Section 4 of the [Immigration Ordinance 1971] effectively exiles the Ilois from the territory where they are belongers and forbids their return. But the ‘peace, order, and good government’ of any territory means nothing, surely, save by reference to the territory's population. They are to be governed, not removed. … These people are subjects of the Crown, in right of their British nationality as belongers in the Chagos Archipelago. As Chitty said in 1820, the Queen has an interest in all her subjects, who rightly look to the Crown—today, to the rule of law which is given in the Queen's name—for the security of their homeland within the Queen's dominions. But in this case they have been excluded from it. It has been done for high political reasons: good reasons, certainly, dictated by pressing considerations of military security. But they are not reasons which may reasonably be said to touch the peace, order and good government of [the British Indian Ocean Territory].1

EU Financial responsibility resulting from investor-state arbitration is a politically sensitive topic that is currently shaping the emerging European international investment policy. What level of protection can foreign investors be granted in future EU investment treaties without compromising EU ‘policy space’? How much review of its regulatory powers by arbitral tribunals, rather than by the CJEU, is the EU willing to accept? Taking the Commission's recent draft Regulation on managing financial responsibility as the starting point, this article analyses the implications that future EU investment agreements may have for the existing safeguards balancing private and public interests in EU law. It discusses the different policy choices in the light of fears that investment treaties may affect the EU policy space. A more scientific and sustainable approach is then suggested for ensuring that future EU agreements provide sufficient clarity regarding the outer bounds of financial responsibility and criteria for liability with the aim of maximizing legal certainty for both investors and host states.

The conflict in Sierra Leone began in 1991 and still continues. It has led to over 50,000 deaths. The fighting has been characterised by the use of child combatants and widespread mutilation of civilians by amputation. When the conflict began, it would have seemed improbable that any UN response would include a forum for the trial of international crimes. After all, even the high tide of international enforcement of international criminal law, the Nuremberg International Military Tribunal, had begun to be excised from mainstream treatments of international law.1 The possibility of a permanent international criminal court had recently been revived, and sent to the International Law Commission for consideration, but the record of the ILC with controversial projects would not have led to an expectation of quick progress.2 Yet, nearly 10 years on, the UN is now involved in setting up a fourth criminal court,3 the “Special Court” for Sierra Leone. Despite the selectivity inherent in ad hoc reactions, and the continuing opposition to the Rome Statute in some quarters, it is now difficult to deny that progress is being made towards a new form of international criminal order where the improbability of prosecution for international crimes can ne longer be presumed.

In the period between 1980 and 1995, both Europe and the US made huge investments in Latin America. The process of democratization in Latin America, especially in the countries marked by a tradition of military dictatorship, has reinforced the belief in political and economic stability. The economy has displayed considerable growth and, partly stimulated by the IMF and the World Bank, several countries are embarking on privatization on a grand scale.2 Political and economic cooperation between the countries is taking the place of political and military rivalry. The time is ripe for a new attempt at integration on this continent. The overtures between Argentina and Brazil led to the establishment of Mercosur. Its economic (Mercosur is the fourth largest trade bloc in the world after the US, the EU, and Japan) and political importance have been recognized, especially by the EU. As early as 1996,3 an Interinstitutional Cooperation Agreement was concluded, an interregional framework agreement for cooperation between the EU Member States and Mercosur States parties.4 Since then, the EU-Mercosur Bi-regional Negotiations Committee (BNC)5 has already had ten meetings at which topics such as the free movement of goods, public procurement, investments, services, e-commerce, and conflict resolution were discussed. The US has never appreciated the attempts at integration in Latin America and has always striven to conclude separate free trade agreements with each individual country. The recent free trade agreement with Chile is a clear example.6

The taxation of financial services is one of the most vexing aspects of a Value Added Tax (VAT). Conceptually, VAT should apply to any fee for service but where financial services are concerned there is a difficulty in identifying the taxable amount, ie the value added by financial institutions. As a result, most jurisdictions, including the EU, simply exempt financial services from VAT. Treating financial services as exempt, however, gives rise to significant legal and economic distortions. Consequently, a few countries have in recent years attempted an alternative VAT approach to financial services. Amongst these is Australia, which in 2000 introduced a Goods and Services Tax (GST) with a ‘reduced input tax credit’ system. This paper compares the current treatment of financial supplies, under a VAT-type system, in the EU and in Australia. The aim is to ascertain whether the Australian GST treatment of financial services is, as commonly thought, superior to the EU one, and consequently, whether introducing an Australian-type model should constitute a policy consideration for the EU.

This article will propose that comparative law as a discipline should now consolidate itself as an independent subject with its own internal structure. This is not to say that its teachers and professors should abandon, or at least fully abandon, their “gift of freedom”.1 Nor is it to confuse comparative law with other more specific law subjects which may be taught in a comparative way.2 What this article will propose is that comparative law be envisaged as a subject basically operating at two levels (or consisting of two parts). At one level it consists of the now considerable literature on the subject, including of course the work which envisages the subject in terms of legal families. At another level, however, comparative law should be envisaged as being concerned with the theoretical underpinning of the terms “comparative” and “law”. This part, in other words, would deal with these terms as instruments of knowledge. What is it to have knowledge of “law”? And what contribution does “comparison” make to this epistemo-logical question?

Fundamental issues sometimes hide themselves behind what to an untrained eye might look like a technical and somewhat dry debate. Thus, a layman hearing Community lawyers' talk about the legal basis of legislation might be excused for not realising that the issue may be that of the role of the European Parliament in the European Union, and therefore the democratic legitimacy of the EU institutions. The debate about the function of the concept of discrimination in the law on the free movement of goods, services and persons in the Community is one of those discussions which has more to offer than meets the eye. What the debate is really about is the balance of powers between the member States and the Community and the federal nature of the Community legal order as well as, incidentally, the balance between market principles and other values embodied in legislation. Translated by specialists in the free movement of goods in the Community, it has become, in the context of Article 30 of the Treaty: should we read a “rule of reason” within Article 30, or can Cassis de Dijon be explained in terms of indirect discrimination?