This article tracks the activism of the mining justice social movement since the late 1990s. As a starting point, this movement is conceptualized as a transnational political project that seeks to transform the terms of corporate resource extraction pursuant to the political and legal arrangements of neo-liberal economic globalization. In this context, the author reflects on the movement’s most significant human rights-oriented law reform projects in the Americas: Indigenous peoples’ right-to-consultation legislation in several Latin American countries and a series of non-judicial grievance mechanisms in Canada in response to the right to remedy norm in international law. Drawing on existing research, the author concludes that in both cases the state has responded with law and policy reforms that fall far short of achieving advocates’ objectives. The author argues that these shortcomings are due in part to the persistence of three liberal/neo-liberal ideologies in the reforms in question: formalism, voluntarism, and privatism. To better understand and explain these findings, the author turns to three critical theories of human rights legal activism: pragmatism, left critique/critical legal liberalism, and counter-hegemony. Examining the work of a range of scholars writing under the banner of each theory, the author identifies key debates and insights that may be instructive as the mining justice movement, and related social and environmental justice movements, continue to aspire towards a law reform agenda capable of addressing pressing global environmental and social justice issues.

Warships are designed for fighting in war. In peacetime, the primary task of warships and of their crews is to prepare for war. At the same time, because they are a visible embodiment of force, they may, at the pleasure of the executive, be employed on other tasks where the display of force is useful, such as the protection of sovereignty or the enforcement of laws both domestic and international. Some countries — the United States is an example — as a matter of principle, do not use warships to assist in the enforcement of national laws. Others, such as the United Kingdom and Canada, do use warships for such tasks. As a matter of practice, however, Canadian warships are rarely used for law enforcement against Canadian vessels.

How complete is the United Nations Treaty Series (UNTS)? What does an answer to this question mean for our understanding of the law of treaties? If the UNTS is not complete, which treaties are missing? If there are gaps, do they show any patterns? Are some signatories, treaty topics or time periods more gap-prone than others? If we take Canada as a test case, for example, do all post-1945 treaties of Canada actually show up in the UNTS? If there is a gap, can we identify it? If identified, can the gap be explained? How does Canada compare with other countries in UNTS fidelity? Finally, and most importantly, what does the Canadian test case mean for the UNTS as a whole and for the law of treaties?

These questions have come up repeatedly in connection with the UNTS Project at the University of Washington since 1963. There is no comprehensive answer for all of them, but many new details have been found and some patterns have emerged.

Voilà Près D’un Siècle qu‘est apparu dans les Etats fédéraux le problème de l’attribution du pouvoir de conclure des traités. Considéré par maints publicistes comme l’un des attributs essentiels de la souveraineté de l’Etat, le jus tractatuum doit-il ressortir uniquement aux organes centraux de la fédération ou peut-il appartenir également aux Etats-membres? Après avoir éludé cette question pendant trente ans, le Canada doit désormais, à son tour, tenter d’y apporter une réponse.

A l'époque où furent établies les premières fédérations modernes, les Etats-Unis et la Suisse, les traités portaient sur des objets qui intéressaient principalement les gouvernements centraux, tels que les alliances, le commerce et le tarif; en outre, les traités multilatéraux étaient peu fréquents et les “traités-lois” rarissimes. Néanmoins, la Constitution américaine de 1787, après avoir prescrit que les traités relevaient des organes fédéraux et interdit aux Etats de l'Union de “conclure aucun traité, alliance ou confédération,” ne leur défendit point de conclure des “accords ou pactes” avec les Puissances étrangères, à condition qu’ils aient obtenu l’autorisation du Congrès. De même, les cantons suisses conservèrent exceptionnellement, dans la Constitution de 1848, le droit de conclure des “traités” avec les Etats étrangers sur des objets concernant l’économie publique ainsi que les rapports de voisinage et de police, pourvu que ces accords ne contiennent rien de contraire à la Confédération. Nous aurons l’occasion d’étudier la portée de ces textes de loi par la suite; il suffit, pour l’instant, de noter que les constituants de ces premiers Etats fédéraux reconnurent la possibilité pour les Etats-membres d’établir des rapports conventionnels avec l’étranger dans certains domaines, toutes précautions étant prises, par ailleurs, pour que les accords ainsi conclus soient compatibles avec l’existence des liens fédératifs.

This article considers the way in which territorial modifications andbreakups in federal states are dealt with in domestic and ininternational law. It investigates whether federal states permitseparatist claims of their minorities for “internal modifications”on the basis of constitutional Law, such as the formation of newmember units or the merger of existing member units, and whetherdomestic law knows of any secessionist claims for “externalmodifications,” such as the formation of new sovereign states or themerger or association with existing states. The extensive practicesurveyed by the author allows for a new outlook on the well-knownproblem of “self-determination.”

In His De Jure Belli ac Paris, Grotius, quoting Cicero, stated that “there is no Middle between War and Peace,” and this sentiment seems to have received general agreement well into the twentieth century. Thus, in Janson v. Driefontein Consolidated Mines, Lord Macnaghten stated: “I think the learned counsel for the respondent was right in saying that the law recognises a state of peace and a state of war, but that it knows nothing of an intermediate state which is neither one thing nor the other — neither peace nor war.” One might have thought that the English courts would have abandoned this view in the light of their own experience during the Manchukuo incident, for by 1939 in Kawasaki Kisen Kabushiki Kaisha of Kobe v. Bantham S.S. Co. the Court of Appeal was prepared to concede that “war” might exist for some commercial purposes but not in so far as other legal relationships were concerned.

This article is set against the backdrop of the inability of Canadian courts to hear civil cases brought by victims of the operations of Canadian mining corporations in developing countries where accountability mechanisms are weak. The article examines the legal framework for extraterritorial criminal prosecution in Canada with a view to seeing how corporate criminal prosecution could fill the accountability gap and contribute to the promotion of the accountability of Canadian mining corporations involved in human and environmental rights abuses in developing countries. The article argues that extraterritorial criminal prosecution holds prospects for success in Canada, if only the Canadian government is willing to utilize it. The real and substantial link test, the Crimes against Humanity and War Crimes Act, and several sections of the Criminal Code provide sufficient jurisdictional bases for such prosecution. The amendments to the doctrine of corporate criminal liability that were made in Canada in 2003 bolster the criminal jurisdictional strength of Canadian courts. Lastly, there are no compelling international comity concerns to discourage the Canadian government from utilizing the criminal justice process to contribute to the global fight against corporate impunity in human and environmental rights abuses. This article seeks to contribute to the knowledge of the powers at the disposal of the Canadian government to do so.

In the last decade, the human rights accountability movement has made remarkable inroads into the classical law of immunities. The developments strike a new equilibrium between the need to promote accountability and the need to protect international discourse. These developments form a coherent picture if one looks to the underlying rationales of these areas of law. Immunities ratione materiae, enjoyed by current and former officials, protect official functions on behalf of a state. The landmark Pinochet decision affirmed that official functions could not include the commission of international crimes condemned by international law. Conversely, immunity ratione personae flows from a different rationale. This form of immunity protects only certain high officials representing their state and only during office and facilitates official visits by precluding arrest on any grounds. The International Court of Justice Yerodia decision and other developments confirm that this immunity remains absolute, irrespective of the conduct alleged. However, even this absolute immunity may be relinquished through Security Council enforcement action or acceptance of the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court.

The Canadian approach to international environmental law can be stated simply and briefly. First, this law is inadequate both in scope and substance; it is incomplete, inconsistent, fragmentary, and largely inchoate. Second, it must be developed on the basis of the principle that states have a duty to preserve the environment and must accept responsibility for any damage they cause to the environment of another state or to the environment beyond any state’s jurisdiction. Third, both substantive and adjectival law must be developed to enable effective application of this principle, either through existing institutions or through new ones established for the purpose of resolving environmental disputes.

The absence of uniform international rules concerning offences and certain other acts committed on board aircraft gives rise to serious problems. If, for example, a passenger commits a criminal act on board an aircraft flying over the high seas, it is possible that no state may have jurisdiction over the act. Again, if a crime is committed on board an aircraft flying internationally at great speed and at very high altitude through the airspace of several states in a short period of time, some or all of the states traversed during the commission of the crime might seek to take jurisdiction over the suspected offender with resultant conflicts. At the same time, there are many acts which, whether or not they are an offence, prejudice the safety of the aircraft as well as good order and discipline on board; and yet, in many instances, if the aircraft commander seeks to restrain the authors of such acts, he may expose himself to legal proceedings.

So much has been written about the Labour Conventions case that one hesitates to add to the flow of ink. But the bulk of these writings simply reflects the diametrically opposed views about the correctness of the decision on both technical and practical grounds. Most commentators from English Canada have bewailed the decision in this case that power to implement treaties in Canada is divided between the federal parliament and provincial legislatures according to the usual division of legislative power. On the other hand, French Canadians overwhelmingly support the decision. Recent literature has concentrated on techniques that can be employed to secure federal-provincial co-operation in effecting international action. Still, little notice has been taken of gradually evolving doctrine in the Supreme Court of Canada that should facilitate the exercise of Canada’s sovereign status in the international sphere, whatever the ultimate fate of the Labour Conventions case. The purpose of this article is to examine the nature of this evolution and to suggest possible paths for future developments.

With the Timor-Leste v Australia spying scandal before the International Court of Justice, cyber espionage operations like GhostNet and the wiretapping of German chancellor Angela Merkel, legal questions on the legality of peacetime espionage arise. Peacetime espionage, however, is almost completely unregulated by international law and has no agreed upon legal definition. Scholarly work on this matter is scarce. Against this background, there is critical need for an in-depth public international law assessment of peacetime espionage. This article analyzes this very issue and examines the legality of peacetime espionage in light of classical notions of public international law.