In December 2004, Parliament's Joint Committee on Human Rights added its voice to the call for a greater parliamentary role in the making of treaties. In its report on Protocol No. 14 to the European Convention on Human Rights, the Joint Committee included a one-page chapter on ‘Increasing Parliament's involvement in the adoption of human rights treaties’, expressing the view that it was desirable for Parliament to become more involved prior to ratification on the grounds that effective parliamentary scrutiny would serve to ‘enhance the democratic legitimacy of human rights obligations incurred… by the Executive pursuant to the prerogative power.’1 Motivated by this concern, the Committee has undertaken, on its own initiative, an extensive review of the UK's treaty commitments in the human rights field with a view to securing greater parliamentary support for these obligations through the mechanism of public scrutiny.2

The restoration of the pre-war property fights of displaced persons and refugees is critical to restore the peace.

This is particularly true for Bosnia and Herzegovina. The devastating impact of the war which ravaged Bosnia from 1992 until 1995 has left a third of the housing stock destroyed or otherwise uninhabitable. The systematic practice of ethnic cleansing forced Bosniacs, Croats and Serbs to seek shelter in areas of Bosnia and Herzegovina where their ethnic group was in the majority or to seek refuge abroad.1 More than half the 4.5 million the pre-war population of Bosnia and Herzegovina fled their homes in search of safety during the course of the war. According to recent estimates from the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, over 800,000 refugees from Bosnia and Herzegovina are still abroad today.2 Within Bosnia and Herzegovina, more than 800,000 people remain displaced from their pre-conflict homes.3

What happens when a European State breaches its international obligations and then ceases to exist? Does its obligation to repair the harm caused by the breach devolve to a new state that occupies part of the territory of an old state? When will a new European State be held accountable for violations that took place before the entry into force of a human rights treaty? This comment examines the European Court of Human Rights' (hereinafter ‘the Court’ or ‘the ECtHR’) encounter with the law of state succession, specifically succession to treaty obligations and succession to responsibility for the wrongful acts of a predecessor state. In Bijelic v Montenegro and Serbia the Court held that Montenegro was to be automatically regarded as a party to the Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (hereinafter ‘the Convention’), as well as Protocol No 1 thereto, from the date of its declaration of independence from the State Union of Serbia and Montenegro (hereinafter ‘the State Union’), and that Montenegro alone could be held responsible for violations of these instruments occurring in the territory of the State Union that began before March 2004 (the date of ratification of the Convention and Protocol 1 by the State Union) but continuing through 2009. Bijelic is not the first time the Court has been called upon to decide a question of succession to treaty obligations or responsibility, but the judgment is noteworthy for the unique approach the Court adopted to deciding both of these issues. This comment will place the decision in the larger context of Court practice with respect to both of the implicated succession issues, identify the aspects the Trial Chamber's analysis that distinguish it from its predecessors and discuss the decision of the Court in light of general and emerging trends in international law. In the process, this comment will provide a uniquely thorough examination of ECtHR practice with respect to succession to responsibility and identify the trends, to the extent that such trends exist, that characterize the Court's approach to this area of law.

Recent international jurisprudence has shown considerable uncertainty with regard to the delimitation of the territorial sea. While international tribunals endorse a two-stage approach to territorial sea delimitation, there is a lack of judicial consensus on the practical implementation of such an approach. This article argues that the rule-exception relationship between equidistance and special circumstances, as reflected in the drafting history of LOSC Article 15 and in jurisprudence prior to 2007, should inform the delimitation of the territorial sea. Cases since 2007 which have strayed from the earlier jurisprudence on LOSC Article 15, should be seen as a misconstruction of the law applicable to territorial sea delimitation.

Somalia has been without government since 1991. A transitional government was established in 2004 under the presidency of Abdullahi Yusuf, with the backing of the United Nations, the African Union (AU), the Arab League and the Inter-governmental Agency for Development (IGAD). The Government sat in Baidoa in southern Somalia from June 2005 until December 2006. In June 2006 the Union of Islamic Courts (UIC) took control of much of southern and central Somalia, including the capital, Mogadishu, but not Puntland and Somaliland. They declared and tried to establish an Islamic State. Somalis were told to comply with stringent Islamic rules or face harsh punishment. In the meantime, efforts to achieve national reconciliation were ongoing under the auspices of IGAD, though without much success. It was reported that on 20 July 2006 Ethiopian troops crossed into Somalia. Ethiopia only admitted to having military trainers to help the Somali Government (estimated to be 400 military personnel). On 21 July, the UIC declared a ‘holy war’ against Ethiopia. In September 2006 the Somali interim President survived an assassination attempt in Baidoa. On 25 October 2006 Ethiopia said that it was ‘technically at war’ with the Islamic Courts. After few days the UIC claimed to have ambushed and killed Ethiopian troops near the Ethiopian border.1

This article examines the applicability of the European Convention for Human Rights (ECHR) when a State loses control over parts of its territory. It argues that the jurisprudence of the European Court for Human Rights, which insists on residual positive obligations based in sovereign title over territory, is problematic and needs to be rethought. The Court's current approach is not only likely to provoke backlash, since it requires it to decide politically explosive questions of sovereign title, but does so for very little practical benefit for the protection of human rights. The article therefore explores more preferable alternatives.

Taxonomy, as a methodological tool introduced from natural science, brought the categorization of legal systems to comparative law.1 The term ‘legal family’2 is normally used as a metaphor, because it recognizes that within each grouping there are many variations. Each of the legal families is regarded as a combination of fundamental features of legal systems which have certain similarities. As an analytical device, taxonomy renders the comparison of different laws and legal institutions manageable by means of simplifying or abstracting the diverse and complicated realities of a myriad of legal systems. As a result, the concept of legal families acts as a support for legal borrowing and transplantation, as well as comprising an inevitable part of most comparative law works. Even where as few as two jurisdictions are involved, the categorization of legal families is still a useful tool for most comparative legal analysis. Assisted by the notion of legal families, comparativists can readily understand and explore an unfamiliar legal system.3 Normally, such scholars tend to accept the conventional or widely accepted categorization of a particular legal system as belonging to a certain legal family. However, without detailed scrutiny of the first-hand material, distortions may arise as a result of preconceptions held at the beginning of the comparative study.4

The new legal order in European asylum is being shaped by a key document: the Directive on minimum standards for the qualification and status of third-country nationals as refugees and persons otherwise in need of international protection and the content of the protection granted (hereinafter the Qualification Directive). The Qualification Directive was adopted by the Council of the European Union on 29 April 2004.2 It entered into force on 20 October 2004, that is 20 days after its publication in the Official Journal.3 The Member States have until 10 October 2006 to implement its provisions into national legislation.4 Meanwhile, they have a duty not to adopt measures contrary to it.5 For those countries that have already implemented the Qualification Directive, such as France,6 the judiciary will need to ensure compliance with it.7

On 12 February 1930 a near-insolvent English company began arbitration proceedings against a large and hostile foreign State under an ad hoc arbitration clause contained in a written concession agreement signed by both parties. This concession had been granted by the Soviet Union in 1925 in respect of gold mining and other properties previously operated by the English company's Russian subsidiaries until their dispossession by the Soviet Russian government in 1918, following the October 1917 Revolution. In May 1930, after three months, the Soviet Union abruptly withdrew from the arbitration proceedings, abandoning both its defence and counterclaim and instructing its appointed arbitrator to take no further part in the proceedings. Four months later, on 2 September 1930, the English company obtained a massive monetary award in its favour, signed in London by two arbitrators only. Yet the financial result of Lena Gold-fields Limited v. USSR was to benefit David little and cost Goliath less.

I am deeply conscious of the fact, as I consider the subject of torture, that I have led a very sheltered life. I have never been tortured. I have never seen anybody being tortured. Nor have I ever met anyone who has undergone this dreadful practice. But I cannot say that I have never met anyone who has had anything to do with it. The Cyprus emergency was at its height during my period of national service. My attempt to persuade the military authorities that my knowledge of classical Greek was a suitable qualification for me to be sent to the island to act as an interpreter was unsuccessful. I was sent instead to serve with an infantry battalion in the British Army of the Rhine in West Germany. I did not think so at the time as we endured one of the coldest winters in living memory in Nordrhein-Westphalia, but I was to discover later that this may well have been the better option. When I went up to university I met someone who had indeed been sent to Cyprus. He had acted as an interpreter when Greek Cypriot members of the Eoka organization were being interrogated. Conscious of the constraints of the Official Secrets Act, he never revealed to me the details of what was done to them during this process. But I had the distinct impression, as we talked, that he had been revolted by it and that things were done which were and would always remain a scar on his memory.