The UN General Assembly and the UN Environment Assembly (UNEA) have expressed concerns about the pollution of the sea by plastics, which adversely impacts ecosystems, some economic activities (e.g., tourism and fishing), and possibly public health (e.g., consumption of contaminated fish). In December 2017, the UNEA decided to establish the Ad Hoc Open-Ended Expert Group on Marine Litter and Microplastics to examine ways to combat marine plastic pollution. The group met three times in 2018 and 2019, and at least two more meetings are planned. Among potential responses to the issue of marine pollution, the group briefly considered—but eventually dismissed—the possibility of creating a liability or compensation regime. This essay evaluates the prospects for such a regime. As the essay will show, compensation faces significant conceptual problems, not the least of which is the absence of an obvious recipient. However, some form of liability could be imposed on corporations that produce plastic, or on states that fail to regulate them. Such a liability regime, even without financial compensation, could foster the prevention of further marine plastic pollution.

The notion that a plastics treaty is necessary is gaining traction, but there is less agreement as to its content. Some, including this author, have suggested that a plastics treaty should be modelled on treaties such as the Montreal Protocol, which sets out a broad commitment to end the use of a particular material and then introduce regulations to ban particular forms of that material over time. This approach has an immediate appeal—it sends a signal to states and to industry that they must change their behaviors and products, while giving time to adapt to the new regulation and develop alternative materials or ways of working. The potential drawback of this approach is that some states simply will not accept such rigid standards. In addition, some states may prefer a second approach that is more obviously rooted in the principle of common but differentiated responsibilities, which assigns different obligations to parties according to their respective capacities. Within the climate change regime, the Paris Agreement takes both approaches, asking states to set their own nationally determined contributions (NDCs) to emissions reductions (common but differentiated responsibilities) and then to revise these NDCs over time through an iterative process to deliver progressively more ambitious targets for emissions reduction (moving toward a ban) or mitigation. In reality, neither approach is entirely suited to regulating plastics, so a new approach to treaty-making is required. This new approach should focus on the outcomes desired rather than the practices that need to be regulated.

Tom Ginsburg's thought-provoking Authoritarian International Law? invites us to reflect on the potential changes to the international legal order that might flow from the global decline of liberal democracy and the corresponding rise of illiberal authoritarian regimes. Given that Ginsburg's cautionary tale is predicated on the central interest of authoritarians in the survival of their regimes and their concerns about internal security, it is not surprising that many of the implications he identifies— which involve the expansion of norms that facilitate internal repression, enable repressive regulation of online expression, and dilute international democracy promotion—concern international law's regulation of states’ internal affairs. If Ginsburg's predictions about expanding authoritarianism are correct, however, we should also consider the implications for the evolution of international law in the external security realm, and in particular, for the legal regime governing the use of force and intervention in the affairs of other states. In this essay, I suggest that the expansion of authoritarianism is likely to diminish legal accountability of outside states that support repression by such regimes; to entrench the legal status of existing authoritarian regimes confronting domestic political violence; and to weaken the legal basis for Security Council interventions rooted in the “responsibility to protect” principle. When authoritarian states do wage wars, particularly when they intervene in civil wars, we should expect that their compliance with international humanitarian law (IHL) will be weak.

International organizations (IOs) provide space for the exchange of ideas. Particularly since the Cold War ended, many expected that this exchange would inevitably lead to more democratization and liberalization around the globe. Instead, some of the largest non-democratic actors on the global stage have functioned within these organizations for decades without liberalizing, while others joined as full or newly transitioned democracies just to see those qualities slowly erode. As Tom Ginsburg's recent article concludes, today's autocrats might instead use international law—including the legal apparatus of IOs—to further their own authoritarian agendas. This essay engages with Ginsburg's thoughtful piece by suggesting that IOs both enable and resist the emergence of “Authoritarian International Law” (AIL). Creating or joining IOs is a costly but attractive strategy for revisionist states since members equally influence IO evolution. Fortunately for democracy's advocates, IOs are usually status quo entities, and liberalism is deeply embedded in many existing today. Cross-temporal observations of changes in IO membership, members’ regime types, and IO features beyond the founding documents are needed to fully understand how organizations simultaneously perform these paradoxical functions.

As he searches for differences in how democratic and authoritarian governments use international law, Tom Ginsburg highlights—perhaps inadvertently—the fact that both kinds of regime use law as a tool to advance their goals. Governments’ goals may differ, both within and across regime types, but the instrumental use of law in the service of political ends does not. Ginsburg's article permits three distinct readings: it is an effort to show a correlation between regime-type and uses of international law; it is also an argument that the historical-normative core of international law included the promotion of “liberal” goals such as human rights and democracy; and third, it is a defense of the meta-claim that law follows the political purposes of society's powerful actors. This third contribution is the quietest in the article but is arguably the most important. Because the methodological difficulties in correlating regime type with attitude toward international law are insuperable, Ginsburg's contribution is that he directs attention to the substantive goals that governments pursue through law and to the tradeoffs that follow as one goal wins over others. The normative valence of international law depends on how one feels about these practical tradeoffs; those whose interests are harmed by international law have good reason to feel disadvantaged.

Tom Ginsburg's important article comes at a critical time. The COVID-19 crisis has spurred heated debates about political regimes vis-à-vis countries’ bureaucratic capacity. Political regime type is the core independent variable in Ginsburg's conceptualization of authoritarian international law—a global projection of authoritarian states’ domestic politics. This essay echoes Ginsburg's insightful observation but complicates it by shifting the focus to the less-known perspectives of secondary authoritarian countries. I use a matrix case study of two smaller states, Vietnam and Cambodia, on two prominent issues, the South China Sea (SCS) and the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), to demonstrate small states’ effort to use international law to “hedge” big powers. As the case studies show, small authoritarian states, not unlike other small states, prefer a pluralist vision of international law, even if they may at times embrace the alternative model offered by big authoritarian powers. These states thus have an important, perhaps unexpected, role to play in preserving the pluralist international legal order and mitigating the hegemonic tendencies of authoritarian international law.

In presenting the international law community with a call to action in defense of the liberal international order against a trend towards “authoritarian international law,” Tom Ginsburg prompts us to assess the systemic dynamics at play in the contemporary international legal order. In doing so, we should be cautious about assuming that the consequences for international law of any particular actor will be positive or otherwise. A couple of decades ago even American international lawyers were concerned about what they perceived to be the threat posed to international law by the United States as global hegemon. And yet from today's vantage point, it seems that the imperial actor during the post-Cold War period may not have been the United States so much as transnational civil society. The very openness of the system of international law that enables both democratic and authoritarian regimes to promote norms reflective of their policy preferences has also enabled civil society to advance norms, processes, and institutional structures that go beyond the policy preferences of dominant states. In doing so, civil society—a hallmark of what we might refer to as the “pseudo-democratic” international legal system—has challenged the delicate balance between power politics and the realization of a pure international rule of law. The consequences appear serious.

Tom Ginsburg's concept of “authoritarian international law” (AIL) is as important as the one it references, Thomas Franck's “right to democratic governance.” It underlines how the promise carried by Franck was betrayed in the bitter turn of history that ended the emerging hope for democracy ruling all nations in the world after 1989. This hope had developed by fits and starts as the slow fulfilment of the Kantian project for “perpetual peace” amongst a world federation of democratic republics on which the League of Nations and the United Nations were built. To the now-universal acknowledgment of the grave domestic setbacks to human rights and democracy, Ginsburg's article adds an account of the international setbacks which followed. Its chief importance is in raising the question of the emergent authoritarian traits of international law in the wake of these setbacks. With my appreciation of Ginsburg's formidable treatment, including a title that will mark, like Franck's, an important moment in the field, I will challenge some of his conclusions and offer counterpoints in the present essay. In particular, I will (1) suggest the irrelevance of the three “evils of AIL”; (2) highlight the significance of 2006 as the date when AIL started rising; (3) emphasize the importance of U.S. isolationism in the rise of AIL; and (4) argue that the better investment to counter that rise is in nonviolence.

This essay addresses the interaction between the changes in the international tax regime identified by Mason and U.S. international tax policy. Specifically, I will argue that contrary to the general view, the United States actively implemented the Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development (OECD)/G20 Base Erosion and Profit Shifting (BEPS) recommendations through the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act of 2017 (TCJA). Moreover, the changes of the TCJA influenced the current OECD effort of BEPS 2.0. Thus, the current state of affairs can be characterized as a constructive dialogue: The OECD moves (BEPS 1), the United States responds (TCJA), the OECD moves again (BEPS 2). If the international tax regime is to survive, it is important that BEPS 2 will succeed, and that the US will then go along and amend the TCJA accordingly. From this kind of positive dialectic, a new international tax regime fit for the twenty-first century may emerge.

The Organisation for Economic Co-Operation and Development (OECD) recently emerged as the site of unprecedented, multilateral, and seemingly high-stakes negotiations about the future of international business income taxation. Judging by the political resources deployed in these negotiations, international tax has entered unchartered territory. Ruth Mason offers a timely and balanced portrayal of the OECD process so far. But explanations of this process remain eminently contestable. On the one hand, international institutions that address externalities from uncoordinated actions and produce mutual benefits for participating nations can be highly stable. On the other hand, the OECD has struggled, whether in its Base Erosion and Profit Shifting (BEPS) and post-BEPS initiatives or during the pre-BEPS era, to articulate the goals for which international coordination in taxation is needed. By many accounts, recent discussions at the OECD are motivated mainly by the desire to stop foreign imposition of taxes on U.S. companies, or, as the other side of the same coin, to avert the wrath of the single hegemonic power in international tax. What is the best characterization of this conflict? I believe that understanding the underlying subject matter for international coordination, as opposed to merely the institutions that might facilitate such coordination, is required for identifying the coming transformation of international tax.

In her article, Mason concludes that politics – or “bargaining over national interests”— “will play a starring role in determining the outcomes” of the current digital tax project. In this essay, I apply public choice theory to the politics of international tax and argue that two questions can shape our understanding of international tax negotiations and therefore help us predict the outcomes of future international tax reform projects. First, what interests are country delegates representing? Second, how are countries using their involvement in international negotiations to represent these interests? The first question highlights that country delegates are often not defending some agreed-upon “national interest” but are instead often protecting the interests of particular political parties, industries, or taxpayers, which in turn means that interests can change over time and that some voices are missing from debates. The second question highlights that country delegates can engage in international tax negotiations in a variety of ways. They can try to limit what, if anything, the negotiations achieve; they can try to push for more expansive results; and they can use the negotiations to provide international support for their own country's laws. This essay focuses on one particular version of this third type of engagement, where delegates use their country's involvement in an international project to validate and legitimate an idea or proposal that may previously have had little support. I refer to this involvement as “international legitimation,” and I argue that the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD)/G20 Base Erosion and Profit Shifting (BEPS) Project shows that delegates who took this approach may have achieved the most long-term success in that their inclusion of little-known provisions or concepts in the international outputs of the BEPS Project ended up leading to these provisions and concepts being adopted by countries around the world.

Rampant unilateralism, insistence on national sovereignty, a wariness of multilateral institutions and third-party adjudication—for international trade lawyers, this is the stuff of nightmares. For international tax lawyers, these are the normal operating parameters of the international tax regime. In fact, the same forces that are currently unraveling the World Trade Organization (WTO) are simultaneously enabling pragmatic and creative reforms of international tax law. Ruth Mason's account of the Transformation of International Tax invites us to draw broader lessons on how international economic law could adapt to survive and even thrive in a political environment increasingly hostile towards WTO-style multilateralism.

“Drugs” have been regulated at the international level since 1912, while cannabis has been specifically regulated since 1925. Contemporary local, national, and international cannabis regulations are now diverging, with some jurisdictions legalising its recreational production, sale and consumption. This essay explores the legal and historical complexity and contingencies around the development of international cannabis regulations and prohibitions. It highlights that the global drug control system was not solely focused on prohibition and instead was a complex mix of regulations underpinned by frequently ill-defined and unclear prohibitions. It argues that the international drug control system should not serve as a bar to national-level reforms and that the two can continue to coexist. The essay favors a flexible, functional and pragmatic interpretation and implementation of the system as the most likely and indeed preferred outcome of international cannabis policy reforms.

Domestic policy choices concerning the non-medical use of cannabis are generating increased interest in what has been usefully called the global drug prohibition regime. Commentators are questioning whether the UN-based treaty system can accommodate national policy approaches that deviate from the regime's prohibitive ethos. As tension around cannabis “legalization” builds it becomes ever more urgent to relieve systemic pressure, a process to which inter se treaty modification may be key.

Human rights and the UN drug control regime have long had an uneasy relationship, which is evident today in the tensions that exist between criminal justice reform advocates, the institutions of the UN drug control regime, and economic interests that stand to benefit from decriminalization and legalization efforts. The UN drug control regime's relationship with human rights cannot be properly discussed without acknowledging its colonial and racist roots. From the earliest agreement on drug control in 1909, born out of the crisis of opium dependency caused by the forced opening of China to trade in opium by the British, to the 1988 United Nations Convention Against Illicit Traffic in Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances, which was a product of America's war on drugs, international efforts to regulate drugs have never been for the benefit of those who have suffered the most from both the supply of drugs and its criminalization. The war on drugs has been a global war from the beginning, arising out of colonial structures that centered white/European racial dominance. The inadequacies of the international drug regime and current efforts to reform it are rooted in this historical legacy. In light of this, we argue that efforts by international bodies to center human rights in the discussion on reforming the UN drug control regime are, so far, insufficient. Only through recognizing the power imbalances at play can we advance the possibility of a system that values individuals and responds to a changing landscape where corporate interests are coming to the table in the context of decriminalization and legalization.

Cannabis reforms are proliferating. A handful of nations have already legalized the drug for recreational purposes, and several more may soon follow suit. These national cannabis reforms are generating bottom-up pressure to liberalize the transnational legal order (TLO) for cannabis prohibition, one that involves not only international law, but also domestic law and regulatory practice. Based on a trio of international conventions, this TLO currently requires member states to limit access to marijuana, especially for non-medical or non-scientific purposes. But even as it comes under attack from below, the existing cannabis prohibition TLO may be exerting its own downward pressure on national cannabis policies. This essay uses a timely case study involving the United States’ marijuana research policy to explore the two-way relationship between international law and national cannabis policies in the dynamics of transnational legal ordering. It highlights an overlooked way the international conventions are currently helping to stifle national cannabis reforms, and it discusses the possible ramifications of that top-down pressure for the future of the cannabis prohibition TLO.

Drug policy in the American hemisphere is in flux. After decades whereby a prohibitionist regime reigned supreme and proposing alternatives was taboo, several countries have begun to reconsider policy, particularly in the case of marijuana. International law has been instrumental in building the legal and institutional regime of prohibition, and it has remained largely impervious to critiques of its disastrous consequences. Indeed, when it comes to drug law and policy, international law has been part of the problem. Nevertheless, countries in the Americas have begun to adopt innovative strategies that also embrace international obligations. In this essay, I examine the failures of the law and order paradigm behind prohibition. I then analyze legal reforms in the Americas as motivated by three different perspectives: 1) human rights, 2) public health and 3) political economy. Each one offers a powerful challenge to prohibition but relies on different assumptions and offers different transformative potential.