The international rule of law is a political system of governance. It rests on the expectation that governments will abide by their legal obligations and so defines what counts as appropriate behavior for states. The relationship between law and politics in global governance is better understood as an empire of global legalism than as an anarchic world of sovereign states. Legal justification is the lingua franca of legitimation contests among governments, as states strive to show that their preferred policies are lawful and that those they oppose are unlawful. Seeing the world this way helps to show the political content of international law: neither a neutral framework that sustains all viewpoints nor an inherently progressive contribution to global order, international law is a political system of governance that advances some interests at the expense of others, and our attention should be directed toward assessing which interests are served by the turn to global legalism and at whose expense.

It is widely alleged that President Putin's regime attempted to exercise influence on the 2016 U.S. presidential election. It is known that its Soviet predecessors funded Western communist parties for decades as a means to undermine noncommunist regimes. Similarly, the United States has a long history of interfering in the institutions and elections of its Latin American neighbors, as well as (at the height of the Cold War) its European allies. More recently, many believe that, absent U.S.-driven assistance, the Democratic Opposition of Serbia would have lost the 2000 Yugoslavian presidential election to Slobodan Milošević. As those examples suggest, attempting to subvert the democratic elections of a putatively sovereign country is a time-honored way of bending the latter's domestic and foreign policy to one's will. In this paper, I focus on the state-sponsored, nonviolent, nonkinetic subversion of nationwide elections (for short, subversion) through campaign and party financing, tampering with electoral registers, and conducting disinformation campaigns about candidates. I argue that, under certain conditions and subject to certain constraints, subversion is pro tanto justified as a means to prevent or end large-scale human rights violations.

Although often overlooked, positive incentives can play a key role in tackling aggression, human rights abuses, and the spread of weapons of mass destruction. In this essay, I focus on one form of positive incentives: covert incentives. First, I argue that covert incentives are preferable to overt incentives since they enable policymakers to eschew the shackles of public opinion and avoid worries of moral hazard and the corruption of international society. Second, I argue that covert incentives are often more justifiable than covert force since they do not involve problematic methods and do not make it easier to undertake military action. Accordingly, I conclude that there is a prima facie duty to employ covert positive incentives as opposed to overt incentives and covert force.

How can a state react to being a target of disinformation activities by another state without losing the moral ground that it seeks to protect? This essay argues that the concept of moral authority offers an original framework for addressing this dilemma. As a power resource, moral authority enables an actor to have its arguments treated with priority by others and to build support for its actions, but only as long as its behavior does not deviate from certain moral expectations. To develop moral authority, an actor engaged in combating digital propaganda must cultivate six normative attributes: truthfulness and prudence for demonstrating the nature of the harmful effects of disinformation; accountability, integrity, and effectiveness for establishing the normative standing of the actor to engage in counter-intervention; and responsibility for confirming the proportionality of the response.

Although nonviolent resistance assumes the moral high ground because its tactics do not intend to harm adversaries, severe ethical difficulties arise when nonviolent activists intentionally provoke harm to themselves. This occurs in a process called “backfire,” as hunger strikers or demonstrators provoke a disproportionately brutal and often lethal response from their adversaries to draw world attention and sympathy to their cause. As cases studies from Ireland, East Timor, and Israel demonstrate, backfire can offer insurgents and national liberation movements significant strategic gains. In Ireland, a 1981 IRA hunger strike radicalized the IRA's campaign against Britain. In East Timor, the massacre of hundreds of Timorese demonstrating for independence in 1991 galvanized world opinion and eventually brought international intervention and statehood. In Israel, the Marmara flotilla of 2010 and mass demonstrations in Gaza in the spring of 2018 refocused world attention on Palestinian grievances while easing the Israeli-imposed land and naval blockade. These events were transformative, but their success depended upon the careful cultivation of violence. An anathema to ideological nonviolence, backfire is often used by strategic activists who will mix violent and nonviolent tactics as circumstances demand. Ethically discharging this tactic requires organizers to articulate feasible operational goals while protecting minors, to mitigate risk, to obtain free and informed consent from participants, and to constantly evaluate the costs and benefits of political action.

How should the international community respond when states commit atrocity crimes against sections of their own population? In practice, international responses are rarely timely or decisive. To make matters worse, half-hearted or self-interested interventions can prolong crises and contribute to the growing toll of casualties. Recognizing these brutal realities, it is tempting to adopt the fatalist view that the best that can be done is to minimize harm by letting the state win, allowing the status quo power structure to persist. Indeed, this is how many commentators and states have responded to the tide of human misery in Syria. Could a policy of letting the state perpetrator prevail be a viable alternative to other options, including military intervention? This essay suggests not. It explains the logic behind the fatalist approach and shows that problems of recurrence, precedence, and rights mean that such an approach cannot offer a plausible alternative to measures designed to resist and increase the costs of committing atrocity crimes.

By virtue of the Antarctic Treaty, signed in 1959, the territorial claims to Antarctica of seven of the original signatories were held in abeyance or “frozen.” Considered by many as an exemplar of international law, the Antarctic Treaty System has come to be increasingly questioned, however, in a very much changed global scenario that presents new challenges to the governance of the White Continent. In this context, it is necessary to gain a clearer understanding of the moral weight of those initial claims, which stand (despite being frozen) as a cornerstone of the treaty. The aim of this article is to offer an appraisal of such claims, which may be divided into two main kinds: those grounded on some relevant link to the territory, and those grounded on official documents and geographical doctrines. After pointing to the limitations and challenges that they face, I conclude with some remarks about how this assessment ought to serve as a starting point to rethink the territorial status of Antarctica.

In their new indictments of global neoliberalism and the economic profession's culpability in its harms, Dani Rodrik and Joseph Stiglitz press the case for reconstructed globalization that generates benefits for all and not just for corporate and financial elites. Both books are deeply consistent with the insights of Karl Polanyi, who had identified the inherent contradictions of the project to create what he called a self-regulating economy. Like Polanyi, Rodrik and Stiglitz are attentive to the inadequacies of neoliberalism, and both emphasize the capture of the state and international economic policy by elites, who have turned their backs on those left behind. While Stiglitz emphasizes that the profession knows how to fix the problem by applying modern Keynesian insights, Rodrik emphasizes the inherent epistemic limitations facing economists. Indeed, his arguments about development policy reflect the insights of Friedrich Hayek into the limits of economic expertise.