Part II - Sovereignty and Cooperation

8 The Conseil Constitutionnel’s Jurisprudence on ‘Limitations of Sovereignty’

Niki Aloupi

I ‘Droit des relations internationales’ and ‘Foreign Relations Law’

In French doctrine, the term ‘droit des relations internationales’ (literally translated as ‘Foreign Relations Law’) is not ‘used to encompass the domestic law of each nation that governs how that nation interacts with the rest of the world’.¹ As a distinctive field, French ‘Relations Internationales’² studies in a nonexclusively-legal way the interactions and communications between nations and other actors and social groups across the borders, that is, all the relations (stricto sensu international or lato sensu international including transnational ones) presenting a foreign element. Thus, political, economic and sociological considerations are taken into account in order to apprehend the international legal order. Foreign relations law (droit des relations internationals) can consequently seem ambiguous in French and therefore is often used as a synonym of public international law (droit international public). As a matter of fact, a great number of French students that are enrolled in a course ‘Droit des relations internationales’ in first year of law school actually study public international law. Few French law schools teach foreign relations as a distinctive discipline and even fewer have a research center specially dedicated to it.³ As far as French foreign relations handbooks are concerned, they propose mostly three different approaches, that can also be combined between them: a theoretical/doctrinal/political science approach; an historical approach; or an institutional/normative/juridical approach.⁴

Nevertheless, notwithstanding the semantics, that is, even without naming this particular field ‘Foreign Relations Law’ and without considering it as autonomous, the French doctrine does study ‘how French law (i.e. constitutional law, statutory law, administrative regulations, and judicial decisions) interacts with the rest of the world’, as well as ‘the role of domestic courts in applying international law and in adjudicating cases that implicate governmental interests’.⁵ In this sense, the French approach, as far as interaction between domestic law and international law is concerned, is one of a monist state that places its constitution on the summit of the hierarchy of norms and attributes to international law a supra-legislative but infra-constitutional authority (article 55 of the French Constitution 1958).

However, in a perspective where ‘Foreign Relations Law’ is meant to be studied as a distinctive and a fortiori autonomous field, this assertion is far too simplistic to truly apprehend the articulation of the French legal order with the international one. This interaction is rather complex and cannot be fully understood unless all aspects of French domestic law and more importantly French case law (in the sense of jurisprudence, since there is no stare decisis/binding precedent rule in French law) relative to international law have been studied. Indeed, not only the French courts jurisprudence affine, enrich or even alter the written French norms concerning domestic law/international law interaction, but also the approaches adopted by the three French Supreme Courts (Cour de Cassation, Conseil d’Etat and Conseil Constitutionnel, which is not hierarchically superior to the other two) are not always identical or even harmonized and may thus govern the relation domestic law/international law in different ways.

This chapter will focus on the Conseil Constitutionnel and its role in controlling the executive as far as the adoption of international treaties is concerned. The Conseil Constitutionnel’s jurisprudence on ‘limitations of sovereignty’⁶ is a very interesting one and, notwithstanding its numerous ambiguities and grey areas, clearly reflects the strong role that the French Constitutional Council wishes to play in foreign relations law.

In its first section, this paper focuses on the role of the French Constitutional Council with regard to the review of international treaties before their ratification. Its second section offers insights on the ‘limitations of sovereignty’ doctrine and its criticism, whereas the third section proposes several illustrations of the Conseil Constitutionnel’s jurisprudence concerning the compatibility between international treaties and the French Constitution. In its final section, this article suggests a critical assessment of this jurisprudence and argues that with the ‘limitations of sovereignty’ doctrine the Constitutional Council has achieved great power and discretion and has thus indirectly acquired an important role influencing the way the executive conducts its foreign relations.

II The Role of the Constitutional Council in the Constitutionality Review of International Treaties before Their Ratification

The French Constitutional Council was created by the Fifth Republic’s Constitution adopted on October 4, 1958. Initially conceived by General de Gaulle as a rather weak mechanism, feared by him because of the American precedent of what was considered as the risk of a ‘judges’ government’, it developed an extensive and rich jurisprudence, which, combined with several constitutional modifications over the years, increased its powers and importance in the French legal order. The general growing of the Constitutional Council’s role and the expansion of the possibilities of its referral also influenced its jurisprudence concerning interactions between domestic law and international treaty law.

The French Constitutional Council rules on whether proposed international treaties are in conformity with the French Constitution. This review is possible after the international treaty has been approved by the Parliament⁷ and before it is ratified by the President of the French Republic. It takes place on a referral from the President of the Republic, the Prime Minister, the President of one or the other Houses (National Assembly or Senate), or from sixty Members of the National Assembly or sixty Senators. If the Council asserts that the international undertaking reviewed contains a clause contrary to the Constitution, the authorization to ratify the treaty or otherwise approve the undertaking involved may be given only after amending the Constitution (article 54 of the French Constitution). According to article 61 of the Constitution, referral of certain acts and bills to the Council before their coming into force for it to rule on their conformity with the Constitution is compulsory. This is the case, amongst others, for the government bills that provide for authorization to ratify an international treaty which, although not contrary to the Constitution, would affect the functioning of the institutions.

Thus, the Constitutional Council exercises an a priori review on international treaties, which is compulsory in some cases and just a possibility for the President of Republic, the Prime Minister, the President of one or the other of the Houses or for sixty Members of the National Assembly or sixty Senators in all the others. This is called ‘contrôle de constitutionnalité’. The Council does not however exercise a ‘contrôle de conventionnalité’ meaning that it does not review the conformity of French law and administrative regulations with international law (treaties, other undertakings, unilateral acts and customary law). Indeed, in its 1975 IVG decision,⁸ the Constitutional Council asserted that such a review belongs to the administrative and judicial courts (notably Conseil d’Etat and Cour de Cassation), since international law was not a part of the French Constitution and ‘bloc de constitutionnalité’ (this ‘constitutionality block’ is composed of the Constitution 1958, its preamble, the French Declaration of Human and Civic Rights, the Preamble of the Constitution 1946 of the Fourth Republic and the Charter for the Environment 2004).

The Constitutional Council thus limits itself to the constitutional review of international treaties. In the 1975 Voluntary Interruption of Pregnancy Act decision, the Council asserted that ‘[a]rticle 61 of the Constitution does not confer on the Constitutional Council a general or particular discretion identical with that of Parliament, but simply empowers it to rule on the constitutionality of statutes referred to it’. However, when one studies the Council’s case law as regards treaties and international agreements, one realizes that its ‘discretion’ is far more important than what the letter of the Constitution and the 1975 assertion suggest.

The ‘limitations of sovereignty’ doctrine has indeed allowed the Council to develop its own foreign relations law approach regarding international undertakings by France and to enjoy an important margin of appreciation while doing so. The result is that the Constitutional Council can prevent the organs in charge of France’s foreign relations from undertaking some international engagements considered by it as incompatible with ‘national sovereignty’. If the executive, with the agreement of the Parliament whenever necessary, insists on adopting an international treaty deemed by the Council as incompatible with national sovereignty, a modification of the Constitution will be necessary before ratification of the treaty. And indeed, as will be shown in Section IV, several examples exist where such amendments have taken place after an incompatibility decision rendered by the Constitutional Council. However, this possibility does not imply that the normativity and hierarchical position of the French Constitution is lesser than in other countries, since, in theory at least, the Constitution remains on the summit of the norms’ hierarchy and its interaction with international law derives from the Constitution itself and not from international law norms. It does however highlight the power of the Constitutional Council, that can thus have an influence on the conduct of foreign relations by the executive. Also, the mere fact that amending the Constitution is envisaged in order to ratify a treaty or otherwise approve the undertaking involved, points out how important international cooperation is for the French legal order. This is also reminded in paragraph 14 of the preamble of the Constitution 1946 (which, as stated above, is actually a part of the ‘bloc de constitutionnalité’ used by the Council to review the constitutional conformity of law and treaties), stipulating: ‘The French Republic, faithful to its traditions, shall respect the rules of public international law. It shall undertake no war aimed at conquest, nor shall it ever employ force against the freedom of any people.’

III Brief Presentation of the ‘Limitations of Sovereignty’ Doctrine and its Criticism

The very notion of sovereignty in its external, international meaning (i.e. the fact that France as a sovereign state is not submitted to any authority superior to it and that it is only bound by undertakings that it accepted explicitly, implicitly or tacitly) is absent from the Constitution 1958, which, in article 3, only refers to internal sovereignty in these terms: ‘National sovereignty shall vest in the people, who shall exercise it through their representatives and by means of referendum’.⁹ However, paragraph 15 of the preamble of the Constitution 1946 refers to external sovereignty in the following terms: ‘Subject to reciprocity, France shall consent to the limitations upon its sovereignty necessary to the organization and preservation of peace’, thus reminding, even if it is in a somewhat inept way, the famous Lotus and Wimbledon PCIJ dicta on the right to enter into international engagements being an attribute of state sovereignty.¹⁰ Thus, this paragraph proclaims France’s sovereign right to undertake international engagements.

As part of its a priori review of international treaties based on article 54 of the Constitution, the Constitutional Council developed a doctrine on the respect of the ‘essential conditions for exercise of national sovereignty’ which indirectly refers to external sovereignty¹¹ although explicitly invoking ‘national’ sovereignty in order to limit the executive’s power to conclude international treaties when intolerable ‘limitations of sovereignty’ were found. The phrase – even though directly inspired by the Lotus dictum – is without any doubt improper. In international law, a state that transfers or limits some of its powers undertaking an international engagement does not ‘limit’ its sovereignty (which is not apt to be limited) but rather exercises it by concluding a treaty.¹² Thus, the actual question to which the Constitutional Council answers with the ‘limitations of sovereignty doctrine’ is the following one: are the limitations of powers and of liberty of action (and not of sovereignty) or even the transfers of competencies undertaken by the state in its international engagement compatible with its Constitution?

The inopportune confusion caused by this ‘limitation of sovereignty’ expression is due to the fact that the Council refers to ‘national sovereignty’ in a twofold and indistinctive manner creating an erroneous amalgam between external and internal sovereignty, although the two concepts ought to be completely and carefully separated.¹³ Thus, instead of clarifying the signification of paragraph 15 of the Preamble 1946, the Council, in its effort to distinguish between the ‘limitations of sovereignty’ that are compatible with the Constitution and those that are not, creates a rather confusing and obscure doctrine.¹⁴ The confusion was even more important in the early beginnings of this case law. Indeed, in Decision no. 76–71 DC – Election of the Assembly of the Communities by direct universal suffrage,¹⁵ the Council distinguished between authorized ‘limitations of sovereignty’ and unauthorized ‘transfers of sovereignty’. This unclear distinction has, fortunately, been abandoned in the case law thereafter.

IV Panorama of the Conseil Constitutionnel’s Jurisprudence As to Which International Engagements Are Not Compatible with the French Constitution¹⁶

In a 1985 decision¹⁷ about the ratification of the Sixth Protocol of the European Convention on Human Rights, the Council seemed to identify three elements as ‘essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty’, the contrariety to which would render an international treaty incompatible with the French Constitution. Firstly, to ensure the respect of the institutions; secondly, to ensure the continuity of the life of the nation; and, thirdly, to guarantee the rights and freedoms of citizens. At the time, French doctrine considered these elements to be the actual content of ‘national sovereignty’,¹⁸ the limitations to which would not be tolerated. Thus, it may have seemed clear that if an international treaty limited one or more of these three ‘essential conditions’, it could not be undertaken without prior constitutional amendment. However, the Council showed no constancy in repeating these elements – and a fortiori clarifying their content – in the numerous decisions that followed.

Subsequently, the most important Constitutional Council’s decisions resorting to the doctrine of ‘limitations of sovereignty’ in order to prevent the ratification of an international treaty without previous amendment of the Constitution were, and this does not come as a surprise, relative to the European Union treaties.¹⁹ The most topical decisions in this regard will be briefly presented hereafter.

In Decision 92–308 DC – Treaty on European Union (Maastricht I), the Council asserted:

It follows from these various institutional provisions [i.e. article 3 of the French Declaration, paragraphs 14 and 15 of the 1946 Preamble and article 53 of the 1958 Constitution] that respect for national sovereignty does not preclude France, acting in accordance with the Preamble to the 1946 Constitution, from concluding international agreements relating to participation in the establishment or development of a permanent international organization enjoying legal personality and decision-making powers on the basis of transfers of powers decided on by the Member States, subject to reciprocity. However, should an international agreement entered into to this end involve a clause conflicting with the Constitution or jeopardizing the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty, authorization to ratify would require prior amendment of the Constitution.²⁰

Thus, the ‘pure’ unconstitutionality of a clause is presented as a distinct hypothesis from the jeopardy of the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty. The Council concludes that the authorization to ratify the Treaty on European Union requires a constitutional amendment because it creates situations (concerning the establishment of Union citizenship with right to vote in municipal elections; the single monetary and exchange-rate policy and measures relating to the entry and movement of persons) in which the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty were jeopardized. As a result, the Constitution 1958 was amended and articles 88–1 and 88–2 were added.²¹

The exact same reasoning is followed in Decision no. 97–394 DC – Treaty of Amsterdam amending the Treaty on European Union, the Treaties establishing the European Communities and certain related instruments.²² This time, the ‘limitations of national sovereignty’ that resulted in the impossibility to ratify the treaty without prior constitutional amendment concerned the transfers of powers to the community in matters of asylum, immigration and the crossing of internal and external frontiers.

In Decision no. 2004–505 DC – Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe, the henceforth classic phrase is enriched: ‘When however commitments entered into for such purposes contain a clause running counter to the Constitution, call into question constitutionally guaranteed rights and freedoms or adversely affect the fundamental conditions of the exercising of national sovereignty, authorization to ratify such measures shall require a prior revision of the Constitution.’²³ The Council concludes that neither the assertion of ‘primacy’ of the European Union law, nor the title of the new Treaty or the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union require a revision of the French Constitution, but that other clauses of the Constitution for Europe ‘which transfer to the European Union powers affecting the essential conditions of the exercise of national sovereignty in areas or on terms other than those provided for in the Treaties referred to in article 88–2’ do. This is notably so with the subsidiarity principle, with the ordinary legislative procedure, with the simplified revision procedures of the Treaty of European Union, with the new powers vested in national parliaments in the framework of the Union, and more generally with

any provisions of the Treaty which, in a matter inherent to the exercise of national sovereignty and already coming under the competences of the Union or the Community, modify the applicable rules of decision-making, either by replacing the unanimous vote by a qualified majority vote in the Council, thus depriving France of any power to oppose such a decision, or by conferring decision-making powers on the European Parliament, which is not an emanation of national sovereignty, or by depriving France of any power of acting on its own initiative.²⁴

In Decision no. 2007–560 DC – Treaty of Lisbon amending the Treaty on European Union and the Treaty establishing the European Community, the Council recalls the same compatibility clause as in 2004²⁵ and repeats thereafter the exact same reasoning given the similarities between the Lisbon Treaty and the aborted Constitution for Europe. However, in this 2007 decision the Council takes a step further in distinguishing European Union law and international law. Not only does it refer to article 88–1 of the Constitution as revised since the Treaty of Maastricht (indeed, since 1992, referral to article 88–1 was added to paragraphs 14 and 15 of the Preamble 1946), but also points out that ‘while confirming the place of the Constitution at the summit of the domestic legal order, these constitutional provisions enable France to participate in the creation and development of a permanent European organization vested with a separate legal personality and decision-taking powers by reason of the transfer of powers agreed to by the Member States’.²⁶ As a matter of fact, between 1992 and 2007, the shift towards the recognition of the autonomy of the European Union legal order is subtle but clear. Whereas, for instance, in the 1997 decision, the Council still referred to an international organization (‘in accordance with the Preamble to the 1946 Constitution, concluding international agreements for participation in the establishment or development of a permanent international organization’), in 2004, there is a referral to ‘[enable France to participate in the creation and development of] a permanent European organization’, (emphasis added) and, in 2007, the balance between the place of the Constitution at the summit of the domestic legal order and the participation of France to the European Union is clearly stated. Thus, the Council takes an unambiguous position as far as the interaction between French constitutional law and European Union law is concerned. After having clarified this relation, the Council recalls once again that if ‘undertakings entered into for this purpose contain a clause running counter to the Constitution’ its revision is necessary.

The same remarks apply to Decision no. 2012–653 DC – Treaty on Stability, Coordination and Governance in the Economic and Monetary Union,²⁷ which follows an identical reasoning. However, in this decision, the Council considers that the provisions on the ‘fiscal compact’ and the other provisions of the Treaty are not unconstitutional. Nevertheless, this conclusion is subject to certain conditions enumerated by the Council in paragraphs 21, 28 and 30 of the decision,²⁸ the non-satisfaction of which would render the Treaty unconstitutional, since it is only under these conditions that the Treaty provisions ‘will not infringe the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty’.

Finally, Decision no. 2017–749 DC – Comprehensive Economic and Trade Agreement between Canada, on the one hand, and the European Union and its Member States, on the other, concerns a particular case, namely an EU mixed agreement: an agreement that must be signed and entered into force both by the European Union and by each of its Member States. The Council, while following its case law on limitations of sovereignty, has thus to innovate. It asserts that

it is its responsibility to distinguish between, on the one hand, the stipulations of this agreement that relate to the exclusive competence of the European union pursuant to the commitments previously agreed to by France that led to the transfer of competence agreed to by Member States, and on the other, the stipulations of this agreement that relate to the competence shared between the European Union and the Member States or competence belonging only to Member States. In regard to stipulations of the agreement relating to shared competence between the European Union and the Member States or a competence belonging only to Member States, it is up to the Constitutional Council, as is established in paragraph 11, to determine if these stipulations contain a clause that is unconstitutional, calls into question the rights and freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution or runs contrary to the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty.²⁹

But, as far as the previously transferred exclusive EU competence is concerned, the Council adds a condition relative this time to ‘the constitutional identity of France’, known from its doctrine concerning the transposition of EU Directives:

However, if the stipulations of the agreement establish exclusive competence of the European Union, the Constitutional Council is only asked to determine if authorization to ratify this agreement requires a constitutional review, to establish that they do not call into question a rule or a principle inherent to the constitutional identity of France. If this is not called into question, it is up to the judge of the European Union to oversee the compatibility of the agreement with European Union law.³⁰

The Council carefully examines the provisions of the Treaty, especially those relative to shared competences (the threshold to consider that a principle inherent to the constitutional identity of France is infringed being much higher), and concludes that the Comprehensive Economic and Trade Agreement between Canada, on the one hand, and the European Union and its Member States, on the other, does not contain unconstitutional clauses.

Besides the European Union treaties, and notwithstanding the gradual distinction operated by the Constitutional Council between public international law and European Union law, the doctrine of ‘limitations of sovereignty’ has been applied mutatis mutandis in other international treaties signed by France.³¹ Decision no. 98–408 DC – Treaty laying down the Statute of the International Criminal Court constitutes the most important example of an incompatibility ruling having resulted in the amendment of the French Constitution in order for an international treaty to be ratified. In this case, the incompatibility clause is formulated a little bit differently: ‘Where an international agreement contains a clause that is contrary to the Constitution or jeopardizes the rights and freedoms secured by the Constitution, the authorization to ratify it requires revision of the Constitution.’³² Instead of adding ‘jeopardizes the rights and freedoms secured by the Constitution’ to ‘jeopardizing the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty’ like in the 2004, 2007 and 2012 decisions, the Council replaces the latter by the former. However, the reasoning and result are the same. After having found the incompatibility of several clauses of the Statute of the International Criminal Court in regards with specific articles of the French Constitution (provisions on the criminal responsibility of the holders of certain official status are contrary to the special constitutional rules governing liability of the President of the Republic, Members of the Parliament and of the Government),³³ the Council goes on to examine more generally the ‘respect of the essential conditions for exercise of national sovereignty’ (under a section of the decision that bears this title). The review concerns the principle of complementarity between the International Criminal Court and the national courts, the international cooperation, judicial assistance and the Prosecutor’s powers, as well as the enforcement of sentences passed by the International Criminal Court. The Council finds that

under the Statute, the International Criminal Court could be validly seized on the grounds of an amnesty statute or internal rules on limitation; in such a case, France, even if a State were neither unwilling nor unable to act, might be required to arrest and surrender to the Court a person accused of conduct covered by an amnesty or limitation period in French law; this would violate the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty.³⁴

It also finds that ‘the power conferred on the Prosecutor to carry out these measures without the presence of the competent French legal authorities is liable to violate the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty’.³⁵ Thus, authorization to ratify the treaty laying down the Statute of the International Criminal Court required amendment of the French Constitution.

What is interesting in this decision is the clear dichotomy between contrariety to the Constitution per se (its articles or the constitutional principles) and incompatibility with the ‘respect of the essential conditions for exercise of national sovereignty’. Contrary to previous decisions on European Treaties, the Constitutional Council does not explicitly conclude here that limitation of the essential conditions for exercise of national sovereignty is as such unconstitutional, but rather dresses two different hypotheses that both result in the necessity of Constitution amendment.³⁶ Thus, the respect of the essential conditions for exercise of national sovereignty becomes an autonomous basis of review, alongside the ‘bloc de constitutionnalité’. When such a ‘general’ infringement is asserted by the Constitutional Council, the necessary amendment of the Constitution cannot aim at this or that article (since no precise article is identified by the Council). In such a case, the only amendment leading to the possibility to ratify the international treaty is to add in the Constitution a habilitation clause (such as article 88–1 after the 1992 Decision or article 53–2 after the 1998 Decision)³⁷ authorizing such an undertaking as compatible with national sovereignty.³⁸

Such a mechanism raises once again the question of the actual normativity of the French Constitution and of its true interaction with international (or even foreign relations) law. It is of course clear that, in theory, still nothing changes as far as the supremacy of the French Constitution in the French legal order is concerned. The mere fact that the international treaty cannot be ratified without previous amendment of the Constitution goes to show that the latter prevails normatively over the former. However, when a Constitution is over and over again amended in order for international treaties to be ratified and a fortiori when some of the modifications at hand consist in a simple addition of a habilitation clause, it cannot be denied that such a Constitution seems less ‘rigid’ than the ones that leave no place to that kind of amendments. The theoretical place of the French Constitution in the hierarchy of norms may be the same as in other constitutional countries, but its actual normative density can be questioned, since the executive, the Parliament and the Constitutional Council can all influence the outcome of a constitutional amendment through their conduct of foreign relations.

V Critical Assessment of the Conseil Constitutionnel’s Different Decisions That Applied the ‘Limitation of Sovereignty’ Doctrine

What is striking in this panorama of the Constitutional Council’s case law – other than the relative ‘hypocrisy’ of the assertion concerning the absolute primacy of a Constitution that is revised as and when the ratification of a new international treaty needs it – is the rather arbitrary way in which the Council decides which limitations of sovereignty are tolerable and which are not, at least as far as the substantial content of ‘national sovereignty’ is concerned. Indeed, the review of those few decisions does not allow to predict for the future which international treaties will be considered by the Council as respecting the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty. It does not allow either to dress an inventory of different substantial criteria (other than purely material/formal ones) taken into account by the Council in order to decide or to provide some guidelines as to how it will exercise its control power.³⁹ Notwithstanding the constancy of the reasoning itself, the actual arguments and results are essentially built on a case by case basis.

Concerning the actual determination of what ‘national sovereignty’ entails and which are the ‘essential conditions’ for its exercise, the only decision that tried to identify some elements was the 1985 one, as seen above. However, not only the three elements put forward in that case by the Constitutional Council did not survive in the subsequent decisions, but also and foremost the deliberation minutes of the 1985 decision indicate that there was no real intention to define ‘national sovereignty’ by those three elements invoked.⁴⁰ The consequence is a rather confusing case law as to why one international treaty is considered to infringe the essential (?) conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty (?), whereas another international treaty is not. The consultation of several deliberation minutes (henceforth available for the earlier decisions) reinforce this impression of obscurity and arbitrariness.⁴¹ As a matter of fact, the doctrine of ‘essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty’ is only a partial and incomplete one at best.

The only common factor that can be identified throughout the different decisions (besides the ‘reciprocity’ criterium invoked again and again by the Council, but also found in paragraph 15 of the Preamble 1946) is material concerning the conditions of the international engagement.⁴² In short, if France maintains a certain liberty of action (for instance, to denounce the treaty even if the treaty does not actually contain a denunciation clause⁴³ or to invoke an exception derogatory clause in case of urgency or necessity) and if the Constitutional Council is able to review any future undertaking going further than the previous ones, then it seems that the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty are respected.

However, if the Council seems to have a clear course of action as to the material conditions of powers’ exercise that the treaty must satisfy, there is little indication (besides the mere listing of the spheres enumerated in the different decisions up to today) as to the domains in which the treaties can intervene in order for the undertaking to respect the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty. Certainly, the Council asserts that ‘the international agreements entered into by the authorities of the French Republic may not adversely affect the exercise by the state of the powers that are at the core of its national sovereignty’.⁴⁴ It also refers to ‘arrangements which deprive the Member States of their own powers in a matter which is vital to the exercise of national sovereignty’.⁴⁵ Still, no clear list of which those matters are is given nor the criteria to identify those matters are laid down. In other words, the ‘national sovereignty’ in its substantial meaning is not really defined by the Constitutional Council (as it is not defined by paragraph 15 of the Preamble 1946 either), although this same Council establishes itself in its case law as the ‘national sovereignty’s’ guarantor.

Thus, the executive branch has no real guidance as to which international treaties are likely to be deemed respectful of the essential conditions for the exercise of national sovereignty by the Council and which are not. If it is free to conduct foreign relations as it wishes, and if the French legal order encourages international cooperation, the executive is never immune from a Conseil Constitutionnel’s incompatibility decision resulting in a long process of a prior Constitution amendment in order for the treaty in question to be ratified. Of course, when the a priori constitutional review is not compulsory, referral to the Council will depend on the will of the executive (President of Republic and Prime Minister) or of the legislative (President of one or the other of the Houses or sixty Members of the National Assembly or sixty Senators). Thus, the possible interference of the Constitutional Council in the conduct of foreign relations is not without limits and its role remains closely linked to the one of the executive and the legislative branches. Still, it is clear that the Council conserves great power and discretion as to its review and its possibility to weigh upon the ratification process of the most important international treaties. In other words, its position in the management of France’s foreign relations is rather significant.

9 Democratic Participation in International Lawmaking in Switzerland after the ‘Age of Treaties’

Anna Petrig ^*

I Introduction

If someone were asked to name but one typical feature of the Swiss constitutional system, chances are high that the answer would be ‘direct democracy’. Indeed, Switzerland is arguably the state granting the most far-reaching democratic participation rights in the process of lawmaking; and this holds true for both domestic and international law. Since the late 1990s, the concept of ‘parallelism’ – the idea that the same degree of domestic democratic legitimacy should apply to the making of international law as it does to the enactment of domestic law – has been progressively implemented. As a result, from a comparative perspective, the Swiss legal framework on democratic participation in international lawmaking is unique in terms of the actors involved, the phases during which participation is possible, and the intensity and effects it features. Despite the breadth of this legal framework, it is simultaneously very narrowly designed: in its largest parts, it is geared towards just one source of international law – treaties. The ‘age of treaties’, however, seems to be over and informal lawmaking increasingly supersedes formal lawmaking.

In the introduction to this book, the editors note that the ‘horizons of international law have greatly expanded’ and that this expansion ‘affected the two most foundational organizing concepts of this body of law: sources and subjects’.¹ During the post-1945 period, states were the main players in international lawmaking, often acting under the auspices of an international organisation (IO), and treaties were the main vehicle to bring international legalisation forward. After the turn of the millennium, however, the international institutional landscape changed dramatically and a series of new actors appeared, which notably participate in the production of norms. While these new participants in international lawmaking are as diverse as non-governmental organisations (NGOs), transnational corporations, industry associations and regulatory agencies, they share a commonality: not one of them possesses international legal personality (yet) and, consequently, they all lack treaty-making capacity. Their normative output is thus condemned to fall short of formal international law – they cannot regulate but through informal law.

The Swiss legal framework on democratic participation in international lawmaking, being a child of its time, is largely predicated on a very traditional understanding of international law. Yet, the mentioned structural changes in international law did not go unnoticed in politics and among the broader public. In recent years, there has been a growing awareness that the Swiss mechanisms for generating democratic legitimacy need to be adjusted in light of these new (complex) realities if they are to maintain their function. Still, building new bridges in the context of informal law has proven to be far more complex than it is for treaties: what we praise as the beauties of informal lawmaking – namely that the process and actors are not being forced into a rigid corset – turn out to be the beasts when it comes to grasping the phenomenon in constitutional and statutory terms. International informal lawmaking sets boundaries on democratisation ‘from below’ that do not exist for treaty-making; such limits arise, for example, from the fact that the state may not even sit at the negotiating table. Overall, informal lawmaking greatly complicates the relationship between sovereignty (including domestic democratic self-determination) and international cooperation – and, to some extent, their simultaneous realisation is no easier than squaring a circle. This insight is difficult to accept for a state like Switzerland, where democratic participation in lawmaking is part of its constitutional DNA. At the same time, one tends to forget that Switzerland is one of the most globalised countries of the world and not seldom a driving force behind informal lawmaking projects.

In order to fully grasp the significance of the turn to informal lawmaking for the Swiss legal framework, which governs democratic participation in international lawmaking, it is necessary to take a step back and understand its roots, development and context. Accordingly, this chapter sets the scene by demonstrating that foreign relations law exists in Switzerland, even if this label is rarely attached to the respective set of rules. It lays out two main categories of norms belonging to it, which are those providing substantive guidance for the conduct of foreign policy and those allocating powers in this realm. This will demonstrate that foreign relations are no longer understood as an exceptional state activity subject to political discretion, and thus a prerogative of the executive, but rather as coming within the ordinary constitutional framework and being a competence jointly exercised by the government and Parliament; a result of a steady move towards normalisation² (Section II). It then goes on to describe that, mainly as a reaction to internationalisation, the democratic participation rights in international lawmaking were increasingly bolstered in the 1990s and the early years of the new millennium and the concept of ‘parallelism’, which testifies to the high degree of normalisation in the field of international lawmaking, was progressively implemented (Section III). It then discusses how the shift to informal lawmaking deprives this highly developed, but heavily treaty-oriented, democratic participation mechanism of much of its relevance, how the legislator has reacted to the rising importance of informal law, and what challenges potentially lay ahead in building new bridges (Section IV). A brief conclusion notes that not every boundary can be overcome with a bridge and that globalisation and international cooperation arguably come at a cost to democracy; yet such costs can be reduced with a domestic democratic participation framework, which is not anchored in traditional international lawmaking but reflects the complexities of contemporary international norm production (Section V).

II Swiss Foreign Relations Law: Towards Normalisation

A Is There a ‘Swiss Foreign Relations Law’?

‘Foreign relations law’ has been defined as encompassing ‘the domestic law of each nation that governs how that nation interacts with the rest of the world’, most importantly with other nations and international institutions.³ As per Karen Knop, ‘[a]ll legal systems deal with foreign relations issues, but few have a field of “foreign relations law”’.⁴ This statement succinctly describes the current situation in Switzerland where foreign relations law has not yet emerged as a distinct field of study or law. So far, even the term ‘foreign relations law’ has been sparsely used in writings on legal rules governing how Switzerland interacts with other subjects of international law.⁵ Similarly, courses specifically entitled ‘foreign relations law’ are a rare occurrence in Swiss universities as compared to American universities where such courses tend to be more commonplace.⁶ Nonetheless, a densely knit web of legal provisions governing Switzerland’s interaction with other states and international actors is in place and continues to develop.

The Federal Constitution of 1999⁷ contains a series of provisions governing foreign relations, the entirety of which is denoted as the ‘external constitution’ (‘Aussenverfassung’); a term firmly rooted in the constitutional discourse since the adoption of the current constitution.⁸ Indeed, the predecessor Constitution of 1874 regulated foreign relations only in fragments and left various aspects to constitutional practice.⁹ The Constitution of 1999 is the first federal constitution comprising a fairly comprehensive legal framework for the conduct of foreign relations, which justifiably deserves the designation as ‘external constitution’. In terms of substance, the ‘external constitution’ can roughly be divided into provisions allocating authority and provisions containing substantive guidance for the conduct of foreign relations.¹⁰ These two sets of norms – to which we turn next – are specified and refined at the level of federal acts and ordinances. Further, in some fields, rules have also been developed through the case law of the Swiss Federal Supreme Court.¹¹ In sum, foreign relations law is not (yet) treated as a discrete field of law or study in Switzerland, but certainly exists as a matter of fact.¹²

B Substantive Guidance for the Conduct of Foreign Policy

The Constitution of 1999 is novel in that it spells out general foreign policy objectives.¹³ Article 54(2), entitled ‘foreign relations’, represents the key reference point in terms of material guidance for the conduct of foreign policy.¹⁴ Substantive orientation can further be found in various other parts of the Constitution.¹⁵ The operationalisation and (to some extent) concretisation of these goals painted with broad brushstrokes takes place through an increasing number of federal statutes pertaining to foreign relations-related activities,¹⁶ the adoption of treaties, and by means of foreign policy decisions by the authorities.¹⁷

The constitutional statements providing substantive guidance for the conduct of foreign policy feature varying degrees of abstraction and normativity.¹⁸ Yet they share a commonality: they all testify to the legislator’s heightened awareness in the 1990s of globalisation and global interdependence and the consequent growing importance of foreign relations. This phenomenon led to an incremental blending of the internal and external dimension of a state’s policy¹⁹ and the increased difficulty of clearly separating internal forms of state action from external forms²⁰ – an insight that, as we will see, provided momentum for the normalisation of foreign affairs.

C Allocation of Powers on Foreign Policy

The second category of provisions of the ‘external constitution’ allocates power between the various levels of government (Confederation and Cantons) and branches of government (executive, legislative and judiciary). These provisions, accounting for the lion’s share of the ‘external constitution’,²¹ are more chiselled and specific as compared to those providing substantive guidance for the conduct of foreign policy. Their content is forged by the tension between the executive’s claim (and need) for a certain degree of flexibility and swiftness when conducting foreign policy²² and the quest to give due weight to federalism and democracy. The more internationalisation has progressed and the more foreign policy has shaped the domestic political environment, the more fiercely the question of vertical and horizontal allocation of powers in foreign policy has been debated.²³ Overall, the tendency is to give more weight to democracy and federalism – after all, both are foundational principles of the Constitution²⁴ – in order to prevent them being undermined by the externalisation of many policy areas.

As Switzerland is a federal state – the Confederation consists of 26 Cantons, which are ‘sovereign except to the extent that their sovereignty is limited by the Federal Constitution’²⁵ – the Constitution of 1999 explicitly addresses the vertical separation of powers: foreign relations are, as per Article 54(1) of the Constitution, ‘the responsibility of the Confederation’, even for matters domestically falling within the competence of the Cantons.²⁶ This implies a certain erosion of cantonal competences as internationalisation progresses. It is against this background that the Constitution of 1999, by way of compensation, stipulates that the Confederation ‘shall respect the powers of the Cantons and protect their interests’.²⁷ Moreover, the Constitution foresees a role for Cantons in foreign policy affairs, albeit a subordinate one. Concretely, Article 55 confers Cantons participatory rights in foreign policy decisions by stipulating that the Cantons ‘shall be consulted’ if the respective decisions ‘affect their powers or their essential interests’;²⁸ and that the ‘Confederation shall inform the Cantons fully and in good time and shall consult with them’.²⁹ Further, Article 56, which governs relations between the Cantons and foreign states, authorises the Cantons to conduct their own foreign policy in fields in which they are competent according to domestic federalism and to conclude treaties in these areas,³⁰ which is fittingly dubbed ‘small foreign policy’ (‘kleine Aussenpolitik’).³¹ This autonomous foreign policy competence and residual treaty-making capacity of the Cantons³² is of considerable practical importance since no less than fifteen Cantons border at least one foreign state.³³

As regards the horizontal separation of powers, the Constitution is primarily concerned with the allocation of foreign relations competences between the executive and legislative branches, viz. between the government (Federal Council) on the one hand and the Parliament (Federal Assembly) and, for certain matters, the people, or the people and the Cantons, on the other. While some constitutions are based on a rebuttable presumption in favour of executive competence, the Swiss Constitution today follows a shared power approach whereby foreign relations are a domain equally entrusted to the executive and the legislature.³⁴ This was not always the case. Under the Constitution of 1874, foreign policy was understood to be a prerogative of the executive whereas the role of Parliament, the people and Cantons was essentially limited to the approval of certain categories of treaties.³⁵ In 1994, a revision of the Constitution of 1874 was initiated. Since previous attempts had failed, the mandate for this revision was very narrowly defined, essentially consisting in an ‘update’ (‘mise à jour’, ‘Nachführung’) rather than a redesign: its primary objective was to systematise and streamline the content of the constitutional document and to bring it in line with the then-existing constitutional practice without, however, engaging in its substantive amendment.³⁶ Yet, capturing ‘existing constitutional practice’ and drawing a line between documenting the status quo and introducing novel elements proved challenging, and foreign relations law is exemplary in this regard. The provisions (re-)defining the role of Parliament in shaping foreign policy were among the most fiercely debated aspects because they were deemed by some to overstep the ‘updating mandate’.³⁷ Indeed, the provisions ultimately adopted reflect a paradigm shift³⁸ as regards the allocation of authority on foreign policy by entrenching a shared power approach. However, this change did not happen overnight but rather started crystallising in preceding years in legislation and practice.

In constitutional terms, the shared power approach is expressed as follows: Article 184(1) stipulates, from the government’s perspective, that ‘[t]he Federal Council is responsible for foreign relations, subject to the right of participation of the Federal Assembly’; while Article 166(1) states, from the Parliament’s perspective, that ‘[t]he Federal Assembly shall participate in shaping foreign policy and supervise the maintenance of foreign relations’. In order to describe this (new) cooperative relationship, which was specified by, inter alia, the Parliament Act,³⁹ Swiss constitutional doctrine metaphorically refers to the executive and legislative as ‘fingers of the same hand’ (‘les doigts d’une même main’,⁴⁰ ‘Verhältnis zu gesamter Hand’).⁴¹ The inclusion of a model of shared competences and intense cooperation between the executive and the legislative in the Constitution of 1999 marks a milestone in the overall trend of erosion of the executive’s monopoly over large parts of foreign relations and is strong proof of a move towards normalisation.

D Towards Normalisation of Foreign Relations

In the context of foreign relations law, the term ‘normalisation’ is used to denote the phenomenon that ‘the conduct of foreign relations is increasingly subjected to the constitutional and other legal standards that apply to other governmental action’.⁴² From the brief overview on the main content of the Swiss ‘external constitution’ follows that foreign policy is no longer regarded as ‘exceptional’⁴³ but rather as coming within the ‘normal’ constitutional framework.⁴⁴

First of all, in Switzerland, the long-held view that the principle of legality – that is, subjecting the exercise of political and administrative powers to the law – does not apply to foreign policy is now outdated.⁴⁵ In the early 1990s, Bernhard Ehrenzeller – author of the first comprehensive treatise examining the role of the legislative in foreign policy and advocate of a shared power approach – deplored that foreign affairs were, in various respects, perceived as ‘exceptional state activity’ and treated accordingly.⁴⁶ Indeed, at that time, Swiss practice and prevailing doctrine viewed foreign relations as an area that cannot be regulated by law.⁴⁷ Jean Monnier put it quite bluntly by writing that ‘foreign affairs are a subject matter inappropriate for codification’;⁴⁸ while Luzius Wildhaber warned that legislation related to foreign policy would risk lacking substance (or even be insubstantial altogether) and could at most pertain to the allocation of powers.⁴⁹ Bernhard Ehrenzeller criticised this ‘almost mythical perception of foreign policy as an area not susceptible to normalization’ that prevailed at the time.⁵⁰

Yet, at latest with the adoption of the Constitution of 1999, ‘a shift away from exceptionalism’ took place⁵¹ – to use a term coined by Curtis A. Bradley in this very period of time and describing a similar phenomenon occurring in the United States.⁵² As demonstrated, the Swiss Constitution provides substantive guidance for the conduct of Switzerland’s foreign policy (although still in a modest way as compared to the domestic policy sphere);⁵³ and the move towards normalisation is further evidenced by the ever-growing body of rules and statutes concretising and operationalising these foreign policy objectives.⁵⁴ All in all, the principle of legality – a cornerstone of the rule of law and laid down in Article 5(1) of the Constitution of 1999 – today extends, as a general rule, to foreign policy.⁵⁵

The Constitution of 1999 has also heralded a shift towards normalisation as regards allocation of competences and brought foreign policy within the constitutional separation of powers framework. Foreign relations are no longer monopolised by the government but are a competence exercised jointly with Parliament. The latter has a right to steer foreign policy, notably by approving treaties⁵⁶ – a power explicitly mentioned in the Constitution⁵⁷ to which we turn now.

III Allocation of Powers for Treaty-Making: Towards Democratisation

A A Reaction to the Legalisation of World Politics

One of the encounters between international law and foreign relations law that has been identified by the editors is ‘procedure’.⁵⁸ Indeed, large parts of foreign relations law deal with procedure,⁵⁹ notably by distributing powers horizontally among the three branches of government;⁶⁰ and, within federal states, vertically between the various governmental levels.⁶¹ With international law having attained enormous importance, the rules allocating powers specifically for international lawmaking today form a core aspect of foreign relations law. A vast majority of constitutions adopted by nation-states include provisions allocating powers for the conclusion of treaties.⁶²

As regards the distribution of powers between the executive and legislative in treaty-making, ‘a sustained trend toward greater parliamentary involvement’ has been identified and empirically backed.⁶³ Many constitutions require parliamentary authorisation before the executive consents to be bound by a treaty and the categories of international agreements necessitating prior approval have widened over time.⁶⁴ The shift from the executive’s monopoly in treaty-making towards increasingly robust parliamentary participation can be observed in jurisdictions around the globe.⁶⁵ This transition from a complete separation of powers towards a shared power approach is commonly referred to as the ‘democratisation’ of the treaty-making process.⁶⁶

The main driver behind the democratisation of the treaty-making process is the growing importance of international law in the post–Cold War period.⁶⁷ With this, an increasing number of aspects previously regulated by domestic law became matters of international law. As a consequence, they fell to the executive, which, at that time, held primary responsibility for foreign relations and were thus removed from the legislature’s ambit.⁶⁸ In order to reduce the democratic deficit resulting from globalisation and enhanced international cooperation and to re-institute the constitutional balance in the realm of lawmaking, steps towards (more closely) associating Parliament with the treaty-making process were considered a necessity.⁶⁹

B The Concept of ‘Parallelism’ in Switzerland

As regards the development of the Swiss rules allocating powers for international lawmaking, democratisation is indisputably the leitmotif as well. Already under the Constitution of 1874 and thus at a time when Swiss doctrine and practice considered foreign relations to be a prerogative of the executive, parliamentary approval was required for specific treaties.⁷⁰ As early as 1921, an optional referendum for treaties not containing a withdrawal clause or concluded for a duration of more than fifteen years was introduced, a move towards democratisation triggered by massive protests against a previously concluded treaty of unlimited duration concerning the Gotthard tunnel.⁷¹ In 1977, treaties entailing accession to IOs or a ‘multilateral unification of the law’ became eligible for the optional referendum, while accession to organisations of supranational character or collective security were subjected to the mandatory referendum.⁷² This major step in the democratisation process was deemed necessary in light of the increasing number of treaties pertaining to matters previously governed by federal acts and thus removing them from parliamentary enactment and the popular referendum.⁷³

During the span of the last century, participatory rights in the treaty-making process have steadily been expanded. Yet, it was only in the late 1990s that a paradigm shift regarding democratic participation in international lawmaking occurred: the idea of reducing incongruities, which guided earlier reforms, gave way to the concept of congruence or – to use a word forged by the federal authorities in this context – ‘parallelism’ between domestic and international lawmaking.⁷⁴ The concept of ‘parallelism’ essentially entails applying the same degree of democratic legitimacy in the realm of treaty-making as is required for the enactment of domestic statutes, which means that similar democratic participation rights should be granted regardless of whether an important treaty or a federal act is being adopted.⁷⁵ Hence, it is not the form (treaty or federal act) but the normative content of a legal instrument that should be decisive for the question of whether it is subject to a referendum. This idea was (partially) implemented in 2003: in the domestic sphere, ‘[a]ll significant provisions that establish binding legal rules must be enacted in the form of a federal actʼ, which is subject to the optional referendum.⁷⁶ As a consequence, all treaties containing ‘important legislative provisions’ or the implementation of which requires the enactment of federal acts, were equally made eligible for the optional treaty referendum.⁷⁷

While initially developed in the context of the optional referendum, the concept of ‘parallelism’ later became a general guiding principle for the allocation of powers regarding international lawmaking,⁷⁸ and even for rules governing the relationship between the Swiss legal order and international law more generally.⁷⁹ The idea of ‘parallelism’ is essentially the Swiss response to the hollowing out of (direct) democracy and cantonal autonomy brought about by internationalisation. It constitutes the benchmark to be attained in the effort to democratise international lawmaking ‘from below’.

C Far-Reaching Democratic Participatory Rights

Since foreign relations law is ‘undoubtedly shaped by the specific elements of each state’s constitution’⁸⁰ and direct democracy being a hallmark of the Swiss constitutional system, it is hardly surprising that democratic participatory rights in international treaty-making are well-developed. From a comparative perspective, the participatory rights are arguably even unique in terms of the actors involved, the phases during which participation is possible, and regarding their intensity and effect.⁸¹ As we will see, not only the bicameral Parliament, but also the people, Cantons, and even interested groups and political parties – albeit to a very limited degree – are granted certain participatory rights. Importantly, participation is not limited to the approval of treaties, but extends from the initiation and negotiation phase to the provisional application and termination of treaties.

The initiative to participate in, or even launch, a treaty-making process with other like-minded states stems, as a general rule, from the Federal Council. Yet Parliament, through means of parliamentary procedural requests,⁸² may urge the government to join a given treaty-making process.⁸³ The ultimate decision on the commencement of treaty negotiations remains, however, with the Federal Council.⁸⁴ Even the people can trigger treaty negotiations by requesting an amendment of the Constitution, which directs the government to commence specific negotiations.⁸⁵ The popular initiative ‘Yes to Europe!’, for example, entailed a constitutional amendment stipulating that ‘[t]he Federal Government shall enter into accession negotiations with the European Union without delay’.⁸⁶

If the treaty is of major importance, the so-called consultation procedure is carried out at this early stage (as compared to lesser but still ‘significant’ treaties, for which the procedure only takes place prior to the submission of the treaty to Parliament for approval). This procedure allows any person and any organisation to express its views on the treaty to be negotiated (or to be ratified if the procedure takes place at the later stage).⁸⁷ Specific stakeholders – notably the Cantons, political parties and national umbrella organisations for the economic sector – are specifically invited to participate in the procedure,⁸⁸ the purpose of which is to associate a broad circle of actors ‘in the shaping of opinion and the decision-making process’ and ‘to provide information on material accuracy, feasibility of implementation and public acceptance of a federal project’.⁸⁹ The latter aspect is not to be underestimated in light of the looming referendum.⁹⁰

As mentioned, foreign relations are a federal power, which even extends to matters for which, in the internal policy sphere, the Cantons are competent. Internationalisation thus encroaches on the competences of the Cantons, which are, by way of compensation, granted a series of participatory rights.⁹¹ Apart from associating them to the consultation procedure pertaining to treaties, the Cantons must, as a rule, be consulted before treaty negotiations start.⁹² The Federal Council must consider their comments; if the treaty to be negotiated affects cantonal competences, it must attach particular weight to them and provide reasons if it deviates from their positions.⁹³

The determination of the negotiation mandate is an executive competence, yet the Federal Council must consult the Foreign Policy Committees⁹⁴ on ‘the guidelines and directives relating to mandates for important international negotiations before it decides on or amends the same’.⁹⁵ Further, the government ‘shall inform these committees of the status of its plans and of the progress made in negotiations’.⁹⁶ At times, parliamentarians also seek to influence ongoing negotiations by means of parliamentary procedural requests, by which the executive is, however, not legally bound.⁹⁷ If a treaty affects the competences (and not only the interests)⁹⁸ of the Cantons, they must be involved in the preparation of the negotiation mandate and ‘shall participate in negotiations in an appropriate manner’.⁹⁹

While the signing of treaties falls within the competence of the Federal Council,¹⁰⁰ the Constitution of 1999 establishes a presumption that they must be approved by Parliament.¹⁰¹ Importantly, the Federal Assembly must not only approve the conclusion and amendment of treaties, but – since December 2019 and in an effort to further implement the concept of ‘parallelism’ – also the withdrawal from them.¹⁰² An exception to parliamentary approval exists if the Federal Council is authorised to conclude, amend or withdraw from a treaty at its own behest by virtue of a federal act or an international treaty approved by Parliament.¹⁰³ Essentially, the executive is allowed to do so for treaties of ‘limited scope’.¹⁰⁴ When approving a treaty, the Federal Assembly can also approve, amend, reject or request reservations; and the Federal Council is, generally, obliged to comply.¹⁰⁵ A recent addition to Parliament’s participation tool-kit is the obligation of the Federal Council to consult the Foreign Policy Committees on the provisional application of a treaty later subject to parliamentary approval. If both Committees are against provisional application, the Federal Council must refrain therefrom.¹⁰⁶

Finally, and this is a Swiss idiosyncrasy, various categories of treaties are subject to a popular referendum. If a treaty entails accession to an organisation for collective security or of a supranational nature, the mandatory referendum applies. Mandatory means that the referendum is carried out ex officio, that is, without the need for a referendum request; and its adoption requires a double majority of the people and the Cantons.¹⁰⁷ So far, the only mandatory referendum held was in 1986, concerning Switzerland’s accession to the United Nations.¹⁰⁸ The optional referendum, the adoption of which only requires a majority of the people, is carried out solely at the request of 50,000 voters or eight Cantons. Subject to the optional referendum are treaties that are of unlimited duration and may not be terminated, treaties leading to the accession to an IO, and treaties containing important legislative provisions, or whose implementation requires the enactment of a federal act.¹⁰⁹ If no referendum is requested or the treaty passes the vote, the Federal Council is authorised to proceed to ratification.¹¹⁰ Switzerland being a monist state, treaties take effect domestically as soon as they bind the state at the international plane.¹¹¹ All treaties eligible for the mandatory or optional referendum, and other treaties ‘that enact law or confer legislative powers’, must be published in the compilations of federal legislation.¹¹²

D A Child of Its Time: A Strong Treaty Focus

In Switzerland, the democratisation of international lawmaking ‘from below’ – along the lines of the concept of ‘parallelism’ – is rather advanced. Very broadly speaking, the allocation of authority in international treaty-making is no longer fundamentally different from domestic lawmaking. Normalisation and democratisation of this subset of rules of Swiss foreign relations law is accomplished to a high degree.

Yet, a limitation of the legal framework on democratic participation in international lawmaking is palpably obvious. It is geared towards just one source of international law: treaties. This treaty focus is plausible if we consider the context in which these rules originated and developed. While participatory rights have steadily expanded over the last century, they experienced a more rapid growth in the 1990s and the first years of the new millennium. This boost mirrors the ‘legalisation’ of world politics¹¹³ and how international law was ‘on the rise’ both qualitatively¹¹⁴ and quantitatively¹¹⁵ speaking during this period.

This ‘move to law’ that arose in world politics¹¹⁶ after the end of the Cold War has most notably been brought about by the conclusion of treaties. This period of time ‘witnessed a striking proliferation in treaties’ codifying more traditional topics of international law as well as newer ones previously understood as being unsuitable for international regulation, such as international criminal law.¹¹⁷ A sharp increase in the number of treaties concluded can also be observed in Switzerland. In the first half of the 1980s, Switzerland entered into around seventy treaties yearly; in the early 1990s, the number was already at 135, meaning that the figure nearly doubled in less than a decade. Between 2000 and 2003, the sheer number of roughly 210 treaties were concluded per year, which represents a growth of 55 per cent compared to the early 1990s.¹¹⁸ It is against the backdrop of this changing international landscape with a ‘gigantic treaty network’¹¹⁹ under construction, that the Swiss concept of ‘parallelism’ came into being and a major expansion of democratic participation rights took place. Being a child of its time, it is nothing but understandable that the respective rules are heavily oriented towards treaties.

The years leading up to the turn of the millennium were characterised by a belief (in hindsight, some even term it a ‘mantra’)¹²⁰ among international law scholars that the legalisation trend would persist and that international law, and therewith the treaty ‘production rate’, would continue to grow exponentially.¹²¹ Yet, ‘times are changing’ – as Andreas Zimmermann wrote in allusion to the Bob Dylan song – and the then ‘prevailing euphoria’ among international law scholars as to international law becoming increasingly and steadily more efficient, value-oriented and richer in content has since abated.¹²² The contemporary views about the state and future of international law are more pessimistic: the discourse of international law being ‘on the rise’ turned into whether international law is ‘in decline’.¹²³ Whether the manifestation of signs of crisis indicate the beginning of a general downward trend across all sub-branches of international law remains to be seen. What is already empirically proven, though, is the stagnation of formal international law.¹²⁴ The number of adopted treaties has fallen dramatically: between 1950 and 2000, the number of multilateral treaties deposited with the UN Secretary General per year was never below thirty-four; between 2005 and 2010, the count was at nine per year, and not a single multilateral treaty was deposited in 2011, 2012 or 2013.¹²⁵ A certain ‘treaty fatigue’ has spread across the international community.¹²⁶

IV Turn to Informal International Lawmaking: Bridges Under Construction

A Informal International Law Superseding Formal International Law

While formal lawmaking through the adoption of treaties is in decline, the demand for rules governing transnational or global phenomena is on the rise.¹²⁷ This growing need for norms is notably catered to by what is referred to as ‘informal law’ – that is, instruments which fall short of the traditional sources of international law¹²⁸ but are normative in the sense that they ‘steer … behaviour or determine … the freedom of actors’.¹²⁹ Importantly, informal lawmaking, which progressively supersedes formal lawmaking,¹³⁰ not only differs from the latter in terms of the normative output it produces, but also regarding the process and actors involved. Informal lawmaking has been defined as:

Cross-border cooperation between public authorities, with or without the participation of private actors and/or international organizations, in a forum other than a traditional international organization (process informality), and/or as between actors other than traditional diplomatic actors (such as regulators or agencies) (actor informality) and/or which does not result in a formal treaty or other traditional source of international law (output informality).¹³¹

Informal law is not a new means for regulating international cooperation,¹³² but its occurrence and crowding out effect on formal law (most notably treaties) significantly increased after the turn of the millennium – such that informal lawmaking has been termed a ‘signature development’ of contemporary global governance.¹³³ While various reasons account for the rise of informal international law,¹³⁴ the ‘dramatic’ changes in institutions of global governance¹³⁵ in recent years are a key factor. Traditionally, the main players in international lawmaking were states and IOs; the latter, occasionally referred to as ‘treaty machines’, played a central part in treaty-making.¹³⁶ José Alvarez noticed that the proliferation of treaties has been ‘aided and abetted by the concomitant rise in intergovernmental organizations’ and that the age of treaties is therefore ‘not incidentally also the age of IOs’.¹³⁷ In the early 2000s, however, the formation of new IOs slowed markedly.¹³⁸ Simultaneously, the number of non-state actors active at the international level – notably in the ‘production of normativity’¹³⁹ – multiplied. They are a diverse group, ranging from NGOs and transnational corporations to industry associations and regulatory agencies.¹⁴⁰ As they have yet to acquire international legal personality, they lack treaty-making capacity; as a consequence, any normative instrument they adopt is informal in nature.¹⁴¹

B The Development of ‘Soft Participatory Rights’ for ‘Soft Law’

In recent years, awareness of the potential of informal law (similar to that of formal law) to limit the domestic policy space has grown considerably among Parliament and the broader public. For a while, the Migration Pact was the epitome of the ‘encroachment potential’ of informal law. Meanwhile, the discussion moved beyond this specific instrument and turned into a more principled one: how to involve Parliament more closely in ‘soft law projects’.¹⁴²

While the debate on democratic participation in informal lawmaking gained momentum with the Migration Pact, it is far from novel in Switzerland. Rather, the role of Parliament in the making of ‘non-binding instruments’ has been discussed time and again – often in connection with ‘soft law’ in the fields of banking, finance and tax. As early as 1985, a member of Parliament requested the Federal Council to consider rejecting an OECD recommendation on banking secrecy.¹⁴³ The request was rebuffed with the competent Federal Chancellor replying that the government did not intend to enter into a binding obligation and, consequently, had no reason to consult Parliament ‘in advance – and certainly not in advance! – on what it must do’; rather, it would be for the executive to decide on Switzerland’s position as long as it did not legally oblige the country.¹⁴⁴ The answer is reflective of the allocation of powers as it stood under the Constitution of 1874, where foreign relations matters were a prerogative of the executive.

It was only under the Constitution of 1999, which conceives foreign relations as a shared competence requiring close cooperation between the executive and legislative branches, that things changed. In 2002, the Parliament Act was adopted, Article 152 of which obliges the executive to inform the Foreign Policy Committees ‘regularly, comprehensively and in good time of important foreign policy developments’; and to consult and update them on ‘important plans’ (‘orientations principales’, ‘wesentliche Vorhaben’).¹⁴⁵ As per the common understanding, the notion of ‘important plans’ includes ‘soft law’ projects of a certain significance.¹⁴⁶ Yet, the implementation of Article 152 of the Parliament Act has been far from frictionless; Parliament – or at least some of its members – has felt bypassed by the government on more than one occasion.¹⁴⁷

As a consequence, the notion of ‘important plans’ of Article 152(3) of the Parliament Act was clarified by including Article 5b in the Government and Administration Organisation Ordinance in 2016, which defines two instances in which the Foreign Policy Committees must be consulted. First, if the implementation of recommendations of IOs or multinational fora requires the enactment or substantial revision of a federal act. Second, if a failure to implement exposes Switzerland to risk of serious economic disadvantage, sanctions, isolation or damage to its political reputation, or if other serious disadvantages for Switzerland are to be expected.¹⁴⁸ This long-winded wording not only testifies to the fact that informal law may exert a certain compliance pull on states, but also to the difficulty of defining instances that trigger consultation rights in abstract terms.

The newly introduced provision soon came under fire, in part for enshrining parliamentary rights in an ordinance, which can be modified or revoked by the government alone, rather than a formal law.¹⁴⁹ Moreover, despite the more detailed description of the instances in which Parliament must be consulted, it again felt bypassed – notably in the context of the Migration Pact. It is against this background that the Foreign Policy Committee of the Council of States tasked the government to report on the ‘growing role of soft law in international relations’ and ‘the resulting creeping weakening of Parliament’s democratic rights’ and to consider possible amendments of Article 152 of the Parliament Act.¹⁵⁰ All things considered, the propositions put forward in the report to better associate Parliament in the making of ‘soft law’¹⁵¹ are neither novel nor revolutionary, yet the report’s significance may lay elsewhere. While the Federal Council has long been rather reserved about further increasing parliamentary participation in the field of ‘soft law’, it now ‘considers it a priority to create the necessary conditions for Parliament to better assess soft law instruments and, on this basis, to exercise its right to participate in a more targeted manner.’¹⁵²

C Demands for ‘Hard Participatory Rights’ for ‘Soft Law’

The democratisation of informal lawmaking ‘from below’ is arguably more developed in Switzerland than in many other jurisdictions, but it is still relatively embryonic when compared with democratic participation in treaty-making. In terms of actors, only parliamentary committees (and, among them, mainly the Foreign Policy Committees) are granted information and consultation rights – not Parliament as a whole, let alone the people, Cantons or broader public.¹⁵³ As regards the phases and intensity, solely a right to be informed and consulted during the making of informal law is granted, but not the veto power that Parliament, the people and Cantons possess vis-à-vis certain categories of treaties through parliamentary approval or referenda. Broadly speaking, nothing more than ‘soft participatory rights’ are available for ‘soft law’, while ‘hard participatory rights’ are reserved for ‘hard law’ – that is, treaties. For a long time, the discussion surrounding the expansion of democratic participation rights centred on the scope of information and consultation rights. With the Migration Pact, however, the reform discussion took on a new dimension: a rather widely supported claim for ‘hard participatory rights’ in informal lawmaking was formulated. No less than three different parliamentary committees – the composition of which reflects the strength of the political parties of the respective parliamentary chamber¹⁵⁴ – instructed the Federal Council not to sign the Migration Pact during the UN Conference in Morocco in December 2011 and to submit it to Parliament for approval.¹⁵⁵ Individual requests even tabled the question whether the people and Cantons, by means of popular referendum, should have the final say on Switzerland’s participation.¹⁵⁶

To shrug off the call for ‘hard participation’, which took shape in the context of the Migration Pact, as a purely populist manoeuvre would not do the matter justice.¹⁵⁷ Admittedly, had the Pact pertained not to migration, but say civil aviation, it would have sparked very little debate;¹⁵⁸ moreover, various parliamentary requests on the matter had populist undertones. For example, the Swiss People’s Party unleashed a barrage of criticism about Switzerland’s leading role in the making of the Pact – even asking whether the Swiss ambassador should incur liability for having facilitated the process.¹⁵⁹ Hence, to some extent, the debate on democratic participation in informal lawmaking has been hijacked by the right-wing populist party in order to make political capital. At the same time, various requests – especially those emanating from parliamentary committees¹⁶⁰ – seem to have been truly spurred by the concern that informal lawmaking suffers from democratic deficits. It is arguably this broader, cross-party call for ‘hard’ participation that ultimately led to the Federal Council’s decision not to sign the Pact in December 2018 and to submit the decision to Parliament. Yet the government tried its best not to set a precedent, stressing that according to the current rules on allocation of powers, namely Article 184(1) of the Constitution, it is authorised to sign the Pact in its own competence, and that the decision to submit it to Parliament was taken solely for political (not legal) reasons. Consequently, the Federal Council formally rejected the parliamentary requests asking for the Pact’s submission to Parliament but acted in conformity with the requests as a matter of fact.¹⁶¹

At this juncture, it is difficult to tell whether the decision to submit the Migration Pact to Parliament for approval (which, as of January 2021, has yet to happen) broke through the glass ceiling in terms of limiting participation in informal law to ‘soft participatory rights’. At the time of writing, discussions on whether to grant ‘hard participatory rights’ are ongoing. A parliamentary initiative submitted in the National Council, which requests adaptation of the rules on allocation of authority in a way that foresees parliamentary approval for ‘soft law’, is currently pending. Concretely, it suggests to submit to Parliament those informal instruments that involve compliance-monitoring, from which reporting obligations arise, if non-compliance may constitute a breach of the principle of good faith, or if its implementation is likely to require the enactment or amendment of a federal act.¹⁶² In the Council of States, the Foreign Policy Committee suggested to establish a sub-commission specifically tasked with evaluating the need for legislative action in order to ensure parliamentary participation in informal lawmaking.¹⁶³ As a result, both parliamentary chambers are currently considering how meaningful ‘soft participation’ in informal lawmaking could be granted and whether ‘soft law’ is even amenable to ‘hard participatory rights’.

D Challenges in Building New Bridges

To sketch out detailed construction plans for building new bridges between informal international lawmaking and domestic democratic participation proves challenging. Applying the provisions available in the context of treaties by analogy¹⁶⁴ will not work in many cases, while designing specific rules for informal lawmaking is no easy feat. This is not surprising given that the phenomenon is negatively defined as lawmaking that dispenses with certain formalities traditionally linked to international law,¹⁶⁵ coupled with the complicating factor that informality can relate to different elements – actors, process and output.¹⁶⁶ This makes informal lawmaking a multifaceted and complex phenomenon that is ‘hard to grasp in domestic constitutional terms’.¹⁶⁷ Still, discussion has started on how to extend ‘soft participation rights’ and whether to grant ‘hard participation rights’ in informal lawmaking.

The Swiss debate turns on ‘soft law’;¹⁶⁸ hence, there seems to be common ground that only ‘legislative’¹⁶⁹ informal instruments, and not those dealing with a concrete situation, should qualify for ‘hard participatory rights’ – even though this is not the case for treaties.¹⁷⁰ Otherwise, Parliament would stray too far into the territory of the executive, which – despite the far-reaching soft participatory rights of Parliament¹⁷¹ – retains the ultimate decision-making power for the ‘operational conduct’ of foreign policy.¹⁷² Consensus also seems to emerge that the ‘importance’ of an informal instrument should be the criterion used to decide whether and to what degree democratic legitimacy is necessary (‘critère de l’importance’, ‘Kriterium der Wesentlichkeit’), which aligns well with the standard already applying to (domestic and international) formal law.¹⁷³ Such a material criterion may dispel the argument that expanding democratic participation to informal law would flood Parliament with submissions – by comparison, only 5 per cent of all treaties concluded by Switzerland are approved by Parliament, while the other 95 per cent are of ‘limited scope’ and thus fall in the sole competence of the executive.¹⁷⁴ True, to specify the criterion of ‘importance’ is far from clear and the assessment may change over time;¹⁷⁵ yet the challenge is not idiosyncratic to informal law but exists equally with regard to formal law. Under domestic law, Article 164(1) of the Constitution sets out which matters must be regulated in federal acts, which are enacted by Parliament and subject to the optional referendum. The provision is applied by analogy in order to assess whether a treaty contains ‘important legislative provisions’ and is thus eligible for the optional referendum.¹⁷⁶ While various commentators have expressed doubt as to whether Article 164 of the Constitution provides (much) guidance at all,¹⁷⁷ having a (partly deficient) abstract definition of the instances where ‘hard participation rights’ apply is still preferable over putting the decision entirely at the discretion of the authorities. Apart from considerations of treating equal cases equally,¹⁷⁸ a high value is attached to the idea that the referendum should not feature a ‘plebiscitary’ character – which, in Swiss parlance, means that its exercise must not depend on the will of the authorities,¹⁷⁹ but be granted if predefined criteria are met. For some authors, this even amounts to a feature of direct democracy.¹⁸⁰

Turning back to the requirements for subjecting informal law to ‘hard participatory rights’, it seems that only those with a high degree of normativity should qualify: if normativity is low, the impact on the domestic sphere is negligible and thus no enhanced democratic legitimacy is warranted. In its ‘Soft Law Report’, the Federal Council proposes a matrix for assessing the normativity of an informal instrument. The y-axis measures the ‘will to shape’ (‘volonté d’agir’, ‘Gestaltungswille’), while the x-axis indicates the degree of ‘will to enforce’ (‘volonté d’imposer’, ‘Durchsetzungswille’) a specific instrument; the higher an instrument figures on the two axes, the higher its normativity.¹⁸¹ With this, the long-held argument against democratic participation in the making of ‘soft law’ – that it is not legally binding – seems to have finally lost its persuasive power and the normativity of informal law is being recognised.

The Swiss debate has circled around the concept of ‘soft law’ and is thus mainly concentrated on the output.¹⁸² However, in order to conceptualise democratic participation properly, the focus should not just be on ‘law’ – but on ‘lawmaking’. Actors and processes – that is, the chain of activities and decisions leading to a specific output and the forum in which this takes place – are of equal importance. This is why the concept of ‘informal lawmaking’, which captures all these dimensions, is more beneficial to framing the discussion on democratisation ‘from below’ as compared to ‘soft law’ (apart from the fact that there is often nothing particularly ‘soft’ about informal law).¹⁸³ Since the current debate has been intensified by the legal quagmire surrounding the Migration Pact, the perception of actors and processes in informal lawmaking – which impact potential bridges and boundaries for domestic democratic participation in informal lawmaking – may be slightly distorted. It is indeed a rather simple game to subject the Pact to ‘hard participation rights’, that is, to parliamentary approval and even a referendum. The treaty analogy works well since there is neither actor informality (states adopted the instrument within the UN system) nor process informality (the negotiations took place in proceedings that could equally apply to a treaty and the Pact was ultimately adopted and signed by states at an intergovernmental conference). The sole distinction from formal law is that the Pact falls short of a treaty.¹⁸⁴ In many instances, however, both process and/or actor informality will be much more pronounced, which makes democratic participation more challenging – if not entirely meaningless or impossible.

In treaty-making, states are the main actors: they negotiate, adopt, sign and ratify treaties. In informal lawmaking, this may be very different; states may be just one of the actors involved or even be absent altogether from the negotiating table. The latter holds true if informal law stems from what Michael Bothe aptly refers to as ‘private norm entrepreneurs’.¹⁸⁵ In the field of the law of armed conflict, for instance, a series of informal meetings have taken place over the past decades, during which (often old-fashioned) international rules were clarified, restated or updated in light of new technological or societal phenomena.¹⁸⁶ Interestingly, Switzerland was an active player in this field of law in the ‘age of treaties’ and continues to be one in times of informal lawmaking. The experts attend these processes in a purely personal capacity,¹⁸⁷ and states are not official participants, but may – for the sake of legitimacy, authority and thus efficiency of the instrument in question – still be involved, be it consultations on drafts or as observers (especially states sponsoring the process¹⁸⁸).¹⁸⁹ Since states do not sit at the negotiating table, at least not officially, these processes may not even fall under the definition of informal lawmaking provided above, which requires ‘[c]ross-border cooperation between public authorities’.¹⁹⁰ Yet, to pretend that the output produced has no normative value also seems to miss the point.¹⁹¹ Be that as it may, this type of informal lawmaking suggests that certain features of informal lawmaking may set boundaries for domestic democratic participation.

In terms of process, a key difference between informal lawmaking and treaty-making is that a formalised procedure exists for the latter.¹⁹² For treaties it is thus much easier to determine where to build bridges along the route from initiating negotiations to the entry into force of an instrument. Informal lawmaking is not subjected to a standardised procedure, and this is praised as its competitive advantage vis-à-vis treaties. Moreover, at the outset, how a specific process should evolve is often (deliberately) left open and is only specified as it goes along. Such a ‘wait-and-see approach’ lowers the entry hurdle for negotiations and allows for adjustments – towards more or less formality – along the route. The Montreux Document is exemplary as a process of informal lawmaking in which formality increased over time. When it was launched by Switzerland and the International Committee of the Red Cross in 2006, a group of only seventeen states – those most affected by the phenomenon – were involved in the negotiations, which were of a rather informal character.¹⁹³ Today, the instrument can be ‘supported’ by any state or IO by submitting a letter or diplomatic note, based on a template, to the Swiss Federal Department of Foreign Affairs.¹⁹⁴ While very informal at the beginning, the process in the end is nearly the equivalent of signing and ratifying a treaty. At the outset, domestic democratic control would have only made sense for the seventeen participating states, while today any state can ‘support’ the document and could, before doing so, request parliamentary approval. Whether democratic participation ‘from below’ is possible and meaningful must thus be assessed for a specific process and the answer may change over time – a striking contrast from the route taken for treaties.

A further (and certainly not last) difference between treaties and informal instruments pertains to the possibility that states can dodge the latter’s effects and implement a domestic ‘disapproval’ of the instrument at the international level. If Parliament or the people do not approve a specific treaty, the Swiss Federal Council will simply abstain from ratifying it and no legal obligation accrues from it for Switzerland. For informal law, it is much more difficult to explain how, why, when and who comes into the maelstrom of its normativity. At times, it may be possible to formally endorse, sign or support the instrument – whether refraining from doing so is sufficient to dispel its effects is debatable. The Federal Council correctly notes in its report that informal law may even impact states not having participated in the making of a specific instrument.¹⁹⁵ This triggers the question of what the executive is obliged to do at the international level if Parliament or the people rejects a specific informal instrument.

V Conclusion

This discussion suffices to demonstrate that designing meaningful mechanisms for generating democratic legitimacy is much more difficult in the context of informal international lawmaking than it is for formal international lawmaking. Yet, if these mechanisms shall continue performing their function, it is necessary to adapt them to structural changes of international law as expeditiously as possible. Otherwise the pendulum will swing back and the executive will regain powers in international lawmaking, which have been pushed back over the years in favour of greater involvement of Parliament, the people and Cantons.

The expanding horizons of international law in terms of actors and sources have repercussions on foreign relations law across the globe. The impact of informal lawmaking on the democratisation of international law ‘from below’, however, appears to have not yet received the necessary academic and practical attention. This is surprising in light of the great value attached to the democratisation of international lawmaking in the context of treaties and the fact that most jurisdictions’ mechanisms do not apply to informal law.¹⁹⁶ Academic literature is a mirror to this finding: it is extremely rich in terms of parliamentary involvement in treaty-making, but very scant when it comes to informal lawmaking. By way of example, Alejandro Rodiles recently wrote that the trend towards informal lawmaking ‘has gone completely unnoticed by the Mexican literature’.¹⁹⁷ Jean Galbraith and David T. Zaring likewise note that in the United States, there is ‘exhaustive academic literature’ on treaties and that ‘similar literature exists with regard to the foreign relations law dimensions of customary international law’, but informal international instruments ‘by contrast, get barely a nod in the foreign relations law literature’.¹⁹⁸ Arguably, the discussions on the lack of democratic control of the Migration Pact was a catalyst for more intense debate in the future.¹⁹⁹

Comparative foreign relations law certainly has the potential to unearth the various facets of the problem and to enlarge the pool of potential solutions on how to democratise informal international lawmaking ‘from below’. Yet, even if the most perfect bridges were built – in such a combined and common effort – the very characteristics of international informal lawmaking sets some insurmountable boundaries. This leads back to the two central questions raised by the editors in the introduction to this book: ‘To what extent is the field of foreign relations law shaped by the normative expectations and structures of international law? Conversely, in how far is international law a product of the combined processes governed by foreign relations law and construed in light of domestic law?’

Domestic mechanisms on democratic participation can only fulfil their purpose if they mirror the structures of international law – notably its sources – as accurately as possible. The Swiss rules on democratic control of treaty-making are a good example: having been drafted during the ‘age of treaties’, they had to be adapted and are still in process of being reviewed so as to be fit for purpose in the age of informal lawmaking. As regards the impact on international law ‘from below’, a crucial difference seems to exist between formal and informal lawmaking. As regards formal sources, notably treaties and customary international law, states are the masters of their creation.²⁰⁰ Hence, states – through their domestic (foreign relations) law – have a better grip and control of the process. They may similarly monopolise the creation of informal law if actors and/or process feature a very low degree of informality (as in the case of the Migration Pact), but may not be even officially on board if the actors and/or processes are characterised by a high degree of informality (like the example of ‘private norm entrepreneurs’ suggests). Informal lawmaking may thus, in some instances, have much more of a ‘life of its own’ than formal law and be immune to democratisation ‘from below’. Hence, in the context of informal lawmaking, bridges can be built, but not every boundary can be overcome.

Internationalisation came at a cost to democracy in the ‘age of treaties’, and such costs will increase further in times of informal international lawmaking. The increased use of informal lawmaking will exacerbate the tension between sovereignty – understood as a ‘placeholder for constitutional values, in particular domestic democratic self-determination’²⁰¹ – and cooperation. However, when discussing (the limits of) democratisation ‘from below’, one tends to forget that Switzerland not only ranks number one in certain globalisation indexes,²⁰² but it is not seldom a driving force behind (laudable) informal lawmaking processes. This situation is exemplary for Dani Rodrik’s more generalised finding that ‘we cannot simultaneously pursue democracy, national determination, and economic globalization’²⁰³ – or, to put it more bluntly, you can’t have your cake and eat it too.