In the Bangladesh crisis, two important objectives of international law appeared to be in conflict: that of peace and that of justice. The former objective is set out in the rules of the U.N. Charter against the use of force by states except in self-defense against an armed attack. The second is found in the provisions of the Charter and in various resolutions, declarations, and covenants pertaining to fundamental human rights and self determination.

For half a century, the Nuremberg and Tokyo trials and national prosecutions of World War II cases remained the major instances of criminal prosecution of offenders against fundamental norms of international humanitarian law. The heinous activities of the Pol Pot regime in Cambodia and the use of poison gas by Iraq against its Kurdish population are among the many atrocities left unpunished by either international or national courts. Some treaties were adopted that provide for national prosecution of offenses of international concern and, in many cases, for universal jurisdiction; but, with a few exceptions, these treaties were not observed. Notwithstanding the absence of significant prosecutions, an international consensus on the legitimacy of the Nuremberg Principles, the applicability of universal jurisdiction to international crimes, and the need to punish those responsible for egregious violations of international humanitarian law slowly solidified. The International Law Commission, veterans of the Nuremberg and Tokyo proceedings, individuals such as Rafael Lemkin (who advocated the adoption of the Genocide Convention) and a handful of academics (most notably M. Cherif Bassiouni), among others, helped keep alive the heritage of Nuremberg and the promise of future prosecutions of serious violators of international humanitarian law.

Twenty-five years ago, the Allied nations gathered at San Francisco in the warming glow of victory and signed a solemn treaty giving effect to their determination “to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war …” and “to ensure, by the acceptance of principles and the institution of methods, that armed force shall not be used, save in the common interest …” Specifically, they undertook in Article 2(4) to “refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state …” They also committed themselves to “settle their international disputes by peaceful means …”

The South China Sea has generally been a calm area of sea since ancient times. Until the late twentieth century, it had provided a fertile fishing ground for local fishermen from China and other littoral states, and a smooth route of navigation for the nations of the region and the rest of the international community. This tranquility has been disturbed, however, by two recent developments. The first was the physical occupation of the Nansha, or Spratly, Islands by some of the coastal states in the 1970s. This process continued through the rest of the century. Now, nearly all the islands and insular features within the Spratly Islands have been subjected to physical control by one littoral state or another.

To what extent are international legal rules formally applicable, and practically relevant, to a prolonged military occupation? The question has assumed prominence because of the exceptional duration of the occupation by Israel of various territories that came under its control in the war of June 5–10, 1967. The situation there has had two classic features of a military occupation: first, a formal system of external control by a force whose presence is not sanctioned by international agreement; and second, a conflict of nationality and interest between the inhabitants, on the one hand, and those exercising power over them, on the other. In highlighting these features, the Palestinian uprising, or intifada, which began in Gaza and the West Bank in December 1987, has added urgency to the question of the law applicable to prolonged occupations.

We live in a shrinking world where interdependence between countries and communities is increasing. These changes also affect—as they should—the concept of sovereignty. In past decades the predominant conception of sovereignty was akin to owning a large estate separated from other properties by rivers or deserts. By contrast, today’s reality is more analogous to owning a small apartment in one densely packed high-rise that is home to two hundred separate families. The sense of interdependency is heightened when we recognize the absence of any alternative to this shared home, of any exit from this global high-rise. The privilege of bygone days of opting out, of retreating into splendid isolation, of adopting mercantilist policies or erecting iron curtains is no longer realistically available.

The tension between the protection of human rights and the demands of state sovereignty is reflected in the debate on whether state officials should be held responsible in external fora for international crimes committed while in office. This debate involves the interplay between two branches of international law. Firstly, there is the well-established law according immunities to the state and its agents from the jurisdiction of other states (state and diplomatic immunities). This law proceeds from notions of sovereign equality and is aimed at ensuring that states do not unduly interfere with other states and their agents. On the other hand, there are those newer principles of international law that are based on humanitarian values and define certain types of conduct as crimes under international law (international criminal law). One of the challenges in this latter area has been to develop international and national mechanisms by which individuals who commit these crimes may be held responsible. Since states often fail to institute domestic prosecution of their own officials and agents alleged to have committed international crimes, renewed attention has been paid to the possibility of subjecting state agents to prosecution in foreign domestic courts or in international courts. For such prosecution in foreign domestic courts to take place, it will usually have to be shown (1) that those courts have jurisdiction over crimes committed abroad by foreigners against foreigners (i.e..universalorquasi-universal jurisdiction),and (2) that such jurisdiction extends to state agents (i.e., that international law immunities are unavailable). Recent years have seen a significant increase in attempts to institute prosecutions for alleged international crimes in the national courts of states other than that where the acts occurred. However, it has not proved easy to establish the two propositions identified above. Indeed, it has become apparent that the views that states possess universal jurisdiction over international crimes committed abroad and that incumbent and former state officials are subject to foreign domestic prosecution for such crimes are by no means universally held.

There has been an ongoing debate over recent years about the scope of a state’s right of selfdefense against an imminent or actual armed attack by nonstate actors. The debate predates the Al Qaeda attacks against the World Trade Center and elsewhere in the United States on September 11,2001, but those events sharpened its focus and gave it greater operational urgency. While an important strand of the debate has taken place in academic journals and public forums, there has been another strand, largely away from the public gaze, within governments and between them, about what the appropriate principles are, and ought to be, in respect of such conduct. Insofar as these discussions have informed the practice of states and their appreciations of legality, they carry particular weight, being material both to the crystallization and development of customary international law and to the interpretation of treaties.

The United States has had and will continue to have a compelling interest in the establishment of a permanent international criminal court (ICC). Such an international court, so long contemplated and so relevant in a world burdened widi mass murderers, can both deter and punish diose who might escape justice in national courts. Since 1995, the question for the Clinton administration has never been whether there should be an international criminal court, but rather what kind of court it should be in order to operate efficiently, effectively and appropriately within a global system that also requires our constant vigilance to protect international peace and security. At the same time, the United States has special responsibilities and special exposure to political controversy over our actions. This factor cannot be taken lightly when issues of international peace and security are at stake. We are called upon to act, sometimes at great risk, far more than any other nation. This is a reality in the international system.

The consensual structure of the international legal order, with its strong emphasis on the sovereign equality of states, has always been somewhat precarious. In different waves over the centuries, it has been attacked for its incongruence with the realities of inequality in international politics, for its tension with ideals of democracy and human rights, and for standing in the way of more effective problem solving in the international community. While surprisingly resilient in the face of such challenges, the consensual structure has seen renewed attacks in recent years. In the 1990s, those attacks were mainly “moral” in character. They were related to the liberal turn in international law, and some of them, under the banner of human rights, aimed at weakening principles of nonintervention and immunity. Others, starting from the idea of an emerging “international community,” questioned the prevailing contractual models of international law and emphasized the rise of norms and processes reflecting community values rather than individual state interests. Since the beginning of the new millennium, the focus has shifted, and attacks are more often framed in terms of effectiveness or global public goods. Classical international law is regarded as increasingly incapable of providing much-needed solutions for the challenges of a globalized world; as countries become ever more interdependent and vulnerable to global challenges, an order that safeguards states’ freedoms at the cost of common policies is often seen as anachronistic. According to this view, what is needed—and what we are likely to see—is a turn to nonconsensual lawmaking mechanisms, especially through powerful international institutions with majoritarian voting rules.

The Community Court of Justice of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS Court) is an increasingly active and bold adjudicator of human rights. Since acquiring jurisdiction over human rights complaints in 2005, the ECOWAS Court has issued numerous decisions condemning human rights violations by the member states of the Economic Community of West African States (Community). Among this Court’s path-breaking cases are judgments against Niger for condoning modern forms of slavery and against Nigeria for impeding the right to free basic education for all children. The ECOWAS Court also has broad access and standing rules that permit individuals and nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) to bypass national courts and file suits directly with the Court. Although the Court is generally careful in the proof that it requires of complainants and in the remedies that it demands of governments, it has not shied away from politically courageous decisions, such as rulings against the Gambia for the torture of journalists and against Nigeria for failing to regulate multinational companies that have degraded the environment of the oil-rich Niger Delta.

Together with the principle prohibiting weapons “of a nature to cause superfluous injury” or “calculated to cause unnecessary suffering,” the Martens clause, in the Preamble to the Hague Conventions on the Laws and Customs of War on Land, is an enduring legacy of those instruments. In the years since its formulation, the Martens clause has been relied upon in die Nurembergjurisprudence, addressed by the International Court of Justice and human rights bodies, and reiterated in many humanitarian law treaties that regulate the means and methods of warfare. It was restated in die 1949 Geneva Conventions for the Protection of Victims of War, the 1977 Additional Protocols to those Conventions, and the Preamble to the Convention on Prohibitions or Restrictions on the Use of Certain Conventional Weapons, albeit in slightly different versions. The Martens clause was paraphrased in Resolution XXIII of the Tehran Conference on Human Rights of 1968, and is cited or otherwise referred to in several national military manuals, including those of the United States, die United Kingdom, and Germany. Moreover, attempts have recently been made, including by parties before die International Court of Jusdce, to invoke the clause, in the absence of specific norms of customary and conventional law, to oudaw the use of nuclear weapons.

Few, if any, branches of international law have undergone such dramatic growth and evolution as international human rights in the one hundred years since the founding of the American Society of International Law. This branch of international law did not really come into its own until after World War II. Before then, what today we would broadly characterize as human rights law consisted of diffuse or unrelated legal principles and institutional arrangements that were in one way or another designed to protect certain categories or groups of human beings. Included in this mix prior to World War I were state responsibility for injuries to aliens, international humanitarian law (as we know it today), the protection of minorities, and humanitarian intervention.

In this essay I suggest a correlation between the integration level of an international institution and the public discourse about the lack of democracy and legitimacy in the institution’s structure and functioning. This discourse includes ideas for remedial action at both the national and international levels; it also becomes inevitably intertwined with other reform proposals that may call for an incremental or—particularly in the case of a more integrated organization—a radical restructuring. Having originated in the highly integrated European Community, the debate on the “democracy-legitimacy deficit” has reached other institutions, particularly the World Trade Organization (WTO) and the international financial bodies, and has become one component of the backlash rhetoric against “globalization.”

The object of this paper is to describe the negotiating process during the United Nations Diplomatic Conference of Plenipotentiaries on the Establishment of an International Criminal Court. It is told from the perspective of those that were ex officio at the center of negotiations, as members of the Bureau of the Committee of the Whole (CW).1 It describes the main issues under consideration at the conference and the evolution of the negotiations, including an inside view of the development of the final package containing the principal elements of the statute of the court.