAIADES“ vier Optionen für eine „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“: (i) intensivere Zusammenarbeit zwischen den Stromkommissionen und der Europäischen Kommission67 (ii) Beitritt der Europäischen Gemeinschaft zur Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte und zur Donaukonvention bzw. Mitgliedschaft der Gemeinschaft in der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt und in der Donaukommission68 (iii) Gründung einer neuen gesamteuropäischen Binnenschifffahrtsorganisation auf der Grundlage eines neuen internationalen Übereinkommens69 65

Vgl. dazu im Detail Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 30 f. und 36 ff.

66

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 13.

67

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 13; und Anhang zur Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 34, S. 41 f.

68

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 13; und Anhang zur Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 34, S. 42. Vgl. dazu auch Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 43 ff.; sowie Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 185 ff. und Riedel, supra Fn. 15, S. 14 f.

69

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 13 und Anhang zur Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 34, S. 42 f. Vgl. dazu auch Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 193 ff.; und Riedel, supra Fn. 15, S. 17 ff.

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(iv) Betrauung der Europäischen Gemeinschaft mit der strategischen Entwicklung der Binnenschifffahrt in Europa70 Neben diesen – von der Europäischen Kommission im Aktionsprogramm „NAIADES“ dargelegten Optionen – stehen auch noch folgende weitere Optionen in Diskussion: (i) Verstärkte Zusammenarbeit zwischen der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt und der Donaukommission71 (ii) Zusammenlegung der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt und der Donaukommission bzw. Fusion der völkerrechtlichen Rechtsregime von Rhein und Donau72 (iii) Gründung einer Binnenschifffahrtsagentur auf Gemeinschaftsebene73 (iv) Gründung einer neuen gesamteuropäischen Binnenschifffahrtsorganisation auf informeller Grundlage74 Die Europäische Kommission kündigte schließlich im Aktionsprogramm „NAIADES“ an, die verschiedenen Alternativen im Detail prüfen zu wollen und – unter Berücksichtigung des Fortschritts bei der Umsetzung des Aktionsprogramms „NAIADES“ – einen Vorschlag für einen Prozess der „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa zu erstatten.75

V.

Stand und Bewertung der geplanten „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“

Bisher hat die Europäische Kommission einen eindeutigen Vorschlag, in welche Richtung die geplante „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa – aus ihrer Sicht – gehen soll, noch nicht vorgelegt. Viel mehr erfolgte bisher lediglich eine Konsultation der betreffenden Interessengruppen und eine interne

70

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 13; und Anhang zur Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 34, S. 43. Vgl. dazu auch Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 46 ff.

71

Vgl. Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 41 f.

72

Vgl. ibid., S. 42 f.

73

Vgl. ibid., S. 49 ff.; sowie Klein, supra Fn. 15, S. 187 ff.; und Riedel, supra Fn. 15, S. 15 ff.

74

Vgl. Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 53 ff.

75

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 14.

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Folgenabschätzung.76 Die entsprechenden internen Folgenabschätzungsdokumente wurden von der Europäischen Kommission im Jänner 2008 vorgelegt.77 Während das Aktionsprogramm „NAIADES“ aus 2006 noch eine – mehr oder weniger deutliche – Präferenz der Europäischen Kommission für die Variante der Betrauung der Gemeinschaft mit der strategischen Entwicklung der Binnenschifffahrt in Europa und damit – indirekt – für die Einrichtung einer gemeinschaftlichen Agentur für die Binnenschifffahrt erkennen ließ,78 kommuniziert die Kommission – basierend auf den Ergebnissen der von ihr durchgeführten Konsultation und der internen Folgenabschätzung – derzeit, über den bereits bestehenden institutionellen Rahmen hinaus keine zusätzlichen Strukturen schaffen zu wollen.79 Der Plan, für die Binnenschifffahrt eine eigene Gemeinschaftsagentur bzw. eine „Antenne“ in einer bereits bestehenden Gemeinschaftsagentur einzurichten, wie dies

76

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission, Erster Fortschrittsbericht über die Durchführung des Aktionsprogramms „NAIADES“ zur Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt, Dok. KOM (2007) 770 endg. vom 05 Dezember 2007, S. 9 ff.

77

Vgl. Commission Staff Working Document, Report on the impact assessment of proposals aiming to modernise and reinforce the organisational framework for inland waterway transport in Europe, Dok. SEC (2008) 23 vom 10 Januar 2008; und Commission Staff Working Document, Accompanying document to the Report on the impact assessment of proposals aiming to modernise and reinforce the organisational framework for inland waterway transport in Europe, Dok. SEC (2008) 24 vom 10 Januar 2008.

78

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 14; sowie Anhang zur Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 34, S. 43 f. Dass mit der Option der Betrauung der Gemeinschaft mit der strategischen Entwicklung der Binnenschifffahrt in Europa – indirekt – auch die Einrichtung einer gemeinschaftlichen Agentur für die Binnenschifffahrt gemeint ist, erhellt aus dem Ersten Fortschrittsbericht von 2007 und den Folgenabschätzungsberichten aus 2008; vgl. Mitteilung der Kommisson, Erster Fortschrittsbericht über die Durchführung des Aktionsprogramms „NAIADES“ zur Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt, Dok. KOM (2007) 770 endg. vom 05 Dezember 2007, S. 10; sowie Commission Staff Working Document, Report on the impact assessment of proposals aiming to modernize and reinforce the organisational framework for inland waterway transport in Europe, Dok. SEC (2008) 23 vom 10 Januar 2008, S. 16, 28; sowie Commission Staff Working Document, Accompanying document to the report on the impact assessment of proposals aiming to modernize and reinforce the organisational framework for inland waterway transport in Europe, Dok. SEC (2008) 24 vom 10 Januar 2008, S. 4 f.

79

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission, Erster Fortschrittsbericht über die Durchführung des Aktionsprogramms „NAIADES“ zur Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt, Dok. KOM (2007) 770 endg. vom 05 Dezember 2007, S. 10.

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etwa bereits seit 2002 für die Seeschifffahrt80 und die Luftfahrt81 und seit 2004 auch für die Eisenbahn82 der Fall ist, scheint damit derzeit nicht aktuell.83 Auch die – von der Europäischen Kommission ohnedies nicht favorisierte – Variante einer neuen gesamteuropäischen Binnenschifffahrtsorganisation84, die vor allem in Deutschland Unterstützung fand,85 wird damit gegenwärtig von der Kommission nicht verfolgt. Vielmehr ist der derzeitige Standpunkt der Europäischen Kommission, dass es vorzuziehen sei, „den Organisationsrahmen auf den vorhandenen institutionellen Akteuren aufzubauen und Arbeitsmethoden und -verhältnisse zu verbessern, modernisieren und koordinieren, wo immer das möglich ist“ und daher eine Kombination der Optionen „intensivere Zusammenarbeit zwischen den Stromkommissionen und der Europäischen Gemeinschaft“ und „Beitritt der Europäischen Gemeinschaft zur Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte und zur Donaukonvention bzw. Mitgliedschaft der Gemeinschaft in der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt und in der Donaukommission“ gegenwärtig vorzuziehen sei.86 Da die Donaukonvention seit längerer Zeit im Stadium der Revision ist,87 wird insoweit weiters ein rascher Beitritt der Gemeinschaft zur Donaukonvention, um eine revidierte Donaukonvention und die geplante Reform der Donaukommission mitgestalten zu können, als vorrangig angesehen.88 80

Vgl. Verordnung (EG) Nr. 1406/2002 des Europäischen Parlaments und des Rates vom 27 Juni 2002 zur Errichtung einer europäischen Agentur für die Sicherheit des Seeverkehrs, ABl. Nr. L 208 vom 05 August 2002, S. 1.

81

Vgl. Verordnung (EG) Nr. 1592/2002 des Europäischen Parlaments und des Rates vom 15 Juli 2002 zur Festlegung gemeinsamer Vorschriften für die Zivilluftfahrt und zur Errichtung einer europäischen Agentur für Flugsicherheit, ABl. Nr. L 240 vom 07 September 2002, S. 1.

82

Vgl. Verordnung (EG) Nr. 881/2004 des Europäischen Parlaments und des Rates vom 29 April 2004 zur Errichtung einer europäischen Eisenbahnagentur („Agenturverordnung“), ABl.Nr.L 164 vom 30 April 2004, S.1 idF Berichtigung der Verordnung (EG) Nr. 881/2004 des Europäischen Parlaments und des Rates vom 29 April 2004 zur Errichtung einer europäischen Eisenbahnagentur („Agenturverordnung“), ABl. Nr. L 220 vom 21 Juni 2004, S. 3.

83

Gleichwohl ist die Einrichtung einer „Reflexionsgruppe Binnenschifffahrt“ sowie die Einrichtung einer Plattform zur Erleichterung der koordinierten Durchführung des Programms „NAIADES“ geplant; vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission, Erster Fortschrittsbericht über die Durchführung des Aktionsprogramms „NAIADES“ zur Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt, Dok. KOM (2007) 770 endg. vom 05 Dezember 2007, S. 11, 12 f.

84

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 13 f; sowie Anhang zur Mitteilung der Kommission über die Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt „NAIADES“, supra Fn. 11, S. 42 f., 44.

85

Vgl. etwa Klein, supra Fn. 15, S 193 ff.; und Riedel, supra Fn. 15, S. 17 ff.

86

Vgl. Mitteilung der Kommission, Erster Fortschrittsbericht über die Durchführung der Aktionsprogramms „NAIADES“ zur Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt, Dok. KOM (2007) 770 endg. vom 05 Dezember 2007, S. 10.

87

Vgl. etwa [Draft] Convention regarding the Regime of Navigation on the Danube, Doc. WGNI/ DOC/3/Ref.1 and WGILM/DOC.6/Ref.1 und [Draft] Convention regarding the Regime of Navigation on the Danube [vom 10. Juni 2005], DOC/7/3.

88

Dementsprechend erteilte der Rat der Europäischen Kommission am 07 Juni 2007 das Mandat, Verhandlungen über einen Beitritt der Gemeinschaft zur Donaukommission aufzunehmen; vgl.

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Der dargelegte derzeitige Stand der an gedachten „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa scheint wenig innovativ. Weder die geplante verstärkte Zusammenarbeit zwischen der Europäischen Kommission und der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt sowie der Donaukommission, noch der geplante Beitritt der Gemeinschaft zur Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte und zur Donaukonvention bzw. die Mitgliedschaft der Gemeinschaft in der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt und der Donaukommission sind – per se – geeignet, das Spannungsverhältnis im Dreieck Gemeinschaft – Mitgliedstaaten – Stromkommissionen zu Gunsten der Binnenschifffahrt aufzulösen. Darüber hinaus scheint auch – basierend auf den bisherigen Erfahrungen – gewisse Skepsis schon hinsichtlich der Erreichung des nunmehr an gedachten Lösungsansatzes angebracht. Kooperationsvereinbarungen zwischen der Europäischen Kommission und der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt bestehen seit langem,89 ohne dass dies zu wesentlichen Ergebnissen geführt hätte.90 Auch ein Beitritt der Gemeinschaft zur Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte bzw. eine Mitgliedschaft der Gemeinschaft in der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt ist seit langem beabsichtigt,91 ohne dass dies bisher zu Stande gekommen wäre. Viel mehr ist dies bisher letztlich immer am Widerstand der Mitgliedstaaten, die auch Vertragsparteien der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte sind, gescheitert.92 Darüber hinaus bleibt festzuhalten, dass auch eine verstärkte Zusammenarbeit und Koordination der Europäischen Kommission mit der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt nichts an der Tatsache, dass etwa – auch in Zukunft – idente technische Vorschriften für Binnenschiffe – einmal als Verordnung der Zentralkommission für Mitteilung der Kommission, Erster Fortschrittsbericht über die Durchführung des Aktionsprogramms „NAIADES“ zur Förderung der Binnenschifffahrt, Dok. KOM (2007) 770 endg. vom 05 Dezember 2007, S. 10. 89

Vgl. Briefwechsel zwischen dem Präsidenten der Kommission und dem Präsidenten der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt vom 06 Juni 1961, ABl.1961, S. 1027. Die Vereinbarung aus 1961 wurde 1983, 1987 und 2003 – den veränderten verkehrspolitischen Verhältnissen Rechnung tragend – jeweils auf eine neue Basis gestellt; vgl. J. Erdmenger, „Vorbemerkung zu den Artikeln 74 – 84“, in H. v. d. Groeben/J. Thiesing/C.- D. Ehlermann (Hrsg.), Kommentar zum EU-/EG-Vertrag 1/1665, Rz. 40, Fn. 61 (1987); sowie Pressemitteilung der Europäischen Kommission „Binnenschifffahrt: Die Kommission unterzeichnet ein Kooperationsabkommen mit der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt“, Ref. IP/03/315 vom 05 März 2003.

90

Vgl. etwa Regner, supra Fn. 2, S.67 ff.

91

Vgl. etwa Punkt 2 des Zeichnungsprotokolls zu dem Zusatzprotokoll Nr. 2 zu der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte vom 17 Oktober 1979, in dem die Vertragsstaaten der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte „sich im Interesse der Weiterentwicklung gemeinsamer Verkehrspolitik und des Rheinregimes“ bereit erklärt hatten, „[…] die nötigen Schritte in die Wege zu leiten, um Verhandlungen über die Änderungen der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte, die für einen etwaigen Beitritt der Europäischen Wirtschaftsgemeinschaft zum internationalen Rheinstatut erforderlich wären, zu ermöglichen.“

92

Vgl. etwa K. Schmalenbach, „Artikel 307 EG-Vertrag“, in C. Calliess/M. Ruffert (Hrsg.), Kommentar zu EU-Vertrag und EG-Vertrag. Kommentar des Vertrages über die Europäische Union und des Vertrages zur Gründung der Europäischen Gemeinschaft – EUV/EGV, S. 2534, Rz. 12, Fn. 29 (2008); sowie Sengpiel, supra Fn. 37, S. 52 f.

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die Rheinschifffahrt für den Rhein und ein zweites Mal als Gemeinschaftsvorschrift für den Rest der kontinentalen Binnenwasserstraßen – erlassen werden müssen,93 zu ändern vermag. Sollte die geplante Revision der Donaukonvention in die Richtung, dass der Donaukommission hinkünftig ähnliche Rechtsetzungsrechte wie der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt zustehen,94 in Kraft treten, würde insoweit – möglicherweise – noch eine dritte Erlassung – dies falls als „Donaurecht“ (der zweiten Stufe) erforderlich. Auch hinsichtlich des – bereits seit langem an gedachten – Beitritts der Gemeinschaft zur Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte bzw. zur Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt sowie des nunmehr angestrebten Beitritts der Gemeinschaft zur Donaukonvention bzw. zur Donaukommission bestehen – im Lichte der angestrebten Neuordnung der „Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa – erhebliche Bedenken. Zweifellos würde ein Beitritt der Gemeinschaft zu diesen völkerrechtlichen Flussregimen die vorhandenen überkommenen Organisationsstrukturen stärken, ohne zu einer – wie immer gearteten – neuen Aufgabenverteilung zwischen Gemeinschaft und Stromkommissionen zu führen und ohne die Asymetrien zwischen Rhein, Donau und den übrigen Binnenwasserstraßen in der Gemeinschaft abzubauen. Dem gegenüber hätte die – derzeit zurückgestellte – Option der Einrichtung einer gemeinschaftlichen Agentur für die Binnenschifffahrt – unter gewissen Begleitumständen – erhebliche Vorteile aufweisen können. Zum einen wäre dadurch eine klare Aufgabenteilung zwischen einer strategischen Steuerungs- und Regelungseinrichtung auf Gemeinschaftsebene und mehreren operativ tätigen Flusskommissionen möglich geworden. Zum anderen hätten Drittstaaten, denen entsprechend anderer auf Gemeinschaftsebene eingerichteter Agenturen die Möglichkeit einer Beteiligung an den Arbeiten der Agentur für die Binnenschifffahrt offen gestanden wäre,95 die Möglichkeit erhalten, an einer Stelle die Entwicklung der Binnenschifffahrtspolitik und des Binnenschifffahrtsrechts in der Gemeinschaft mitzugestalten. Zum dritten wäre damit auch eine klarere Aufgabenteilung zwischen Gemeinschaft (einschließlich an der Agentur beteiligter Drittstaaten) und ECE möglich gewesen. Diese Vorteile würden allerdings nur unter mehreren kumulativ erforderlichen und miteinander zu koordinierenden Begleitumständen eintreten: Zum einen setzt die skizzierte Lösung voraus, dass gewisse sachliche Zuständigkeiten von der Zentralkommission für die Rheinschifffahrt zur Gemeinschaftsagentur übertragen werden96 und keine Ausweitung der Kompetenzen der Donaukommission stattfindet. Zum zweiten setzt dies voraus, dass eine Abstimmung mit den Drittstaaten, die jedenfalls an der 93

Vgl. dazu Regner, supra Fn. 2, S. 267 ff.

94

Vgl. Bericht der EFIN-Gruppe, supra Fn. 10, S. 44, Fn. 74.

95

Vgl. etwa Art. 17 der Verordnung (EG) Nr. 1406/2002 des Europäischen Parlaments und des Rates vom 27 Juni 2002 zur Errichtung einer europäischen Agentur für die Sicherheit des Seeverkehrs, ABl. Nr. L 208 vom 05 August 2002, S. 1.

96

Voraussetzung dafür wäre eine Revision der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte. Wie allerdings etwa die Zusatzprotokolle Nr. 2 und Nr. 7 zur Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte zeigen, ist – bei entsprechendem politischem Willen der Vertragsparteien – eine Revision der Revidierten Rheinschifffahrtsakte an sich relativ zügig möglich.

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Agentur für die Binnenschifffahrt zu beteiligen wären (Schweiz) und jenen, denen eine Beteiligung jedenfalls offen stehen sollte (Serbien, Kroatien, Moldau, Ukraine und Russische Föderation) erfolgt. Dies setzt zum dritten voraus, dass Übereinstimmung mit den betroffenen Mitgliedstaaten über Fragen der binnenschiffsverkehrsrechtlichen Drittstaatsbeziehungen erzielt werden kann. Zum vierten – und dies scheint der Kernpunkt – setzt eine solche Lösung den politischen Willen der betroffenen Mitgliedstaaten zur Neuordnung von Zuständigkeiten im Bereich der Marktorganisation für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa voraus. Es wird abzuwarten sein, ob eine solche Willensüberstimmung unter den betroffenen Mitgliedstaaten und zwischen diesen Mitgliedstaaten und den betroffenen Drittstaaten, die Voraussetzung für eine echte „Modernisierung der Organisationsstruktur“ für die Binnenschifffahrt in Europa wäre, erzielbar ist.

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Struggle for Exclusiveness: The ECJ and Competing International Tribunals Kirsten Schmalenbach

I.

Introduction

In 2004, Gerhard Hafner undertook a balanced analysis of an issue generally regarded as one of the many weaknesses of the international legal order:1 the fragmentation of international law caused by the emergence of countless universal, regional, special and general legal subsystems with different obligated parties and different levels of integration.2 According to Hafner, the negative effects of such fragmentation, i.e. the reliability and credibility of international law being threatened, are accompanied by at least one positive effect: ‘Fragmentation reflects the necessity of offering different institutions with different structures, which permits people to resort to the institution that is the best fit for a given dispute.’3 This optimistic perspective is apparently not shared by the Court of Justice of the European Communities (ECJ), which is well-known for keeping a sharp eye on its exclusive jurisdiction enshrined in articles 220 and 292 of the Treaty establishing the European Community (TEC). The ECJ’s reputation results from a number of judgments and opinions which prima facie seem to pursue one major goal, namely safeguarding the ECJ’s extraordinary position within the legal order of the European Community (EC). A closer look at the relevant ECJ jurisprudence and an evaluation of the possible legal effects of decisions delivered by ‘foreign’ international tribunals will help to clarify whether the ECJ’s approach is entitled to a more co-operative appraisal.

II.

The ECJ and the EEA Dispute Settlement Mechanism

A.

Opinions 1/91 and 1/92

Though not much younger than the European Economic Community (EEC), the European Free Trade Association (EFTA) soon developed into a gathering place for European States that had not (yet) chosen to apply for EC membership. Being the antechamber to the EC, it was in the interest of both organizations that the EFTA 1

G. Hafner, ‘Pros and Cons ensuing from Fragmentation of International Law’, 25 Michigan Journal of International Law 849 (2004).

2

Ibid., at 850.

3

Ibid., at 859.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 1045-1068, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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stand shoulder to shoulder with the European legal system. The ultimate goal was to let all EFTA member States fully participate in the EC’s internal market.4 To this end, an agreement on the European Economic Area (EEA) between the EC and each individual EFTA member State (except Switzerland, but including Liechtenstein5) was drafted in 1990.6 Prior to its ratification, however, the Commission submitted the agreement to the ECJ for an opinion pursuant to article 300(6) TEC, with full knowledge of the fact that the ECJ was overtly critical of the EEA.7 As is well known, in its Opinion 1/91 the ECJ considered the EEA to be incompatible with the EC because of the EEA Court envisaged in the agreement. The reasoning of the ECJ begins with the reassurance that the TEC does not bar the EC from entering into an international agreement which sets up a judicial dispute settlement mechanism of its own, competent to render binding decisions for the EC and its contracting parties.8 It did not bother the ECJ that such a mechanism could interpret an agreement which, as integral part of the European legal order, would be subject to interpretation by the ECJ.9 However, if such agreement contains provisions that by and large are duplications of primary and secondary EC law, the freedom to establish an international dispute mechanism parallel to the ECJ suddenly ends. For the ECJ, it is intolerable that two wildly different courts are both competent to interpret and apply literally identical yet essentially different laws. While the envisaged EEA Court was obviously designed as an international body fit to apply an international agreement, the ECJ serves a thoroughly higher, constitutional purpose: Its aim is to promote the gradual establishment of the Internal Market, the Monetary Union and the European Union through progressive jurisprudence.10 After having drawn a scenario of two courts pulling at opposite ends of a rope, the ECJ considered it a major fault that the envisaged EEA Court would not have been bound by the jurisprudence of the ECJ when interpreting identical EEA rules. The concurrence of all these aspects led the ECJ to conclude that the EEA Court system as foreseen in the EEA agreement would endanger the homogeneity of the

4

It is generally assumed that the EEA agreement between the EC and EFTA was conceived as a means of dissuading the EFTA countries from applying for membership of the EC, cf. T. C. Hartley, ‘The European Court and the EEA’, 41 ICLQ 841 (1992).

5

Liechtenstein acceded to EFTA on 1 September 1991.

6

The EEA was the brain child of the then President of the EC Commission, Jacques Delors. See his speech to the European Parliament of 17 January 1989, see S. Wilson, ‘Counterpoint: Austria’s call for Membership in the European Union and Delors’ Call for a New EC-EFTA Relationship’, 20 GA JICL 241, at 243 (1990).

7

B. Brandtner, ‘The “Drama” of the EEA, Comments on Opinions 1/91 and 1/92’, 3 EJIL 300, 307, n. 19 (1992).

8

Opinion 1/91, EEA I, 1991 ECR I-6079, para. 40.

9

Case 181/73, Haegeman, 1974 ECR 449, para 5.

10

Opinion 1/91, EEA I, 1991 ECR I-6079, para. 17.

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EC legal order if set into operation.11 The ECJ considered the threat so substantial that it enigmatically added: ‘Article [308 TEC] does not provide any basis for setting up under an international agreement a system of courts which conflicts with Article [220 TEC] and, more generally, with the very foundations of the Community. For the same reasons, an amendment of Article [308] could not cure the incompatibility with Community law of the system of courts to be set up by the agreement.’12

This acclamation is often interpreted as the creation of high-ranking core principles that elude derogation by EC member States in whatever form and way.13 Albeit highly disputable, the ECJ conveys the impression that the autonomy of the European legal order as well as the ECJ’s judicial monopoly within this realm belong to these ‘eternal’ core principles. After the first act of the EEA drama turned out to have a tragic ending, the second act was eagerly awaited by EFTA and EC lawyers. In its second opinion on the revised EEA agreement, the ECJ approved all changes made – especially the cancellation of the EEA Court – without abstaining from some cautionary remarks with regard to alternative dispute settlement mechanisms with the power to bind the EC: When confronted with partly identical provisions in the relevant international agreement and the TEC, it has to be guaranteed that a joint committee or an arbitral tribunal strictly observes the ECJ jurisprudence.14 If this is not guaranteed, then the competence of the international dispute mechanism must be limited ratione materiae to those international treaty provisions that are not substantially identical to EC law.15 After the EEA agreement entered into force in 1992, all EFTA member States that are parties to the EEA agreement (i.e. except for Switzerland) subsequently entered into a separate agreement which established an EFTA Court. This court had the task to interpret the EEA agreement (Agreement between the EFTA States on the Establishment of a Surveillance Authority and a Court of Justice – ESA/Court Agreement). The ECJ gave its blessing to this concept since the EFTA Court’s jurisdiction ratione personae was limited to EFTA member States and the Court was therefore not allowed to decide on disputes to which the EC would be a party.16 However, the fact remains that EC law is interpreted by the 11

Ibid., para. 46.

12

Opinion 1/91, EEA I, 1991 ECR I-6079, para. 6 of the summary.

13

J. L. da Cruz Vilaça/N. Piçarra, ‘Y a-t-il des limites matérielles à la révision des traités instituant les CE?’, 29 Cahiers de droit européen 3 (1993); R. Bieber, ‘Les limites matérielles et formelles à la révision des traités établissant la Communauté européenne’, 367 Revue du Marché commun et de l’Union européenne 343 (1993); for a skeptical view, see B. De Witte, ‘Treaty Revision in the European Union. Constitutional Change through International Law’, 35 NYIL 51, at 57 (2004); S. Weatherill, ‘Safeguarding the Acquis Communautaire’, in T. Heukels/N. Blokker/M. Brus (eds.), The European Union after Amsterdam 153, at 167-168 (1998).

14

Opinion 1/92, EEA II, 1992 ECR I-2821, para. 25.

15

Ibid., para. 36.

16

Ibid., para. 19.

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ECJ whereas the substantially identical EEA law is interpreted by the EFTA Court. In addition, the EFTA Court only has to pay ‘due account’ to the principles laid down in the relevant rulings of the ECJ rendered after the EEA agreement came into force (article 3(2) ESA/Court Agreement). Despite this rather detached foundation, no conflicting case law has resulted so far, since both courts have developed an elaborate system of rapports and cooperation, facilitated inter alia by the geographic proximity of their seats in the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg. All in all, the high level of mutual understanding has led to homogeneity and coherence of both courts’ case law.17 Even so, it should be noted that it is primarily the EFTA Court’s ‘openness’ towards ECJ judgments, no matter how progressive they are, that forestalls any conflict between the courts.18

B.

Analysis: Justified Reluctance

What appears at first sight to be the successful elimination of an unwanted rival is, upon closer scrutiny, a justified defence of the operability of the EC. The saying that too many cooks spoil the broth bears some wisdom for legal systems which, at the expense of legal certainty, entrust more than one judicial organ with the decisive interpretation of the same law. After all, legal certainty within the EC legal order was at stake as the EC’s monistic approach in conjunction with the hierarchical position of international treaty law within the European legal order would have granted the EEA Court some key influence on the operation of EC law. According to settled case law of the ECJ, all international agreements form an integral part of the EC legal order,19 ranking between primary and secondary EC law,20 for the sole reason that they are internationally binding for the EC.21 This integrative approach entails important consequences: If the proposed EEA Court had interpreted EEA rules substantially identical to primary EC law (e.g., the freedom of movement), then the ECJ’s interpretation of the parallel primary EC law would have prevailed due to its higher position within the EC legal order. The EEA Court would have had to comply with these ECJ decisions since it would have been obligated to pursue the central objective of the EEA agreement, a homogeneous EEA. If, however, the EEA Court had interpreted EEA law substantially identical to secondary EC law, the newly construed EEA law – forming an integral part of the EC legal order – might have overruled the ECJ’s interpretation of the parallel secondary EC rules 17

V. Skouris, ‘The ECJ and the EFTA Court under the EEA Agreement: A Paradigm for International Cooperation between Judicial Institutions’, in C. Baudenbacher/P. Tresselt/T. Olygsson (eds.), The EFTA Court: Ten Years On 123, at 129 (2005).

18

Cf. M. Bronckers, ‘The Relationship of the EC Courts with Other International Tribunals: Non-Committal, Respectful of Submissive?’, 44 CMLR 601, at 605 (2007); whereas the EFTA Court frequently refers to ECJ rulings, the ECJ is much more reserved in this regard; for references to EFTA case law, see Commission v. Denmark, C-192/01; Fidium Finanz AG, C-452/04 (); see also Skouris, supra note 17, at 125.

19

Haegeman, Case 181/73, 1974 ECR 449, para 5.

20

Commission/Germany, Case C-61/94, 1996 ECR I-3989, para 52.

21

For an additional rationale with a view to TEC, art. 300, para 7, see Kupferberg, Case 104/81, 1982 ECR 3641, at 14.

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because of the latter’s lower rank. In other words, the authoritative interpretation of secondary EC law by the ECJ was in danger of being undermined by the corresponding EEA law. Confronted with deviating EEA Court rulings, the ECJ would have been caught between a rock and a hard place since it would have had to observe the main objective of the integrated EEA agreement, i.e. homogeneity, when interpreting EEA law according to article 220 TEC. In addition, it has to be kept in mind that the EC judicial system requires a complaint or request for the ECJ to become active. At this point, it is blatantly clear that the proposed EEA Court had the potential to introduce traditional methods of interpretation into Community law (article 31 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties) instead of the ECJ’s integration-driven effet utile methods.

III.

The ECJ and Arbitral Tribunals Invoked by Member States

International treaty relations make all sorts of dispute settlement mechanisms available to the contracting parties. Even if (quasi-) judicial bodies such as the International Court of Justice, WTO Panels, the European Court of Human Rights or the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea (ITLOS) take up a lot of space in public and scholarly perception, permanent judiciaries are extremely rare on the international plane. Most international treaties envisage ad hoc arbitral tribunals, even though they are seldomly established in a dispute. More than anything, the disputing parties try to avoid time and money-consuming arrangements for arbitration. This places reconciling negotiations under a favorable omen. Over and above this pragmatic stance, EC member States have an additional reason to keep their hands off ad hoc arbitral tribunals: the ECJ and its understanding of article 292 TEC.

A.

The Mox Plant Case

Much has been written about the factual and procedural background of the infringement proceedings under article 226 TEC against Ireland initiated by the Commission in 2003.22 For our purposes, it suffices to recall that Ireland filed an international complaint against the UK in its campaign against radioactive discharges of the MOX Plant in Sellafield, England. Ireland claimed that the UK had infringed, firstly, Ireland’s right to information enshrined in the Convention for the Protection of the Maritime Environment of the North-East Atlantic (OSPAR) and, secondly, the environmental standards of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). Since diplomatic means had failed, Ireland requested the establishment of two arbitral tribunals, one competent to decide on the violation of UNCLOS (UNCLOS Arbitral 22

Cf. M. B. Volbeda, ‘The Mox Plant Case: The Question of “Supplemental Jurisdiction” for International Environmental Claims under UNLCOS’, 42 Texas ILJ 211 (2006); Y. Shany, ‘The First MOX Plant Award: the Need to Harmonize Competing Environmental Regimes and Dispute Settlement Procedures’, 17 LJIL 815 (2004); V. Röben, ‘The Order of the UNCLOS Annex VIII Arbitral Tribunal to Suspend Proceedings in the Case of MOX Plant at Sellafield’, 73 NJIL 223 (2004).

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Tribunal) and one competent to decide on the violation of OSPAR (OSPAR Arbitral Tribunal).23 In addition, Ireland requested the ITLOS to order provisional measures pursuant to article 290(5) UNCLOS. In all proceedings, the UK objected that the ECJ could have jurisdiction in the matter. ITOS decided that it had prima facie jurisdiction over the merits of the case since the dispute settlement procedure under UNCLOS only deals with disputes rising under that Convention.24 The OSPAR Arbitral Tribunal also denied any conflict with ECJ jurisdiction because its decision on the merits was exclusively based on OSPAR law. The UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal, however, discontinued the proceedings and ordered the parties to clarify the issue of ECJ jurisdiction.

1.

UNCLOS’ Perspective

It is very likely that the four members of the UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal, among them Gerhard Hafner, had a presentiment of the ECJ’s categorical opposition to arbitral proceedings. In any case, the decision to discontinue the proceedings was not exclusively based on the provisions of UNCLOS but quite openly took the internal operation of the EC legal order into account.25 In this regard, the Arbitral Tribunal’s decision is a manifestation of judicial comity rather than of legal necessity. Above all, it is most striking that the UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal did not address the legal requirements of article 282 UNCLOS, the very basis of the jurisdictional conflict from the viewpoint of UNCLOS. Instead, it left it to the ECJ to decide whether the EC proceedings, as a regional dispute settlement mechanism according to article 282 UNCLOS, take precedence. This appears to be fairly unusual for an international judicial body, which is primarily competent to interpret its own legal basis for its jurisdiction. The problem remains, however, that from the perspective of UNCLOS, the ECJ does not comfortably fit into the dispute settlement mechanism foreseen in article 282 UNCLOS due to the special nature of the EC and its legal order. If the UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal – in keeping with the ECJ – had considered the EC an autonomous legal order of a ‘trans-national dimension’,26 detached from its international origin, it would have been difficult to reason that the ECJ is an international forum for a dispute between member States that concerns international law in its purest sense.27 On the other hand, it can be argued that infringement proceedings pursuant to Art. 227 TEC are the proper instrument for a dispute between member States about the interpretation and application of a mixed agreement such as the UNCLOS. The provision could be

23

N. Lavranos, ‘MOX Plant and Ijzeren Rijn Disputes: Which Court is the Supreme Arbiter?’, 19 LJIL 223, 225 (2006).

24

The Mox Plant Case, ITLOS, Order of 3 December 2001, paras. 48-53.

25

Ireland v. United Kingdom, Mox Plant Order No. 3, UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal, 24 June 2006, at para. 24, http://www.pca-cpa.org.

26

Cf. AG Maduro in his opinion on the Kadi Case, C-402/05 P, 16 January 2008, para. 21.

27

Cf. The Mox Plant Case, supra note 24, Separate Opinion of Judge Wolfrum; see also Röben, supra note 22, at 242.

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understood as an integrated dispute settlement arrangement between member States – an amplification of article 239 TEC, so to speak – for all disputes that concern member States in their sovereign capacity, but also the EC as a ‘third party’ to the dispute that is inevitably affected by the decision on the merits. In light of this, it does not matter whether or not the ECJ keeps the international character of UNCLOS within the EC legal order untouched or submits UNCLOS to an effet utile treatment in the light of EC objects and purposes. Be that as it may, it goes beyond the scope of this article to regiment articles 239 or 227 TEC into the UNCLOS system of dispute settlement. Suffices it to say that it would have been the UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal’s task to get to the bottom of article 282 UNCLOS with a view to possible EC proceedings. The Arbitral Tribunal’s decision to discontinue the proceedings in order to await the ECJ’s judgment on the scope of its exclusive jurisdiction might have a pragmatic reason: the entanglement of UNCLOS provisions and EC law due to the participation of the EC in UNCLOS.28 Upon closer scrutiny, however, this concern is manageable within the realm of UNCLOS. The mere fact that the EC – apart from the EC member States – is also party to UNCLOS and that UNCLOS consequently forms an integral part of the EC legal order is of no legal relevance to the arbitration:29 It is a matter of course that all parties to an international agreement incorporate that agreement, in one way or another, into their own legal order so as to put their (national) organs into a position to apply the rules of the agreement. In addition, the UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal’s jurisdiction is limited to the application and interpretation of UNCLOS (article 287 UNCLOS). Even though article 293 UNCLOS allows the tribunal to apply – apart from UNCLOS – other rules of international law, this does not extend the tribunal’s jurisdiction ratione materiae to the TEC (article 288(2) UNCLOS).30 The sole purpose of Article 293 UNCLOS is to provide the tribunal with all legal means necessary to conceive the meaning of UNCLOS rules in their current international setting, rather than in artificial isolation.31 EC law, however, does not contribute to the relevant international setting but classes among the 155 municipal legal orders of UNCLOS parties. All in all, article 293 UNCLOS neither opens the gate for a direct consultation of EC law in order to fully appreciate the meaning of UNCLOS rules,32 nor does it extend the tribunal’s mandate to the interpretation and application of EC law in a given case. From this point of view,

28

The UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal only expressed this concern en passant: ‘For another, there is no certainty that any such provisions (within the exclusive jurisdiction and competence of the European Community) would in fact give rise to a self-contained and distinct dispute capable of being resolved by the Tribunal.’ Supra note 25, para. 26.

29

But see Lavranos, supra note 17, at 236.

30

Cf. Ireland v. United Kingdom, supra note 25, at para. 19.

31

The interrelation between arts. 293 and 287, 288 UNCLOS was highly disputed between the UK and Ireland before the UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal; for their arguments, see M. B. Volbeda, ‘The Mox Pant Case: The Question of “Supplemental Jurisdiction” for International Environmental Claims under UNCLOS’, 42 Texas ILJ 211, 225-228 (2006).

32

See for a wider approach N. Klein, Dispute Settlement in the UN Convention in the Law of the Sea 151 (2005).

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Ireland’s attempt to introduce the alleged breach of community law into the arbitral proceeding should have been deemed inadmissible.33 Despite all that, the issue of EC law remains a decisive handicap for the UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal to decide on the merits of the case, at least with regard to those provisions of UNCLOS which fall within the exclusive competence of the EC. Since the provisions do not create rights and duties for EC member States, the divide between UNCLOS provisions applicable to the Mox Plant dispute and those not applicable depend on the decision on the scope of exclusive external EC competence. The EC declaration34 on the division of competences within the scope of UNCLOS, published in 1998, is first and foremost a guideline for third UNCLOS parties to detect the correct addressee of their claims. Disputing EC member States cannot invoke the declaration in order to cover a possible extention of exclusive EC competences, e.g. in the light of the AETR case law. In addition, the EC’s UNCLOS declaration is rather vague in substance.35 Therefore, a decision of the ECJ on the scope of the exclusive external EC competences affected by the subject matter of the dispute is required.

2.

The ECJ’s Perspective

Ireland had no opportunity to comply with the UNCLOS arbitrators’ request to inquire into the jurisdiction of the ECJ, not least because the EC Commission – as previously announced – initiated infringement proceedings against Ireland pursuant to article 226 TEC. The Commission argued, inter alia, that Ireland’s request to establish an UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal violated the exclusive jurisdiction of the ECJ as provided by article 292 TEC. Notably, the parallel request to establish the OSPAR Arbitral Tribunal, which decided on the merits but eventually dismissed Ireland’s claim, was not dealt with in these proceedings.36 The ECJ agreed with the Commission’s legal opinion and declared that, in the given case, reference to a judicial dispute settlement mechanism outside of the EC legal order constituted an infringement of article 292 TEC. The ECJ began its somewhat jumbled line of argument with the observation that UNCLOS was ratified not only by EC member States but also by the EC itself. This procedure was necessary because UNLCOS in large parts falls within the external competence of both the EC and its member States (shared/parallel external competences).37 In a next step, the ECJ examined whether or not Ireland’s claim against the UK was based on UNCLOS rules within the scope of

33

Ireland v. United Kingdom, supra note 25, at para. 19. Irelands submission of Community Law is reported in Mox Plant, Case C-459/03, 2006 ECR I-4635, paras. 150-151.

34

1998 EC Declaration on the Division of Competences within the Scope of UNCLOS, OJ 1998 No. L 179/129.

35

Cf. M. Björklund, ‘Responsibility in the EC for Mixed Agreements – Should Non-Member Parties Care?’, 70 NJIL 373, at 373-382 (2001).

36

Mox Plant, Case C-459/03, 2006 ECR I-4635, para. 33.

37

Ibid., para. 83.

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the Community’s external competences, shared or exclusive.38 After answering this in the affirmative (‘significant part of the dispute’39), the ECJ concluded that the dispute concerned the interpretation or application of the TEC.40 In addition, the ECJ stated that all disputes concerning international treaty provisions binding for the EC due to its external competence, whether this competence be shared or exclusive, trigger the exclusive competence of the ECJ to decide the disputes on their merits, pursuant to article 292 TEC: ‘The Court has already pointed out that an international agreement cannot affect the allocation of responsibilities defined in the (EC) Treaties and, consequently, the autonomy of the Community legal system, compliance with which the Court ensures under Article 220 TEC.’41

It is noteworthy that the ECJ supported its arguments with Art. 282 UNCLOS. According to the ECJ’s reading, this provision clearly states that the EC judicial system in principle takes precedence over that of UNCLOS.

B.

Analysis: Misusage of Art. 292 TEC

The extensive reasoning in the Mox Plant case already conveys the impression that the ECJ argues against potential critics who might assert that the ECJ has expanded article 292 TEC for its own sake. The starting point for the reproach of an undue amplification of the Court’s exclusive jurisdiction under article 292 TEC is the complex internal distribution of external competences, i.e., the competence to enter into international agreements with third parties. In principle, three layers of external EC competences can be detected. Firstly, there are only a few policy areas left in which the EC has no or only rudimentary external competences. Secondly, the AETR doctrine of implied external competences ensures that the EC enjoys exclusive external competences in many policy areas, thus barring member States from incurring international rights and duties in those areas, at least under the terms of EC law. Lastly, in some remaining policy areas, the EC and its members are both competent to enter into international relations (so-called parallel or shared competence).42 UNCLOS, a mixed agreement, primarily concerns this last category of EC competences, making the Court’s Mox Plant ruling a very controversial one in the eyes of the EC member States. The inter se relationships between EC member States are twofold: On the one hand, they meet as sovereign actors on the international plane, with reciprocal rights and 38

The divide of competences has been notified to the UN Secretary General pursuant UNCLOS, art. 5, Annex IX, see Mox Plant, supra note 36, paras. 96-120.

39

Mox Plant, supra note 36, paras. 120.

40

Ibid., para. 127.

41

Ibid., para. 123.

42

The EC and its members have parallel competence to enter into international agreements in the fields of, inter alia, development policy (TEC, art. 181), science (TEC, art. 170) and environmental policy (TEC, art. 174).

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duties of an international character. On the other hand, as EC members, they possess reciprocal rights and duties under European law. If EC member States bring claims concerning rights and duties laid down in a mixed agreement falling within the exclusive competence of the EC, the legal situation is quite clear: from the perspective of an international tribunal, the claim is inadmissible and unfounded since the contested rights and duties are neither that of the claimant nor that of the respondent.43 From the perspective of the ECJ, a dispute between the member States can only concern their reciprocal rights and duties envisaged in article 300(7) TEC, since the international rights and duties are assigned to the EC alone. In short, within the realm of exclusive external EC competences, the inter se relationship between EC member States is reduced to one legal regime, that of the EC. At this point, article 292 TEC needs to be considered. When the EC and its members take concerted action in the field of parallel competences, the legal position of EC member States remains twofold. Their reciprocal rights and duties on the international plane, however, are duplicated in the European legal order, since the EC is legally bound to the same set of international rules. In the Mox Plant case, the ECJ disregarded the international dimension of the dispute by arguing that all possible variations of external EC competences inevitably lead to the exclusive jurisdiction of the ECJ pursuant to article 292 TEC.44 If the outcome were any different, then the autonomy of the EC legal order would be at stake. Seemingly, the EEA-I Opinion had its ‘comeback’ in the Mox Plant Judgment: Here, the ECJ sought to prevent a situation in which an international tribunal interprets an international agreement and, by the same token, EC provisions that are identical in content. However, contrary to the EEA case, the EC is not bound by the international award issued by the arbitral tribunal in a dispute between EC member States. Even if the EC is de facto compelled to honour the arbitral tribunal’s interpretation of provisions that form an integral part of the EC legal order, this interpretation would in no way impair primary or secondary EC rules. Due to its rank within the EC legal system, primary EC law will remain unaffected in any case. With regard to secondary law, the ECJ decided in the Cartagena case that a parallel EC competence turns into an exclusive one at the very moment that implementing secondary EC law is promulgated.45 Since parallel external competences imply the absence of secondary EC law, an exogenous threat to the autonomy of the Community system is difficult to detect. Certainly, the prevailing EC member States may have little use for their international awards if the ECJ interprets the international provisions differently and article 300(7) TEC makes them discharge their duties under Community law. This is, however, the very risk of the member States. Moreover, disregarding the international award would not even trigger their international responsibility due to the inter se character of the conflict. What remains is the question of whether the Community 43

Röben, supra note 22, at 239.

44

Mox Plant, supra note 36, para. 93.

45

Cartagena, Opinion 2/00, 2001 ECR I-9713, para. 45; but see also Declaration No. 10 to the Maastricht Treaty, in which the Conferences of the Representatives of the Governments of the Member States explicitly reassured that the AETR case law applied to the policy area of environmental law.

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legal order and its judicial system are adversely affected when an international tribunal interprets international provisions by which the EC as well as member States are legally bound. At this point, it is worth recalling that the ECJ has emphasized in its EEA-I ruling that the EC itself may enter into international dispute settlement.46 Thus, the mere fact that a ‘foreign’ international tribunal interprets international provisions forming an integral part of EC law does not pose a sufficient threat to the autonomy of the EC legal system. Admittedly, the above considerations are typically not shared by the ECJ. Its rather harsh reaction to Ireland’s bold endeavour is in line with its previous judgments concerning the external competences of EC member States (e.g., AETR,47 Laying-Up Fund,48 Cartagena,49 etc.). The ECJ does not analyze the precise legal impact of external actions of member States on the European legal order, which mostly amount to nothing more than the risk of member States being internationally responsible to third parties. Instead, the ECJ favours measures that keep member States on a short leash internationally in order to prevent ambiguous situations. In the case of implied external EC competences, introduced by the AETR Judgment, this strategy worked out well. Member States have repeatedly confirmed the limitation of their right to conclude certain international treaties.50 Whether or not they will accept the exclusive jurisdiction of the ECJ within the realm of parallel competences with the same alacrity remains to be seen. The 2005 Ilzeren Rijn case51 gives an idea of how member States may seek alternative ways and means to circumvent article 292 TEC true to the motto ‘where there is no plaintiff, there is no judge’! In the Ilzeren Rijn case, the EC Commission apparently gave its blessing regarding the conclusion of an arbitral agreement between Belgium and the Netherlands,52 which in turn gave the Ilzeren Rijn Arbitral Tribunal the opportunity to make its own observations on article 292 TEC and its impact on its international jurisdiction.53 All in all, Ireland’s Mox Plant litigation does not require article 292 TEC to protect the integrity of the EC legal order since there is not much fear of fragmentation of 46

EEA I, Opinion 1/91, 1991 ECR I-6079, para. 40.

47

AETR, Case 22/70, 1971 ECR 263, paras. 16 – 18, 22.

48

Laying-Up Fund, Opinion 1/76, 1977 ECR 741.

49

Cartagena, Opinion 2/00, 2001 ECR I-9713, para. 45.

50

See Declaration No. 10 to the Maastricht Treaty.

51

Iron Rhine Railway – Ihzeren Rijn – (Belgium v. Netherland), Arbitral Award of 24 May 2005, http://www.pca-cap.org.

52

Cf. N. Lavranos, supra note 23, at 228.

53

Iron Rhine Railway, supra note 51, at para. 103: ‘The Tribunal is of the view that, with regard to the determination of the limits drawn to its jurisdiction by the reference to Article 292 of the EC Treaty in the Arbitral Agreement, it finds itself in a position analogous to that of a domestic court within the EC, described in the preceding paragraphs. In other words, if the Tribunal arrived at the conclusion that it could not decide the case brought before it without engaging in the interpretation of rules of EC law which constitute neither actes clairs nor actes éclairés, the Parties’ obligations under Article 292 would be triggered in the sense that the relevant questions of EC law would need to be submitted to the European Court of Justice.’

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Community law.54 Only if Ireland had indeed claimed the infringement of Community law or of UNCLOS provisions exclusively within the competence of the EC would article 292 TEC have been undermined. In any case, the more international law provides for clear rules on conflicting jurisdiction (e.g., forum non conveniens), the fewer preventive measures are necessary to stop member States from abusively turning to alternative dispute settlement mechanisms. It is a matter of judicial comity that the ECJ trusts in the readiness of international tribunals to utilize these rules properly.

IV.

The ECJ and WTO Panels

The precarious division of external competences between the EC and its members is a source of continuous conflict. The tug of war for external latitude peaked when the EC Commission challenged the member States’ right to participate in the World Trade Organization (WTO) in 1994.55 The ensuing Opinion 1/94 demonstrates the complexity of the issue, given the fact that the subject matter regulated by the WTO agreements does not necessarily follow the pattern of explicit and implicit external EC competences. The agreements on trade in goods (e.g. GATT 1994) alone evidently fall into the exclusive external competence of the EC in view of the fact that the EC’s trade-related power was the well-known motivation for the Community to claim a seat in the GATT 1947. Consequently, all GATT-related complaints against member States would not have any chance of success. The responsibility of member States vis-à-vis third parties nonetheless remains unclear since the EC has not submitted a formal declaration of the division of competences as was required for UNCLOS.56 Most notably, the US has repeatedly sued selected EC member States for breaches of GATT. In the LAN case, the WTO panel abstained from stating that the US claim against the UK and Ireland might be ill-founded due to the latters’ lack of external competences.57 Instead, the panel observed that, apart from the EC, ‘Ireland and the United Kingdom are all bound by their tariff commitments under (GATT) Schedule LXXX’.58 Even though the panel indicated that it would return to this issue in the conclusions, it then simply stated that it was the EC that had violated the disputed provisions of GATT.59 The Appellate Body, too, avoided to elucidate the proper party to the LAN dispute. It clarified, however, that

54

For other reasons, see N. Lavranos, ‘The MOX Plant judgment of the ECJ: How exclusive is the jurisdiction of the ECJ?’, 2006 European Environmental Law 295.

55

Opinion 1/94, WTO, 1994 ECR I-5267.

56

E. Steinberger, ‘The WTO treaty as a Mixed Agreement: Problems with the EC’s and the EC Member States’ Membership of the WTO’, 17 EJIL 804, at 854-859 (2006); Steinberger argues in favour of the responsibility of EC member States.

57

LAN (US v. EC, UK and Ireland), Report of the WTO Panel, adopted 5 February 1998, WT/ DS62, DS76 and DS86, www.wto.org/english/tratop_e/dispu_e/dispu_e.htm.

58

Panel Report, supra note 57, at para. 8.16.

59

Panel Report, supra note 57, at para. 8.72.

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the acts of Ireland’s and UK’s custom authorities are irrelevant in the determination of GATT violations since they took place within a customs union.60 This consideration suggests that it is the EC alone that is responsible under GATT due to its exclusive competence to adopt common custom tariffs for the entire Community.61 With respect to claims under GATT, it is not surprising that member States remain inactive as complainants under the WTO dispute settlement mechanism. It is remarkable, however, that in the field of GATS and TRIPS, i.e., policy areas in which member States still have some exclusive competences, not a single claim has been filed by any of them.62 This reluctance of member States first and foremost results from their pragmatic stance on the Commission’s role as the spokesperson in all disputes.63 Before actions are taken under the Dispute Settlement Understanding (DSU), however, the internal consultations between the Commission and the member States may impede the Commission’s overall strategy. In the Polygram dispute concerning GATS provisions,64 rumor has it that the Commission faced some problems in reconciling the positions of the EC, the Netherlands and France before entering into consultations with the respondent, Canada.65 All in all, the EC – one of the most active complainants with altogether 77 requests in twelve years66 – utilizes the DSU system to expand its reputation as the key actor in international trade relations. Community law is no stumbling block in this quest. As already mentioned, the participation of the EC in a compulsory dispute settlement mechanism was authorized by the ECJ in its EEA-I Opinion.67 Along these lines, the DSU was not subject to any objections when the ECJ delivered its Opinion 1/94 on the participation of the EC and its members in the WTO.

A.

WTO Dispute Settlement Resolutions Within the EC Legal Order

Proceeding on the basis of the established case law of the ECJ, which says that all international agreements to which the EC is a party form an integral part of the EC legal order,68 it

60

LAN (EC v. US), Report of the Appellate Body, adopted at 5 June 1998, WT/DS62/AB/R, DS67/AB/R and DS68/AB/R, para. 96.

61

For this interpretation, see C. Ní Chatháin, ‘The European Community and the Member States in the Dispute Settlement Understanding of the WTO: United or Divided?’, 5 ELJ 461, at 473 (1999).

62

Cf. Opinion 4/94, supra note 55, paras. 36-105.

63

S. Billiet, ‘The EC and WTO Dispute Settlement: The Initiation of Trade Disputes by the EC’, 10 European Foreign Affairs Review 197, at 205 (2005).

64

EC v. Canada, Report of the WTO Panel, WT/DS117/1, http://www.wto.org/english/tratop_e/ dispu_e/dispu_e.htm.

65

Ní Chatháin, supra note 61, at 474.

66

Only the US has been more active, with altogether 88 complains since 1995, the outset of the new DSU under the WTO.

67

Opinion 1/91, EEA I, 1991 ECR I-6079, para. 40.

68

Haegeman, Case 181/73, 1974 ECR 449, para. 5; Kupferberg, C-104/81, 1982 ECR 3541, para. 13; Commission/Council, Case C-211/01, 2003 ECR I-8913, para. 57.

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seems quite logical that the legally binding decisions rendered by bodies established under these agreements also form an integral part of the EC legal order.69 This was acknowledged by the ECJ at least regarding unanimous decisions rendered by association councils on the basis of bilaterally structured association agreements between the EC and its members on the one hand, and the contracting party or parties on the other hand.70 In this respect, the ECJ stressed that the decisions form part of the Community legal order because they are directly linked to the agreement which the association councils have to implement.71 Whereas the unanimous decisions of an association council are consensual follow-up arrangements of all parties to the association agreement,72 judicial decisions fall within a different category. A judicial decision is binding for the EC not because it has agreed on the grounds for the judgment, but because the EC has agreed on the jurisdiction of the judicial organ. The direct link between the judicial body and the agreement is the agreed competence of the judicial body to decide on the interpretation and application of the agreement, a task which is not legally binding for all parties to the agreement but only for the parties to the dispute. Thus far, the ECJ has not explicitly stated that binding rulings of international judicial bodies form an integral part of the EC legal order, ranging between secondary and primary law. In its EEA-I Opinion, the ECJ simply declared that, with regard to the envisaged EEA Court, all organs of the Community, including the ECJ, are bound by decisions of international judicial bodies established by an agreement to which the EC is a party and competent to interpret and apply the provisions of that agreement (article 300(7) TEC).73 It is, however, a necessary prerequisite for the ECJ to be bound to an international judicial decision that the latter forms part of the EC legal order (article 220 TEC). The Court’s settled case law regarding the incorporation of international customary law and international agreements follows a monistic concept in order to enable the EC and its organs to comply with international obligations. Consequently, to ensure compliance with an international judicial decision, its legal force within Community law does not require an act of transformation; its legal force solely emanates from its legally binding nature on the international plane. Within the EC legal order, international judicial decisions share the rank of the agreements they interpret. There is no plausible reason to abandon this approach in the case of the WTO and to deny decisions of the Dispute Settlement Body (DSB) legal force within Community law. The dispute settlement of the WTO system is quite unique, combining legally binding decisions of a political WTO organ (the DSB) with non-binding reports of quasi-judicial bodies (the ad hoc panels and the permanent Appellate Body). Although the reports of the panel or Appellate Body themselves do not intrude into the EC legal order due to their recommendatory character, the legally binding decisions of the DSB 69

N. Lavrados, Interaction between Decisions of International Organizations and European Law (2004), at 142.

70

Sevince. Case C-192/89, 1990 ECR I-3461, para. 9.

71

Deutsche Shell, Case C-188/91, 1993 ECR I-363, para. 17.

72

Cf. the ECJ’s reasoning in Sevince, Case C-192/89, 1990 ECR I-3461, para. 9.

73

EEA I, Opinion 1/91, 1991 ECR I-6079, para. 39.

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that incorporate these reports maintain their legal force within the EC legal order, at least if the ECJ remains true to its own standards.

B.

The ECJ’s Decision on the Effects of Decisions of the WTO Dispute Settlement Body

To date, the ECJ’s rulings on the effects of DSB decisions within Community law have evaded the question of whether such decisions have legal force within the EC legal order. Instead, they turn straight to the question of whether individuals may rely on the panel/Appellate Body’s findings before the ECJ in order to establish an infringement of WTO law by EC secondary law (so-called direct effect). In the Léon Van Parys case,74 the ECJ put some effort into explaining why a DSB decision does not justify any change of the ECJ’s traditional line of argument with regard to the absence of a direct effect of WTO provisions. According to the ECJ’s settled case law, the nature and the structure of WTO agreements prevent them from belonging to the body of law in the light of which the Court reviews the legality of measures adopted by Community institutions (article 220 TEC).75 This resistance has far-reaching consequences. Firstly, it bars private parties from claiming specific rights based on WTO agreements vis-à-vis the EC or its member States. Secondly, it forestalls any attempts to introduce WTO law into an action of annulment pursuant to article 230 TEC. In such proceedings, not only private parties but also member States feel the harsh effects of the Court’s constant refusal to apply WTO law.76 Finally, any legal action for damages under article 288(2) TEC would be ill-founded.77 Much has been written about the ECJ’s approach vis-à-vis WTO law.78 The extensive scholarly debate is evenly divided into supporters and opponents of the highly political motives for the Court’s judicial self-restraint at the expense of the rule of law. In the famous Portugal v. Council decision, the ECJ stated that the WTO agreements were founded on the principle of negotiation with a view to entering into reciprocal and mutually advantageous arrangements.79 They thus differ from other international agreements concluded between the Community and non-member States in which the obligations are not necessarily reciprocal. The ECJ concluded that it would deprive the legislative or executive institutions of the EC of the discretion enjoyed by similar bodies of the

74

Léon Van Parys, Case C-377/02, 2005 ECR I-1465.

75

Portugal v. Council, Case C-149/96, 2000 ECR I-8395; Dior, joint Cases C-300/98 and 392/98, ECR I-11307; Netherlands v. Parliament and Council, Case C-377/98, 2001 ECR I-7079; Fruchthandelsgesellschaft, Case C-307/99, 2001 ECR I-3159.

76

See Germany/Council, Case C-280/93, 1997 ECR I-4973, para. 103.

77

Cf. Biret International/Council, Case T-174/00, 2002 ECR II-17, para. 61; on appeal confirmed Biret International/Council, Case C-93/02 P, 2003 ECR I-10497.

78

For an overview, see Ph. Ruttley/M. Weisberger, The WTO Agreement in European Community Law: Status, Effect and Enforcement (2005).

79

Portugal v. Council, Case C-149/96, 1999 ECR I-8395, para. 42.

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Community’s trading partners if the task of ensuring the conformity of Community law with the WTO provisions directly fell to the Community courts. The assumption that WTO agreements give political leeway to WTO members might be a characteristic worth considering in a judicial proceeding. The authoritative substantiation of WTO provisions and the declaration of their infringement by WTO organs is, however, a totally different matter. The disparity between mere WTO provisions and the adjusting DSB decisions gave rise to the hope that the ECJ would give up its judicial self-restraint once legally binding DSB decisions declared that EC institutions have infringed WTO provisions. The Court, however, spoiled this hope when it decided in the Léon Van Parys case that the decisions of the DSB, on closer scrutiny, leave enough room for subsequent negotiation between the disputing parties.80 The ECJ acknowledged that all interim measures allowed under the DSU, for instance negotiations between the disputing parties to reach an understanding, the payment of compensation by the defeated party or the suspension of concessions by the prevailing party, pursue one major goal, that is, compliance with WTO law.81 Nonetheless, the ECJ considered the WTO system somewhat ‘soft’. Even after all time limits have expired, the DSU would still allow the defeated party a certain freedom of action in order to ‘reconcile its obligations under the WTO agreements’,82 for instance negotiations to reach an agreement with the prevailing party in a preliminary stage before bringing its own legislation into conformity with WTO rules.83 This was sufficient for the ECJ to conclude that it is not entitled to judicially review the lawfulness of Community law even if, firstly, the DSB has decided that this law infringes WTO provisions and, secondly, all time limits with regard to the implementation of the decision have expired. An individual applicant can only ask the Court of First Instance (CFI) or the ECJ to rule on whether or not the Community measures now meet the WTO rules in the light of the DSB decision once the EC’s legislative organs have intentionally implemented the obligations under the DSB decision.84 As to this, the DSB decision is reduced to nothing more than an aide in gathering the meaning of WTO provisions.

C.

Analysis: An Approach Suitable for the Westphalian Era

To begin with, the Court’s negation of the direct effect of DSB decisions is a corollary of the previous negation of the direct effect of WTO provisions. If an international agreement is not intended to directly confer rights on individuals, then the focus on inter-state relations will not change when an international (quasi-) judicial organ 80

Léon Van Parys, Case C-377/02, 2005 ECR I-1465, para. 51.

81

Ibid., para. 44.

82

Ibid, para. 50.

83

Cf. the example of the negotiations between the EC on the one hand and the US and Ecuador on the other, mentioned in ibid., para. 49.

84

Léon Van Parys, Case C-377/02, 2005 ECR I-1465, para. 40, with reference to Fediol/Commission, Case C-70/87, 1989 ECR I-1781, para. 19-22; Nakajima/Council, Case C-69/89, 1991 ECR I-2069, para. 31.

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specifies the relevant provision of the agreement. In the case of the WTO, the prospect of individuals directly deriving rights from WTO provisions does not only founder on account of the vagueness of WTO provisions, but also because the contracting parties explicitly refused to give direct effect to the WTO agreements. Since the decisions of the DSB are not addressed to individuals as claimants but solely to the disputing parties of the WTO agreements, individuals cannot directly invoke DSB decisions in order to define possible rights derived from WTO provisions.85 In this regard, it is difficult to criticize the Van Parys Judgment on grounds of inconsistency.86 Be that as it may, the issue of the possible direct effect of DSB decisions is only a sideshow to the ECJ’s overall WTO strategy, even if the ECJ mostly deals with this particular problem. The ECJ’s core argument for refusing to accept the direct effect of the DSB decision in the Van Parys case is that of judicial self-restraint with a view to the political latitude inherent to the WTO system. The qualification of DSB decisions as inapplicable for judicial purposes excludes these decisions from all forms of legal proceedings before the CFI and the ECJ. With this argument, even a privileged applicant such as a member State is barred from instituting annulment proceedings pursuant to article 230 TEC in order to submit secondary EC law to an objective and comprehensive judicial review. In this way, the ECJ avoids indirectly enforcing DSB decisions in support of the prevailing WTO member. The judicial enforcement of DSB decisions, that is for sure, would be a great disadvantage in the international contest of ‘which law-breaker has greater staying power’. To this end, the ECJ put some creativity in its still unconvincing arguments of why a decision of the DSB does not demand immediate compliance after the time limit has expired.87 It is doubtful whether the ECJ’s approach towards DSB decisions is, in fact, a move towards eliminating a competing international judicial organ within the realm of Community law. At least it cannot be alleged that the ECJ only pretends to care for the political latitude and the international ‘free hand’ of the EC. However, one thing is for certain. The ECJ’s anticipatory obedience may have sweeping consequences for the decisions of other international tribunals, for instance the ITLOS or arbitral tribunals. All arguments put forward in the Van Parys Judgment apply mutatis mutandis to all kinds of inter-state dispute settlement mechanisms that render legally binding decisions to the disputing parties. To avoid any misunderstanding right from the beginning, it must be pointed out that the ECJ’s ruling on the inapplicability of international judgments may be perfectly appropriate, depending on the tenor of the relevant judgment. If, for instance, the

85

Cf. Ikea Wholesale, Case C-351/04, (not yet published) Judgment of 27 September 2007, para. 35: most notably, the ECJ incorrectly speaks of the ‘DSB recommendation’, http:// curia.europa.eu/de/content/juris/index.htm.

86

But see the reasonable critique of N. Lavranos, ‘The Communitarization of WTO Dispute Settlement Reports: An Exception to the Rule of Law’, 10 European Foreign Affairs Review 313, at 332 (2005).

87

For a critic of the ECJ’s stance see Bronckers, supra note 18, at 615-618.

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Swordfish case88, presently pending before ITLOS,89 results in a judgment against the EC, such a result might call for judicial self-restraint. Assuming that ITLOS finds that the EC has failed to ensure the conservation of swordfish and, therefore, is under the obligation to either negotiate an agreement with Chile or take unilateral action on the conservation of swordfish (article 117 UNCLOS), such a decision from ITLOS is final and has binding force for the parties to the dispute (res judicata) according to articles 33 and 15(5) ITLOS Statute. Under the conditions mentioned, it can hardly be the task of the ECJ to decide in proceedings pursuant to articles 230 or 232 TEC the question at which precise moment the negotiations between Chile and EC have to be considered a failure, for instance in view of the ICJ dicta according to which negotiations must be ‘meaningful, which will not be the case when either insists upon its own position without contemplating any modification of it’.90 In the given case, it is obvious that it is not the task of municipal judicial organs to execute the operative provisions of an international judgment. Other international decisions may however call for a different solution. The EC, for example, has made a declaration under article 11 of the Vienna Convention for the Protection of the Ozone Layer91 according to which it accepts as compulsory the submission of disputes to arbitration. In the case of the UN Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances,92 a dispute to which the EC is a party may lead to an advisory opinion by the ICJ, accepted as binding by the parties to the dispute (article 32(3) of the Convention). If the arbitral tribunal or the ICJ interprets and applies provisions of the respective Convention and finds that the EC has violated its obligations under the Convention because Community law conflicts with the established international standards, then the question arises whether a member State may refer to these judgments in annulment proceedings pursuant to article 230 TEC. If the ECJ sticks to its view expressed in the Van Parys case, it will refuse to apply international judicial decisions by referring to the political latitude of the EC. Unlike in national procedural law, the effect of res judicata of an international judgment does not prohibit the disputing parties from unanimously ignoring the judgment and agree to turn to further means of dispute settlement, for instance diplomatic negotiations or proceedings before an alternative international institution. International law is based on the rule of consensus; this characteristic of international procedural law plays into the hands of the ECJ. Admittedly, national courts are not eager to execute international judgments against their government either, partly because these judgments do not form part of their 88

Case concerning the Conservation and Sustainable Exploitation of Swordfish Stocks in the South-Eastern Pacific Ocean (Chile v. European Community), ITLO Case No. 7, http://www. itlos.org/.

89

Upon the request of Chile and the EC, ILTOS was formed as a Special Chamber pursuant to art. 15 ITLOS Statute.

90

North Sea Continental Shelf Case (Germany v. Denmark), Judgment of 26 April 1968, 1969 ICJ Rep. 3, para. 85 (a).

91

1985 Vienna Convention for the Protection of the Ozone Layer, 1530 UNTS 509.

92

1988 UN Convention against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances, 1582 UNTS 164.

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national legal order due to a prevailing dualistic approach, and partly because only in rare instances do judgments in inter-state disputes directly benefit individuals. The struggle of US courts to either apply the ICJ Avena Judgment93 or to follow conflicting US precedents exemplifies the resistance of national courts to the execution of international judicial decisions.94 Compared to national courts, however, the setting of the ECJ is different since EC member States – international actors themselves – may have their own legitimate interest in the EC’s readiness to comply with international jurisprudence. The ECJ might find enough reasons not to put an international judgment into effect within the EC legal system. Such a sovereignty-protecting approach would place the EC on the same level as many States. If the ECJ, however, opts for the rule of law with regard to international judgments legally binding for the EC, the ECJ will also have to reconsider its Van Parys Judgment.

V.

The ECJ and the European Court of Human Rights

Whenever the rivalry between international courts is the subject of academic contemplation, reference to the relationship between the ECJ and the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) seems inescapable. As a matter of fact, the multitude of substantive rights, possible infringers and guardians in the ‘multi-layered labyrinth’95 of European human rights architecture inevitably gives rise to potential judicial conflicts. All the more so as the EC member States alone are subject to the jurisdiction of the ECtHR although most of their actions are directed and controlled by EC laws. As to this, article 6 TEC refers to the European Convention of Human Rights (ECHR) as the essential source when determining general principles of EC human rights law (article 6 TEU). However, this body of human rights law is placed under the authority of the ECJ (article 220 TEC). This mélange not only carries with it the risk of diverging interpretation of parallel human rights obligations but may also evoke the responsibility of EC member States under the ECHR system for the failure of the Community to comply with the standards of the ECHR. This tension has eased thanks to the self-restraint of the ECtHR. In its Bosphorus Judgment,96 the ECtHR revisited its Matthews dictum97 according to which EC member States are to be held responsible for Community acts. From now on, the

93

Avena and other Mexican Nationals (Mexico v. United States), Judgment of 31 March 2004, 2004 ICJ Rep. 12.

94

For the reception of the Avena case in US courts, see T. V. Tisne, ‘The ICJ and municipal law: the precedential effect of the Avena and LaGrand Decisions in US Courts’, 29 Fordham ILJ 865, at 895 (2006); G. N. Barrie, ‘Reaction of USA Courts to the ICJ “Avena” Judgment’, 31 South African YIL 287 (2006).

95

A. Haratsch, ‘Die Solange-Rechtsprechung des Europäischen Gerichtshofs für Menschenrechte’, 66 ZaöRV 927 (2006): ‘Mehrebenen-Layrinth’.

96

Bosphorus v. Ireland, Application No. 45036/98, Judgment of 20 June 2005.

97

Matthews v. United Kingdom, Application No. 24833/94, Judgment of 18 February 1999.

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ECtHR puts some trust in the ECJ’s willingness to secure high human rights standards in the realm of EC law: ‘State action taken in compliance with such legal [EC] obligations is justified [under the ECHR] as long as the [EC] is considered to protect fundamental rights, as regards both the substantive guarantees offered and the mechanisms controlling their observance, in a manner which can be considered at least equivalent to that for which the Convention provides.’98

So far, the ECJ has not followed the ECtHR’s example and gives way to a different but comparable system of human rights compliance.99 On the contrary, the ECJ is famous for expanding its jurisdiction in order to safeguard human rights according to its own manner. To this end, the ECJ has claimed its competence under articles 6(2) and 46(d) TEU even where the reviewed act falls within the exclusive national competence of each member State.100 In the ERT Judgment, the ECJ stated that it had the power to examine the compatibility of national law with article 6 TEU if these rules fell within the scope of Community law.101 This was considered to be the case when member States relied on Community law to justify the national derogation of obligations under the TEC, for instance the freedom of movement. The ECJ stays loyal to this case law even though article 51 of the EU Charter on Fundamental Rights (ChFR), which is not (yet) binding, explicitly limits the scope of EU human rights law to those acts of member States that ‘are implementing Union Law’. The ECJ’s extensive interpretation of the scope of article 6 TEU has no effect on the jurisdiction of the ECtHR. It is probably in the interest of the European human rights system that the ECJ unburdens the institutions in Strasbourg by expanding its authority to all kinds of acts in the national interest of member States that concern Community law in one way or another. This is true at least as long as the ECJ continues to refer to the case law of the ECtHR when applying article 6 TEU. The question remains whether this ‘institutional truce’ between the ECJ and the ECtHR will be at risk when the EC accedes to the ECHR as foreseen in the 14th Protocol to the ECHR – at present intentionally ignored by the Russian Duma – and in the Lisbon Treaty that is currently in the phase of ratification by EU member States.

A.

Opinion 2/94 and the Lisbon Treaty

The EC’s increasing supranational powers at the expense of the member States’ freedom of action already suggests that the EC should accede to the ECHR. The conviction 98

Bosphorus v. Ireland, Application No. 45036/98, Judgment of 20 June 2005, para. 152.

99

On the legal possibility of renouncing the judicial human rights review of UN Sanction implemented by EC law on EU level if an independent judicial review on UN level is secured, see K. Schmalenbach, ‘Die Europäische Union und das universelle Völkerrecht’, in W. Schröder (ed.), 7. Österreichischer Europarechtstag (2008).

100

On this issue, see J. H. Weiler/N. Lockhart, ‘Taking rights seriously: The European Court and Its Fundamental Rights Jurisprudence’, 32 CMLR 51, at 67 et seq. (1995).

101

Elliniki Padiophonia Tiléorassi AE, Case C-260/89, 1991 ECR I-4439, para. 42.

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that human rights are better protected by courts established outside the polity whose measures are to be reviewed adds to this argument.102 In 1994, before any negotiations with the Council of Europe concerning accession had started, the EC Council requested the opinion of the ECJ pursuant to article 300(6) TEC on whether an accession to the ECHR was compatible with the TEC. It is noteworthy that the motivation of the Council was directly linked to the disaster of the proposed EEA Court, which was abolished by Opinion 1/91.103 In the proceedings before the ECJ, France, Portugal, Spain, Ireland and the UK argued that Opinion 1/91 would backfire on the Council because the competence of the ECtHR to decide on the exhaustion of local remedies and to grant satisfaction to the injured party would endanger the autonomy of the EC legal order. The Spanish government put it in bold words: ‘In contrast to the criteria laid down in Opinion 1/91, the European Court of Human Rights does not limit itself to the interpretation and application of an international agreement. It would be involved in the interpretation and application of Community law and would have to rule on the competence of the Community and the Member States.’104

In its Opinion 2/94, the ECJ did not revive its concerns regarding the autonomy of the EC legal order as expressed in Opinion 1/91.105 Instead, it merely adverted to the substantial changes in the Community’s human rights system should the EC enter into a distinct international institutional system:106 ‘Such a modification […] with equally fundamental institutional implications for the Community and for the Member States, would be of constitutional significance and would therefore be such as to go beyond the scope of Art. [308 TEC]. It could be brought about only by way of Treaty amendment.’107

In 1998, two years after Opinion 2/94 was delivered, the ECHR experienced its most drastic institutional reform so far when the Human Rights Commission was abolished and the right of individuals to directly file a complaint with the now permanent ECtHR was introduced (11th Protocol). The dictum that a treaty amendment pursuant to article 48 TEU is required to pave the way for accession has granted a rather long reprieve to the ECJ. After the failure of the Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe, all hopes now rest on the Lisbon

102

J. H. Weiler, ‘Fundamental Rights and Fundamental Boundaries’, in N. Neuwahl-Rosas (ed.), The European Union and Human Rights 51, at 74 (1995); P. M. Twomey, ‘The European Union: Three Pillars without a Human Rights Foundation’, in D. O’Keefe/P. Twomey (eds.), Legal Issues of the Maastricht Treaty, 121, at 125 et seq. (1994).

103

See supra section II.

104

Opinion 2/94, ECHR, 1996 ECR I-1759, Chapter VI, para. 2.

105

See on this opinion G. Gaja, ‘Case law’, 33 CMLR 973 (1996).

106

Opinion 2/94, ECHR, 1996 ECR I-1759, para. 34.

107

Opinion 2/94, ECHR, 1996 ECR I-1759, para. 35.

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Treaty, which was expected to enter into force in January 2009, but hit a stumbling block along the way. Article 6(2) TEU (Lisbon Treaty) reads: ‘The Union shall accede to the European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms. Such accession shall not affect the Union’s competences as defined in the Treaties.’

The Protocol to the Lisbon Treaty relating to the accession emphasizes that the accession agreement shall contain provisions for preserving the specific characteristics of the Union and of European Union law. In addition, accession to the ECHR shall not affect the exclusive competence of the ECJ pursuant to article 292 TEC (article 344 Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union).108 In other words, the accession agreement must contain a provision tantamount to a reservation pursuant to article 57 ECHR that bars the ECtHR from dealing with an application of an EC member State against the Union or against another EC member State (article 33 ECHR). This would thus be a provision to prevent a Mox Plant situation.109

B.

Analysis

Should the Union’s accession to the ECHR really occur, then the Convention would form an integral part of the EC legal order and be a yardstick for the lawfulness of secondary Union law. In addition, the rights enshrined in the ECHR would then constitute general principles of European Union law pursuant to article 6(3) TEU (Lisbon Treaty) as is also currently the case (article 6(2) TEU Amsterdam Treaty). Thus, on the level of primary law, the general principles will be accompanied by the legally binding ChFR pursuant to article 6(1) TEU (Lisbon Treaty). Article 53(1) ChFR aims at preventing conflicts between the ECHR and the ChFR. On that basis, nothing in the ChFR shall be interpreted as restricting or adversely affecting the rights guaranteed by the ECHR. All in all, the Union’s accession to the ECHR will not raise the human rights standard within the Union. The institutional changes, however, are remarkable. Even if the ECJ should remain, in principle, the sole interpreter of the Union’s human rights obligations on the level of primary law, the ECtHR will have the last word with regard to violations of the ECHR, since article 35(1) ECHR requires the exhaustion of all effective local remedies to make an application before the ECtHR admissible. This implies that the ECJ has to be invoked before the ECtHR can deal with the subject matter. Consequently, the ECtHR decides whether the ECJ was mistaken when interpreting and applying the general principles of human rights as enshrined in the ECHR via article 6(3) TEU (Lisbon Treaty). In addition, the jurisprudence of the ECtHR will have an indirect impact on the ECJ’s interpretation of the ChFR since articles 52 and 53 ChFR refer to the ECHR as the minimum standard that the ChFR shall not undercut. With 108

Protocol to Article 6 (2) of the Treaty on European Union on the Accession of the Union to the European Convention on the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms, OJ C 306 (2007), art. 3.

109

See supra section III.

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this in mind, it is not surprising that the Council of Europe advocates the Union’s accession to the ECHR as the best means to achieve coherence between the Union’s human rights law and the ECHR.110 The Union’s accession to the ECHR would have further impact on the Union’s legal system because it would inter alia be the ECJ’s task to execute ECtHR judgments. The logic of the ECJ’s Van Parys Judgment regarding DSB decisions111 will not work here: The judgments of the ECtHR are not subject to international negotiations between disputing parties because the ECtHR deals, in the vast majority of cases, with individual applications under article 34 ECHR. If the Court awards compensation pursuant to article 41 ECHR, the operative part must be directly enforceable in the Union’s legal order.112 No confirmation by an ECJ judgment pursuant to article 288(2) TEC is required. The jurisprudence of the ECtHR also bears some challenges for the autonomy of the Union’s legal order, which is the ECJ‘s favourite argument when putting competing judicial institutions in their place. Of course, the Union’s secondary law, e.g. regulations, will be subject to the human rights review by the ECtHR. In this regard, however, the ECtHR has frequently stressed that it is primarily for the national authorities and courts to interpret and apply domestic law.113 In the Bosphorus case, which inter alia concerned EC regulations implemented by Ireland, the ECtHR even stated that ‘the Community judicial organs are better placed to interpret and apply EC law’.114 However, it is difficult to stay loyal to this principle when the ECtHR has to decide whether or not the national law in question infringes fundamental rights protected by the ECHR. This holds even more true when the ECtHR decides on the merits even though the application directly concerns national law in the absence of an act of enforcement.115 After considering all these impacts of the ECHR’s institutional system on the Union’s legal order, two questions arise: firstly, is the ECJ’s holding in Opinion 2/94 still valid after the institutional reform of the ECHR in 1998 and, secondly, do the ECJ’s statements on the autonomy of the Union’s legal order advanced in the Mox Plant Judgment and in the EEA-I Opinion militate against the Union’s accession to the ECHR? As to the first question, the changes of the ECHR’s institutional system (11th Protocol to the ECHR) do not require a reappraisal of the Union’s legal capability to accede to the ECHR if the amended TEU itself foresees this option. All competences of the ECtHR which may impair the autonomy of the Union’s legal order had already 110

H. Ch. Krüger, ‘Reflections Concerning Accession of the European Communities to the European Convention on Human Rights’, 21 Penn State ILR 89, at 92 (2002).

111

See supra section IV.

112

E. Lamberg-Abdekgawad, The Execution of Judgments of the European Court of Human Rights, Human Rights Files No. 19, at 14 (2002).

113

Streletz, Kessler and Krenz v. Germany, Application No. 34044/96, 35532/97 and 44801/98, Judgment of 22 March 2001, para. 49, http://www.echr.coe.int/.

114

Case of Bosphorus Hava Yollari Turizm Ve Ticaret Anonim Sirketi v. Ireland, Application No. 45036/98, Judgment of 30 June 2005, para. 143.

115

See, e.g., Case Marckx v. Belgium, Application No. 6833/74, Judgment of 13 June 1979, 1979-1980 ECHR (Ser. A), para. 27.

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existed when the ECJ rendered its Opinion 2/94 in 1996. In addition, the entry into force of the ChFR will not significantly increase the ECtHR’s influence on EC primary law. All in all, Opinion 2/94 is in line with the EEA-I Opinion which stressed that the accession to an international agreement with its own judicial system is in principle allowed in the EC legal order. Contrary to the proposed EEA Court, it is evidently not the task of the ECtHR to interpret the Union’s entire body of law. The fact that the ECHR – as interpreted by the ECtHR – will form an integral part of the Union’s legal order is the price to be paid for the Union’s international integration. However, a change in the ECJ’s attitude towards foreign judicial bodies in the aftermath of Opinions 1/91 and 2/94 may be sensed in the Mox Plant Judgment. Here, the ECJ put the UNCLOS Arbitral Tribunal (Ireland v. UK) out of contention on the proposition that it would impair the EC’s allocation of responsibilities and the autonomy of the EC legal order if two different courts – the Arbitral Tribunal and the ECJ – were both competent to decide on identical subject matters (on the one hand UNCLOS as an international instrument, on the other hand UNCLOS as an integral part of the EC legal order).116 There is only one rationale at hand to make Opinions 1/91 and 2/94 consistent with the Mox Plant Judgment, and this rationale has nothing to do with the autonomy of the EC legal order. In the opinion of the ECJ, article 292 TEC calls for the EC and its members to wash their dirty laundry at home, at least as far as mixed agreements are concerned.

VI.

Conclusion

The above analysis of the four ECJ decisions shows that the ECJ’s approach vis-à-vis international judicial bodies is ambiguous. It ranges from the legitimate protection of the integrity of Community law (Opinion 1/91) to the acknowledgement that the EC has to be capable, as an international actor, to submit itself to an international (quasi-) judicial system (Opinions 1/91 and 2/94). Concerning the implementation of the legally binding decisions rendered by these international (quasi-)judicial systems, the ECJ alludes to the ever-existing room for international diplomacy (Van Parys Judgment), an approach that best fits a sovereignty-driven national court. The ECJ’s interpretation of article 292 TEC is also marked by a thoroughly state-centred approach, barring member States from invoking an international judicial body in the field of parallel external EC competences. In a federal State, it makes sense not to tolerate internal conflicts being adjudicated outside of the federation. From all this it follows that the EC legal order and the ECJ respectively are as much divided about the submission to foreign judicial institutions as the national legal orders and their courts. With regard to the ECJ’s early attempts to cut the Community’s umbilical cord that connected it to the international legal order, this is hardly surprising.

116

Mox Plant, Case C-459/03, 2006 ECR I-4635, para. 123, see supra section III.

51 – QUELLE EST L’IDENTITÉ DE L’EUROPE ?

51

1069

Quelle est l’identité de l’Europe ? Wolfgang Graf Vitzthum

I.

Le caractère excentrique de la culture européenne

Dans son essai : Europe, la voie romaine1 Rémi Brague, professeur de philosophie médiévale et arabe, définit « l’essence de l’Europe » par sa « romanité ». Admiratif, il décrit le caractère fécond et stimulant de la pensée grecque, ainsi que l’influence continue du droit romain. Lorsque Brague définit les Européens comme des « Romains », il souligne par là la manière dont les Romains, confrontés à une culture étrangère, ont considéré leur propre culture comme quelque chose de relatif, et comment ils ont adopté des éléments culturels venus d’ailleurs, surtout de l’hellénisme. L’assimilation romaine de « l’autre » s’est faite de telle manière que les cultures étrangères antérieures pouvaient subsister, tout en continuant à exercer leur influence. L’Europe – selon l’expression de Brague – considère sa culture comme « l’appropriation de ce qui est perçu comme étranger », et il parle de « la secondarité culturelle de l’Europe »2. L’identité de l’Europe peut alors être caractérisée par le mot « excentricité ». Le titre de l’édition allemande de l’essai de Brague : Europa, eine exzentrische Identität3, c’est-à-dire Europe : une identité excentrique, le confirme. « L’Europe a reçu du reste du monde » écrit Brague dans la « voie romaine »4. L’espace juridique européen et l’identité du droit communautaire sont également liés à cet espace culturel commun, à cette identité excentrique et à cette « civilisation curieuse »5. C’est là qu’il faut chercher le sens et le but du projet européen, d’une Europe des Vingt-Sept – « espace privilégié de l’espérance humaine ».

II.

Qu’est-ce que l’identité de l’Europe ?

La notion abstraite et moderne « d’identité », en ce qui concerne l’Europe, mentionnée pour la première fois par le Traité de Maastricht en 1992, renvoie à une double perspective. D’une part, l’identité vise à renforcer l’indépendance par rapport à l’extérieur, c’est-à-dire au niveau international. D’autre part, il s’agit du respect de l’identité 1

R. Brague, Europe, la voie romaine, 1992.

2

R. Brague, « Europe : tous les chemins passent par Rome », Esprit (février 1993), pp. 32-40.

3

R. Brague, Europa, eine exzentrische Identität, 1993.

4

R. Brague, « voie romaine », XXe Siècle, Revue d’histoire (juillet-sept. 2001), pp. 63-66.

5

R. Brague, ibid.

I. Buffard/J. Crawford/A. Pellet/S. Wittich (eds.), International Law between Universalism and Fragmentation. Festschrift in Honour of Gerhard Hafner, 1069-1076, © 2008 Koninklijke Brill NV. Printed in the Netherlands.

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nationale des Etats membres, de leur diversité, de leur histoire, de leur culture et de leurs traditions, c’est-à-dire du regard tourné vers l’intérieur6. Pour l’illustrer, reportons nous d’abord au préambule et à l’article 2 du Traité de l’Union européenne (UE) : « […] RÉSOLUS à mettre en œuvre une politique étrangère et de sécurité commune, y compris la définition progressive d’une politique de défense commune…, renforçant ainsi l’identité de l’Europe et son indépendance afin de promouvoir la paix, la sécurité et le progrès en Europe et dans le monde […] ». « L’Union se donne pour objectifs : […] d’affirmer son identité sur la scène internationale, notamment par la mise en œuvre d’une politique étrangère et de sécurité commune, y compris la définition progressive d’une politique de défense commune, qui pourrait conduire à une défense commune […] ».

Et reportons-nous ensuite au préambule et à l’article 6 paragraphe 3 du Traité de l’UE : « […] DÉSIREUX d’approfondir la solidarité entre leurs peuples dans le respect de leur histoire, de leur culture et de leurs traditions […]». « RÉSOLUS à poursuivre le processus créant une union sans cesse plus étroite entre les peuples de l’Europe, dans laquelle les décisions sont prises le plus près possible de citoyens, conformément au principe de subsidiarité […] ». « L’Union respecte l’identité nationale de ses États membres […] ».

Il n’est pas rare que ces deux dimensions de l’identité – « l’identité extérieure » et « l’identité intérieure » – entrent en conflit. De plus, l’une de ces deux identités existe déjà concrètement (l’identité nationale des États membres), tandis que l’autre, l’identité internationale de l’UE dans un contexte de mondialisation (qui a tendance à affaiblir la souveraineté des Etats), doit être développée encore plus intensément et fondée sur une base réelle. Cette identité – encore mal définie –, le Traité de l’UE cherche à la créer d’abord à partir de la politique étrangère et de la politique de sécurité commune. C’est pour cela que dans le cadre de l’article 2 du Traité de l’UE, il est question « d’identité étrangère ». La capacité de l’Europe à représenter les intérêts de ses États membres de façon plus effective que les États eux-mêmes ne peuvent le faire, est, depuis le Traité de Rome (1957), la légitimation de l’intégration européenne. C’est là l’élément fort de l’identité européenne. On peut cependant, face au comportement hétérogène des États membres à l’égard de la guerre en Irak et de l’entrée de la Turquie dans l’UE, se poser quelques questions concernant cette identité. Peut-on encore parler, dans ces cas-là, de « solidarité mutuelle »7 ? 6

Voir W. Graf Vitzthum/M. Pena, L’identité de l’Europe. Die Identität Europas, 2002.

7

Article 11, paragraphe 2 du Traité de l’UE.

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La construction européenne n’a jamais voulu supprimer les États, leurs vieilles entités constitutives. Il s’agissait beaucoup plus d’organiser leur coexistence et d’approfondir leur coopération (la mondialisation encourage l’affirmation nationaliste). La devise de l’UE – « Unie dans la diversité » – est toujours valable (dans un contexte ou la multi-appartenance européenne est un fait).

III.

L’identité europénne – dirigée contre qui?

Qui est ce « vis-à-vis », cet « autre » (pour ne pas dire cet « ennemi »), en face duquel l’Europe doit définir et préciser sa propre identité ? Aujourd’hui, ce n’est même pas l’Islam, contrairement à ce que prétendait, parmi d’autres, Ernest Renan8. Les problèmes soulevés par une éventuelle adhésion de « l’Anatolie » à l’UE ne sont pas des problèmes purement religieux ni culturels. Ce sont essentiellement des problèmes concernant l’Etat de droit et le domaine socio-économique. La réponse à ces questions se trouve dans l’article 6 paragraphe 1 du Traité de l’UE, qui est le fondement structurel et l’impératif d’homogénéité de l’UE : « L’Union est fondée sur les principes de la liberté, de la démocratie, du respect des droits de l’homme et des libertés fondamentales, ainsi que de l’Etat de droit, principes qui sont communs aux Etats membres. »

Cette clause, qui garantit la structure de la constitution de l’UE, veut conserver l’identité de l’UE et, en même temps, la concilier avec une ouverture, un élargissement. Elle doit assurer les bases d’une homogénéité, qui est la légitimation de l’UE, et renforcer le contenu matériel en vue de la formation d’une identité européenne, une identité de choix basée sur un fondement culturel, dans un contexte mondial qui dépossède les Etats progressivement de leur souveraineté sans la remplacer par des identifications politiques plus larges. L’identité européenne n’est pas donnée mais construite. L’Europe construit son identité à partir d’elle-même, par le moyen de traités, d’institutions communes, de symboles. De là, la signification spéciale du dialogue (et des querelles) sur la réconciliation de l’après-guerre et sur l’Europe future entre Berlin et Paris, Varsovie et Rome. Le caractère unique et sans précédent de l’UE consiste donc dans le fait que, contrairement à ce qu’elle fut aux époques de l’entre-deux-guerres et de l’après-guerre, l’actuelle politique identitaire de l’UE n’est pas dirigée contre un adversaire. Toutefois, il convient d’intégrer dans notre discussion les dangers auxquels l’UE sécularisée et ses États membres sont exposés, avant tout à cause du fondamentalisme religieux ou politique. Il va de soi que l’Islam (comme civilisation et comme religion) ne saurait être réduit aux déclarations et actions des groupes islamistes. On peut espérer, comme Ernst-Wolfgang Böckenförde l’a récemment formulé9, une évolution semblable

8

E. Renan, Qu’est-ce qu’une nation ?, 1882.

9

E.-W. Böckenförde, Der säkularisierte Staat, 2007, p. 40.

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à celle qu’a connue l’Eglise catholique. Les prises de position de l’Islam concernant la liberté religieuse, la séparation de la religion et de l’État, l’Eglise catholique est passée par là. Finalement, il s’agit de l’adhésion des croyants aux idées et aux exigences qui ont grandi à l’époque des Lumières, thème cher à Benoît XVI. Si la réponse au problème de la « capacité de sécularisation » de l’Islam est négative – là-dessus je n’ai pas de compétence –, l’UE, au mépris de ses conceptions libérales et de sa volonté traditionnelle d’ouverture, sera « obligée de dresser des barrières »10. Et il n’y aurait là aucun reniement de soi-même. Au contraire, ce ne serait rien d’autre qu’un acte d’autoprotection de la part d’une Europe qui veut et doit rester laïque. En même temps, cet acte renverrait au fondement rationnel inaliénable des États membres laïques.

IV.

L’Europe universelle, bidimensionnelle, pluraliste et démocratique

La Charte des droits fondamentaux de l’UE, proclamée au sommet de Nice et entretemps acceptée par la juridiction de la Cour de justice des communautés européennes, la CEJ, précise les contours d’une identité européenne qui, dans un contexte de choc des civilisations (clash of civilizations), montre ce qu’est le projet européen : autre chose qu’un marché. L’Europe est une communauté de valeurs. Ainsi la Charte fixe un ensemble de valeurs et de règles fondamentales auxquelles les Etats membres de l’UE consentent et qui constituent notre identité d’Européens. Dans la compétition mondiale des ordres de valeurs et des cultures juridiques, cette « carte d’identité » européenne est un avantage majeur. Dans le « patriotisme européen » – qui a tendance à se refroidir –, se reflète non seulement « un sentiment européen d’appartenance de la part des citoyens de l’Union », le sentiment d’être des sujets d’une collectivité, avec un ancrage affectif, pour citer notre collègue Thomas Oppermann, dans son livre Europarecht11, mais encore l’attachement à ce système de valeurs que nous venons d’évoquer. Personne n’a envie de « mourir pour Bruxelles ». Par contre, chaque (ou presque chaque) habitant de notre continent aux limites indéfinies est prêt à combattre et à faire les sacrifices nécessaires pour la protection de la dignité humaine, de la liberté de religion et d’opinion, de l’égalité, de la propriété et du contrat social européen. La Charte des droits fondamentaux de l’UE ne fait pas référence à des valeurs exclusivement européennes, mais à des valeurs universelles. La concordance presque parfaite des valeurs européennes et des valeurs universelles ne peut surprendre. Depuis l’Antiquité, la Renaissance et le Siècle des Lumières, les valeurs d’humanité et les droits de l’homme, « découverts » et formulés par l’Europe, sont, comme « modèle européen », devenus ses articles d’exportation, intellectuels et culturels, éthiques et politiques. C’est pourquoi, dans la somme des valeurs uni10

Ibid.

11

T. Oppermann, Europarecht, 2005.

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versellement considérées comme essentielles, les éléments européens sont les plus nombreux12. Cela ne signifie pas faire preuve d’eurochauvinisme. Concernant l’Europe, on doit toujours tenir compte des allers et retours « entre les nations et l’Europe, et entre celle-ci et le reste du monde » (Brague). Comme la notion d’identité, l’Europe est, dans notre contexte juridique, bidimensionnelle. La question de l’identité concerne d’abord la « petite Europe » : l’UE, c’est-à-dire l’Europe des Vingt-Sept. Cela concerne ensuite la « grande Europe », un phénomène qui, du point de vue géographique, historico-culturel et institutionnel, dépasse largement l’UE. La « grande Europe » inclut l’Europe du Conseil de l’Europe – 47 membres – et celle de l’organisation pour la sécurité et la coopération en Europe (OSCE). Cette dernière inclut aussi les Etats-Unis et le Canada. C’est dans le domaine de la protection collective des droits de l’homme – l’ordre public européen –, qu’il y a la plus grande harmonie théorique entre les deux Europes. Les politiques concrètes, certes, ne sont pas du tout identiques. Mais, vue de l’extérieur, l’entreprise européenne est un exemple unique de pacification, de stabilisation démocratique et de reconstruction économique. Le vaste élargissement de l’UE vers le Nord et l’Est n’a pas fait échouer le projet européen. Les lacunes du texte de la Charte des droit fondamentaux de l’UE contiennent une sorte de définition ex negativo de l’identité de l’Europe : pas d’invocatio dei, pas d’Occident chrétien, pas de patrimoine judéo-chrétien, rien qu’un « patrimoine spirituel ». Dès qu’on quitte le domaine minimal de ce qui est consenti, c’est-à-dire surtout le cercle des garanties élémentaires de l’Etat de droit et le noyau traditionnel des droits de l’homme, apparaissent des identités très diverses : identité chrétiennedémocrate, socialiste, libérale, etc., identité britannique, espagnole, allemande, etc. L’Europe se perçoit donc comme une entité pluraliste : multiculturelle, multilingue, multiconfessionnelle. Ce pluralisme identitaire est important et légitime. La légitimation démocratique de cette grande structure qu’est l’UE n’est pas encore acquise, mais trouve ses racines les plus importantes dans les Etats membres. Pour le moment, le système de décision à Bruxelles met en danger la propre pratique démocratique de ses États membres. La réalité européenne, c’est le bricolage d’une démocratie imparfaite au sommet, associé au dépérissement en trompe-l’œil des démocraties nationales13. Ce qui manque aux traités européens constitutionnalisants, c’est une volonté politique. Pour le moment, on ne peut aboutir qu’à une Charte des droits fondamentaux non contraignante. Cela aussi fait partie de l’identité de l’Europe, telle qu’elle est réellement et concrètement. Cela a aussi son avantage, dans la mesure où cela préserve une certaine flexibilité. Les identités européennes ne tombent pas du ciel, elles sont construites. La substance suit (ou ne suit pas). Les experts allemands et français par exemple n’apportent pas les mêmes réponses à la question de l’identité de l’Europe. Les styles et les traditions des communautés 12

Voir H. Temporini, « Universale Aspekte der Geschichte des Altertums », in, J. Heideking et al. (dir.), Wege in die Zeitgeschichte: Festschrift zum 65. Geburtstag von Gerhard Schulz, 1989, p. 199.

13

Voir S. Heine/P. Magnette, « Europe, les identités troubles » Politique étrangère (2007), pp. 486, 505 et s.

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scientifiques diffèrent également des deux côtés du Rhin, et il n’existe pas d’identité historique et culturelle commune. Construire des ponts et contribuer à faire entendre plus distinctement la voix de l’Europe dans la compétition globale des cultures, c’est l’idée stratégique qui se trouve derrière la question de l’identité culturelle, de l’identité juridique et de l’identité « universitaire » de l’Europe. Les vieilles nations européennes, la France et l’Allemagne en premier lieu, ont su mettre un terme à un siècle de rivalités et de guerres dévastatrices. Cet acquis magnifique du couple franco-allemand, fondé sur une volonté de coopération indiscutable, élargit également l’identité du projet européen.

V.

L’obligation d’une politique identitaire des Etats membres dans un contexte de mondialisation

Cette attitude « romaine » à l’égard des cultures étrangères, telle que la définit Rémi Brague, un continent qui veut rester « l’Europe », doit la garder. Cet héritage romain, qui a particulièrement marqué la culture juridique de notre continent, nous devrions donc le conserver et le transmettre, pour le bien de l’Europe. Concrètement, l’unité dans la diversité doit rester la devise de l’UE, une devise pas du tout banale, mais essentielle. Elle rappelle qu’il ne sera jamais question de défaire les nations pour faire l’Europe. L’existence des États nationaux et le sentiment européen font donc partie de cet héritage européen. Répétons-le : l’Europe doit respecter l’identité nationale des États membres et en même temps développer sa propre identité et l’affirmer au niveau international. Evidemment, cela signifie un certain nombre de tensions. Cela correspond à la structure constitutionnelle de l’UE : seuls des États en bon état de fonctionnement sont en mesure de poursuivre une politique unitaire vis-à-vis d’États tiers. Ainsi les systèmes juridiques des États membres représentent aussi le terreau juridique de l’UE. C’est en eux que l’UE a ses racines. La forêt n’a pas de racines, mais les arbres en ont. L’UE se nourrit constamment de ces systèmes juridiques nationaux, non seulement en ce qui concerne les droits fondamentaux, mais aussi pour permettre un développement progressif du droit européen et en combler les lacunes. L’Europe ne doit pas apparaître comme le cheval de Troie de la mondialisation, mais doit faire de la diversité une richesse. Il faut trouver un équilibre entre l’identité indispensable, qu’il faut continuer à assurer, c’est-à-dire la substance constitutionnelle des États membres14 et une politique d’intégration, donc une politique dont les buts font également partie de l’identité constitutionnelle des États membres (Verfassungsidentitätspolitik). On peut se référer à ce sujet au préambule et à l’article 23 de la Loi fondamentale, le Grundgesetz : « Conscient de sa responsabilité devant Dieu et devant les hommes, animé de la volonté de servir la paix du monde en qualité de membre égal en droits dans une Europe unie, le peuple allemand s’est donné la présente Loi fondamentale en vertu de son pouvoir constituant. » 14

Voir l’article 6, paragraphe 3 du Traité de l’UE.

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« Pour l’édification d’une Europe unie, la République fédérale d’Allemagne concourt au développement de l’Union européenne qui est attachée aux principes fédératifs, sociaux, d’Etat de droit et de démocratie ainsi qu’au principe de subsidiarité et qui garantit une protection des droits fondamentaux substantiellement comparable à celle de la présente Loi fondamentale. A cet effet, la Fédération peut transférer des droits de souveraineté par une loi approuvée par le Bundesrat. »

Ainsi l’article 6 du Traité de l’UE implique indirectement que les États membres ont une identité nationale et veulent aussi la conserver. C’est pourquoi cet article demande aux États membres de s’assurer, d’une manière continue, de leur propre base, au niveau politique et social, donc de pratiquer une politique d’autoprésentation et de veiller à promouvoir leur identité. L’Europe, une « finalité sans fin » ? Non, les États membres pensent à un avenir qui prolongerait des voies nationales, convergeant éventuellement, mais dans un avenir très lointain, vers un corps politique inédit. Des ligues de cités grecques à une fédération kantienne d’États, de celle-ci aux Etats-Unis d’Europe, tels que les a rêvés Victor Hugo en 1849, du mémorandum d’Aristide Briand au Traité de Rome, l’Europe ne s’est jamais conçue comme une association d’États unis par des traits de civilisation, mais comme une association d’États n’existant que par leur singularité et leur confrontation. Les nations y trouveront un surcroît de puissance : c’est ce que pensaient les pères fondateurs fonctionnalistes – Schuman, Adenauer, Spaak et De Gasperi. Dans notre réflexion sur le passé et sur le futur, nous nous ressentons toujours, en ce qui concerne l’Europe, comme des héritiers critiques. « La nécessité d’un nouveau départ radical » pourrait-elle survenir ? Dans son article L’Europe commence-t-elle avec les Grecs ? La préhistoire d’une voie originale15, Christian Meier, inspiré par l’Antiquité gréco-latine, a fait allusion à cette idée. La culture a tendance à dévier, « comme le montre la longue liste des méfaits européens (et américains), de l’Antiquité grecque aux campagnes de César, des croisades à Auschwitz, sans parler d’Hiroshima et de Nagasaki. »16. Se pourrait-il, demande ce spécialiste d’histoire ancienne, que l’essence de l’Europe soit justement dans cette capacité à recommencer ? Le Traité de Rome en a apporté la preuve éclatante, il y a plus d’un demi-siècle : une raison de se réjouir. Albert Camus termine son essai : Le Mythe de Sisyphe17 par ces phrases : « La lutte elle-même vers les sommets suffit à remplir un cœur d’homme. Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux. »

15

C. Meier, « Beginnt Europa bei den Griechen? Die Vorgeschichte eines Sonderweges », Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 2/3 février 2002.

16

Ibid.

17

A. Camus, Le Mythe de Sisyphe, 1942.

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LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

List of Contributors

Benedek, Wolfgang Professor of International Law and International Relations, Institute of International Law and International Relations, University of Graz, Austria

Binder, Christina Assistant Professor of International Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna, Austria

Bothe, Michael Professor emeritus of Public Law, Johann Wolfgang Goethe University, Frankfurt am Main, Germany

Buffard, Isabelle Assistant Professor of International Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna, Austria

Caflisch, Lucius Former Judge at the European Court of Human Rights, Strasbourg, France; Professeur honoraire, Institut Universitaire de Hautes Études Internationales, Genève, Switzerland; Member of the United Nations International Law Commission

Cede, Franz Former Ambassador of Austria to Belgium and the NATO; former Legal Adviser of the Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs, Austria

Crawford, James Whewell Professor of International Law; Chair of the Faculty of Law, Cambridge University, United Kingdom; former Member of the United Nations International Law Commission; Member of the Institute de droit international

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Degan, Vladimir-Djuro Professor emeritus, University of Rijeka, Croatia; Marco Polo Fellow of the Silk Road Institute of International Law, Xi’an Jiaotong University, China; Member of the Institut de droit international

Fitzmaurice, Malgosia Professor of Public International Law, Queen Mary University London, United Kingdom

Fox, Hazel QC, Barrister in practice at 4-5 Grays Inn Square, Grays Inn, London, United Kingdom; former Director of the British Institute of International and Comparative Law

Galicki, Zdzislaw Vice-Director of the International Law Institute, Warsaw University, Poland; Member of the International Law Commission

Gattini, Andrea Professor of International Law, University of Padua, Italy

Höpfel, Frank Professor of Criminal Law, Department of Criminal Law and Criminology, University of Vienna, Austria; former Judge at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, the Hague, The Netherlands

Hummer, Waldemar Professor of Public International Law, European Law and International Relations, Institute of European Law and Public International Law, University of Innsbruck, Austria

Isak, Hubert Professor of European Law, Institute of European Law, University of Graz, Austria

Kateka, James L. Judge at the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea, Hamburg, Germany

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Kaul, Hans-Peter Judge and President of the Pre-Trial Division at the International Criminal Court, The Hague, The Netherlands

Kohen, Marcelo Professor of International Law, Institut de Hautes Études Internationales et du Développement, Genève, Switzerland, Associate Member of the Institut de droit international

Köhler, Ulrike Desk Officer at the Office of the Legal Adviser, Austrian Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs, Austria

Kriebaum, Ursula Associate Professor of International Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna, Austria

Kwiatkowska, Barbara Deputy Director of the Netherlands Institute for the Law of the Sea and Professor of International Law, Faculty of Law, University of Utrecht, The Netherlands

Loibl, Gerhard Professor of International Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna; Professor, Diplomatic Academy, Vienna, Austria

Marschik, Alexander Ambassador, Director of the Department for Disarmament Arms Control and Nuclear Non-Proliferation, Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs, Austria

Mensah, Thomas Aboagye Former Judge at the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea, Hamburg, Germany

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LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Müllerson, Rein Professor and Chair of International Law, King’s College, London, United Kingdom

Neuhold, Hanspeter Professor of International Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna, Austria

Nowak, Manfred Professor of Constitutional Law, Director of the Ludwig Boltzmann Institute of Human Rights, Vienna, Austria

Paust, Jordan Professor of International Law, Mike and Teresa Baker Law Center, University of Houston, Texas, United States of America

Pellet, Alain Professor, Université de Paris X-Nanterre, France; Member and former Chairman of the United Nations International Law Commission

Prandler, Árpád Judge at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, The Hague, The Netherlands

Rao, Pemmaraju Sreenivasa Former member of the United Nations International Law Commission; Associate Member of the Institut de droit international

Regner, Richard Attorney-at-law in Salzburg and Vienna, Austria; former Scientific Assistant at the Austrian Constitutional Court, Research Assistant at the European Institute of Public Administration and former Member of the Office of the Legal Advisor to the Austrian Minister for Foreign Affairs

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

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Reinisch, August Professor of International and European Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna, Austria; Professorial Lecturer at the Bologna Center of the Paul H. Nitze School of Advanced International Studies/Johns Hopkins University, Bologna, Italy

Reiterer, Markus Counselor (Political Affairs and Public Diplomacy), Austrian Embassy to the United States of America, Washington, DC; Lecturer in International Law, University of Innsbruck, Austria

Remiro Brotons, Antonio Professor of Public International Law and International Relations, Universidad Autónoma, Madrid, Spain

Schmalenbach, Kirsten Professor of International and European Law, Deputy Head of the Institute of International Law and International Relations, University of Graz, Austria

Schreuer, Christoph Professor of International Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna, Austria

Simma, Bruno Judge at the International Court of Justice, The Hague, The Netherlands; former Member of the United Nations International Law Commission; Professor emeritus of International Law, Ludwig Maximilian University, Munich, Germany

Thürer, Daniel Professor and Chair of International, European, Public and Comparative Constitutional Law, University of Zurich, Switzerland

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Tichy, Helmut Head of the Section of General International Law, Austrian Office of the Legal Adviser, Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs, Austria

Tomuschat, Christian Professor emeritus, Humboldt University Berlin, Germany; former Member of the United Nations International Law Commission; Member of the Institut de droit international

Trauttmansdorff, Ferdinand Ambassador, Head of the International Law Office of the Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs, Austria

Treves, Tullio Judge at the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea, Hamburg, Germany; Professor of International Law, the State University of Milano, Italy

Triffterer, Otto Professor emeritus, Institute of Criminal Law of the University of Salzburg, Austria

Vitzthum, Wolfgang Graf von Professor of Public and International Law, University of Tübingen, Germany

Weiss, Friedl Professor of European Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for European Law, University of Vienna, Austria

Wilmshurst, Elizabeth Associate Fellow, Royal Institute of International Affairs, Chatham House, London, United Kingdom

Winkler, Hans State Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Federal Ministry for European and International Affairs, Austria

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Wittich, Stephan Assistant Professor of International Law, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna, Austria

Wolfrum, Rüdiger President of the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea, Hamburg, Germany; Professor, Law Faculty, University Heidelberg; Director of the Max Planck Institute for Comparative Public Law and International Law, Heidelberg, Germany

Wood, Michael KCMG, Senior Fellow of the Lauterpacht Centre for International Law, University of Cambridge, United Kingdom

Zemanek, Karl Professor emeritus, Department of European, International and Comparative Law, Section for International Law and International Relations, University of Vienna, Austria; Member of the Institut de droit international

Zimmermann, Andreas Professor of International Law and Director of the Walther-Schücking-Institute of International Law, University of Kiel, Germany

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