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Africa

RIP, Chinua Achebe (Updated)

by Kevin Jon Heller

I just learned — much belatedly — that Chinua Achebe, the great Nigerian novelist, died two years ago today at 82. Here is a snippet from his 2013 obituary in the New York Times:

Nadine Gordimer, the South African novelist and Nobel laureate, hailed Mr. Achebe in a review in The New York Times in 1988, calling him “a novelist who makes you laugh and then catch your breath in horror — a writer who has no illusions but is not disillusioned.”

Mr. Achebe’s political thinking evolved from blaming colonial rule for Africa’s woes to frank criticism of African rulers and the African citizens who tolerated their corruption and violence. Indeed, it was Nigeria’s civil war in the 1960s and then its military dictatorship in the 1980s and ‘90s that forced Mr. Achebe abroad.

In his writing and teaching Mr. Achebe sought to reclaim the continent from Western literature, which he felt had reduced it to an alien, barbaric and frightening land devoid of its own art and culture. He took particular exception to”Heart of Darkness,”the novel byJoseph Conrad, whom he thought “a thoroughgoing racist.”

Conrad relegated “Africa to the role of props for the breakup of one petty European mind,” Mr. Achebe argued in his essay “An Image of Africa.”

“I grew up among very eloquent elders,” he said in an interview with The Associated Press in 2008. “In the village, or even in the church, which my father made sure we attended, there were eloquent speakers.” That eloquence was not reflected in Western books about Africa, he said, but he understood the challenge in trying to rectify the portrayal.

“You know that it’s going to be a battle to turn it around, to say to people, ‘That’s not the way my people respond in this situation, by unintelligible grunts, and so on; they would speak,’ ” Mr. Achebe said. “And it is that speech that I knew I wanted to be written down.”

Chinua’s passing fills me with great sadness, because I had the honour of getting to know him quite well in the late 1980s — just before the car accident that left him paralyzed — when I was a graduate student at the New School for Social Research. He was a dear friend of the anthropologist Stanley Diamond, for whom I did research and whose journal, Dialectical Anthropology, I edited. I will long treasure the memories of Chinua’s kindness and warmth. He would always go out of his way to include me in conversations, and to ask me — a lowly graduate student, barely 21 — what I thought about things. And his terrible accident did not dim his spirit in the slightest; he was just as kind and warm the first time I saw him after the accident, when he was still recovering.

Chinua was also, needless to say, a remarkable novelist. I just wish he had written more — his two-decade-long writers block, which he attributed to the trauma of the Nigerian civil war (as the obituary notes), cheated us all out of so many great novels that will now never be written. I plan to re-read “Things Fall Apart” in his honour as soon as I can. It remains one of the great novels written by any writer — not just by an African one. Chinua’s fiction, though so inextricably tied to his country and to his continent, always transcended the limits of geography. I still get angry when I think about Saul Bellow’s profoundly racist comment concerning the supposed non-existence of great African literature: “When the Zulus produce a Tolstoy, we will read him.” I don’t know about the Zulus, but the Ibo certainly produced one. His name was Chinua Achebe.

Requiescat in pace, Chinua. You will be missed — and remembered.

UPDATE: I have updated the post to reflect that I only found out today about Chinua’s death. I hope these thoughts are better late than never.

Simone Gbagbo’s Domestic Conviction Illustrates the Futility of the “Same Conduct” Requirement

by Kevin Jon Heller

Another complementarity fight is brewing, this time between the ICC and Cote d’Ivoire concerning the fate of Simone Gbagbo. In 2012, the ICC issued a warrant for her arrest, claiming that there are reasonable grounds to believe she is responsible as an indirect co-perpetrator for the crimes against humanity of murder, rape, other forms of sexual violence, and persecution. Just yesterday, however, Gbagbo was convicted in an Ivorian court and sentenced to 20 years imprisonment on very different charges:

A court in Ivory Coast has sentenced Simone Gbagbo, the wife of the former president Laurent Gbagbo, to 20 years in prison for her role in a 2011 post-election crisis in which around 3,000 people were killed, her lawyer said.

Simone Gbagbo, who is also wanted by the international criminal court, was tried alongside 82 other allies of her husband in a case that revived deep divisions in a nation still recovering from years of political turmoil and conflict.

Gen Bruno Dogbo Ble, who headed the elite republican guard, and the former navy chief Admiral Vagba Faussignaux were both jailed for 20 years, according to their lawyer, while others got shorter sentences. Michel Gbagbo, the former president’s son, was sentenced to five years.

Supporters of Laurent Gbagbo, whose refusal to acknowledge his defeat to Alassane Ouattara in elections in late 2010 sparked the brief civil war, claimed his wife’s trial was politically motivated.

“The jury members retained all the charges against her, including disturbing the peace, forming and organising armed gangs and undermining state security. It’s a shame,” said Simone Gbagbo’s lawyer, Rodrigue Dadje.

Cote d’Ivore will no doubt now file an admissibility challenge with the ICC, claiming that they do not have to surrender Gbagbo because  Art. 17(1)(c) of the Rome Statute provides that a case is inadmissible if “[t]he person concerned has already been tried for conduct which is the subject of the complaint, and a trial by the Court is not permitted under article 20, paragraph 3.” Art. 20(3) specifies that, as long as the trial is genuine, “[n]o person who has been tried by another court for conduct also proscribed under article 6, 7 or 8 shall be tried by the Court with respect to the same conduct.”

I do not know the precise conduct that underlies Gbagbo’s domestic conviction. But it seems highly likely that the “undermining state security” and “organizing criminal gangs” charges were not based on substantially the same conduct as the ICC’s crimes against humanity charges. If not, the case will still be admissible before the Court, because Art. 20(3) explicitly permits the ICC to prosecute conduct different than the conduct underlying a domestic conviction. That specific provision has never been litigated, but the judges are very unlikely to read Art. 20(3) more expansively. After all, in the context of cases still under investigation at the domestic level, the Appeals Chamber specifically held in the Kenya cases that the domestic investigation must focus on “substantially the same conduct” as the ICC’s investigation:

The defining elements of a concrete case before the Court are the individual and the alleged conduct. It follows that for such a case to be inadmissible under article 17(l)(a) of the Statute, the national investigation must cover the same individual and substantially the same conduct as alleged in the proceedings before the Court.

Here is my question: what would the ICC gain by insisting that Cote d’Ivoire surrender Gbagbo to the Court to face a second prosecution? After all, 20 years is hardly an insignificant sentence — five years longer than Lubanga’s, and eight years longer than Katanga’s. Should the ICC really waste precious (and overstretched) OTP resources to obtain another conviction of Gbagbo, even though — if the past sentencing practice by international tribunals is any guide — she is very unlikely to receive a longer sentence from the ICC than she has already received from Cote d’Ivoire?

My answer is simple: the ICC would gain nothing, so it shouldn’t. As I have argued at length in my essay “A Sentence-Based Theory of Complementarity,” the ICC simply cannot afford the kind of hyper-formalism that underlies both the “same conduct” requirement and Art. 20(3). In my view, the Court should defer to any national prosecution that results (or any national investigation is likely to result) in a sentence equal to or longer than the sentence the suspect could expect to receive at the ICC, even if the national prosecution is based on completely different conduct than the ICC’s investigation. The upcoming Gbagbo complementarity fight, I think, will likely illustrate why my theory of complementarity makes sense.

Finally, it’s worth noting that should the ICC agree with me, it does in fact have an out — Art. 89(4) of the Rome Statute, which provides as follows:

If the person sought is being proceeded against or is serving a sentence in the requested State for a crime different from that for which surrender to the Court is sought, the requested State, after making its decision to grant the request, shall consult with the Court.

Nothing in the Rome Statute seems to prohibit the Court from deciding, after such a consultation, to let the suspect serve his or her domestic sentence prior to — or even instead of — requiring the state to surrender the suspect to the Court. I hope the ICC will consider such a decision regarding Gbagbo. It has nothing to gain by forcing Cote d’Ivoire to turn her over.

Cote D’Ivoire Seeks Provisional Measures Order from ITLOS To Stop Oil Exploration in Disputed Waters

by Julian Ku

Last September, Ghana commenced an arbitration under Annex VII of the UN Convention for the Law of Sea seeking judicial confirmation of its rights to explore for oil and other resources in maritime areas disputed by its neighbor Cote D’Ivoire.  This past January, the two countries agreed to submit a dispute over maritime boundaries to a special chamber of the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea.  And last week, Cote D’Ivoire filed a request for Provisional Measures with the special chamber asking it to require Ghana to suspend any oil exploration activities while the matter is before the ITLOS special chamber.

Under UNCLOS Article 290, a court or tribunal with jurisdiction is empowered to issue provisional measures “which it considers appropriate under the circumstances to preserve the respective rights of the parties to the dispute or to prevent serious harm to the marine environment, pending the final decision.”  I haven’t been privy to the papers filed in this case, but it does seem like Cote D’Ivoire should have a pretty reasonable provisional measures claim.  Indeed, the UK oil company currently exploring the disputed waters pursuant to a contract with Ghana is already planning to suspend its operations pending the outcome of the provisional measures hearing.

The Ghana-Cote D’Ivoire dispute bears watching. If these two countries are able to settle their maritime boundary dispute where lots of oil is at stake, then this would be a pretty significant accomplishment for the UNCLOS dispute settlement system. Hello, China? Anyone there?   History suggests this is going to be pretty hard, but you never know.

 

Guest Post: The Mirage of Hybrid Justice in Africa?

by Patryk Labuda

[Patryk I. Labuda is a Ph.D. Candidate at the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies in Geneva. Before joining the Geneva Academy of International Humanitarian Law and Human Rights, he worked in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Sudan and South Sudan.]

Although international criminal law is increasingly assimilated with the International Criminal Court (ICC), hybrid justice remains surprisingly common thirteen years after the establishment of the landmark Special Court for Sierra Leone. Last month a UN-mandated International Commission of Inquiry made headlines when it recommended a hybrid tribunal for the Central African Republic (CAR). Citing the collapse of the country’s judicial system, Philip Alston, one of the Commission’s members, suggested that the international community should ‘act fast’ to ‘fund a tribunal’ if it wanted to break the ‘cycle of impunity’ fueling the conflict. His plea came on the heels of similar calls for a hybrid judicial mechanism in South Sudan, which has received the endorsement of international advocacy groups and the UN in recent months.

It is clear that the establishment of the ICC, the only permanent court with (potentially universal) jurisdiction over international crimes, has not eliminated the need for more tailored, country-specific responses to mass violence. Different kinds of hybrid tribunals have operated, or continue to operate, in the aftermath of violence in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Cambodia, Indonesia (East Timor), Iraq, Lebanon, Chad and Kosovo. What is less known is that blueprints for mixed international-national jurisdictions have also emerged in many other conflict- and post-conflict settings, including Liberia, Burundi, Kenya, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), Sudan and Somalia. Two names can now be added to that long list of African states: South Sudan and CAR.

What these proposals have in common is that not one of these hybrid tribunals has actually been set up, despite – in some cases – years of lobbying by local civil society groups and oft-repeated assurances from African governments that accountability is essential for national reconciliation. This prompts the question: why are hybrid tribunals so frequently debated but so rarely established in the aftermath of African conflicts?

Hybrid and internationalized tribunals emerged in the early 2000s as a corrective to other forms of international criminal justice. There is no single definition of ‘hybridity’, but the notion is used conventionally to refer to institutions that mix national and international elements. Unlike purely international courts, such as the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda or the ICC, hybrid tribunals have either mixed jurisdictional bases (domestic and international law) or mixed staffs (domestic and international judges or prosecutors). The hope was that this blending of international and local elements would allow such tribunals to overcome the limitations of both purely domestic courts and fully international bodies.

International justice activists advance three broad claims about hybrid justice. First, by bringing together local and international partners, mixed tribunals have the potential of building domestic capacity and increasing the legitimacy of prosecutions among affected populations. Second, despite the growing number of ratifications of the ICC Statute, hybrid tribunals remain an important alternative where the ICC cannot exercise jurisdiction. Last but not least, the hybrid model should decrease the tension between international demands for accountability and state sovereignty. By giving states a say in the design of hybrid mandates, it was hoped that state concerns about international criminal law could be adequately addressed.

Debates around proposed hybrid tribunals in Africa reveal that, if there is still some consensus on the first two points, reconciling state interests with internationally-driven accountability has proved elusive in practice.

Contrary to expectations, hybrid justice now looks like the most invasive form of international intervention. Many African governments – Kenya being the prime example – understand that the prospect of a hybrid tribunal is far less appealing than the much-demonized ICC. Notwithstanding the high-profile standoff between the AU and the ICC, individual African states have learned to skillfully manipulate the ICC to their advantage. By outsourcing sensitive cases to The Hague while trying minor perpetrators before domestic courts, the governments of the DRC, Uganda, Kenya and Cote d’Ivoire have all, to different degrees, used the ICC’s interventions to bolster their domestic standing. Due to the ICC’s limited enforcement powers, it is relatively easy for states to project an image of compliance where cooperation is convenient, and obstruct the ICC’s investigations where national or regional interests are at stake.

It is doubtful that hosting a hybrid tribunal on one’s own territory offers the same flexibility. Established for more or less defined periods of time (mandates vary), hybrid tribunals operate under the watchful eye of international staff, which prevents national authorities from controlling investigations and prosecutions. A key stumbling block in negotiations over the establishment of hybrid tribunals in Africa, notably in the DRC, has been the composition of their staff. Echoing political disputes from the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia, where a preponderance of national staff allowed Cambodian magistrates to outvote their international peers, the Congolese government has rejected UN attempts to secure a majority of international judges and prosecutors. Loath to finance projects it cannot control, the international community has sought to craft mandates that give them an outright majority, for instance in Kenya and Liberia. Early reports from CAR suggest this may emerge as a sticking point in negotiations between the government and international donors. While the Central African authorities have emphasized hybridity and the need to bolster domestic capacity, Alston’s remarks imply that a more robust international presence will be required due to a lack of independent national judges.

The obstacles to establishing hybrid tribunals in Africa vary from country to country, so it is important to not overstate the dismal success rate of such proposals. As with the ICC, complex political dynamics at the domestic, regional and international levels explain these setbacks. However, it is precisely the AU’s repeated condemnations of the ICC, coupled with its advocacy of ‘African solutions to African problems’, that prompts a critical look at its efforts to pursue hybrid justice.

Though last week’s decision to commit Hissène Habré to trial has rightly been praised by human rights advocates, it is important to remember the convoluted process by which the Extraordinary African Chambers in Senegal were established. Similar problems have arisen in relation to Darfur, Kenya and South Sudan. Despite years of mediation led by Thabo Mbeki, the Sudanese government’s refusal to act on the AU’s calls for a hybrid tribunal has elicited practically no follow-up from the AU. In Kenya, the AU’s support for President Kenyatta has been a one-way street, with no sustained pressure to resurrect the Waki Commission’s idea of a Special Tribunal (or a purely domestic accountability mechanism). This also explains why last month’s decision to ‘indefinitely shelve’ the report of the AU’s South Sudanese Commission of Inquiry has caused so much consternation. The AU appears, yet again, to be prioritizing peace over justice.

The Central African Republic is the next test case for the viability of hybrid justice in Africa. At first blush, the prospects of the proposed ‘Special Criminal Court’ in CAR – where the interests of the national government, the AU and international actors coincide – seem good. The transitional government signed a memorandum of understanding with the UN several months ago, and investigations would focus on non-state actors: rebels from the Seleka and anti-balaka movements. Yet the track record of African hybrid tribunals suggests a good dose of caution. Progress on legislation needed to bring the Special Court into existence has been slow, and it remains unclear who will fund a tribunal operating alongside the ICC. One thing is certain, the money will not come from the AU which is busy laying the groundwork for its institutional alternative to the ICC: the revamped African Court of Justice and Human Rights with criminal jurisdiction and immunities for heads of state and senior officials.

In the end, there is a distinct possibility that the Central African court will join the ranks of most other African hybrid ventures, which remain in the realm of promising but unfulfilled ideas. If this happens, it might well be time to ask whether hybrid justice on the continent resembles something of an African mirage… as one approaches and strains for a closer look, the prospect of justice recedes on the horizon.

H-Diplo Roundtable on David Bosco’s “Rough Justice”

by Kevin Jon Heller

H-Diplo, part of H-Net, recently hosted a virtual roundtable on David Bosco’s excellent book Rough Justice:The International Criminal Court in a World of Power Politics, published by Oxford last year. Erik Vroeten introduced the roundtable, and Sam Moyn, David Kaye, and I submitted reviews. David then wrote a response. Here is a snippet from Erik’s introduction:

It is my pleasure to introduce the distinguished and diverse set of reviewers of this timely and important book. Samuel Moyn embeds Bosco’s book in a longer history of the tensions between power and justice. If international justice is not impartial, then it loses its legitimacy. Yet, powerful states have always had incentives to interfere with individual exercises of justice and they rarely fail to act on these temptations.  The ICC, despite all its normative appeal, has been unable to break this pattern.

David Kaye lauds Bosco for the clarity of his exposition and for treating the intersection between idealism and power politics “with great modesty and insight, and without a hint of dogma.” Yet, Kaye also finds that in evaluating the ICC we must look beyond power politics. Questions about the way the ICC has had more subtle influences on how national, subnational, and international actors conceive of justice-related issues are not answered in this book. Looking at such questions may lead to a different and more nuanced perspective about the role of the ICC in international affairs.

Kevin Jon Heller praises Bosco for writing “[..] a history of a complex international organization that is eminently readable yet does not sacrifice analytic rigor.” He especially appreciates the “deceptively simple theoretical structure,” which characterizes the relationship between the Court and powerful states. Yet, Heller also has some pointed criticisms. Most notably, he believes that Bosco underplays the failings of Luis Moreno-Ocampo as the Chief Prosecutor of the ICC. He also takes issue with some historical assessments. At times, Heller argues, Bosco understates the agency of the Court. For example, Moreno-Ocampo was under no obligation to accept the Security Council’s terms on Libya. At other times, Bosco oversells what the Office of the Prosecutor (OTP) might have done. It is really not up to the OTP to lobby in pursuit of referrals against non-member states.

I share the reviewers’ praise for the analytical clarity of the book. From the perspective of my discipline, international relations, I hope it will contribute to more subtle understandings of how power affects the workings of international institutions. But, as the reviews show, there are also important lessons for historians and lawyers. As in his previous volume,), David Bosco has given us a book that has the distinguished qualities of being clear, interesting, and persuasive.

The roundtable is well worth your time. You can download a PDF of all the contributions here.

OTP Suspends Darfur Investigation

by Kevin Jon Heller

This is quite big news, and I hope it doesn’t get lost in the welter of voices discussing the collapse of the Kenyatta prosecution. Here is a snippet from the Washington Post:

The prosecutor for the International Criminal Court told the U.N. Security Council on Friday she is stopping her investigations in Sudan’s chaotic Darfur region for now because no one has been brought to justice in a decade and the council has done little or nothing to help.

Darfur’s situation is deteriorating and the brutality of crimes is increasing, but there have been no discussions with the council for “concrete solutions,” Fatou Bensouda said. She demanded a new approach.

Darfur was the council’s first referral to the ICC, which is seen as a court of last resort for genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity.

[snip]

“It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to appear before you and purport to be updating you when all I am doing is repeating the same things I have said over and over again,” Bensouda told the council, which has been divided on how to press Sudan for cooperation. This was the 20th time the prosecutor has briefed the council on Darfur.

“Given this council’s lack of foresight on what should happen in Darfur, I am left with no choice but to hibernate investigative activities in Darfur as I shift resources to other urgent cases,” Bensouda said.

It’s never good news when any OTP investigation falters, but it’s particularly disturbing in the context of the first Security Council referral to the ICC. Unfortunately, as many have noted (Mark Kersten, Dov Jacobs, me), the Security Council has an unfortunate tendency to treat the ICC like a political football — referring a situation to the Court when it needs to appear concerned about mass atrocity, then abandoning it when an attention-challenged international community has moved on to a different situation. Darfur is a perfect example of that troubling dynamic.

There is, however, a silver lining to the OTP’s decision to suspend the Darfur investigation: it indicates that Fatou Bensouda is getting tired of being Charlie Brown to the Security Council’s Lucy. I’m quite certain the Security Council would have preferred the Darfur investigation to continue ad infinitum: as long as the OTP is trying to investigate, the ICC will get the lion’s share of the blame for the failure to get Bashir. Now Bensouda has cleverly shifted the terrain, making it clear that the problem is the Security Council, not the ICC. Whether the Security Council will care is an open question — but at least Bensouda will take some of the heat off the ICC regarding Darfur. The last thing the Court needs now is additional bad publicity…

Is the Kenyatta Case the End for the ICC?

by Julian Ku

I haven’t had time to comment on the collapse of the ICC Kenyatta prosecution last week.  But friend of blog and Northwestern University law professor Eugene Kontorovich has some interesting thoughts over at National Review.  Read the whole thing, but suffice to say, Eugene thinks this is pretty big body blow to the whole idea that the ICC can be an effective institution at deterring international atrocities.  Not that it is exactly shocking that a head of state accused of atrocities would use every lever in his tool box to block his own prosecution.

In his requiem for the ICC, Eugene writes:

The ICC was born of a Whiggish belief that in the 21st century, a shared commitment to law could end impunity; that telecommunication makes people care more empathetically about distant tragedies; that bad guys will act like Western democratic leaders; and that impartial international bureaucrats could evenhandedly prosecute both sides.

The Kenyatta case reminds us that the alternative to victor’s justice is not super-neutral international justice, but rather no justice.

Ouch!

Huge Win in the Zimbabwe Torture Docket Case

by Kevin Jon Heller

Earlier this year, Chris Gevers blogged about the Zimbabwe Torture Docket case, in which the Constitutional Court of South Africa was asked to determine whether the South African Police Service (SAPS) is required to investigate allegations that high-ranking government and security officials in Zimbabwe committed acts of torture. Those acts took place solely in Zimbabwe and involved only Zimbabweans, so the key issues in the case were (1) whether South Africa’s adoption of universal jurisdiction over torture obligated SAPS to investigate the torture, and (2) if so, what conditions, if any, qualified that obligation.

As Chris noted in his post, I and three other international criminal law scholars (Gerhard Kemp, John Dugard, and Hannah Woolaver, with Hannah doing most of the heavy lifting) filed an amicus brief with the Court addressing the question of whether anything in international law prohibits a state from opening a universal-jurisdiction investigation in absentia — without the presence of the suspect. That was a critical sub-issue in the case, because although the Zimbabwean suspects travel regularly to South Africa, they would not necessarily be present at the beginning of a SAPS investigation.

The Court released its decision today — and it’s a complete win for the amici and (far more importantly) for the excellent Southern Africa Litigation Centre (SALC), which brought the case. First, with regard to the in absentia issue, the Court agreed with amici that international law did not prohibit universal-jurisdiction investigations in absentia (p. 27). I won’t rehash the Court’s analysis, but I do want to quote the Court’s excellent explanation of why states should be allowed to conduct such investigations (p. 28):

[48] This approach is to be followed for several valid reasons. Requiring presence for an investigation would render nugatory the object of combating crimes against humanity. If a suspect were to enter and remain briefly in the territory of a state party, without a certain level of prior investigation, it would not be practicable to initiate  charges and prosecution. An anticipatory investigation does not violate fair trial rights of the suspect or accused person. A determination of presence or anticipated presence requires an investigation in the first instance. Ascertaining a current or anticipated location of a suspect could not occur otherwise. Furthermore, any possible next step that could arise as a result of an investigation, such as a prosecution or an extradition request, requires an assessment of information which can only be attained through an investigation. By way of example, it is only once a docket has been completed and handed to a prosecutor that there can be an assessment as to whether or not to prosecute.

The Court then proceeded to hold that SAPS not only had the right to open a universal-jurisdiction investigation into torture in Zimbabwe, it had an obligation to do so — a remarkable position for the Court to take…

Guest Post: Kenyatta (Finally) Has to Go Back to The Hague

by Abel Knottnerus

[Abel S. Knottnerus is a PhD Researcher in International Law and International Relations at the University of Groningen.]

The case against Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta has reached a critical juncture. Almost six months ago, Trial Chamber V(B) adjourned the commencement of his trial until 7 October “for the specific purpose of providing an opportunity for compliance by the Kenyan Government with outstanding cooperation requests” (para. 2). Three weeks ago, however, the Prosecution submitted that the start of Kenyatta’s trial should again be adjourned, because the Kenyan government would still not have fulfilled its cooperation requirements. In response, the Chamber decided on 19 September that it will hold two status conferences on 7 and 8 October to discuss “the status of cooperation between the Prosecution and the Kenyan government” (para. 11).

These conferences will determine the future, if any, of Kenyatta’s trial. Yet, before this ‘do-or-die’ moment, the Chamber first had to decide on another sensitive matter, namely whether Kenyatta would have to be physically present in The Hague for the second of the two status conferences. On Tuesday, the Chamber ruled, by Majority (Judge Ozaki partially dissenting), that Kenyatta indeed has to travel to The Hague. Assuming that Kenyatta will not disobey this direct order, this will be the first time that a sitting Head of State will appear before the ICC.

Kenyatta’s excusal request and the Prosecution’s response

In the initial decision announcing the status conferences, the Trial Chamber stated that “given the critical juncture of the proceedings and the matters to be considered, the accused is required to be present at the status conference on 8 October” (para. 12). Despite this clear language, Kenyatta’s defence requested the Chamber last Thursday to excuse Kenyatta from attending. Based on Rule 134quater of the Rules of Procedure and Evidence the defence argued that Kenyatta has to fulfil extraordinary public duties at the highest national level on the scheduled date, because he is due to attend the Northern Corridor Infrastructure Summit in Kampala, Uganda. The defence added that this meeting was arranged prior to the Chamber’s decision to convene the status conference and that Kenyatta would therefore also not be able to attend by video-link.

In the alternative, the defence requested to reschedule the status conference and that on this new date Kenyatta would be allowed to be present through video-link in accordance with Rule 134bis. Instead of travelling to The Hague, a ‘skype session’ would enable Kenyatta “to perform his extraordinary public duties as President of Kenya to the greatest extent possible while causing the least inconvenience to the Court” (para. 13).

In response to the defence’s request, the Prosecution submitted on Monday that Rules 134bis and quater are not applicable at this stage of the proceedings because Kenyatta’s trial has not yet commenced. According to the Prosecution, the Trial Chamber would have the (inherent) discretion to reschedule the status conference as well as to permit Kenyatta to attend by video-link. While not opposing the former option, the Prosecution as well as the Legal Representative for Victims (LRV) argued that the defence had given no clear reasons for attendance by video-link on a later date, other than the distance that the accused would have to travel and his status as Head of State.

The (in)applicability of Rules 134quater and bis

(more…)

It’s Time to Reconsider the Al-Senussi Case. (But How?)

by Kevin Jon Heller

As readers are no doubt aware, Libya has descended into absolute chaos. As of now, there is quite literally no functioning central government:

Libya’s newly elected parliament has reappointed Abdullah al-Thinni as prime minister, asking him to form a “crisis government” within two weeks even as the authorities acknowledged they had lost control of “most” government buildings in Tripoli.

Senior officials and the parliament, known as the Council of Representatives, were forced last month to relocate from the capital to Tubruq in eastern Libya after fighting broke out between the Dawn of Libya coalition, led by brigades from the city of Misurata, and rival militias based at the city’s international airport.

Since then the airport has fallen to the Islamist-affiliated coalition and Tripoli appears to have slipped almost completely out of the government’s grip.

Mr Thinni’s administration said in a statement posted on its Facebook page late on Sunday night that it had lost control of Tripoli and that its officials had been unable to access their offices, which had been occupied by opposition militias.

“We announce that most ministries, state agencies and institutions in Tripoli are out of our control,” said the government. Some state buildings had been occupied by armed groups and staff, including ministers and undersecretaries, had been threatened and prevented from entering, it said.

“It has become difficult for them to go to their offices without facing either arrest or assassination, especially after several armed formations announced threats against them, attacked their homes and terrorised their families,” the statement added.

The collapse of the Libyan government comes less than five weeks after the ICC Appeals Chamber unanimously decided that the case against Abdullah al-Senussi was inadmissible. In its view at the time — to quote the summary of the admissibility decision — “the case against Mr Al-Senussi is being investigated by Libya and… Libya is not unwilling or unable genuinely to carry out the investigation.”

Whatever the merits of the Appeals Chamber’s decision at the time — and they’re limited — the situation on the ground in Libya has obviously rendered it obsolete. It is now impossible to argue that the Libyan government is “able” to effectively prosecute al-Senussi, no matter how willing it might be. The Court thus needs to reconsider the admissibility of his case sooner rather than later.

Fortunately, the drafters of the Rome Statute anticipated just such a situation. Art. 19(10) specifically provides that  “[i]f the Court has decided that a case is inadmissible under article 17, the Prosecutor may submit a request for a review of the decision when he or she is fully satisfied that new facts have arisen which negate the basis on which the case had previously been found inadmissible under article 17.” The OTP should submit such a request as soon as possible; whatever hesitation it once had about forcefully asserting the admissibility of the case, there is now no possible justification for not trying to take control of it.

But what about al-Senussi? Can he challenge the inadmissibility decision? It’s a very complicated issue — but I think the best answer, regrettably, is that he cannot…

The Man Who Would Be King, Daddy’s Little Princess, and their Territorial Claim

by Chris Borgen

There are many dads who have played make-believe with their little girls, perhaps taking the part of kindly king to his daughter’s princess.  Not many people have turned this game into an international legal incident concerning state formation.  But  at least one man has. According to the Washington Post:

Jeremiah Heaton was playing with his daughter in their Abingdon, Va., home last winter when she asked whether she could be a real princess.

Heaton, a father of three who works in the mining industry, didn’t want to make any false promises to Emily, then 6, who was “big on being a princess.” But he still said yes.

“As a parent you sometimes go down paths you never thought you would,” Heaton said.

Within months, Heaton was journeying through the desolate southern stretches of Egypt and into an unclaimed 800-square-mile patch of arid desert. There, on June 16 — Emily’s seventh birthday — he planted a blue flag with four stars and a crown on a rocky hill. The area, a sandy expanse sitting along the Sudanese border, morphed from what locals call Bir Tawil into what Heaton and his family call the “Kingdom of North Sudan.”

There, Heaton is the self-described king and Emily is his princess.

Wow. Heaton just upped the ante for all non-royal dads. The Washington Post also reports:

Heaton says his claim over Bir Tawil is legitimate. He argues that planting the flag — which his children designed — is exactly how several other countries, including what became the United States, were historically claimed. The key difference, Heaton said, is that those historical cases of imperialism were acts of war while his was an act of love.

“I founded the nation in love for my daughter,” Heaton said.

That’s sweet. Really. But let’s turn to the international legal argument… (more…)

Why Did Katanga Drop His Appeal? And Why Did the OTP?

by Kevin Jon Heller

Many people are surprised that Germain Katanga has dropped his appeal, particularly given Judge Van den Wyngaert’s savage dissent. I’m not surprised in the least, because it locks in his sentence, which the OTP planned to appeal. Katanga’s 12-year sentence is even shorter than Lubanga’s, and he has already spent seven years in pre-trial detention. In fact, he’ll be eligible for sentence review in little more than a year.

To be sure, if Katanga thought he had a good chance of overturning his conviction on appeal, I’m sure he would have rolled the dice. But I think his assessment of that likelihood was spot-on. As I’ve noted before, the verdict was a disaster for the OTP — had the Trial Chamber majority not appointed itself backup prosecutors, Katanga would have walked. And despite Judge Van den Wyngaert’s impressive dissent, the Appeals Chamber was very unlikely to disapprove of the Trial Chamber’s unfair use of Regulation 55. After all, the Appeals Chamber has already issued two horrible decisions affirming its applicability.

The big question in my mind is why the OTP agreed to drop its appeal, which was obviously part of a quid pro quo. Unlike Katanga, the OTP had little to lose by appealing — there is no way the Appeals Chamber would have reduced Katanga’s sentence, and for the reasons above it’s equally unlikely it would have overturned his conviction.

If any readers know — or can intelligently speculate about — the OTP’s motivations, please weigh in below.