While Coca-Cola portrays itself as a ‘water neutrality’ leader, its failures during Cape Town’s water crisis exemplify the changing nature of corporate human rights obligations in the face of climate change. Between 2015 and 2018, drought conditions plunged Cape Town into a crisis, leading to increasingly strict household water restrictions and depriving families of their constitutionally guaranteed water allowance.1 However, in December 2017, when Cape Town officials called for a 45% reduction in commercial water use, Coca-Cola’s local independent bottler – Coca-Cola Peninsula Beverages (CCPB) – refused to reduce its 44 million-litre monthly withdrawals.2 The city subjected households to water restrictions and price increases up to 556%, while businesses only saw a 104% price increase with no consumption restrictions.3

Inspired by the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), the international development community is driving digital ID programmes in low and middle income countries (LMICs) such as Kenya. Kenya has had experience with state-issued identity registration such as that proposed in digital ID programmes for over a century. Identity registration has gendered impacts, stemming from the historical exclusion of women in the system, lack of recognition of their contribution to new uses of the system, as well as lack of engagement with women regarding remedies. Digital ID risks continuing and exacerbating these injustices, as it is based on the existing system. This article uses the ‘protect, respect, remedy’ framework of the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights to analyse how decolonial approaches could be applied in digital ID to untangle it from colonial legacies, check the ever-increasing power of businesses involved in digital ID systems, and broaden intersectional understanding of human rights.

This article intends to explore how the production of collective memory within transitional justice processes could be considered as a feasible avenue to advance the instrumentalization of the Access to Remedy Pillar of the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs). This account considers that collective memory is a fundamental component of transitional justice as the attainment of both victims reparation and national reconciliation require the emergence of a shared historical narrative that fixes an explanation as to the implications of violence on the trajectory of the affected society. Hence the current Colombian transitional justice project, and particularly certain social dialogue activities conducted by its Truth Commission (hereafter the Commission), are presented as an embryonic and non-exhaustive case study that serves as the starting point of further research on the matter.

Victims of transnational human rights violations caused by multinational corporations (MNCs) are often confronted with substantial impediments to effective remedies. While justice is de facto unattainable in host state courts, due to weak government or the absence of judicial independence, barriers that prevent victims from litigating in home states are no less insurmountable. Transnational litigation in home states has faced jurisdictional challenges. Defendant corporations have argued that home state courts are not the most appropriate forum to hear a case involving foreign torts.1

The business and human rights field and the international LGBTI human rights agenda have evolved almost entirely separately. The United Nations ‘Standards of Conduct for Business on Tackling Discrimination against LGBTI People’ (2017) is the primary effort to bridge this gap. Although drafted in a way that strongly aligns with the second pillar of the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights on corporate responsibility, the dissemination of the Standards has mainly been untethered from the human rights framework and system. This article identifies the need to reassert the human rights foundations of the Standards and leverage their existing momentum to set out a more robust research and policy agenda for meaningfully accounting for sexual orientation, gender identity and expression, and sex characteristics in business and human rights frameworks. To that end, the article sets out priority areas for greater attention from researchers, decision-makers and advocates.

Since 2017, the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) has incorporated human rights risk assessments into its bidding requirements for major events, beginning with the competition to host the 2026 FIFA Men’s World Cup.1 This process began at a time of increased scrutiny on the impact of major events and greater focus on the applicability of the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs) to sport. In 2014, the Centre for Sport and Human Rights’ founding Chair Mary Robinson, together with John Ruggie (author of the UNGPs), wrote to FIFA in their respective capacities as Patron and Chair of the Institute for Human Rights and Business (IHRB) to stress the need for ‘sustained due diligence […] with respect to decisions about host nations and how major sporting events are planned and implemented’.2 Following recommendations set forth in the letter, expanded upon in Ruggie’s 2016 report ‘For the Game, For the World’, FIFA introduced robust bidding requirements that any country or region wishing to bid to host a World Cup will have to conduct a human rights risk assessment and outline how they intend to mitigate each of the risks identified.3 These requirements are designed to align the World Cup bidding process with the UNGPs.

On 5 November 2015, the Fundão Dam collapsed, causing the most devastating tailings dam disaster to date. The dam was operated by Samarco S.A., a joint venture by Vale, Brazil’s biggest mining company, and BHP Billiton, the world’s largest mining company.1 Its tailings travelled down the Doce River for ca 700 kilometres until they reached the ocean, affecting 42 municipalities, two states, and thousands of communities along the way. The disaster caused myriad social, environmental and economic impacts: nineteen individuals were killed, and thousands endured physical or psychological harm; water resources and the soil were polluted; habitats were irreversibly destroyed; and the local economy suffered long-lasting damage. Traditional and indigenous communities were especially harmed, as their historical, social, religious and cultural relationships with their land led to even more profound harms.2

The third pillar of the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs) is often considered the ‘forgotten pillar’,1 especially when compared with the first pillar, where some of the ‘governance gaps’ the State must address in order to comply with its duty to protect under international human rights law are developed with some level of detail. The same happens in relation to the second pillar, which proposes a practical approach for the proactive involvement of companies in the identification and management of the risks their activities and business relationships may produce on human rights.2 However, the third pillar is not necessarily ‘forgotten’, as it is based on one of the core rights of the international human rights regime. In this regard, not only are the various elements and procedures for access to justice developed within each country’s domestic law and within the international legal system, but they have also been subject to detailed studies by the international and regional human rights community.3 However, it is the least proactive pillar of the UN framework on business and human rights, and the one that faces the greatest challenges in terms of making a specific, substantive contribution in light of the vast existence of civil, criminal, administrative and constitutional proceedings in domestic jurisdictions.

Today’s children and youth1 are constantly exposed to a media deluge, fuelled by a globalized and ever-expanding media and information technology sector. The marketing and advertising industry has used this expansion in media platforms to more effectively target young consumers. Worldwide, 71 per cent of youth (aged 15–24 years) is online – the most connected age group – compared with 48 per cent of the total population, with regional variations.2 It is estimated that the amount spent globally on advertising targeting children in 2019 was US$4.3 billion – now one of the fastest-growing online audiences.3

In response to a forced labour review by the International Labour Organization (ILO) that threatened to turn into a formal international inquiry,1 the government of Qatar commenced an ambitious programme of labour reforms aimed largely at addressing concerns about its treatment of migrant workers. About 2.4 million men and women,2 an estimated 88.4 per cent of the small Gulf nation’s population,3 are migrant workers. It has the second largest known gas reserves in the world, and its airbases are home to the largest United States military installation in the Middle East.4 Yet, the small Gulf emirate garnered little international scrutiny until it was awarded in 2010 the right to host the Fédération Internationale de Football Association (FIFA) men’s Football World Cup tournament in 2022.

Cross-border surrogacy is a global industry that offers intended parents options for family formation by providing foreign surrogate mothers remuneration, directly or via an intermediary, in excess of their actual out-of-pocket expenses. It is a multi-million-dollar business with no international regulation.1 In most countries, limited domestic regulation or oversight is in place. Many countries − such as Australia, the United Kingdom, New Zealand, Canada, Hong Kong and South Africa − only permit altruistic surrogacy, while Germany and France ban surrogacy entirely.2 Fully legalized commercial surrogacy is the model followed in some states in the United States of America (USA), as well as Georgia and Ukraine.3 This unregulated cross-border market has produced a lucrative business, with surrogacy arrangements growing by nearly 1,000 per cent between 2006 and 2010.4 The for-profit surrogacy sector has expanded and fertility not-for-profit organizations have also entered the market.5

Following the Russian annexation of Crimea in 2014, many investors responded by unloading their Russian sovereign debt holdings. However, data from Bloomberg show that at the time of the 24 February Russian invasion of Ukraine, ESG funds – investment funds pursuing environmental, social and governance goals – still held at least $8.3 billion in Russian assets;1 and while more than a thousand companies have curtailed their Russian operations and over 500 are holding off on new investments in the wake of Russia’s invasion,2 investors have been accused of being ‘missing in action’.3

The Kenyan flower industry is one of the largest in the world and it is estimated to contribute around one per cent to Kenya’s gross domestic product (GDP).1 According to the Kenya Flower Council (KFC), Kenya exports about 70 per cent of its cut flowers for sale on the European market.2 Women constitute around 65 to 75 per cent of the workforce in the Kenyan flower industry, performing unskilled and poorly paid jobs.3 Female floriculture workers in Kenya experience high rates of sexual harassment (SH) and other forms of workplace violence.4 SH is deeply rooted in power imbalances between the parties involved, which can impact on the ability of the victim to resist or expressly indicate that the conduct is unwelcome. Such power imbalance can threaten victims into silence, resulting in incidences going unreported.5 According to a study on gender, rights and participation in the cut flower industry in Kenya, SH is particularly prevalent among women who are supervised by male managers.6 It was found that the persistence of SH is related to the hierarchical employment structure of floriculture companies, coupled with the lack of female managerial staff, both of which also prevented women from reporting incidences of SH.

Across the United States (US), farmworkers and their allies are mobilizing to encourage companies to join a Worker-driven Social Responsibility (WSR) program. On May Day, hundreds marched in support of Migrant Justice’s campaign to convince the Hannaford supermarket chain to join the Milk With Dignity program, a WSR program focused on working conditions in the dairy industry.1 At the most recent annual shareholder meeting of Wendy’s, a US-based fast food franchise, several members of the board of directors faced opposition to renewal of their positions in response to what some shareholders perceived as Wendy’s inadequate disclosure on its efforts to protect workers in its supply chain.2 The opposition forms part of a years-long campaign by the Coalition of Immokalee Workers and its allies to convince Wendy’s to join the Fair Food Program, the inaugural WSR program.3

Human rights due diligence (HRDD) has become the buzzword of much of the advocacy and work today around business and human rights.1 It is almost commonplace that companies have the responsibility to identify, prevent, mitigate and account for how they address these adverse human rights impacts as part of their ongoing HRDD processes, in line with the UNGPs.2 The assessment of human rights impacts (HRIA) is a critical step in this process.3

This piece uses the Doce River case (2015) to illustrate the gendered impacts of the failure of corporate human rights due diligence. We also ask the question: would the Gender Dimensions of the Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights1 (Gender Guidance) have made a difference to the way women were treated in preventive measures taken and in the application of redress mechanisms? Taking this specific case, we seek to illustrate the importance of integrating gender into international business and human rights (BHR) frameworks if women’s rights are to be protected and respected in the context of business activities.

It is well documented that the private military and security industry has the capacity to do great gendered harms to both those it encounters and those it employs.1 Significantly, it is also a sector where a variety of human rights-based approaches, instruments and mechanisms have emerged beyond the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs).2 The International Code of Conduct for Private Security Providers (ICoC) addresses gender, and sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV), and explicitly requires private military and security companies (PMSCs) to integrate a gender perspective in their practices.3 Through an examination of publicly available documents and policies required for PMSCs certified as complying with the ICoC, this piece evaluates whether PMSCs do in fact integrate a gender perspective into their human rights policies and grievance procedures (see Table 1).4 Our study of certified PMSCs demonstrates that despite increased attention to the potential for negative gender impacts in the sector, companies have not developed gender-responsive policies and procedures. It can be said, therefore, that gender is not addressed in any meaningful way by PMSCs. More specifically, we conclude that PMSCs have not yet shown the required holistic understanding of gendered impacts and barriers that is required to respect human rights, and that further efforts are needed in the sector.