Last November, two documents appeared within a few days of each other, each addressing the emerging legal and policy issues of autonomous weapon systems – and taking strongly incompatible approaches.  One was from Human Rights Watch, whose report, Losing Our Humanity: The Case Against Killer Robots, made a sweeping, provocative call for an international treaty ban on the use, production, and development of what it defined as “fully autonomous weapons.”  Human Rights Watch has followed that up with a public campaign for signatures on a petition supporting a ban, as well as a number of publicity initiatives that (I think I can say pretty neutrally) seem as much drawn from sci-fi and pop culture as anything.  It plans to launch this global campaign at an event at the House of Commons in London later in April.

The other was the Department of Defense Directive, “Autonomy in Weapon Systems” (3000.09, November 21, 2012).  The Directive establishes DOD policy and “assigns responsibilities for the development and use of autonomous and semi-autonomous functions in weapon systems … [and] establishes guidelines designed to minimize the probability and consequences of failures in autonomous and semi-autonomous weapon systems.”

By contrast to the sweeping, preemptive treaty ban approach embraced by HRW, the DOD Directive calls for a review and regulatory process – in part an administrative expansion of the existing legal weapons review process within DOD, but reaching back to the very beginning of the research and development process.  In part it aims to ensure that whatever level of autonomy a weapon system might have, and in whatever component, the autonomous function is intentional and not inadvertent, and has been subjected to design, operational, and legal review to ensure that it both complies with the laws of war in the operational environment for which it is intended – and will actually work in that operational environment as advertised.  (The DOD Directive is not very long, and makes the most sense, if you are looking for an introduction into DOD’s conceptual approach, read against the background of a briefing paper issued earlier, in July 2012, by DOD’s Defense Science Board, The Role of Autonomy in DOD Systems.)

In essence, HRW seeks to ban autonomous weapon systems, rooting a ban on autonomous lethal targeting per se in its interpretation of existing IHL while calling for new affirmative treaty law specifically to codify it. By contrast, DOD adopts a regulatory approach grounded in existing processes and law of weapons and weapons reviews.  Michael Schmitt and Jeffrey Thurnher offer the basic legal position underlying DOD’s approach in a new article forthcoming in Harvard National Security Journal, “‘Out of the Loop’: Autonomous Weapon Systems and the Law of Armed Conflict.” They say that autonomous weapon systems are not per se illegal under the law of weapons and that their legality or restrictions on lawful use in any particular operational environment depends upon the usual principles of targeting law.

I think Schmitt and Thurnher have it right as a legal matter, but there are important dissenting voices.  A contrary view is offered by University of Miami’s Markus Wagner in, for example, “Autonomy in the Battlespace: Independently Operating Weapon Systems and the Law of Armed Conflict” (chapter in International Humanitarian Law and the Changing Technology of War, 2012).   New School for Social Research professor Peter Asaro (who is not a lawyer, but a philosopher of technology, thus establishing himself as having the Coolest of Jobs, and also co-founder of an organization that has been calling for a ban for several years) has offered a reading of Protocol I and other IHL treaties aiming to show that human beings are built by positive, if tacit, assumption into these texts and their approach to weapons and targeting (forthcoming special section of the International Review of the Red Cross). Asaro is careful to hold out only that this interpretation is implicit, rather than explicit – a thoughtful and creative reading, though not finally one that persuades the hard-hearted lex lata lawyer in me.  A debate is underway in academic law and policy – and in the Real World.  It promises to heat up considerably.

Some months prior to these two documents making their appearance, however, Matthew Waxman and I published a short policy paper in the journal Policy Review, “Law and Ethics for Robot Soldiers.” It made note of arguments by those favoring a complete ban, but mostly focused on the United States (as well as other technologically advanced states; the US is far from the only country doing cutting-edge robotics, in weapons and many other things) and the possibility of developing weapon systems that might move from “automated” to “autonomous.”  That paper endorsed a regulatory approach to these weapon systems, embracing transparency of standards, best practices in weapons reviews, close interaction between the lawyers and engineers from the beginning of weapon system design, etc.  The Policy Review essay was devoted to setting out the problem for a lay audience not having much prior knowledge, however, and oriented toward policy and process issues by which DOD would formulate policy, conduct legal reviews, and how it would deal with other states and their weapon development policies.  It was not primarily directed to arguments for or against a sweeping ban, since HRW had not yet launched its Killer Robots campaign.

Since then, however, Matt and Ken have been busy.  And we’re pleased to announce that the Hoover Institution has just published our new policy essay, Law and Ethics for Autonomous Weapon Systems: Why a Ban Won’t Work and How the Laws of War Can. It revises and substantially extends our arguments on autonomous and automated robotic weapons, and shifts the focus of argument to address the ban arguments more directly.  Though longer than our first essay, it is still not long (at some 12,000 words) and intended to be readable by a general audience, not an academic one.  It is available at SSRN, here (and the same pdf at the Hoover Institution website, here).

Since I was unable to attend their book launch at Georgetown yesterday, the least I can do is put in a hearty plug for a new casebook written by a number of superb IHL scholars: Geoff Corn, Victor Hansen, Chris Jenks, Richard Jackson, Eric Jensen, and James Schoettler. It’s entitled The Law of Armed Conflict: An Operational Approach, and it more than lives up to its name — which not surprising, given that all of the authors have vast experience in the military. Here is the description:

The Law of Armed Conflict: An Operational Approach comes to students with stunning authority. All of the authors are active or retired United States Army officers with more than 140 years of collective military operational experience among them. Several have experience in both legal and operational assignments as well.  They deliver a comprehensive coverage of all aspects of the law of armed conflict, explaining the difference between law and policy in regulation of military operations. The Law of Armed Conflict provides a complete operational scenario and introduction to the operational organization of United States forces. The focus remains on United States law perspective, balanced with exposure to areas where the interpretation of its allied forces diverge. Jus ad bellum and jus in bello issues are addressed at length. Rich with documentation and examples, the text includes excerpts from treaties and treaty commentaries, domestic and international cases, Department of Defense directives, service field manuals, and regulations implementing legal obligations. Its unique pedagogy is based on overviews of each topical area of the law and utilizes a wartime scenario. Students experience operational legal issues from pre-deployment preparation through post-conflict stability operations to war crimes investigation and prosecution. Carefully crafted problems, most based on actual operational experience, follow each chapter and place the student in the position of a military legal adviser providing operational legal advice.  In this way, students enhance their understanding of the relevance of the law in planning and executing military operations. Designed for either a three or four credit offering, 14 chapters correspond to a 14-week course.

A robust ancillary package accompanies the text with solutions to all study problems, model exam questions (multiple choice, short answer, essay,) recommended supplemental sources, suggested video clips to illustrate issues, Power Point slides for each chapter, and a website with links to all primary sources.

I have already used the book in my scholarship multiple times, and I am sure it will be a great text for any IHL course. The operational emphasis is particularly exciting; when I’ve taught IHL to UN field officers and to officers from various militaries, I’ve always found practical exercises to be the most effective way to convey the basic rules and principles of IHL. Anyone who teaches IHL will definitely want to check the book out.

Omar al-Bashir, the President of Sudan, visited Chad earlier this year. The Chadian government made no attempt to arrest him, despite the fact that — as a member of the ICC — both SC Res. 1593 (the Darfur referral) and the Rome Statute obligated it to cooperate with the Court’s arrest warrant. Human rights groups criticized Chad’s unwillingness to arrest Bashir at the time, and now the Pre-Trial Chamber has formally referred Chad’s non-cooperation to the Security Council. Here are the relevant paragraphs of its judgment:

22. In this context, the Chamber wishes to point out that, unlike domestic courts, the ICC has no direct enforcement mechanism in the sense that it lacks a police force. As such, the ICC relies mainly on the States’ cooperation, without which it cannot fulfil its mandate. When the Security Council, acting under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, refers a situation to the Court as constituting a threat to international peace and security, it is expected that the Council would respond by way of taking such measures which are considered appropriate, if there is an apparent failure on the part of the relevant State Party to the Statute to cooperate in fulfilling the Court’s mandate entrusted to it by the Council. Otherwise, if there is no follow up action on the part of the Security Council, any referral by the Council to the ICC under Chapter VII would never achieve its ultimate goal, namely, to put an end to impunity. Accordingly, any such referral would become futile.

23. Having said the above, the Chamber recalls article 87(7) of the Statute according to which, “[wjhere a State Party fails to comply with a request to cooperate by the Court contrary to the provisions of this Statute [...] the Court may make a finding to that effect and refer the matter to the Assembly of States Parties or, where the Security Council referred the matter to the Court, to the Security Council”. Since the Republic of Chad has failed to cooperate with the Court with regard to the arrest and surrender of Omar Al-Bashir, thus preventing the institution from exercising its functions and powers under the Statute, the Court cannot but refer the matter to the Assembly of States Parties and the Security Council.

Although necessary, this is a risky move by the ICC. As Mark Kersten has repeatedly documented, the Security Council has proven far more willing to refer situations to the Court than to ensure that the Court has the ability to successfully investigate those situations. If the Security Council stays true to form and fails to respond to the PTC’s referral, it will do significant damage to the Court’s legitimacy. Why should any suspect fear arrest while traveling abroad if the Security Council won’t even penalize ICC member-states that fail to comply with its own resolutions?

Stay tuned.

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…

Ben Emmerson, counsel for al-Senussi, has asked the Pre-Trial Chamber to refer Libya to the Security Council for ignoring its February 6 decision ordering Libya to transfer al-Senussi to the Court. Here are the key paragraphs:

3. It has been almost six weeks since the Chamber‟s Order of 6 February, and Libya has failed to comply with every one of these instructions. Libya has failed to make any attempt to transfer Mr. Al-Senussi to the ICC and continues to detain him in Libya in violation of Security Council Resolution 1970 and the orders and requests of the ICC. Libya has ignored a formal request from the Registry to send representatives to The Hague to make arrangements to facilitate Mr. Al-Senussi‟s transfer and has not taken any other action to arrange his surrender.

4. Instead, the Libyan authorities continue to detain Mr. Al-Senussi, and are actively preparing to commence his trial in Libya as soon as possible. In so doing Libya has also violated the injunction contained within the Chamber‟s 6 February Order to the effect that Libya must refrain from any action which could hinder or delay his immediate transfer to the ICC.

5. Libya has also ignored the third order made by the Chamber requiring arrangements to be made for a privileged legal visit by appointed Defence Counsel. Mr. Al-Senussi has now spent six months in detention in Libya (from September 2012 to date) being questioned about criminal allegations without access to counsel. This in itself makes any claims regarding the fairness of proceedings in Libya untenable.

[snip]

8. This case has reached a point at which the impasse between Libya and the ICC can only be broken by a referral to the Security Council. If the authority of the Court is to be respected, its orders and requests must be complied with. Further latitude would simply enable Libya to perpetuate its tactics of delay, obfuscation and prevarication and its consistent attempts to mislead the Chamber and the Registry as to its true intentions. Libya’s intentions and actions are very clear.

None of this is remotely surprising, of course. But it puts the lie to Libya’s constant claims in Saif’s case to be cooperating fully with the Court. Libya only cooperates when it gets what it wants.

Wells Bennett calls my attention to this statement by Marc Ambinder in a recent article in The Week entitled “Five Truths About the Drone War”:

The CIA does not “fly” drones. It “owns” drones, but the Air Force flies them. The Air Force coordinates (and deconflicts) their use through the CIA’s Office of Military Affairs, which is run by an Air Force general. The Air Force performs maintenance on them. The Air Force presses the button that releases the missile. There are no CIA civilians piloting remote controlled air vehicles. The Agency has about 40 unmanned aerial vehicles in its worldwide arsenal, about 30 of which are deployed in the Middle East and Africa. Most of these thingies are equipped with sophisticated surveillance gear. A few of them are modified to launch missiles. The Air Force owns many more “lethal” RPVs, but it uses them in the contiguous battlefield of Afghanistan.

Wells points out at Lawfare that “if Ambinder is correct, then it is military personnel who do the drone-flying and the button-pushing, and military personnel can invoke a public authority justification for strikes implicating 1119, in Kevin’s view.” In other words, Wells suggests that it might be irrelevant whether CIA officers are entitled to a public authority defence, because they may not actually be involved in lethal drone attacks, including the one that killed al-Awlaki.

I completely agree with Wells’ restatement and application of my position on the public authority defence. But I am less sure that Ambinder’s “truth” insulates CIA from potential criminal liability. Ken Dilanian, a leading national-security reporter, had a long article in the Los Angeles Times last month discussing the possibility of the military taking over much of the CIA drone program. Ambinder’s reporting seemed to contradict Dilanian’s article, so I tweeted Dilanian about it. Here was his reply:

@kevinjonheller no it doesn’t. The cia doesn’t fly it’s drones, but it does the targeting and gives the order to fire.

— Ken Dilanian (@KenDilanianLAT) March 17, 2013

Dilanian is right: the articles don’t necessarily contradict each other. Ambinder says that the military flies the drones and pushes the button that launches the weapon; he does not claim that the military chooses the targets and makes the decision to launch the attack. There are some interesting questions about what it means for the CIA to “give the order to fire,” but it seems clear that CIA officers are still involved in lethal drone attacks in a manner that gives rise to a potential violation of the foreign-murder statute — as conspirators or instigators or as aiders-and-abettors. So the fact that a CIA officer is not entitled to a public authority defence remains an important issue.

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.

Dan Blumenthal of AEI has a thoughtful piece in Foreign Policy on different tactics the U.S. could take to “win a cyberwar” with China. I think it is more about how the U.S. should “fight” the cyberwar with China and other governments that are going to use cyber-attacks against US companies and government entities.  Still, what caught my eye are two interesting legal proposals.

1) The US could amend the Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act to permit lawsuits against governments and government entities (like China’s) for cyberattacks and cybertheft.  I suppose the idea would be that a US company could sue the infamous People’s Liberation Army unit that is allegedly sponsoring many of the cyber attacks against the U.S.  I think this is a not very good  strategy since such litigation for state sponsors of terrorism have not gone very well.  And it would seem to require the US to open the doors to litigation against a foreign sovereign, which will certainly invite retaliation against the US government and US companies doing business with China. So I assume no such lawsuits would ever be brought, or almost never would be brought.  Still, worth thinking about.

2) Here is the hot idea:  Issuing letters of marque and reprisal against cyberattackers.  This idea has been developed by GMU lawprof Jeremy Rabkin and Ariel Rabkin here. I think as a policy matter, the idea of bringing private non-governmental resources into play is really important, since they have much of the technical expertise and suffer the most damage from cyberattacks.  On the other hand, officially sanctioning private warfare via “cyber-privateers” seems more trouble than its worth.  You are responsible for the damage they wreak, but you don’t actually control them very well since they are not in your chain of command.  And, oh yes, other countries could do this even better than the U.S. could.  Except they simply deny their relationship with the “private”attackers.

And I also think that international law would have something to say about this.  If a state of armed conflict existed, than it is easier to imagine unleashing a private band of cyberwarriors.  But absent that, I don’t think the cyber-privateers makes much legal or policy sense.  How could the US legitimately sanction private attacks against a foreign government absent a state of armed conflict without having to treat all foreign private attacks against it as “armed attacks” as well?

Still, I like the idea of expanding the universe of U.S. expertise and ability in the cyberwars, taking an offensive rather than a defensive approach, and thinking of new ways to do so. I am just not sure reviving private warfare will necessarily do that.

Libya has filed yet another brief concerning the admissibility of the case against Saif Gaddafi. The new brief is more than 50 pages long, so it’s going to take some time to digest. But we really don’t have to go beyond pages 22-24, because Libya’s admissions in those paragraphs doom — or at least should doom, if the Pre-Trial Chamber would ever actually rule — its admissibility challenge:

48. The Libyan Government does not deny that Saif Al-Islam Gaddafi remains in Zintan (one of the largest cities in north-western Libya) and that efforts to arrange his transfer to a detention facility in Tripoli are ongoing.[57] During his incarceration in Zintan Saif Al-Islam Gaddafi has been visited by representatives of the International Committee of the Red Cross and Human Rights Watch on several occasions.[58] Permission was granted by the Minister of Justice, Salah Marghani, for a further visit by Human Rights Watch on 4 March 2013.[59] It is now a matter for Human Rights Watch to arrange this visit at their earliest convenience.

49. Since 30 October 2012 each of the extensions of Saif Al-Islam Gaddafi’s periods of detention have been judicially approved by Tripoli based judges[60] who have travelled to Zintan to conduct a private hearing (ie. a closed session) on the extension of his remand period. These hearings have been facilitated by the local authorities in Zintan without any difficulties. The Libyan Government
understands that the reference on the remand extension documents to these hearings bearing held in public is an error as the hearings were held in closed session and were not open to members of the public.

50. The Libyan Government will shortly begin implementation of its recently devised proposal for the members of the Zintan brigade responsible for guarding Saif Al-Islam Gaddafi in Zintan to be trained and regularised so as to form part of the judicial police which would then guard him upon his transfer to a central government controlled prison in Tripoli. It is not possible to say with any certainty the exact date of Mr Gaddafi’s transfer to Tripoli but it is understood that this will occur before the earliest possible estimated commencement date of the trial in May 2013.

51.It is anticipated that if the national security proceedings, which are presently in the pre-trial phase and for which there was a public court hearing[61] in the Zintan court on 17 January 2013, are to proceed to trial that once Saif Al-Islam Gaddafi is transferred to Tripoli these proceedings will also be transferred to the Tripoli court.

The first thing to note is that, even if these claims are true, Libya is still currently “unable” to prosecute Saif within the meaning of Art. 17(3) of the Rome Statute…

My previous posts (see here for the most recent) have explained why Judge Kozinski’s opinion in the Sea Shepherd case wrongly considers a political end to be a private end. In this post I want to highlight what is ironic — though not technically incorrect — about Judge Kozinski’s conclusion that Sea Shepherd committed an act of piracy on “the high seas.” That is an essential element of piracy; UNCLOS art. 101, for example, defines piracy as “any illegal acts of violence or detention, or any act of depredation, committed for private ends by the crew or the passengers of a private ship or a private aircraft, and directed… on the high seas, against another ship.” The high seas, in turn, are defined by art. 86 as “all parts of the sea that are not included in the exclusive economic zone, in the territorial sea or in the internal waters of a State, or in the archipelagic waters of an  archipelagic State.”

The Japanese whaling that Sea Shepherd resisted took place near Antarctica in the Australian Whale Sanctuary (AWS), which was established by John Howard’s conservative Australian government in 1999. Here is a map of the AWS:

Did Sea Shepherd’s acts take place on the “high seas”? Not according to Australia and a number of other states. Australia has long claimed sovereignty over what it calls the Australian Antarctic Territory (AAT), the white part of Antarctica on the map, and it has also consistently claimed sovereignty over the waters adjacent to the AAT, the blue section of the map that stretches around the AAT. Those waters, which are part of Australia’s Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ), include the AWS. A good history of Australia’s claim can be found in this law-review article by David Leary; here is the Australian government’s own statement about the AWS…

Eugene Kontorovich has responded at Volokh Conspiracy to my previous post about politically-motivated acts of violence on the high seas. I invite interested readers to examine for themselves the various documents Eugene and I discuss; in this final post I simply want to correct a fundamental error on Eugene’s part concerning the Harvard Draft Convention on Piracy — an error that goes to the very heart of our debate. Both of our arguments depend on the Draft Convention and its commentary, because — as Eugene points out — the ILC Commentary to the Law of the Sea Treaty specifically notes that the Commission “in general” agreed with the Draft Convention. The proper interpretation of the Draft Convention, therefore, is of critical importance to the proper interpretation of the Law of the Sea Treaty.

Here is what Eugene says about whether “private ends” include acts of violence on the high seas that are politically motivated:

The Harvard Draft supports the lack of any subjective, motive-based inquiry. Here is exactly what it says in its commentary on the “private ends” part of the definition of piracy:

[A]lthough it is true that the typical pirate of fiction and tradition was an indiscriminative plunderer, expediency and not traditional epithets or the fancy of traditional concepts should direct the definition of the common jurisdiction over piracy, and every consideration of certainty in prosecution and of assured protection in places outside the territory of all states argues that the jurisdiction to seize and to punish a robber or a killer for private ends should not depend on whether the offender had by acts or words displayed an intent to plunder or slay only once or oftener, or on whether he intended to attack only the citizens of certain states and their ships and other property, or to prey on the people and commerce of all nations indiscriminately. Such matters of collateral intent of an offender (often uncertain and indistinct) and of his transactions other than those involved in the case at hand, are very unsatisfactory as elements in a basis of state jurisdiction.

On the other hand, the language in the Draft that Prof. Heller says best supports his position does not come from the commentary on “private ends,” or indeed from the definition of piracy at all (contained in Art. 3). Rather, it comes from the commentary on Art. 14, which is not defining, or even discussing piracy at all, but rather the authority of states with traditional jurisdiction to apply non-piracy law.

Eugene’s claim about Articles 3 and 16 (his reference to Article 14 must be a typo) is extremely misleading. It is true that the language on which I rely does not come from Article 3, which defines piracy under international law — the kind of piracy to which universal jurisdiction applies under Article 2 of the Draft Convention, and the kind of piracy that is governed by the substantive provisions in Articles 3-15 of the Draft Convention. But I quote the commentary to Article 16 instead of to Article 3 for a very specific reason: because Article 16 deals with acts that do not qualify as acts of piracy under international law and are thus excluded from universal jurisdiction and the substantive provisions of the Draft Convention.  Here is the text of Article 16 (emphasis mine)…