States sometimes choose to break the law. International lawyers should seek to understand instances of illegality, particularly when they involve the unlawful use of force. But should we also shift our understanding of legality itself in an attempt to bring state conduct within the fold? In particular, what should we make of uses of force that seem to enjoy some degree of international political support while straying from the law governing the resort to force, or the jus ad bellum? Monica Hakimi asks this timely, and indeed timeless, question in her thought-provoking article arguing for a reconceptualization of “The Jus ad Bellum’s Regulatory Form.” Hakimi argues that we must carefully examine state engagement with the UN Security Council, including when it is not authorizing force, to fully understand state behavior. This claim is uncontroversial. However, she also argues that Council activity short of authorizing force can nevertheless establish legality and the Council's “institutional processes can deprive the general standards [that constitute the jus ad bellum] of their legal effect.” The empirical validity and normative desirability of this more provocative claim deserve close interrogation.

In the grand debates of international law, the jus ad bellum is often proclaimed dead, and just as often praised as the “cornerstone” of the contemporary legal order. Both perspectives tend to ignore that the jus ad bellum is not static, but a body of law that states adjust over time. In an important contribution, Monica Hakimi proposes to look at one particular aspect of such adjustment, a concept she frames as “informal regulation” through Security Council action. This essay engages with Hakimi's approach. It inquires whether this approach is as “informal” as Hakimi suggests, and asks whether “informal regulation”—rather than constituting a new category of state activities to study—is not already part of conventional approaches to the jus ad bellum. Proceeding from Hakimi's analysis, the comment assesses whether there is room for “informal regulation” beyond the Security Council.

Monica Hakimi's article probes the legal significance of an interesting phenomenon: the UN Security Council condoning the use of force, as opposed to authorizing it. She offers an innovative perspective on this little-studied dimension of how the Council contributes to the development of jus ad bellum. While I applaud much in the article, I question her characterization of what the Council is condoning in the cases she reviews. She claims these are “fact-specific decisions,” whereas I argue that the Council is endorsing controversial interpretations of the law on the use of force. This disagreement does not detract from Hakimi's observations about the policy implications of the practice, or about the Council's role as a site for deliberation and argumentation about the content of international law. But it does cast doubt on her conceptual claim that there are two distinct “regulatory forms,” which together provide the content of jus ad bellum, one particularistic and procedural, the other general and substantive. All legal claims and justifications entail the application of general standards to particular facts, either explicitly or implicitly. Most of her case studies can be explained in those terms. Thus, while the Council's practice of condoning the use of force is important to understand, the “conventional account” she derides provides a more persuasive and parsimonious explanation of that phenomenon.

International efforts to better conserve the marine biological diversity of areas beyond national jurisdiction (BBNJ) through a new international legally binding instrument1 are developing in a context of established norms and institutions. Existing regimes already address specific marine sectors (such as shipping), regions (such as fishing in the South East Atlantic), species (such as whales), and even underlying customary international law and territorial concepts (including the boundaries of the “high seas”2). States have agreed that they will not “undermine” these existing frameworks.3 We seek to contextualize this commitment within the fragmentation of international law and the interaction between regimes.4 We argue that international law-making should not be overly restricted by deference to existing competencies and mandates, which are fluid and asymmetrically supported. An inclusive and adaptive approach to existing and future institutions is vital in the ongoing quest for integrated and effective oceans governance.

This essay addresses the question of how the international community could designate high seas marine protected areas (MPAs) that would be binding on all states. This is a key issue for the forthcoming UN negotiations of an International Legally Binding Instrument (ILBI) on conservation and sustainable use of biodiversity in areas beyond national jurisdiction. However, this is a longstanding question, the importance of which transcends the ILBI negotiations. Some have argued for the establishment of a centralized Ocean Governance Authority, whose decisions would be universally binding; others have argued that existing regional and sectoral bodies can be relied on to protect biodiversity in areas beyond national jurisdiction. The experience of the Sargasso Sea project is that some sort of centralized or coordinating regime is needed to make MPAs effective across regional and sectoral bodies.

The development of an Internationally Binding Legal Instrument (ILBI) for the conservation and sustainable management of marine biological diversity in areas beyond national jurisdiction (BBNJ) has profound implications for the future regulatory activities of a host of regional governance structures exercising competence over these waters. In the rather stilted vernacular of the BBNJ Process, the ILBI aspires to “not undermine” the work of preexisting institutions and initiatives. Inevitably, given the emphasis upon future institutional symbiosis, a key challenge facing the ILBI is to promote its four thematic priorities—marine genetic resources, area-based management tools, environmental assessment, and capacity building and technology transfer—in a manner that can be effectively harnessed by current regional and sectoral frameworks. One region in which the intriguing set of challenges and opportunities presented by the ILBI are strikingly manifested is the Arctic. Some have argued for a regional treaty or clearer recognition of the “special” nature of Arctic conditions. However, we view the ILBI as a potential milestone in Arctic governance that can provide a firm platform to build on current cooperative arrangements for these vulnerable and rapidly changing marine ecosystems. Moreover, we argue that the present legal and institutional framework for the Arctic need not be revisited at this juncture, as it provides a strong regime through which to implement the core objectives of the ILBI. Its ability to do so, however, will depend on whether the ILBI (1) is effectively designed to work with preexisting machinery and (2) succeeds in clarifying and advancing universally-agreed methodological requirements for its four priority areas.

The freedom to lay submarine cables and pipelines, one of the most venerated high seas freedoms under the 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), faces an uncertain future under the new international legally binding instrument (ILBI) being negotiated in the United Nations. UN General Assembly Resolution 72/249, authorizing the intergovernmental conference for the new ILBI, does not expressly mention submarine cables or pipelines but states that “the work and results of the conference should be fully consistent with the provisions of” UNCLOS. The issues in a new ILBI that are likely to have an impact on the freedom to lay submarine cables and pipelines in areas beyond national jurisdiction are (1) area-based management tools, and (2) environmental impact assessments (EIAs), which are mechanisms used to protect and preserve the marine environment and biodiversity. The challenge for high seas governance (and indeed, the perennial challenge for the law of the sea) is how to balance these two ostensibly competing, but equally valuable, interests: the protection of the marine environment and biodiversity and the high seas freedom to lay submarine cables in areas beyond national jurisdiction.

Our ability to protect and sustainably use the high seas is ultimately subject to our ability to understand this vast and remote environment. The success of an international legally binding instrument (ILBI) for the conservation and sustainable use of marine biological diversity of areas beyond national jurisdiction (BBNJ) will depend, in part, on utilizing technology to access ocean life, to analyze it, and to implement measures for its conservation and sustainable use. Indeed, technology, broadly defined, is integral to meeting the ILBI's objectives: not just the mandate to address “capacity-building and the transfer of marine technology,” but also the sustainable use and conservation of marine genetic resources, the implementation of environmental impact assessments, and biodiversity conservation measures such as area-based management tools. To maximize marine technology deployment to protect marine biodiversity in areas beyond national jurisdiction, transferring technology to developing countries will be critical. Provisions for the transfer of technology, generally from developed to developing countries, are included in many international environmental agreements and declarations, but these provisions have often proven difficult to implement. Part of the difficulty is that the relevant technology is dispersed among states; universities, research institutes and other nonstate actors; and private industry. The particular challenge in crafting an ILBI is, as the European Union has identified, to avoid repeating existing provisions and instead to “focus on added value.” One opportunity for an ILBI to add value on technology transfer is to further develop a network model to facilitate marine technology transfer.

The effort to negotiate and adopt a legally binding instrument to manage marine biodiversity beyond areas of national jurisdiction (BBNJ) implicates national security interests both directly and tangentially. First, negotiations for any agreement will contend with the long-standing concept that the oceans are reserved for “peaceful purposes.” The maritime powers will insist that the concept, which reflects customary law and the practice of virtually all states, does not demilitarize the oceans. Second, any BBNJ treaty must overcome two interrelated spatial issues: the geographic parameters of what constitutes “areas beyond national jurisdiction” when those maritime boundaries are often uncertain, and how measures to protect the environment interact with military activities in those areas. Naval powers will insist that requisite marine protected areas (MPAs) and associated protective measures do not diminish naval freedom of navigation and other military uses of the sea. Third, BBNJ negotiations will be compelled to address how a new treaty will relate to the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), a host of other treaties, and customary norms. Imperfect as the contemporary global order of the oceans is, major maritime powers and even middle powers will seek to protect it and resist efforts at radical change that may destabilize existing regimes in pursuit of an ephemeral gain for BBNJ. This strategic interest in international stability, while understandable, unintentionally creates inertia that is likely to frustrate the most progressive proponents of BBNJ. Fourth, more broadly, any treaty is likely to affect marine ecosystem services and perhaps marine genetic resources (MGR), which help propel the “blue economy” and undergird national security. We may expect most coastal states to continue to jealously protect their exclusive rights to the living and nonliving resources offshore, and even to propose expansion of those rights and jurisdiction to “adjacent areas.” The most developed states, for their part, are unlikely to agree to any text that diminishes their rights to intellectual property related to marine biotechnology, which is a strategic sector for bio-weapons research and defense. In short, states with advanced military capabilities, and major maritime powers in particular, are unlikely to support more than incremental change to the regimes reflected in UNCLOS.

One of the unique challenges that the International Criminal Court's (ICC's) Office of the Prosecutor (OTP) faces is deciding when and where to launch investigations. It is a task that other international prosecutors have not confronted. Their investigative “situations” were selected in advance, leaving those prosecutors free to focus on the myriad other challenges any international justice enterprise faces. The ICC prosecutor's ability to define her own investigative situations (within the limits of jurisdiction) is both a boon and a burden. On the one hand, it accords the OTP the freedom to select the situations it deems most serious and worthy of international attention. Yet this discretion can also generate intense strain for the prosecutor of a still novel and fragile institution.

On March 9, 2018, the highest officials of the International Criminal Court (ICC) and representatives of the international community assembled at the seat of the Court to welcome six newly elected judges and to bid farewell to the six who had concluded their term of office, including myself. In my then-capacity as President, I presided over their swearing-in ceremony, which, in accordance with the Rome Statute, must take place in open court. In my opening remarks, I emphasized that this ceremony, which takes place every three years, was an important moment for the institution. Six new judges were solemnly undertaking to exercise their respective functions impartially and conscientiously, something that embodies both individual and collective responsibilities. “Through renewal,” I said, “the institution ensures its continuity.”

In a world in which war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide are not uncommon, the institution that was set up to have jurisdiction over them is in danger of being unable to discharge its mandate. Put starkly, the International Criminal Court (ICC) suffers too frequently from an inability to arrest or otherwise detain alleged perpetrators, whether the prosecutor is acting proprio motu or is following a reference to the court by a state party or the Security Council. The situation of Saif al-Islam Gaddafi is a case in point: notwithstanding the Security Council's referral of Libya to the ICC, at least as a member of the public it is difficult to detect any substantial international pressure that has been applied to have Gaddafi transferred to the Court; instead, he has been mooted as a candidate in future presidential elections. In total, the Court has issued thirty-two arrest warrants and nine summonses to appear, yet has held only nine individuals in custody, with fifteen still at large. The fugitives include citizens of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Uganda, Sudan, Kenya, Libya, and the Ivory Coast. Once the present trials before the court have concluded, there is only one case potentially waiting in the wings. A sole outstanding individual, Al-Hassan Ag Abdoul Aziz Ag Mohamed Ag Mahmoud from Mali, has made an initial appearance, and later this year the pre-trial stage of his case should commence; otherwise, there are simply the three trials in progress. However, I urge careful reflection before the Court is blamed for periods in which its docket of cases is lean.

More than any other international criminal tribunal, the International Criminal Court (ICC) has, in its early years, pursued cases against heads of state. The Court issued arrest warrants for President Omar al Bashir of Sudan and for Muammar Gaddafi while he was Libya's head of state, and it charged Uhuru Kenyatta shortly before he became head of state of Kenya. These attempts to prosecute heads of states have not only led to tensions between the Court and the African Union,1 but also pit the desire to hold senior leaders accountable for grave international crimes against the customary international law principle that certain senior state officials—especially heads of state—have immunity from foreign criminal jurisdiction by virtue of their status, including immunity from arrest and their inviolability when abroad.2

When it was adopted in 1998, the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC) represented a significant breakthrough regarding sexual and gender-based crimes—crimes that, for centuries, had proliferated in armed conflicts but had been disregarded, mischaracterized, or misunderstood as the inevitable by-products of war or a legitimate part of its spoils. Not only did the Rome Statute explicitly treat a broad range of sexual acts as crimes against humanity and war crimes, but it also recognized gender-based violence as a crime and incorporated a number of provisions aimed at ensuring greater institutional attention to sexual and gender-based crimes. However, abstract possibilities do not always translate into concrete results, and the ICC has been slow to effectuate its innovative statutory provisions. This essay will explore some of the obstacles encountered and opportunities missed by the Court over the last twenty years, as well as highlighting welcome strides made in recent years to fulfill, at least in part, the promise of Rome.

Article 21 of the Rome Statute, in defining the applicable sources of law for the International Criminal Court (ICC), breaks with the practice of the ad hoc tribunals by treating customary international law as only a secondary authority. Nonetheless, customary international law still has an acknowledged role in ICC jurisprudence in filling lacunae in the Rome Statute and aiding in its interpretation. One can also predict other instances in which the application of customary international law will be required. It remains to be seen, however, whether the ICC's use of customary law will lead to that law's further fragmentation or whether that use will instead modify customary law to reflect the ICC Statute.

This essay proposes a matrix for understanding the dynamics of investment treaty reform. It tracks incremental, systemic, and paradigmatic reform options as applied across procedure, substance, and form. Although stylized and thus unable to capture all the nuances of individual positions, the reform matrix creates a framework for understanding some of the main debates about investment treaty reforms and offers a template for locating and comparing the approaches of key international actors, including the United States, the European Union, and Japan, together with Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa (the BRICS).

Brazil only recently joined the collection of states that have adopted international investment agreements (IIAs), but in doing so it developed a noteworthy approach in the form of the Cooperation and Facilitation Investment Agreement (CFIA). In this essay, we explore the characteristics and merits of this particular treaty model, making three points: First, the CFIA exhibits unique features that set it apart from traditional bilateral investment treaties (BITs), including the state-to-state management of investment relations and an emphasis on investment facilitation rather than investment protection. Second, the CFIA displays a degree of “interoperability” that has made it possible for Brazilian partners to sign these agreements while simultaneously holding BIT portfolios, despite significant differences between the two approaches. Finally, one of the CFIA's key features—that of investment facilitation—is a promising basis for reform in multilateral settings such as the World Trade Organization (WTO). In short, we believe that the CFIA offers an innovative and attractive option for states looking to supplement or revise traditional BITs, both bilaterally and multilaterally.