The case law generated in just over two years' operation of the Human Rights Act 1998 (HRA), enables stocktaking rather than definitive appraisal.1 This article begins by recalling the markedly contrasting roles in United Kingdom law of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) before and after the HRA, the better to appreciate judicial approaches to, and use of, the HRA in the areas surveyed. The second part of the article focuses on judicial use of key provisions of the HRA to interpret primary legislation said to conflict with one or more Convention rights and on judicial use of the power to make a declaration of incompatibility. It considers a selection of decisions, principally of the House of Lords and the Court of Appeal, which raise important points regarding the purpose and scope of the HRA as a constitutional document and indicate judicial uncertainty as to how the HRA should be conceptualised, interpreted and applied. With this emerging picture of a cautious and uncertain judiciary in mind, the final two sections of the article give detailed consideration to the post-HRA jurisprudence within two discrete areas of English law. Part III explores the impact of the HRA on judicial approaches to the clash between the freedoms of expression and assembly, on the one hand, and public order, on the other. Part IV considers the ‘use and abuse’ of the HRA and of Article 8 ECHR in private law family disputes. Finally, certain tentative conclusions as to the perhaps disappointing story of the HRA so far, will be proffered.

The issue of women's under-representation in politics continues to be controversial and pressing in countries all over the world. According to the Inter Parliamentary Union, only 14.7 per cent of the world's legislators are women.1 In no country do women achieve parity with men in terms of parliamentary representation. The record of many of the world's most developed countries is particularly poor. Looking at lower houses of the legislature, in the US women's representation is only 14 per cent, in the UK 18 per cent, France 12 per cent and Italy 10 per cent. These countries are considerably out-performed by others such as South Africa and Argentina, both at 30 per cent.2

This article explores the consequences of the expansion of the domain of individual responsibility for the law of state responsibility. It is induced by a number of recent cases in which state responsibility claims were accompanied by prosecutions of individuals whose acts led to the responsibility of the state. An example is the parallel attribution of (alleged) acts of genocide in the former Yugoslavia between 1991 and 1995 to Yugoslavia and to Slobodan Milosević.

The European Union is soon to be composed of twenty-seven Member States. The first wave of enlargement is to take place in 2004 and may see the accession of Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Hungary, Malta, Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, and the three Baltic states. A few years later, Bulgaria and Romania are also expected to join the EU. Although previous enlargements have taken place,2 the imminent accession of ten countries, mainly from Central and Eastern Europe, is unprecedented not only in terms of scale, but also for its political symbolism: for these states, EU membership confirms the success of their democratic and economic transition efforts and represents their (re-)integration to the European family after decades of isolation under the Soviet domination.

In its work to maintain and develop the free mobility of judgments within the European Union, the EU approved on 22 December 2000 a new regulation1 (hereafter the Jurisdiction Regulation) that replaced the Brussels Convention with effect from 1 March 2002.2 Possibly the most discussed and disputed new development in the Jurisdiction Regulation is Section 4, which concerns jurisdiction over consumer contracts. Before the approval of the Regulation, the provisions of Section 4 were heavily debated. The unreserved right of the consumer, under certain circumstances, to sue the other party in the courts of the State where the consumer is domiciled met strong resistance. This was particularly the case in relation to e-commerce, where there was an expressed fear that the provisions would lead to a scenario where anyone doing business through the Internet or by other electronic means could face the risk of being hauled into court in every state in Europe. It was asserted that this would significantly increase the costs of establishing new businesses online, and that, as a result, small and medium size enterprises would be deterred from offering their products online throughout the EU, and restrain the development of e-commerce in Europe.

In its simplest form, a transnational insolvency involves an insolvency1 proceeding in one country, with creditors located in at least one additional country.2 In the most complex case, it involves multiple proceedings, subsidiaries, affiliated entities, assets, operations, and creditors in dozens of nations. Complex international insolvencies continue to proliferate alongside a burgeoning world-wide free market economy that entails the globalisation of commercial and financial markets.3

On 4 March 2002, the French legislature enacted the ‘Patients’ Rights & Quality of the Health System Act’ which introduces reforms in the relationship between the medical profession and the patient.1 As part of this wider reform, Part IV of the Act establishes a new system for the compensation of victims of medical accidents. The new legislation retains the traditional liability rules but puts in place a parallel system which aims to guarantee compensation for serious accidents, whether or not the accident is caused by negligence, without the need to resort to litigation in these cases. The new French rules are of considerable interest in view of the current debate in the United Kingdom on clinical negligence reform.

In 2001, the African Commission on Human and Peoples' Rights concluded consideration of a communication under Article 55 of the African Charter on Human Rights and Peoples' Rights which dealt with alleged violations of human rights of the Ogoni people in Nigeria.1 This communication is important and special, because, for the first time, the Commission was able to deal in a substantive and groundbreaking way with alleged violations of economic, social and cultural rights which formed the substance of the complaint. In addition, in dealing with the communication, the Commission took a firm and dynamic approach that may contribute to a better and more effective protection of economic, social and cultural rights in Africa. This article discusses the case before the Commission and tries to characterize the decision of the Commission as an application of recent approaches to strengthen implementation and supervision of economic, social and cultural rights.

Even when a forum has completed the task of identifying, in any given case, the lex causae, there remains a possibility of further choice of law complexities as regards delimitation of the applicable law. The extent of leeway which a Scottish or English forum enjoys when purporting to apply the lex causae, in the question of whether that court should refer to,1 and apply, the whole corpus of the lex causae,2 is ultimately a matter for the forum's discretion, the exercise whereof admittedly few opportunities are afforded.

On declining to make an order for provisional measures in the case concerning the Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000, the International Court of Justice nevertheless indicated that it was desirable that the Court should deal with the issues raised by the case ‘as soon as possible’, and that it was appropriate therefore to seek to determine the application ‘with all expedition’.1 In the event, questions of admissibility and the merits were taken together and the Parties agreed to file a single set of written pleadings each, enabling the Court to hold oral hearings in October 2001 and to render a final judgment on 14 February 20022 (ie, only about 16 months after the original application by the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC)). Despite the speed with which the Court dealt with the case, its judgment has come in for considerable comment and criticism from a number of quarters3 as much for what is not said, as for what is in fact contained in the rather spare terms of the judgment. It will be suggested here that the ratio decidendi of the case is in fact rather confined, and that caution should be adopted in seeking to draw wider implications from what was said or left unsaid.

Since 1998, a war has ravaged one of Africa's largest countries, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (‘DRC’). Africa's ‘Great War’ is said to have involved nine national armies and an unknown number of militia groups, and has reportedly claimed more lives than any other in the last four years. Estimates of the death toll range from 3 to 3.5 million. On 28 May 2002, the DRC instituted proceedings before the International Court of Justice (‘the Court’) against Rwanda alleging ‘massive, serious and flagrant violations of human rights and international humanitarian law’, and requested certain provisional measures.2 On 10 July 2002, the Court rejected the DRC’s request for provisional measures, as it considered that it did not have prima facie jurisdiction to determine the merits of the case.3 However, the Court also rejected Rwanda's request that the case be removed from the list, as the Court considered that its lack of jurisdiction was not ‘manifest’.4 This note reviews the history of the conflict and the litigation, before considering the DRC's request for provisional measures and the grounds of jurisdiction upon which it sought to rely. The Order is then analysed, and this note concludes that the Court was right to reject the DRC's request, but it should have gone further and removed the case from the list.

On 10 October 2002 the International Court of Justice gave its decision on the merits in the case brought by the Republic of Cameroon against the Federal Republic of Nigeria over their land and maritime boundary. The judgment, which addresses a number of issues of general international law concerning maritime boundaries and territorial sovereignty, as well as providing a detailed treatment of the particular facts, concludes a case that began in 1994 and has had an unusual history. As this background had a significant bearing on the eventual outcome, a brief recapitulation may be useful.

On 17 December 2002 the International Court gave its judgment in a dispute over two small islands in the Celebes Sea claimed by both Indonesia and Malaysia. The islands in question, Ligitan and Sipadan, are located off the north-east coast of Borneo and lie approximately 15.5 nautical miles apart. Both are very small and Ligitan is uninhabited; Sipadan, on the other hand, was developed by Malaysia into a tourist resort for scuba diving in the 1980s. In 1998 Indonesia and Malaysia referred the dispute to the Court by means of a Special Agreement, asking for a decision ‘on the basis of the treaties, agreements and any other evidence furnished by the Parties’ on whether sovereignty over the islands belonged to Indonesia or to Malaysia.

Questions of Interpretation and Application of the 1971 Montreal Convention arising from the Aerial Incident at Lockerbie (Libyan Arab Jamahiriya v United Kingdom).

The answer of the Attorney-General Lord Goldsmith to a question in the House of Lords and a paper produced by the Foreign & Commonwealth Office explaining the United Kingdom's position on the legal basis for the use of force against Iraq are reproduced immediately below (from the ‘Latest News’ section, 18 March 2003, of the Foreign & Commonwealth Office website, www.fco.gov.uk). Contextual documentation and comment will be provided in the next Current Developments: Public International Law section in January 2004.

The Orthodox position on the legal effect of treaties in English law is easy to state. Treaties are entered into by the Executive acting under prerogative powers. The exercise of these powers is not, even in the post-GCHQ2 dispensation, a matter within the jurisdiction of the courts, so that the desirability of entering into a treaty cannot be challenged in the courts.3 However, since any prerogative power must be exercised campatibly with legislation, if there is an extant statutory restriction upon making a particular treaty or providing a particular procedure as a condition upon which the prerogative power may be exercised, then compliance with the statutory provisions is a matter for the courts.4