This week we’re hosting a symposium on Economic Foundations of International Law, the new book by Eric Posner and Alan Sykes. Here is the abstract:

The ever-increasing exchange of goods and ideas among nations, as well as cross-border pollution, global warming, and international crime, pose urgent questions for international law. Here, two respected scholars provide an intellectual framework for assessing these pressing legal problems from a rational choice perspective.

The approach assumes that states are rational, forward-looking agents which use international law to address the actions of other states that may have consequences for their own citizens, and to obtain the benefits of international cooperation. It further assumes that in the absence of a central enforcement agency—that is, a world government—international law must be self-enforcing. States must believe that if they violate international agreements, other states will retaliate.

Consequently, Eric A. Posner and Alan O. Sykes devote considerable attention to the challenges of enforcing international law, which begin with the difficulties of determining what it is. In the absence of an international constitution, the sources for international law are vague. Lawyers must rely on statements contained in all manner of official documents and on simple observation of states’ behavior. This looseness leads international institutions such as the United Nations to deliver conflicting interpretations of the law’s most basic principles. The authors describe the conditions under which international law succeeds or fails, across a wide range of issues, including war crimes, human rights, international criminal law, principles of state responsibility, law of the sea, international trade regulation, and international investment law.

Andrew Guzman (Berkeley), Rachel Brewster (Duke), Steve Charnovitz (GW Law), Emilie Hafner-Burton (UC San Diego) and David Victor (UC San Diego) have kindly agreed to comment. As always, we welcome reader comments too.

It’s always exciting when the media pays attention to expert reports on international law. Unfortunately, the media all too often gets international law wrong — and recent reporting on the Tallinn Manual on International Law Applicable to Cyber Warfare is no exception. There has been a spate of articles in the past couple of days that breathlessly claim the Tallinn Manual permits the use of lethal force against hackers. The Huffington Post’s article is entitled “Report for NATO Justifies Killing of Hackers in a Cyberwar.” According to the Verge, “Killing Hackers is Justified in Cyber Warfare, Says NATO-Commissioned Report.”  And Silicon Angle claims that “Hacktivists Can Be Killed Under Rules of CyberWarfare.”

Does the Tallinn Manual permit a hacker to be killed? Yes, in extraordinary circumstances. But the articles mentioned above each fail to mention that the Manual imposes very significant limits on the use of lethal force against individuals involved in cyber-warfare — and that all of those limits are based on, and reflect, the traditional rules of international humanitarian law (IHL). There is nothing particularly troubling in the Manual, and I say that as someone who is profoundly sympathetic to hacking collectives like Anonymous. Indeed, properly understood, it almost inconceivable that the Manual would permit a state to use lethal force against Anonymous or a similar collective — no matter how dangerous (in the view of a state) their hacking might be.

To begin with, the Tallinn Manual deserves credit for not conflating the jus ad bellum and the jus in bello…

This week, we are hosting a symposium on Curtis Bradley’s new book “International Law in the US Legal System“, published last month by Oxford University Press. OUP has kindly agreed to offer Opinio Juris readers a 20% discount, which you can access by clicking on the ad at the right.

According to the abstract, the book

explores the dynamic intersection between international law and the domestic legal system within the United States and covers both settled principles as well as unresolved issues and areas of controversy. Curtis Bradley considers all of the principal forms of international law: treaties, decisions and orders of international institutions, customary international law, and jus cogens norms. He also explores a number of specific topics that are implicated by the intersection of U.S. law and international law, such as foreign sovereign immunity, international human rights litigation, extradition, war powers, and extraterritoriality. As he explains, international law plays an important and sometimes under-appreciated role in the U.S. legal system, but its domestic application is mediated by a variety of structural considerations, including federalism and the separation of powers. This book highlights recent decisions and events relating to the topic (including decisions and events arising out of the war on terrorism), while also taking into account relevant historical materials, including materials relating to the U.S. constitutional founding. The book is designed to be accessible to a wide range of lawyers, judges, law students, and policymakers, both inside and outside the United States.

Each day, two commentators will focus on a particular topic. David Moore (BYU) and Jean Galbraith (Rutgers) will kick off later today with a discussion on Treaties, Self-Execution, and Federalism. Tomorrow, Julian Ku (Hofstra, and of course OJ) and Kristina Daugirdas (Michigan) discuss Delegating Authority to International Institutions. On Wednesday, Mark Weisburd (UNC) and William Dodge (UC Hastings) address the Domestic Status of Customary International Law. On Friday, Michael Ramsey (San Diego) and Ingrid Wuerth (Vanderbilt) wrap up the symposium with a discussion on International Law and War Powers.

We hope that these comments will only be the start of the discussion and that our readers will join in in the comments.

I’m grateful to Ken, Wells Bennett, and Marcy Wheeler for speculating that my April 2010 blog post on 18 USC 1119, the foreign-murder statute, is the post referred to in today’s New York Times article on the behind-the-scenes machinations that culminated in the CIA using a drone to kill Anwar al-Awlaki. I imagine they are correct; the post fits the timeline and Marcy notes that no other post around that time on a legal blog specifically addressed the foreign-murder statute. If so, it’s a testament to the growing importance of academic blogging.

In this post, I want to discuss the part of the White Paper that seems to be motivated by the questions I raised in my 2010 post — Part III, which argues that killing a US citizen abroad who qualifies as a senior operational leader in al-Qaeda or its associated forces would not be murder because the individual responsible for the killing would be entitled to a public-authority defense. Here, for example, is one statement to that effect (p. 14):

A lethal operation against an enemy leader undertaken in national self-defense or during an armed conflict that is authorized by an informed, high-level official and carried out in a manner that accords with applicable law of war principles would fall within an established variant of the public authority justification and therefore would not be murder.

As everyone likely knows by now, Rand Paul has ended his remarkable talking filibuster because Attorney General Holder officially responded “no” to the question “Does the President have the authority to use a weaponized drone to kill an American not engaged in combat on American soil?” Is it just me, or does Holder’s answer actually raise more questions than it answers?

(1) “Engaged in combat” seems like a much broader standard than “senior operational leader,” which the recently disclosed White Paper described as a necessary condition of killing an American citizen overseas. Does that mean the President can kill an American citizen inside the US who is a lower-ranking member of al-Qaeda or an associated force?

(2) Why (to second Marcy Wheeler) did Holder delete one word from Paul’s question, changing “not actively engaged in combat” to “not engaged in combat”? Does that indicate that the President can kill an American inside the US whose activities qualify as “engaging in combat” even if they would not qualify as “actively engaging in combat”? What is the difference? What does the US understand by “actively”?

(3) What does “engaged in combat” mean? That is a particularly important question, given that Holder did not restrict killing an American inside the US to senior operational leaders and deleted “actively” from Paul’s question. Does “engaging” require participation in planning or executing a terrorist attack? Does any kind of direct participation in hostilities qualify? Do acts short of direct participation in hostilities — such as financing terrorism or propagandizing — qualify? Is mere membership, however loosely defined by the US, enough?

Come on, Rand. Stand up again and get us some real answers.

I have just posted on SSRN my latest article published in the Ohio State Law Journal. Through the lens of the broken windows theory of community policing, the Article examines the connection between corruption and other social goods in society, as well as the relationship between U.S. enforcement efforts and those of other OECD countries.

It is incredible how much empirical research has been done on international corruption in other disciplines, and yet the legal community largely ignores this data. It’s also incredible how rare it is for social science empiricists to make policy arguments that flow from their research. The Article tries to bring these two worlds together by digesting the mountain of empirical evidence regarding international corruption, and then making specific policy recommendations. Here’s the abstract:

The Article re-conceptualizes corruption through the lens of the broken windows theory of community policing, focusing on the root consequences of corruption as well as its secondary effects.

Part II of the Article posits that corruption is a broken window that signals the breakdown of community controls necessary for the maintenance of social order. A government that abuses its power for private gain is a government that cannot be trusted to pursue the general welfare. Empirical evidence finds ample support for this claim, confirming that corruption negatively alters the public’s perception of government and society.

Part III of the Article illuminates how corruption is associated with other matters of grave public concern, such that the struggle against corruption is the struggle to promote a variety of public benefits. Corruption is inextricably linked to many other public concerns. Empirical evidence finds a positive relationship between a country’s corruption ranking and its ranking on other major indices measuring public welfare. Communities that are perceived to take corruption seriously score well on their commitment to other social goods, such as global competitiveness and productivity, increased standards of living, enhanced children’s health, protection of civil liberties, and the safeguarding of political freedom. These corruption correlations provide an evocative snapshot of the connection between corruption and social order.

Part IV of the Article analyzes the legal efforts to combat corruption, with particular focus on the utility of cooperative efforts to regulate and prosecute corruption. Empirical studies show that coordination strategies between OECD enforcement authorities alter the behavior of corporations, foreign officials requesting bribes, and government officials prosecuting the payment of bribes.

Part V of the Article discusses how these findings have important implications when considered from the perspective of a “broken windows” theory of international corruption. How would a broken windows theory of corruption alter the legal landscape of anti-bribery laws? I offer three suggestions. First, a broken windows approach would redefine and reframe corruption as distrust and disorder. Conceptualizing corruption as a matter of public trust heightens its importance. Public trust is essential to the rule of law. Second, a broken windows approach would augment the battle against corruption with a greater emphasis on petty bribery. Thus far the legal enforcement strategies have focused on high-profile, large-scale corruption. A broken windows strategy would not ignore those cases, but would also focus on low-profile, petty corruption that alters quality of life and undermines public trust. Third, a broken windows theory would place greater emphasis on a partnership between the public and private sectors to combat corruption. This approach would mean that corruption should be considered in the local context, with a focus on its destabilizing effects in specific countries and communities.

That may seem like a ridiculous question. After all, Libya is doing everything in its power to prosecute Saif domestically — and he is facing a variety of charges that carry the death penalty. But consider the text of Art. 17(2), the “unwillingness” prong of the the admissibility test:

In order to determine unwillingness in a particular case, the Court shall consider, having regard to the principles of due process recognized by international law, whether one or more of the following exist, as applicable… (a)  The proceedings were or are being undertaken or the national decision was made for the purpose of shielding the person concerned from criminal responsibility for crimes within the jurisdiction of the Court referred to in article 5.

As I noted in my previous post, Libya has not denied that Saif will be prosecuted in Zintan before (supposedly) being prosecuted in Tripoli; indeed, Taha Baara, the official spokesperson for Libya’s General Prosecutor, specifically told Reuters last month that ”[i]nvestigations for trying him for war crimes are over and he will be put on trial for that at a later time.” That acknowledgment needs to be read in conjunction with a number of statements by Libya.  First, Libya insists that it is responsible for both prosecutions — thereby denying the disquieting possibility that the Zintan case is being prosecuted by a militia over which the Libyan government has no control (para. 6; emphasis mine)…

According to the White Paper (p. 6), a US citizen “who is located outside the United States and is an operational leader continually planning attacks against US persons or interests” cannot lawfully be killed unless, inter alia, “an informed, high-level official of the US government has determined that the targeted individual poses an imminent threat of attack against the United States.” Early criticism of the White Paper has focused on how it defines imminence. The ACLU’s Jameel Jaffer, for example, says that it “redefines the word imminence in a way that deprives the word of its ordinary meaning.” That’s actually something of an understatement; as I’ll discuss in this post, the White Paper’s entire approach to the concept of imminence is deeply confused — and deeply problematic from the standpoint of international law.

The first thing to note is that it’s not clear why the White Paper even discusses imminence. As I noted in my previous post, the White Paper’s central premise is that all targeted killings of “senior operational leaders” in “al-Qa’ida or its associated forces” take place in the context of a global non-international armed conflict (NIAC) and are thus all subject to the laws of war (IHL). The White Paper also takes the position that the laws of war apply to a U.S. citizen in the same way that they apply to a non-citizen; it specifically argues (p. 3) that because ”the military may constitutionally use force against a US citizen who is part of enemy forces,” the DoJ “does not believe that US citizenship would immunize a senior operational leader of al-Qa’ida or its associated forces from a use of force abroad.”

Although I reject the White Paper’s claim that the US is engaged in a global NIAC with “al-Qa’ida and its associated forces,” I have no problem with the idea that US citizenship does not affect the targetability of an individual who is otherwise a legitimate target under IHL. But why, then, discuss imminence at all? It is black-letter IHL that a legitimate target can be targeted at any time; it is not necessary to show that the target is an imminent threat, regardless of how imminence is defined. Given that the White Paper assumes both that all targeted killings of US citizens take place in armed conflict and that US citizenship does not affect targetability under IHL, it should consider whether a US citizen poses “an imminent threat of attack against the United States” — or against anything else — to be completely irrelevant.

So why does the White Paper graft an imminence requirement onto IHL?  There are two possible explanations…

There is much to say about the DoJ White Paper on the targeted killing of US citizens, which reflects the US’s idiosyncratic interpretation of international law. In this post I want to focus on the White Paper’s primary — and in my view fatal — flaw: its complete failure to address the relationship between the organized armed groups that it considers to be engaged in a single non-international armed conflict (NIAC) with the US.

The White Paper begins with the standard premise that “[t]he United States is in an armed conflict with al-Qa’ida and its associated forces” (p. 2). It then claims that the armed conflict in question is a global NIAC that extends to any member of “al-Qai’da and its associated forces” anywhere in the world (p. 3; citations omitted; emphasis mine):

[T]he United States retains its authority to use force against al-Qa’ida and associated forces outside the area of hostilities that targets a senior operational leader of the enemy forces who is actively engaged in planning operations to kill Americans. The United States is currently in a non-international armed conflict with al-Qa’ida and its associated forces. Any U.S. operation would be part of this non-international armed conflict, even if it were to take place away from the zone of active hostilities.

After making that claim, the White Paper does something interesting: it explicitly addresses the argument that the existence of a NIAC between the US and al-Qaida must be determined according to the test established by the ICTY in Tadic – the test adopted by the ICRC, by the ICC, and by nearly all international law scholars. Here is what it says (pp. 3-4; some citations omitted)…

We know what is stake at in Libya’s admissibility challenge regarding Saif Gaddafi: either a fair trial at the ICC that will likely result in a lengthy prison sentence or an unfair trial in Libya that will almost certainly result in execution. Libya has done nothing to disguise the unfairness of its national proceedings, but it has generally pretended to be concerned with Saif’s right to a fair trial in its many filings at the ICC. So I was very surprised to find Libya argue in its most recent motion that Saif’s lawyers, the Office of Public Counsel for the Defence (OPCD), should not even be allowed to see the evidence it provides the Pre-Trial Chamber in support of its admissibility challenge:

29. In its 7 December 2012 Decision concerning Mr. Gaddafi the Pre-Trial Chamber requested Libya to make available sample investigative materials. Libya has made such samples available (as set out in Annexes 4 to 7 and 15 to 17), prior to the accusatory phase of proceedings on an exceptional basis as a demonstration of its genuine commitment to fully cooperate with the Court in these admissibility proceedings. Libya requests however that this material be treated as being submitted to the Chamber on an ex parte basis. This is necessitated by the strict non-disclosure requirements of investigative material prior to the accusatory phase of proceedings under Article 59 of the Libyan Code of Criminal Procedure (as set forth in the Application of Libya), and for
obvious reasons of confidentiality.

30. Article 59 requires non-disclosure of investigative material under threat of criminal punishment. It provides that:

Investigation procedures and their results shall be considered confidential.
Investigators, prosecution members and their assistants of clerks and experts who are related to the investigation or attend to their profession or post shall undertake not to disclose same. Anyone who breaches this provision shall be punished in accordance with Article 236 of the Penal Code.

The unfairness of Libya’s ex parte request is obvious — the OPCD can hardly challenge Libya’s claim that the national proceedings against Saif satisfy the principle of complementarity if they don’t have access to the supporting evidence. Which is, of course, precisely the point of the request.

To be sure, Libya doesn’t acknowledge the real reason it doesn’t want the OPCD to see its evidence. Instead, it chooses to once again attack the integrity of the OPCD’s lawyers…

Last week, a Ceremonial Grand Council was held on Ihanktonwan homelands (located within the boundaries of the U.S. State of South Dakota) which concluded and negotiated the “International Treaty to Protect the Sacred from Tar Sands Projects”.  I can’t find a specific list of participants, but news reports suggest signatories included representatives from an array of U.S native American Tribes and Canadian First Nations.  The treaty (see here for the text) is seven articles long, most of which involve establishing the authority of indigenous peoples’ over their remaining land, including the authority to oppose tar sands oil projects (tar sands are unconventional oil deposits in sand and sandstone that are saturated with a particular form of petroleum; oil is produced from these deposits either by strip mining or using wells that inject steam, solvents and/or hot air into the sand).  The treaty signatories oppose oil work on tar sands for manifold reasons, including their degradation of the “the soil, the waters, the air, sacred sites, and our ways of life”.  In Article VI, the signatories

[A]gree to mutually and collectively, as sovereign nations, call upon the Canadian and United States governments to respect our decision to reject tar sands projects that impact our sacred sites and homelands; to call upon the Canadian and United States governments to immediately halt and deny approval for pending tar sands projects because they threaten the soil, water, air, sacred sites, and our ways of life; and, confirm that any such approval would violate our ancestral laws, rights and responsibilities.

Article VII then goes on to establish a mutual defense commitment of sorts, wherein the signatories

[A]gree to the mutual, collective, and lawful enforcement of our responsibilities to protect our lands, waters, and air by all means necessary, and if called on to do so, we will exercise our peace and friendship by lawfully defending one another’s lands, waters, air, and sacred sites from the threat of tar sands projects, provided that each signatory Indigenous Nation reserves and does not cede their rights to act independently as the tribal governments see fit to protect their respective tribal interests, further provided that each signatory Indigenous Nation reserves its inherent sovereign right to take whatever governmental action and strategy that its governing body sees fit to best protect and advance tribal interests affected by the pipeline project consistent with the agreements made herein and subject to the laws and available resources of each respective nation.

I find this treaty enormously interesting from a constitutional and international law perspective.  Of course, the treaty implicates other issues as well — environmental degradation, indigenous peoples’ rights, Canadian law, etc., but I’m not enough of an expert to opine on such questions.  Whatever its merits, though, I wonder what legal authority U.S. Native American tribes had to consent to conclude this treaty, let alone consent to be bound by it in the future (which the treaty says will occur via ratification by the “governing bodies of the signatory nations”).

[Update: Stephanie Farrior writes in with an important clarification.  Although the United States, Canada, New Zealand and Australia all initially opposed the the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, all four states have since formally expressed their support for the Declaration: Australia in 2009, and Canada, New Zealand and the United States in 2010]

In order for diplomatic missions to function, international law has long accorded diplomats and their families immunity from all local criminal laws.  And when a major crime occurs involving a diplomat, there’s often a lot of press attention on the case by virtue of the privileges and immunities (Ps&Is) involved.

But Ps&Is aren’t limited to allegations of rape or manslaughter, they extend to ALL local laws, often posing problems for the host State as it tries to police dangerous behavior while also complying with its international law obligations.  So, how do States deal with day-to-day misdemeanors or mid-level criminal activities?  In Australia, they write letters.  As this story in ninemsn notes:

More than two dozen foreign diplomats and consular officials have been warned about repeated or serious driving offences on Australian soil over the past three years.

The offences include drink driving, speeding more than 30km/h over the limit, running red lights, driving while talking on a mobile phone and not wearing a seat belt. But none of the offenders can be prosecuted or even lose their driving licence because of diplomatic immunity.

The offences are outlined in 26 warning letters sent by the Department of Foreign Affairs since 2010 to the heads of various foreign embassies and consulates about members of staff who had lost seven or more demerit points on their licence or who were involved in a serious driving incident that came to the attention of police.

One letter describes a diplomat who lost 15 demerit points from 11 speeding fines in just 15 months. Another refers to a diplomat who was deemed too drunk to continue driving after being intercepted by police on Canberra’s Commonwealth Avenue Bridge at 1am on a Sunday. Police only agreed to release him when one of his own passengers agreed to get behind the wheel and take him home.

The story links to the actual letters sent out by the Australian Foreign Ministry – see here.  I found the extensive redactions especially interesting — looking at the documents, you don’t know who did what or what government she or he represented.  The Australian Chief of protocol explains that disclosing such details could damage Australia’s good relations with foreign governments and “their willingness to cooperate and communicate with Australian government officials in the future.”

Hmmm.  Now, I’m a supporter of P&Is for their functional value — I truly believe they are a key cog in diplomatic machinery.  But, I’m less sanguine about the lack of transparency the Australian letters suggest.