The term “judicial assistance,” as used in international law, involves some still unanswered questions. Should it be used to embrace all the elements germane to the expedition of the business of courts of law, including not only procedural matters, but the execution of judgments and extradition; or relate exclusively to judicial assistance in civil proceedings? To avoid creating confusion by the use of a term suggestive of several meanings, in the following examination of the Soviet practice in this regard, the expression “cooperation in legal matters” is resorted to as an all-inclusive term.

Since 1945 the number of nations possessing nuclear weapons has increased five times and stockpiles of nuclear weapons have increased thousands of times. The enormity of the build-up of capabilities for nuclear destruction has largely overshadowed the remarkable progress that has been made since 1945 in developing the peaceful applications of nuclear science. The take-off point for the economic use of nuclear fuels for generating electricity appears to have now been reached.

In this short response, we offer some additional context to the appointment of government officials as World Trade Organization (WTO) panelists, some information on the role of the Secretariat and areas of cross-fertilization.

The Involvement of Panel Members Working for Government

Pauwelyn emphasizes that a significant proportion of WTO panel members have a substantial government background. His numbers indicate that for the period 1995-2014, 88 percent of WTO panelists had worked a minimum of “three years in government as diplomats, negotiators, bureaucrats, ministers and so on.” However, if we look at whether the panelists are employed by governments, either as diplomats or trade specialists, at the time of their appointment as WTO panelists, the figure changes dramatically: only about 50 percent of WTO panelists are employed in government at the time of their nomination. In accordance with Article 8.9 of the Dispute Settlement Understanding (DSU), the procedural rules applicable to WTO dispute settlement proceedings, panelists serve in their individual capacities and not as government representatives.

Erika de Wet argues that state practice reveals that democratic legitimacy has not established itself alongside effective control for the purpose of recognition of governments in customary international law. My response is that we do not need to look to custom, difficult as it is to identify, when we have legally binding obligations such as those set forth in both the OAS Charter and the Inter-American Democratic Charter (IADC), not to mention the comparable European and African instruments. The new gold standard for recognition, I submit, is democratic legitimacy and respect for human rights, which has replaced “effective control.”

Could Turkey dam the Tigris and Euphrates and deprive its downstream neighbors of vital water resources? Could Brazil over-pump the Guarani Aquifer System to the detriment of the other aquifer states? Could Egypt put pressure on upstream Nile states and prevent them from developing river related infrastructure that might limit downstream flow? International law in the field of transboundary water cooperation has evolved and would appear to condemn unilateral practices such as the ones suggested above. However, hydro politics and the lack of reception of international water law instruments by many countries sometimes make it difficult to see international law properly reflected in the management of major rivers, lakes and aquifers around the world. In this essay, I first highlight what international law dictates when it comes to the tension between national sovereignty and transboundary water cooperation. I then explore how this tension plays out in the three examples noted above. Due to limited acceptance of the existing international, bilateral, or regional legal instruments, the resolution of the tension between national sovereignty and transboundary water cooperation will often be left to customary international law.

More than thirteen decades after Chile annexed Bolivia's coastal regions, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) denied Bolivia's longstanding claim that Chile had undertaken a legal obligation to negotiate granting it sovereign access to the Pacific Ocean.

A regime’s pitiless slaughter of civilians, particularly in an urbanized middle-class country close to Europe, drives segments of the public on both sides of the left-right divide to demand that something be done to quell the killing. When, as in the case of Syria, the regime cannot be shamed, has financial and materiel reserves and backup funding and troops from powerful allies, and has no higher ideal than self-preservation—when, in other words, it is immune to diplomatic and economic pressure—demands for responsive action quickly translate into demands for the use of force, whether direct or by proxy. and because in these enlightened times the projection of force across national borders is widely felt to be legally problematic, determining an appropriate reaction to the slaughter becomes a task for lawyers, no less than strategists.

While Palestine considers itself a state, the United States does not currently recognize it as such. The relationship between the two has continued to deteriorate following the December 2017 announcement that the United States would recognize Jerusalem as Israel's capital and move its embassy there. Alleging that the embassy relocation violates international law, Palestine brought a case against the United States in the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in September of 2018. The United States reacted by announcing its withdrawal from the Optional Protocol to the Vienna Convention on Diplomatic Relations Concerning the Compulsory Settlement of Disputes (Optional Protocol). Also in the fall of 2018, the Trump administration closed the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) office in Washington, curtailed its own Palestinian-focused mission in Jerusalem, and sharply cut U.S. funding focused on Palestinian interests.

The seventieth anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) comes at a time of more contestation than usual over the future of human rights. A sense of urgency animates debates over whether the institutions and ideas of human rights can, or should, survive current geopolitical changes. This symposium, by contrast, shifts the lens to a more slow-moving but equally profound challenge to human rights law: how technology and its impacts on our social and physical environments are reshaping the debate on what it means to be human. Can the UDHR be recast for a time in which new technologies are continually altering how humans interact, and the legal status of robots, rivers, and apes alike are at times argued in the language of rights?

On July 11, 2017, U.S. Secretary of State Rex Tillerson signed a memorandum of understanding (MOU) between the United States and Qatar, thereby establishing a joint plan to investigate and eliminate the financing of terrorism. The agreement was signed against a backdrop of conflict between Qatar and a number of its regional neighbors, particularly Saudi Arabia. While it appears that negotiations between Qatar and the United States predated the formal standoff between Qatar and its neighbors, Qatar has invoked the MOU to defend itself against Saudi accusations of terror financing.

In this essay, I analyze how feminist work on security is read and understood, where it is located, and the relationship between feminist scholarship and conceptions of security pluralism. I pick up J. Benton Heath's argument that “pluralist security” is a good tool to address widened security agendas and to decolonize international law.1 I also develop Heath's account of “widened security”—which he associates with feminist security studies and with the women, peace, and security agenda—to argue that making feminist sense of widened security requires distinguishing between which feminist knowledge is incorporated into international law and the larger corpus of feminist work.2 I use feminist analysis as a tool for examining, and responding to, the structural inequalities within law, starting with gender, but expanding to intersectional3 and postcolonial feminist insight.4 This approach facilitates the deployment of gender as co-constituted through adjunct vectors of inequality, including, but not limited to, race, sexuality, ableism, or class, as well as the legacies of empire.5

In an era in which multilateral trade arrangements have garnered more public notoriety than ever before, the suboptimal trade and investment relationship between America and Africa, as underpinned by the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA), is one of the less controversial ones. AGOA could nevertheless use some adjustments or augmentations to facilitate deeper U.S.-Africa commercial relations. For instance, adjusting AGOA's origin rules could nudge the private sector on both sides of the Atlantic towards gains for U.S. and African employment and the reduction of trade deficits. Africa must leverage the period before AGOA expires to redefine its trade relationship with the United States in innovative ways. The United States should welcome these measures, since the type of value that Africa would add to the global supply chain would not replace the high-quality jobs that the Trump Administration would like to see in the United States. In fact, this type of production would make U.S. manufacturing more competitive.