As the COVID-19 crisis developed, the International Labor Organization estimated that 4.7 percent of the global labor pool, comprising 164 million people, were migrant workers who were living and working outside their home country. While some were laid off and sent home for the lockdown, others continued working. These others were migrants performing crucial jobs in the front line of the crisis. They help to produce our food, pack our orders, and build or clean our houses, among other tasks. Many COVID-19 infections appear to be labor-related, with many of the crucial sectors exhibiting an extra-high risk of virus transmission. Migrant workers on the frontline can be low-waged, hold a temporary job, lack knowledge of their legal position and the local language, and have a limited social network and high dependency on others—such as recruiters or temporary employment agencies—for work and housing. This essay addresses these migrant vulnerabilities in the labor market and identifies measures that might simultaneously curb the vulnerabilities and account for industrial needs for labor in essential sectors. We argue that the vulnerability of migrant laborers is structural; the COVID-19 crisis has put a magnifying glass on a preexisting vulnerability and clarified the need for solutions.

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.

In The Boundaries of International Law: A Feminist Critique (Boundaries),1 amidst observations about masculine bias in treaty law, co-authors Christine Chinkin and Hilary Charlesworth queried the masculine configuration, i.e., the gender of jus cogens or peremptory norms. A peremptory norm is “accepted and recognized by the international community . . . as a norm from which no derogation is permitted and which can be modified only by a subsequent norm of international law having the same character.”2 Interrogating whether jus cogens privileged the experiences of males over that of females, they challenged jus cogens’ presumed universality and its intended utility. Accepted peremptory norms, they averred, exerted a silencing, deleterious impact on core feminine values such as sexual equality or freedom from gender discrimination.3 Decades after the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties’ (VCLT) codification of jus cogens, the International Law Commission (ILC) reified a non-exhaustive list of peremptory norms that explicitly excluded gender-based discrimination.4 This essay proposes a “jus cogens redux” to revive Chinkin and Charlesworth's question by peering at several threads in the thwarted conversations about whether freedom from gender discrimination rises to peremptory norm status. The conversational threads lay tattered by positive law's reliance on enumerated treaty provisions and accepted precepts of customary international law. They are frayed by normative law's philosophical, moralists’ approach. Neither the positivist law nor the normative law's concepts of how to determine jus cogens values grapples with gender or gender minorities. By default, each retains a masculine approach that configures the gender of jus cogens as “non-female.”

Around the world, domestic courts focused on commercial disputes hire foreign judges. The practice seems to resemble arbitration, but is also rooted in colonialism. These traveling judges are predominantly retired English judges hired by small, market-dominant jurisdictions, like Hong Kong or Dubai. The judges' identities reveal efforts to harness business preferences for English common law into domestic court systems. While judges aspire to spread the rule of law, local politics may dictate these courts' futures. This Article maps the practice of traveling judges and explores its implications.

The United States’ April 6, 2017 missile strikes against Syria raise three fundamental questions about how we should assess military interventions taken for humanitarian ends but without Security Council authorization: First, is unilateral humanitarian intervention per se illegal under international and domestic law—what I call the “never/never rule”? Second, were the Trump Administration's April 6, 2017 strikes per se illegal under international and domestic law? And third, going forward, can we live with the status quo, where in state practice, unilateral humanitarian intervention seems to occur regularly, without being formally justified in law?

De jure naturae et gentium, “The law of nature and of nations,” is the title of Samuel Pufendorf's eight-volume masterpiece of philosophical jurisprudence, first published in 1672. It provides the tag by which an entire discourse is known, one that dominated legal philosophy at European universities for over two hundred years. Pufendorf's Protestant articulation of its principles was pivotal both for transmitting it to the Eighteenth Century and for giving it a history, which in his eyes began with his fellow-Protestant Hugo Grotius. In fact, however, its roots stretch back to the early Sixteenth Century, to the lawyers whom Philip Melanchthon gathered around him at Wittenberg and (more importantly for the future structure of the discourse) to the Catholic scholastic theologians who were originally based at Salamanca in Spain but subsequently spread out over the whole of Counter-Reformation Europe. In the confessional conflict that would burn throughout the Sixteenth and Seventeenth centuries, theologians on all sides used law to define the space of the political, and used the idea of natural law to underpin that space, even while shaping it differently according to their divergent narratives of sin and redemption. While the ius naturae et gentium was an academic genre, therefore, its content was not. It was a theory and a legitimation of the state, and the arc of its reasoning from nature to the nations ran through the institution of political power. The state and its power are constructed not so much upon right (ius) per se but on the potential for the violation of right (iniuria), and the demand for such violation to be vindicated, by law or ultimately by war. At its very barest—although this is to traduce the richness and complexity of the discourse—the ius naturae et gentium is thus a theory of legitimate violence. When it comes to animals, what we find is that they are systematically excluded from the potential to suffer violation of right and therefore from political space and political justice. As we shall see, however, this did not always mean that they were totally excluded from any kind of right or that every act of violence against them was always legitimate.

It is a long-standing principle of international law that every breach of an international obligation that results in harm gives rise to a duty to make adequate reparation. Reparations can take different forms, from the ideal of full restitution to the provision of satisfaction, and the payment of compensation. Notwithstanding reparation's main aim––to ameliorate, if not eradicate, the detrimental consequences of an internationally wrongful act–– it also serves other purposes, such as reinforcing the authority of the norm breached, acknowledging the injury, and recognizing the bearer of harm (the victim). This essay adopts a queer approach to examine the role played by reparation–– in particular, compensation––in determining what (and whose) suffering matters to international law. With a focus on internationally wrongful acts that result in deprivation of life, this piece discusses who is seen as worthy of redress when a violation of the right to life has taken place, as this, in turn, speaks volumes about who is seen as legally entitled to suffer, to mourn and, ultimately, to love. This essay argues that reparation orders from international human rights courts offer a valuable opportunity for re-evaluating––and perhaps even overcoming––heteronormative understandings of kinship.

This short essay focuses on the involvement of Muslim-majority state leadership in the pre-World War II development of international humanitarian law (IHL), including their appeals to Islamic norms. This historical snapshot reveals how national leaders joined debates during conferences leading up to the revised 1949 Geneva Conventions, the heart of modern IHL. Such accounts complicate our assumptions about the cultural and national composition of public international law as “Western,” and shed light on global hierarchies involving modern Arab and Muslim states and their investment in such norms. The essay argues by example that, ultimately, in Third World Approaches to International Law (TWAIL) more emphasis is needed on history, traditions of governance, and states’ distinctive responses to macrostructural pressures—rather than on static notions of identity, resistant narratives, and presumed shared ideologies. TWAIL seeks alternatives to international law’s presumed oppressive role in Western-non-Western power dynamics, and new ideas and opportunities for a “third-world” legal scholarship beyond current global underdevelopment dynamics.

When the World Trade Organization (WTO) was established in 1995, it was seen as representative of a new era in international law, which claimed to be more functional and cooperative than the Cold War years. Fast forward to 2022, most commentators proclaim that the WTO is in “crisis.” For over two decades, its membership has struggled to reach decisions and, in 2019, the WTO was “dejudicialized” by the United States blocking consensus on appointments to the Appellate Body. In seeking to understand what went wrong, some commentators have focused on the operation of the WTO's consensus procedure and, in particular, the way it can afford states a veto power. In this essay, I take a different approach by considering how the discursive effects of consensus decision making have played into some of the problems facing the WTO today. Inspired by Gibson-Graham's work on “queering the economy,” I do so by unmooring queer theory from its base of gender and sexuality and applying queer insights to a discourse analysis of statements made in relation to the Uruguay Round of multilateral trade negotiations, which lasted from 1986 until 1993 and culminated in the agreement to establish the WTO. I show how the use of consensus decision making served to cultivate an intolerance of economic difference by giving rise to discourses of worldwide sameness and agreement. Finally, I consider what a queerer approach to trade-related decision making might look like.

In Sovereignty in Cyberspace: Lex Lata Vel Non?, Michael Schmitt and Liis Vihul argue that territorial sovereignty is a primary rule of international law that limits cyber activities. They recognize, however, that not all cyber effects constitute violations of territorial sovereignty, and like Rule 4 in the Tallinn Manual 2.0 and its commentary, they acknowledge a distinct lack of consensus among the Tallinn participants on the critical question of applicable thresholds. Problematically, they do not identify the necessary state practice and opinio juris that would be required to establish either the primary rule that they proffer or the existence and contours of the exception they would recognize.

After four years of not simply inaction but significant retrogression in U.S. climate change policy, the Biden administration has its work cut out. As a start, it needs to undo what Trump did. The Biden administration took a step in that direction on Day 1 by rejoining the Paris Agreement. But simply restoring the pre-Trump status quo ante is not enough. The United States also needs to push for more ambitious global action. In part, this will require strengthening parties’ nationally determined contributions (NDCs) under the Paris Agreement; but it will also require actions by what Sue Biniaz, the former State Department climate change lawyer, likes to call the Greater Metropolitan Paris Agreement—that is, the array of other international actors that help advance the Paris Agreement's goals, including global institutions such as the International Maritime Organization (IMO), the Montreal Protocol, and the World Bank, as well as regional organizations and non-state actors. Although the Biden administration can pursue some of these international initiatives directly through executive action, new regulatory initiatives will face an uncertain fate in the Supreme Court. So how much the Biden Administration is able to achieve will likely depend significantly on how much a nearly evenly-divided Congress is willing to support.

On February 17, 1992, police found the body of Ruth Dickie in her apartment in Arlington County, Virginia. She had been stabbed to death and her assailant had attempted to rape her. Six months later, Angel Francisco Breard was apprehended in the course of an attempted rape in Washington, D.C., and also became a suspect in Dickie’s murder, for which he was subsequendy indicted. As summarized in the appellate review of Breard’s conviction by the Supreme Court of Virginia,