First of all I want to express my deep gratitude for having been given the honour to speak to you today. A lawyer from Germany addressing the 50th birthday celebration of the Nederlandse Orde van Advocaten - that would have been inconceivable back in 1952 when the Dutch Bar was founded. This inconceivable idea has become reality thanks to the rule of law. After all, the rule of law has been the fundament on which the treaties establishing the European Union of today have been based. Incidentally, the first such treaty, the European Coal and Steel Community Treaty dates of the same year 1952. We all, and in particular we foreign lawyers, should pay tribute to Hugo de Groot (Hugo Grotius), this magnificent Dutch lawyer, who centuries ago has laid the theoretical bases therefor.

What do public debates on the appointment of constitutional judges tell us about the view of the law and judicial adjudication? Fernando Muñoz's article focuses on the debates regarding the appointments of Justice Sotomayor to the U.S. Supreme Court and Minister Bertelsen to the Constitutional Court in Chile. According to the author, these debates reflect the tension between two views of the law and judicial adjudication—autonomy and responsiveness—as to how judges should deal with extra-legal considerations in performing their functions. While the autonomy position tries to “defend the substantive values of the law by policing the distinction between the legal and the extra-legal,” the responsiveness position claims that “the law ought to extract its substance from social expectations, needs, and priorities, serving them as a means to an end.” In the author's view, Sotomayor's supporters and Bertelsen's opponents would uphold responsiveness and defend the need of the judiciary to respond to social expectations and needs, whereas Sotomayor's opponents and Bertelsen's supporters would uphold autonomy. The participants on these debates seek to gain hegemony regarding their views on what the law is and how constitutional adjudication should be conducted.

In his rich and thoughtful paper, Richard Bellamy sketches a theory of individual rights that ascribes to them an inherently democratic character that “is best captured by a republican view of liberty as non-domination, rather than the standard liberal account of liberty as non-interference.” According to this view, “rights involve an implicit appeal to democratic forms of reasoning.” That is, the only justifiable “foundation of rights must be some form of ongoing democratic decision making that allows rights to be claimed under conditions of political equality.” Bellamy uses this particular model of rights to defend a somewhat unique thesis concerning the legitimacy of judicial review under a constitutional charter or bill of rights (henceforth constitutional review). Many legal theorists question whether constitutional review can ever be rendered consistent with the theoretical and practical demands of democracy. According to these theorists, democracy embodies a form of self-rule whereby the members of a society establish and exercise legitimate authority over themselves. But self-rule seems seriously compromised once constitutional review enters the picture. Instead of having the people and their elected representatives setting the basic terms of social cooperation, we have instead a small group of elite, unelected, and unaccountable judges performing this vital task. Constitutional review empowers these individuals, in constitutional review cases, to substitute their own contestable views and preferences with respect to the basic terms of social cooperation for the duly considered views and preferences of the people and those whom they have duly elected to represent them. This is something one simply cannot tolerate in a democracy.

The privatization of Kosovo's socially owned property and enterprises differs significantly from privatization programs undertaken in other countries, especially in Eastern and South-Eastern Europe when they transitioned from communism to democracy and free market systems. What is unique about Kosovo's privatization program is that it was designed and implemented under the authority of the United Nations at a time when Kosovo was directly administered by the United Nations. It is perhaps so far the only privatization program that was initiated and implemented by the United Nations under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter. Various other international organizations, such as the European Union, played a significant role in this process as part of their responsibilities in the administration of Kosovo. An obvious question is what the United Nations would have to do with privatization in the context of territorial administration under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter and if the United Nation's authority to administer Kosovo would include the authority to privatize property, the legal nature of which was unclear even when it was developed in former Yugoslavia. The discussion of these and other legal questions and controversies which are related to the privatization process in Kosovo are the main subject of this article, with a focus on the role of the United Nations and the European Union in this process.

The author presents in this paper the new German foreign investment regime entered into force in the spring of 2009. He sets out the basic principles of the regime as well as its enforcement in practice. According to the new German foreign investment regime, the German Federal Ministry of Economics and Technology (BMWi) may examine and prohibit purchases of German companies by foreign investors if they pose a severe threat to public policy or security. Certain transactions, however, fall within the “safe harbour” or are otherwise exempted so that the BMWi has no right of interference. The author presents several exemptions from the scope of application of the regime, which can be either identified from the wording of the law by reverse argument or derived from the spirit and purpose of the new foreign investment regime. Furthermore, by presenting the concept of so called “critical infrastructures”, the paper gives valuable guidance to practitioners on what the German administration might consider relevant for public policy or security. The last part of the paper summarizes the filing and the review process. The parties may, in order to receive clearance for their transaction, notify their transactions to the BMWi and receive a certificate of non-objection. While, this notification is wholly voluntary, parties who do not apply for clearance bear the risk that their transactions are blocked or unwound if the BMWi decides to investigate the transaction within three months from signing ex officio.

After having invalidated the federal Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), the U.S. Supreme Court “dropped the other shoe” in Obergefell v. Hodges by declaring the exclusion of same-sex couples from marriage at the state level unconstitutional. Written by Justice Kennedy, the majority opinion heavily relied on the dignity-bestowing character of marriage to show why this exclusion is so harmful. But this strategy comes with a cost: it inflicts a stigma even as it conveys recognition—a drawback that an equality analysis can avoid. Respondents had argued that opening marriage dangerously disconnected marriage from procreation, both the historical reason for and the essence of marriage. In finding that they had failed to provide evidence for the harmful outcomes they described, the majority not only provided the rational basis test with a new kind of “bite.” It also asserted that tradition or religious beliefs were not enough to justify exclusion. Once secular purposes define marriage and rational reasons are required to regulate access, the road to marriage equality opens wide. As the line of cases leading up to Obergefell suggests, and developments in Germany, Austria, and other jurisdictions confirm, equality works as a one-way ratchet—albeit without necessarily including polygamy and incest. Crucially, equality changes the focus: From an equality perspective, the harm lies not in the exclusion from a dignity-conferring institution, but in the suggestion that the excluded group is not worthy of participating in it and does not deserve the recognition and benefits associated with it. Instead of aspiring to achieve dignity through marriage, in this view same-sex couples claim recognition as free and equal citizens. Discrimination on the basis of race, gender, or sexual orientation subsumes an individual under a group category whose purported characteristics are systematically devalued, thus refusing to appreciate a person as an individual. It is this denial of recognition that conveys harm to the dignity of the individual above and beyond the respective disadvantage suffered. Thus taken with equality, dignity does not have the exclusive effect it has in isolation, as struggling against degrading exclusion stresses common traits.

The Federal Constitutional Court’s ultra-vires case law—especially its most recent iterations—has more than its fair share of bad parts. It went from non-existence to global prominence in an alarmingly short period of time. Fortunately, the doctrine contains some extraordinarily good parts. Within the case law, there are three beautiful, elegant, and highly expressive elements that are buried under a massive tower of good intentions and hard luck: First, the principle of distinction between the two concepts of responsibility and accountability, second, the ban on transferring blanket empowerments, and third, the idea of a “program of integration” as a good medium for expressing vague ideas. In combination, these elements constitute a constitutional mechanism that does not play hell with European law, but truly complements any union based on multi-level cooperation. Focusing on the good parts—and avoiding some bad parts—might help prospective ultra-vires reviews to steer clear of wreaking havoc. The subset of good parts can serve to shift the constitutional case law towards reliability, readability, robustness, foreseeability, and, if nothing else, explicability.

Today's athletes, both professionals and amateurs, use a wide range of different nutritional substances to increase training performance, improve the recovery process, burn fat, gain muscle mass, etc. Although such substances are not always thoroughly researched for their potential effect on humans, they are popular and easy to obtain. Therefore, an adequate regulatory system is needed to ensure the protection of consumers. Currently, however, there are no specific provisions with regard to sports nutrition in EU law; thus, such products are usually marketed as food supplements, fortified foods, dietetic foods, and/or foods with nutrition or health claims. This article reviews the relevant legislation with a particular emphasis on policy developments regarding sports nutrition.

A preliminary reference on the part of the Constitutional Council was, in several respects, not to be expected. It was debatable whether it would consider itself as a “court or tribunal” within the meaning of Article 267 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU) and, therefore, whether it would refer a case to the European Court of Justice (CJEU) at all. The French constitutional court could also have resorted to the acte clair doctrine so as to escape from their obligation to ask for the interpretive guidance of the CJEU. However, the main reason why a reference was not awaited by legal actors lies in the limited jurisdiction of the Constitutional Council. Until the introduction in 2008 of the so-called QPC, that is, question prioritaire de constitutionnalité (the Priority Preliminary Reference mechanism on issues of constitutionality), the Conseil constitutionnel had a very limited jurisdiction compared to its European counterparts. Its main mission was to assess the conformity of parliamentary bills and treaties with the Constitution and only with the Constitution. Its review could only take place ex ante, between the adoption and the promulgation of a text. By opening the way to an ex post review of statutes with regard to the rights and freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution, the QPC brought about a major change in the French adjudication system: statutes are no longer immune from constitutional challenge once they are in force. However, treaties and other international or European commitments are no parameters of constitutional review. The Conseil constitutionnel made this clear in 1975 and never seriously changed track, despite minor qualifications to the rule. In their seminal IVG ruling on the Voluntary Interruption of Pregnancy Act, they held that it was not up to them to review the compatibility of bills with treaties, in spite of Article 55 of the Constitution. Consequently, the task of the constitutional judges does not go beyond the assessment of laws with regard to the Constitution. This is the main reason that explains why, on the face of it, the Conseil constitutionnel was unlikely to refer a case to the CJEU. Why would it seek the interpretation or ask for the review of a European text if this text is immaterial for it and if the yardstick of its examination is the Constitution and only the Constitution? Yet, it happened. For the first time, the Conseil referred a case to the CJEU on 4 April 2013. Although this is undoubtedly a major legal breakthrough, we will see in due course that this is probably more a révolution de palais than a true revolution in French constitutional law.

The growth of transnational private regulation has involved a great many types of changes, including changes in the types of actors that make rules, in the degree of formality of rules, and in the spatial boundaries of rules. One type of change that merits more focused attention is in the media of rules. Historically a major shift was from rules that were communicated orally, to rules that were inscribed in physical objects. Changes in these objects, from stone or clay to paper and print media were also consequential, enabling rules to be created, preserved and disseminated in new ways. This shift was closely associated with the growth of public authority and its accompanying artefacts such as written constitutions, official documents, and paper money. Today further technological changes in information and communications media are widely recognized as associated with structural transformations of all types of institutions. These technologies facilitate the use of networks and transnational supply chains by business. They stimulate the growth of global social movements and undermine state censorship. They lead to experiments with e-Government and threaten the business models of newspapers and the music industry. But what exactly is the significance of these technological changes for the creation, preservation and dissemination of rules, and how do these changes in the media of rules interact with the growth of transnational private regulation?

Is legal theory relevant to legal practice? Should legal theory be part of the academic legal curriculum? This article outlines three propositions in relation to these longstanding contentious questions. First, it argues that existing literature has pursued an inadequate argumentative strategy by (1) assuming that there is a single yes or no answer to the questions surrounding the relevance of legal theory; and (2) treating legal theory and legal practice as discrete, unrelated entities. This article distinguishes between different styles of doing legal theory and legal practice, and argues that the role of legal theory needs to factor in changes in the substance of law, legal reasoning, and legal careers. Second, focusing on European civil law countries, this article concludes that most legal theory is irrelevant for conventional legal practice. Concomitantly, it suggests that the constitutionalization, transnationalization, and Europeanization of legal systems are changing the practice of law in a way that is more congenial to theory than hitherto. It also contends that legal roles embodying a legislative standpoint within law are creating a demand for increased theoretical sophistication. Third, this article suggests what a course in legal theory, sketched along the lines of the analysis carried out, might look like.

If social and political stability in a democratic state requires effective constitutional review, the brutal instability of German society over the first half of the 20th Century testifies to the shortcomings of earlier manifestations of German constitutionalism and the mechanisms for constitutional review upon which those constitutional systems relied. By the same standard, however, the stability and prosperity West Germany enjoyed (and has continued to enjoy since October 1990, as a reunified Germany) over the last half of the 20th Century bespeaks the integrity and efficacy of the Bundesverfassungsgericht (Federal Constitutional Court), the unique constitutional organ celebrating its 50th anniversary this year.

With increasing cultural and religious diversity in Germany, a debate has emerged over the extent and limits of religious freedom in day-to-day life. While much controversy arose over whether public school teachers have the right to wear Islamic head coverings, students as private individuals are free to wear a headscarf at school if they wish. Yet, recent school and administrative court decisions suggest that the situation is different for students who wear niqab and Islamic face veils rather than just head veils. This Article contemplates whether niqab-wearing students can be expelled from public school under current German law. In addition, this Article addresses the constitutionality of law reform in this area especially considering the European Court of Human Rights' jurisprudence in the French context. The Article subsequently contemplates the advisability of such law reform while also drawing on the experiences of countries which have already enacted so-called burqa bans. As many countries are currently in the process of considering face veil bans, this Article may have relevance beyond the German context.

A four-year-old Muslim boy was brought to a local Cologne emergency room by his mother, who was concerned about minor bleeding around the site of a circumcision. A District Court there found that circumcision, notwithstanding parental consent or religious motivation, constituted a criminal bodily injury and child abuse. Ultimately, on July 19, 2012 the Bundestag resolved that “Jewish and Muslim religious life be viable in Germany,” and in December a bill was passed that legislatively overrode the ruling of the District Court and recognized circumcision as a non-punishable undertaking when undertaken for religious reasons by someone professionally trained. Two years of rancorous debate revealed a whole range of historical and contemporary fissures. This essay examines the dynamics of the debate and its various outcomes. In particular it asks whether the conflicts generated by practices like male circumcision can in immigrant societies be assimilated to prevailing religious freedom models. The key questions aired were: (1) Germany's relations with its Muslim immigrants; (2) Germany's relations with its fragile Jewish minority; (3) proper weightings of the relationship among parents, child, and state; and (4) the deference owed medical thinking. Immigrant integration, religious freedom, group rights, and the meaning of “enlightenment” all remain sharply contested.

The goal of the European Union is not only to harmonize the different national legislations but also to create new company models. These new company models are not intended to replace the national models, but instead to offer a new and free choice to business operators in addition to the national models. It is predictable that among these models will be the European Private Company (Societas Privata Europaea or SPE) regulated by the Proposal for a Council Regulation (presented by the Commission) of 25 June 2008. The other preceding European legal forms have been the European Economic Interest Grouping (EEIG) of 1985, the European Company (SE) of 2001 and the European Cooperative Society (SCE) of 2003.

There is currently a considerable amount of soul-searching underway by scholars on both sides of the Atlantic. For the cosmopolitanites of the academic world, the unpleasant disagreements over policy towards Iraq between Old Europe and the New World were not only unsettling but symptomatic of a more deep-seated disagreement between (former) friends. The theme of the Unidem seminar, held at the University of Göttingen on May 23-24, 2003, can be seen as sitting nicely within a desire for an explanation for this tension. Clearly underlying the organization of the conference, choice of themes and the invitation of speakers was the organizer's desire to reach a greater understanding of the difference and similarities between constitutionalism in Europe and in the United States and the reasons for and consequences of these divergences. Thus, although the Iraqi crisis obviously took place long after the theme of the conference had been conceived (and it has to be said that Georg Nolte's conferences appear to have a habit of coming hard on the heels of related dramatic events in the real world, suggesting an almost magical foresight on his part), it should nevertheless be understood as falling within this movement.

I wanted to begin by thanking Dr. Voneky for her thoughtful contribution to this rapidly developing area of international law. One of the purposes of the ongoing dialogue with my European counterparts on the legal framework for the use of force and detention of combatants in an armed conflict with non-state actors is to spur dialogue to arrive at a common approach on these issues. I agree with many things in Dr. Voneky's article. I am pleased that, unlike many critics of the United States, she recognizes that it is possible to use force in self defense from armed attacks not directly linked to the actions of any state, and that the law of armed conflict would govern that use of force. I also appreciate that she notes that actions against terrorist groups outside a state's country are not necessarily simply transnational police actions. I wanted to take this brief opportunity to note three areas where there may be some misunderstandings regarding the views of the United States, and then discuss my thoughts on the way forward.

In its recent decision of April 12, 2005, Germany's Federal Constitutional Court (FCC) addressed concerns that advances in the technologies of surveillance will erode fundamental rights. Though it rejected the petitioner's call to limit use of the Global Positioning System (“GPS”) to track the movements of suspects, the Court did warn that surveillance technologies working in tandem posed privacy risks that were greater than the sum of each one working alone. The Court required investigators from different agencies and states to coordinate their activities and disclose all ongoing surveillance when seeking judicial approval of additional methods and technologies. It likewise cautioned the Bundestag (German Federal Parliament) to monitor advances in surveillance technology and to develop new statutory safeguards that would protect personal data by limiting the use of more powerful innovations. Yet the Court's opinion left many questions unanswered. It did not explain how legislators or investigative agencies could avoid unnecessarily and intrusively multiplying the use of surveillance, given the overlapping jurisdiction of intelligence agencies with state and federal police. And insofar as the German Strafprozessordnung (Criminal Procedure Code – StPO) regulates only those modes of surveillance that produce criminal prosecutions, statutory suppression remedies have no clear impact on the investigative use of surveillance for purely preventive or intelligence-gathering purposes. My essay will explore the implications and limitations of the Court's opinion with an eye on analogous American law (introduced to gain a comparative perspective.)