Complementarity Compromised? The ICC Gives Congo the Green Light to Re-Try Katanga

by Patryk Labuda

[Patryk I. Labuda is a Ph.D. Candidate at the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies and a Teaching Assistant at the Geneva Academy of International Humanitarian Law and Human Rights.]

On 7 April 2016, the ICC made an important but troubling decision in the case of Germain Katanga. After reviewing a request from the authorities of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), the ICC Presidency determined that, in spite of the Rome Statute’s prohibition of double jeopardy, a Congolese military tribunal may effectively re-try Katanga on charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity. In addition to fair trial concerns, this decision raises a number of questions about the ICC’s raison d’etre, in particular the relationship of international criminal justice to human rights law and the future of complementarity.

Readers of this blog will know that Katanga’s trial has generated significant controversy over the years, especially as regards the ICC judges’ use of Regulation 55 (covered by Kevin Jon Heller here and here). A Congolese rebel re-integrated into the national armed forces, Katanga was convicted of war crimes and crimes against humanity in March 2014. Later that year, the ICC sentenced him to twelve years imprisonment, of which he had already spent seven years in detention at the ICC. In November 2015, just 18 months into his sentence, the ICC decided that he was eligible for early release, meaning Katanga would be a free man in January 2016.

Everything seemed to be going well for Katanga, when in December 2015 he made the fateful and still inexplicable decision to return to the DRC to finish serving his sentence. Shortly after he was transferred to a prison in Kinshasa (together with his compatriot and fellow ICC inmate Thomas Lubanga), rumors surfaced that the Congolese authorities would want to prosecute Katanga domestically. Sure enough, a few weeks before his scheduled release, the Congolese authorities announced Katanga would be tried in the DRC for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

It should be noted at the outset that Katanga’s trial in the DRC is not prohibited as such by the Rome Statute. That multiple courts may assert jurisdiction over a single suspect flows from the ICC’s principle of complementarity. However, national prosecutions cannot violate Article 20 (2), which guarantees that “[n]o person shall be tried by another court for a crime… for which that person has already been convicted or acquitted by the [ICC].“

A reaffirmation of the cardinal human rights principle ne bis in idem (known as double jeopardy in the common law, though there are some differences), this provision basically ensures that ICC defendants will not be tried for the same crimes twice.

Simple enough in theory, Article 20 is not as clear as it should be. International crimes are by their very nature composites of multiple crimes, which means that unless a person is tried and convicted for everything they did in their first trial, there will almost always be additional charges that a thorough or overzealous national prosecutor can bring in domestic proceedings.

Thus, the key question is who gets to decide whether a national court may prosecute an ICC defendant for ‘a crime for which that person has already been convicted or acquitted.’ It would be extremely problematic if national courts were free to decide this vexing issue, especially in cases such as Katanga’s, where the defendant is a former rebel who fought to overthrow the government currently in power. Thankfully, the Rome Statute recognizes this risk and gives the ICC the final word:

A sentenced person in the custody of the State of enforcement shall not be subject to prosecution… unless such prosecution… has been approved by the Court at the request of the State of enforcement.

It is Article 108 (1) that lies at the heart of the ICC’s decision to allow Katanga’s trial before the DRC’s High Military Court. Though it is ostensibly a procedural safeguard for ICC defendants who go back to their country of origin, the ICC Presidency appears to have precious little time for Katanga’s fair trial rights. Citing the Libya admissibility challenges, the judges emphasize that the ICC ‘is not an international court of human rights’ (para. 31). In two brief but astounding paragraphs, the ICC dismisses Katanga’s concerns about an unfair trial in the Congolese military system, where he will have no access to legal aid and no right to appeal his judgment. Instead, the Presidency insists that the DRC is a party to the relevant international human rights treaties, so the Congolese authorities will have to provide legal aid and a right to appeal. An emblematic case of wishful thinking if there ever was one, it seems to make no difference to the ICC that these protections are simply not part of the domestic legal framework. The judges’ reasoning is that so long as the relevant international treaties provide guarantees ‘on paper’, the human rights box is ticked and the ICC can move on to more momentous matters.

This schematic approach to human rights is on stark display when it comes to the death penalty. Though mandatory in the DRC for international crimes, the Presidency relies on the DRC’s ‘written assurances’ that ‘the death penalty will not be sought against Mr. Katanga.’ It then hastens to add that ‘any such penalty would not, in any event, be carried out’ (para. 28), which is presumably a reference to the moratorium that has been observed in the DRC since 2003. It can only be assumed that the Presidency is unaware of the fact that the recently adopted ICC implementation law, which enters into force later this month, broadens the applicability of the death penalty to ICC crimes. Moratorium or not, the Congolese Parliament repeatedly rejected abolitionist efforts, despite years of lobbying by human rights groups to have the death penalty abolished through the ICC implementation law. Seemingly to drive that point home, on the same day the ICC announced its decision, a military court in eastern Congo sentenced six defendants to death.

There are legitimate and unresolved questions about the ICC’s role (or lack thereof) in monitoring fair trial rights at the national level, but what is troubling about the Presidency’s ambivalence in this regard is that it went much farther than it had to. In a paragraph that epitomizes the judges’ confusion about the wider systemic implications of this case, they assert that ‘the Court’s approval should only be denied when the prosecution… of sentenced persons may undermine certain fundamental principles or procedures of the Rome Statute or otherwise affect the integrity of the Court’ (para. 20). With the stroke of a pen, the judges effectively reverse a fundamental tenet of international human rights law: the prohibition of ne bis in idem goes from being the presumption to the exception. Absent exceptional circumstances, the ICC will not oppose domestic prosecution for any current or future ICC defendants. In a real twist of irony, the judges reach this conclusion because the law needs to be ‘interpreted in context, taking into account the purpose of the Rome Statute and the nature of the Court’ (para. 20).

Why is this decision so problematic and why should everyone, the ICC in particular, be concerned? As a preliminary matter, it should be recalled how Katanga ended up in The Hague in the first place. When he was transferred to the ICC in October 2007, Katanga had already spent more than two years in pre-trial detention in Congo on domestic war crimes charges. Citing the DRC’s proceedings against him, Katanga then challenged the admissibility of his ICC trial, arguing that – in accordance with complementarity, which gives states priority to prosecute – the ICC had to defer to the Congolese investigations and send him back to the DRC. At the time, the ICC was more than happy to accept Congolese assurances that the DRC could not and would not prosecute Katanga domestically, even though this was patently untrue since a domestic investigation was already underway. Yet, seven years later, the ICC suddenly rediscovers complementarity to justify the DRC’s renewed (what a surprise!) proceedings against Katanga, notwithstanding its earlier disavowal of the same principle. The irony seems lost on the judges again.

Some will argue that the many ironies of this case are beside the point, and what matters are the Rome Statute’s rules on ne bis in idem. In other words, whether we like it or not, domestic prosecutions of ICC convicts are allowed as long as they relate to different crimes than those tried by the ICC. It would thus seem important to know what Katanga’s trial in the DRC is about and how it relates to the ICC’s case against him?

Not for the ICC Presidency. Though the judges note that the DRC “must provide a number of documents detailing the intended prosecution, including a statement of the facts of the case and their legal characterization…” (para. 22), their decision is conspicuously silent on what the DRC has actually charged Katanga with, how that relates to the ICC’s conviction, and what this means for the principle of ne bis in idem.

This is not a coincidence. One of Katanga’s main complaints about his trial in Congo is that he still does not know what the charges are, in particular whether some acts are covered by a presidential amnesty. Though the Presidency’s decision fails to acknowledge it, the DRC initially refused to heed the ICC’s requests for information and has been dragging its feet on follow-up requests ever since. In Kinshasa, it is an open secret that the ICC and the DRC have clashed over the Katanga prosecution, with some reports even suggesting that the Congolese authorities threatened to break off all cooperation with the ICC if the DRC didn’t get its way.

This explains why, instead of performing a legal analysis of the DRC’s charges, the judges content themselves with yet more assurances from the Congolese authorities that Katanga’s domestic prosecution ‘relates to crimes other than those for which he has been convicted and acquitted by the Court’ (para. 22). This is more than a little surprising, given that the DRC’s charges (an outline of which is available here) concern two counts of murder as crimes against humanity (guilty of the same charge at the ICC) and the war crime of enlisting child soldiers (acquitted of the same charge at the ICC). The cumulative effect of this decision is that, despite there being serious concerns about the feasibility and coherence of the DRC’s case against Katanga, the Presidency’s standard of review for ne bis in idem challenges is that the state has to… assure the ICC that it will not violate the ne bis in idem principle. No more, no less.

What is one to make of all this? First, notwithstanding the inherent challenges of applying ne bis in idem to international crimes, it is to be hoped that the ICC will, in the future, provide guidelines as to when a domestic investigation is sufficiently distinct from an ICC case to merit a second trial. Surely this, not the DRC’s assurances, is the real legal question at the heart of a ne bis in idem challenge.

Second, this case exposes, yet again, the ICC’s limited enforcement options. The truth is that the Presidency had a stark and unpalatable choice: wait for details of Katanga’s domestic case and, after doing a proper ne bis in idem assessment, possibly reject the DRC’s motion; or look away and thereby ensure that the ICC’s cooperative relationship with the DRC, especially as regards the ongoing Ntaganda trial, is not jeopardized. Whatever we think of the many ironies of the Katanga saga, the Presidency probably calculated correctly that there will be less uproar about an ICC convict being re-tried than if yet another ICC case falls apart.

Third, the practical consequence of the Presidency’s current minimalistic standard of review is that there is little prospect that anyone who appears before the ICC, especially people acquitted by the ICC, will ever go back to their country of origin. Bemba, Ntaganda, Gbagbo, Ongwen… everyone is now on notice that the ICC is just the beginning. Suspects can and should expect a second (and why not a third or a fourth?) trial once they’ve done their time at the ICC.

Last, and most importantly, the Presidency seems to miss the irony that its decision raises serious questions about the ICC’s raison d’etre. If the presumption really is that domestic prosecutions against ICC defendants are allowed after ICC interventions, what implications does this have for ICC investigations and trials going forward? Maybe the Prosecutor shouldn’t waste time and resources charging individuals with a wide range of crimes, such as in the Ongwen case? The bigger question, though, is what purpose the ICC serves in the wider system of international criminal justice: if the ICC can try only a few cases per year, at a huge cost compared to national trials, only to then have virtually the same cases re-litigated at the national level, then maybe it’s better to just have a human rights court that monitors domestic war crimes trials? Not only will a human rights court be able to call a spade a spade; it might even provide an actual analysis of when trying the same suspect twice is lawful, something that is conspicuously absent from this decision.

16 Responses

  1. Thanks for the interesting post , really really complicated issue , yet :

    I can only presume , that the ICC , tries to maintain respect to national or domestic laws . One should not forget , the issue of Double jeopardy , is not so cut clear as it may sound . Here for example , the Israeli penal code ( 1977 , common law in fact ) here :

    ” Double jeopardy

    5. A person will not be tried for an act if he has previously been acquitted or convicted of an offense related to the same act; however, if the act caused the death of another person he will be tried for it even if he has previously been convicted of another offense related to the same act. For the purposes of this section, “conviction” includes placing a person on probation without his having been convicted.”

    End of quotation :

    So clearly : if the act caused the death , he shall be tried again , conditioned that already been tried for another act within the affair of course .

    And even in global or international terms , here :

    ” International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights ” ( I can only presume that Kongo is ratified on ) and article 14 ( 7) which reads as follows :

    7. No one shall be liable to be tried or punished again for an offense for which he has already been finally convicted or acquitted in accordance with the law and penal procedure of each country.

    End of quotation :

    So , one could read the reservation and stipulation at the leg of that provision : ” in accordance with the law and penal procedure of each country ” .

    So , finally , I think that the respectable author , had to reveal rather , the match or not of that case , with the law and regulations of Congo .


  2. Patryk ,

    You may ( if you read french )dig some , in the penal code of Congo , and observe , how sometimes , it does vary from other penal codes in common law for example , here :


  3. Dear Patryk,

    I hope you are well. Thanks a lot for this very interesting article.

    Letting aside for a moment the fair trial concerns and the arguments about the ICC raison d’etre, I have a question on the interpretation of Art. 20(2).

    In paras. 24 and 25 of the Decision the judges adopt a standard that seems to me to run against a literal interpretation of Art. 20(2). They rely on the text of the “Décision de renvoi” according to which Katanga will not be prosecuted for the “massacres commis à Bogoro”. This would thus show in the judges’ eyes that Art. 20(2) is respected.
    But Art. 20(2), contrary to the other paragraphs of Art. 20, talks about “crime referred to in article 5” and not about “conduct which formed the basis of crimes”.
    What the “Décision de renvoi” is referring to are facts, conducts that can be legally characterized in a way or another.
    It seems to me that the judges here conflate crimes and conducts without any explanation.

    If this is true and the judges got the standard wrong, my question is: what do you think Art. 20(2) would actually bar in Katanga case?

    In particular:

    would it literally bar any prosecution for crimes referred to in article 5 for which he has already been convicted or acquitted by the Court encompassing all war crimes and crimes against humanity (in Art. 5 you only have a list of these categories of crimes and not of the specific crimes in each of the category?

    Would it bar only prosecutios for those specific crimes for which he has already been convicted or acquitted by the Court (murder as a crime against humanity, murder as a war crime, etc.)?

    Would it bar a prosecution for common law crimes such as for instace “murder” not qualified as an international crime or assault and battery for the same facts (the attacks in Bogoro for instance)? In this last case, technically speaking, it would be the same conducts but not the same crime. Would this be ok under Art. 20(2)?

    Sorry for the long comment and thanks a lot for your thoughts on these issues.

  4. Very interesting post Patryk.
    I wonder why you refer in respect of the art. 108 decision, alternatively to “ICC Presidency” and to “the judges”. Under article 108 of the Statute it is the decision on the “limitation on the prosecution or punishment of other offences” is adopted by “the Court”. The circumstance that the charges in the Katanga are (and must necessarily be) for “other offences” is in order not to trigger the prohibition enshrined in article 20.2 (“No person shall be tried by another court for a crime referred to in article 5 for which that person has already been convicted or acquitted by the Court”).
    The proceeding is accordingly different from those under Rule 16 of the ICTY RPE (See the MICT Single judge decision of Decembre 10, 2015, in the Oric case).
    According to Rule 214 the decision is adopted by “the Presidency”. The “Presidency” is an organ of the court (art. 34) but the attribution of the decision to the Presidency means that the decision is intrinsically “administrative” (art. 38.3). Prior to the adoption of the RPEs, I was convinced that it would have been for the trial chamber to decide and verify fundamental guarantees for the convicted person. I was wrong.
    Upon adoption of the RPEs, I was unsatisfied by the mere reference to “consultations” with the State other than the State of enforcement having previously surrendered the person to the court (Rule 214.4). The Rule is clearly insufficient not only to safeguard the individual, but also States other than the State of enforcement which have previously cooperated with the court for the surrender of the accused. Obviously it is not the case of Katanga which was previously handed over by the DRC, but say Katanga was handed over to the Court by the Netherlands!
    I suppose El Roam was referring to situations in which and individual convicted for bodily harm is newly prosecuted for homicide if the victim subsequently dies as a consequence of such bodily harm. More severe consequences of the same fact are a challenge in several legal systems. Sometimes the proceeding is suspended awaiting
    In any case the Author, contrary to what El Roam says, had not to match the case with the laws and regulations of Congo, as the decision had to be adopted under art. 20, 108 and the RPEs … and under article 21 … human rights which is frequently sacrificed in the name of complementarity and the role of the ICC, as effectively discussed by Patryk Labuda. Domestic laws of the DRC may be relevant for the “reopening” of domestic cases, non for a judgment of the ICC.
    This happens because the ICC has developed a non-interference attitude in order not to discourage selective referrals.
    Thanks a lot for this great post

  5. Daniele, good to hear from you. I think you raise a fundamental question: what should the standard of review be? It is true that my post (which is too long anyway) does not try to answer that question. I have my thoughts about this, but it would probably take another (long) post to do it justice.

    Let me just say briefly that I agree with your interpretation of the wording in article 20, paragraphs 1 and 2. There is a clear difference and we would need to have a closer look at the drafting history to explain why. Without going into that here, there seems to be a range of options, the most important of which you already highlighted – I am not convinced that we need to adopt a very strict interpretation of art. 20 (2) as it would probably foreclose any possibility of re-trial and I am not sure that is a very satisfactory result. At the same time, I have reservations about the way in which the ICC Presidency implicitly (because even this is left unstated!) adopts a very wide interpretation of art. 20 (2), whereby any underlying incident that is not identical with the ICC’s own prosecution makes art 20 (2) inapplicable. Not only does this defeat the purpose of art. 20 (2), but it also raises all kinds of questions about the ICC’s role in charging suspects going forward (i.e. the bigger issues discussed in the post).

    There is a lot more to say about the Katanga case specifically, especially as regards his status as a mid-level perpetrator (not a ‘big fish’) and the concrete charges he is facing in the DRC (and equally important, not facing — e.g. willful killing of peacekeepers?), and what role that should have (in my opinion) played in the Presidency’s decision. As you can tell, I think the decision is profoundly misguided on many levels, but at the end of the day it is the peculiar circumstances of the Katanga case that make it such a poor candidate for art. 20 (2) review, which is what prompted me to get thinking about the whole issue of non bis in idem in the first place.

  6. Daniele, in re-reading my comment, I realize I didn’t actually give you a straight answer – so I think the standard of review should be somewhere in the middle, which is the second option you listed. Of course, this is also the most complex option because it requires a case by case assessment of what is and is not relevant to a ne bis in idem challenge. But I don’t think you can be serious about art 20 (2) if you don’t actually look at the particulars of each case (and this is why I think the facts in Katanga are so important, re my last point).

  7. Jean Paul, thanks so much for your comment. I am really glad you bring this up because I am by no means an expert on the ICC qua ICC (how it works as an institution). You refer to Rule 16 of the ICTY’s RPE – is that 16 or 13? Rule 13 gives the ICTY’s PTC the possibility to review ne bis in idem challenges, which is – as you pointed out – quite different from art. 38 of the Rome Statute, read in conjunction with art. 20 (2), 108 and RPE 214. Your conclusion seems to be that the Presidency only does ‘administrative’ work and so I shouldn’t fault the Presidency for not engaging in a substantive review (hence we shouldn’t even call them judges) of Katanga’s (re-)trial in the DRC. Is that a fair characterization of your comment?

    So this is very interesting indeed – my first reaction is that, in terms of article 38, it seems to recognize that the Presidency also has “other functions” (38, 3, b) – does art. 108 fall under that paragraph or is it really just ‘administrative’ stuff?

    More fundamentally, whatever article 38 says or does not say, the Presidency did in fact do a substantive review in this case. For starters, their discussion of Katanga’s fair trial rights is about substance, even if that was not the ratio of the decision. On ne bis in idem specifically, the Presidency can argue all they want they are not taking a stand on the substance of ne bis in idem, but by implicitly adopting a minimalistic standard of review they are adopting an understanding of art 20 (2) that produces a wide range of substantive effects (re complementarity, human rights etc.). In his comment, Daniele notes that there are several distinct ways in which we can approach ne bis in idem, and whatever we think of the Katanga decision, the Presidency seems to have endorsed a certain interpretation of art. 20 (2).

    So I guess my point is that, whatever the formal differences between the ICTY and ICC’s standard of review, the effects will be to a large extent similar. Just because there is no PTC making decisions at the ICC on ne bis in idem challenges, doesn’t mean the Presidency hasn’t made a ‘judgment’ – for practical purposes – on what art 20 (2) means going forward.

    That’s my initial reaction, but maybe I am missing something? I would love to hear more about this.

  8. Thanks Patryk for a typically robust piece.

    In tearing haste (RIP PLF), I just wanted to add a few thoughts from the perspective of Katanga’s right to fair trial as discussed in the Decision at paragraph 31. Paragraph 31 starts by stating that the “prosecution, punishment or extradition of a sentenced person should only be denied when it undermines fundamental principles or procedures of the Rome Statute or otherwise affects the integrity of the Court.”

    The Decision then notes in paragraph 31 that the DRC is a party to the ICCPR and African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, which affords protection to Katanga’s fair trial rights. The Decision therefore seems to be suggesting that Katanga’s fair trial rights are guaranteed under these instruments. But the protection of rights for the individual comes not in the signature and/or ratification of the ICCPR or the African Charter by the member state but in the ability of the individual to challenge a states’ failure to protect or uphold that right. The premier court for this protection would be the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights which has a mandate to consider alleged violations of the African Charter and other international human rights instruments signed by the member state in question. But the DRC has not signed the Protocol establishing the African Court let alone the Special Declaration granting individuals and NGOs direct access to the African Court ( Therefore the reality of the situation is that Katanga has no avenue, save for the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights perhaps?, to assert the DRC has violated the rights which the Decision alludes to.

    Of course the question then is whether this lack of recourse to an international human rights court should be of concern to the ICC? Should the ICC have even gone down the avenue of partially examining Katanga’s rights under various international instruments? Since the ICC has alluded to these rights in its decision, should it have completed the assessment and considered whether there are effective avenues for Katanga to assert these rights at the international level, if as the ICC says it is not that place? Does this lack of recourse “undermine fundamental principles of the Rome State” or “otherwise affect the integrity of the Court”? I’m not sure I have a great answer to these questions but I leave these questions up for Patryk and others to consider!

  9. Patryk,
    You are right, the Rule is 13 and not 16.
    As to the “administrative” work of the Presidency, my remark was not because the Presidency should not be faulted (obviously it should), but rather to underline the fact the RPEs are reflect an underestimation of the human rights implications of the authorization established in article 108.
    I am aware of the fact that extradition proceedings as such do not trigger the fair trial guarantees under the “criminal hut” of art. 6 of the ECHR and can be administrative in essence and purpose (even if you can challenge the committal in front of a court). Nonetheless, in my opinion, in an international institution as the ICC, the Presidency should be in charge of administrative stuff only and the decision under article 108 would have mandated a chamber decision. The RPEs do obviously not reflect my wishes and expectations.
    I have already agreed with your comments on the absence of a review in the decision. My observation is that not only there has not been a real review, but the Presidency isn’t an adequate body for such a delicate and fundamental issue. My remarks is (and was) about a structural deficiency.
    I would also observe that the ICC Statute and the RPEs are unclear as to the possibility to challenge the decision under article 108 and Rule 214. Such a decision seem to me to be fall outside the provision of article 82(1) and (4) and Rule 153. Accordingly, unless you extensively apply art. 82(1)(a) asserting that the decision affects the release of the convict, you have to rely on inherent powers to review the decision of the Presidency.

  10. I am very interested in this topic and I really enjoy following the discussion.
    I agree with you about the ambiguity of the standards and that it is quite problematic from many points of view.

    I just wanted to make sure that the relevant rule to the recent Oric decision is actually Rule 16 of RPE of the Statute of the International Mechanism for International Tribunals (corresponds to Rule 13 of ICTY RPE).

    Thank you very much for the great post.

  11. Thanks for the clarification.

  12. Hi Oliver, thanks so much for your comment. I completely agree with you. The Presidency’s discussion of Katanga’s fair trial rights is perfunctory at best, and your point about there not being any forum in which to assert these rights is spot on. What is interesting about this whole situation (as I just discovered) is that there is now a press release on the ICC’s website, which almost seems to suggests that Katanga’s fair trial rights are part of the reason why a re-trial was allowed – how ironic:

    Jean Paul, thanks for drawing my attention to those articles and rules – I was wondering if this decision could be appealed, but couldn’t find anything to suggest that was possible. 108 and 214 certainly don’t provide for such a possibility, which in an of itself reinforces your point about a ‘structural deficiency’ in how these issues are dealt with at the ICC. But having now read art. 82 and the corresponding Rules one could probably argue that this is ‘a decision with respect to jurisdiction…’ or a decision ‘denying release’ (82 a or b) – the problem seems to be whether ‘decisions’ of the Presidency are indeed ‘decisions’ for the purpose of art. 82? I don’t know enough about the ICC’s internal procedures to answer that question… and in any event it seems Rule 154 gives just five days for appeals under art. 82 1 a or b. So it might be too late anyway? What do you think?

  13. Patryk,
    I don’t have the answer! Looking the domestic legal system in which I started looking at such issues, I notice that extension of extradition or re-extradition are within the competence of a court and can be appealed. As I have observed in a previous comment, this is not the case in all legal systems.
    I am not a legal counsel. I would guess that the art. 108 decision of the Presidency may barely fall under art. 82. A review by the Presidency of the decision could be justified (having regard to the jurisprudence of the ad how tribunals) with inherent powers of international courts and its organs (the Presidency!) within their judicial (or quasi? or what?) functions. I am personally rather skeptic about this approach but it is worth trying.
    If I were to apply domestic legal principles, I would perhaps try to present the whole issue as a “follow up” of the admissibility decision adopted by the Chambers in the same case.
    Will see what happens

  14. If I may only ,suggest the following ( only suggestion , because needs greater analysis if I have time ahead ) here :

    The presidency , is an organ of the court ( article 34 (a) ) . Yet , the presidency indeed , is granted only administrative power , correct indeed !! yet :

    Article 38 ( The presidency ) prescribes as follows :

    ” Article 38
    The Presidency
    3. The President, together with the First and Second Vice-Presidents, shall constitute the Presidency, which shall be responsible for:
    (b) The other functions conferred upon it in accordance with this Statute. ”

    So, one could conclude, that, every power, or decision, not falling within the power, or prescribed explicitly to an organ of the court, shall be granted to the presidency (Residual powers ) since , that was is what can be perceived by those words : ” other functions ” ( let alone that those are the utmost senior judges ) .

    In such, if there is a lacuna in judicial review power, one may argue, in light of article 38 (b) above, that, the presidency, has the ad hoc power, for any judicial review, no matter what!

    Since , judicial review is an unchallengeable issue in light of ruling of law principal , whatever , for the first instance decision , there is always , must always be : Judicial review .


  15. Just underlining it:

    As a universal principle, every judiciary or governmental organ and so forth…. must have an organ, prescribed by law , bearing residual power, for ad hoc decisions or power . Here , looks as if the presidency , is indeed the only candidate for such definition .


Trackbacks and Pingbacks

  1. outdoor playhouse Plans ana white

    Opinio Juris » Blog Archive Complementarity Compromised? The ICC Gives Congo the Green Light to Re-Try Katanga – Opinio Juris