The pioneering 1990s movement in critical theory has generated path-breaking scholarship seeking to queer law. Efforts to queer international law have produced important research uncovering the role of international law as a performative discourse and as a transnational governance framework reproducing gendered and sexual hegemonies. However, these efforts have done very little to destabilize the structures and workings of the very site where international law is theorized and taught: the university. Queering international law has mostly entailed looking at how the state, international organizations, international lawyers, scholars, and civil society produce or resist the heteronormative matrix, “that grid of cultural intelligibility through which bodies, genders, and desires are naturalized.” But what about the role of the university and its everyday routines––themselves byproducts of the aforementioned matrix––in reproducing and/or resisting (gendered) hierarchies and exclusions? We have raised this question as young scholars involved in organizing a week-long event on queer methods in international legal scholarship. The present essay is a first attempt at grappling with what the queering of an academic conference in international law meant for us, and for the university itself. It echoes a recent trend in scholarship on queer pedagogies, which, however, remain mostly silent on practices of scientific exchange. By reflecting on our efforts to queer a workshop in the field of international law, we also hope to inspire others to pursue their own queer processes of knowledge production.

One of the most important developments in international law for the protection of displaced women and girls—the implied non-refoulement obligation in the Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women has received little scholarly or jurisprudential attention. This Article presents, for the first time, a doctrinal analysis of the full corpus of asylum complaints decided by the Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (Committee). It analyzes the early development of a prohibition on return to real, personal, and foreseeable risks of serious forms of discrimination against women; highlights critical shortcomings in the Committee's asylum practice; identifies key areas for improvement; and reflects on the Committee's as-yet-unrealized potential to contribute to international law in this area.

For more than a decade, U.S. courts have struggled to develop a common law immunity regime to govern suits brought against foreign government officials, and they are now divided on a number of issues, including the extent to which they should defer to the executive branch and whether to recognize a jus cogens exception. This Editorial Comment considers a more conceptual division in the courts, between an “effect-of-judgment” approach that would confer immunity only when the judgment that the plaintiff is seeking would be directly enforceable against the foreign state, and a broader “nature-of-act” approach that would confer immunity whenever the plaintiff's case is challenging conduct carried out on behalf of the state. The Comment argues in favor of the nature-of-act approach and explains why analogies in this context to domestic civil rights litigation are misplaced.

This Article argues that the Gulf Crisis of 1990–91, the first major international crisis of the post-Cold War era, was a constitutive moment for international law. The Article examines the contests in the United Nations over the meaning of the Crisis and shows that these contests were also over the meaning of cooperation under international law in the “new world order.” The Article casts the Gulf Crisis itself as a moment of “worldmaking,” in which the United States refashioned foundational concepts like interdependence, sovereignty, and humanity in warfare and deployed them to suit a state-centered vision of international cooperation under hierarchy.

In June 2019, protests erupted in Hong Kong after its government proposed an extradition agreement with mainland China. Alarmed by the protests, the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party announced that it would consider new national security measures for Hong Kong. On June 30, 2020, China's National People's Congress Standing Committee (NPCSC) passed the “Law of the People's Republic of China on Safeguarding National Security in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region.” While the law was under consideration, the United States responded by declaring that Hong Kong was no longer significantly autonomous from mainland China and beginning the process of ending Hong Kong's special status under U.S. law. The United States and its allies continue to criticize Hong Kong's deteriorating autonomy from China, pointing to the postponement of elections in Hong Kong as further evidence.

Feminicidio is a Mexican adaptation of the radical feminist concept of femicide, usually defined as the misogynous murder of women by men because they are women. In this essay based on original fieldwork, I seek to contribute to Third World Approaches to International Law (TWAIL) scholarship by providing a brief analysis of the engagement of Mexican grassroots feminist activists with international human rights law in their struggle against the systematic abduction, murder, and sexual abuse of hundreds of women and girls in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, and the widespread impunity enveloping these crimes. As a result of this grassroots activism, these murders became known as feminicidios. Feminicidio expanded the existing concept of femicide by exposing the complicity of the state in the killing of women by sustaining the institutionalization of gender inequality. Indeed, activists consistently claimed that the state’s tolerance for impunity perpetuates the notion that women are disposable, and violence against them is not serious. Moreover, they linked this notion to the patriarchal regime of neoliberal capitalism that supports the maquiladora industry in Ciudad Juárez. Activists further drew on international human rights law. They invoked the due diligence obligation to conceptualize the responsibility of the Mexican state for failing to effectively prevent, investigate, and punish the murder of women—despite evidence of a systematic pattern of gendered violence that could only be understood by taking into consideration the intersecting structural gender and class inequalities that feminicidio revealed.

In times of war, the first instinct is to relieve the suffering of human beings. Environmental and animal interests are always pushed into the background. However, warfare strongly affects natural resources, including animals, which makes animal issues a matter of great concern. Certain species have been vanishing at a rapid rate because of wars, often with disastrous effects on the food chain and on the ecological balance. Indeed, belligerents rarely take into account the adverse consequences of their military operations on animals. They even take advantage of the chaotic circumstances of war in order to poach protected species and to engage in the trafficking of expensive animal products. While generating billions of dollars each year, such poaching and trafficking allows armed groups to grow and to reinforce their authority over disputed territory. States have also trained, and continue to train, certain animals—principally marine mammals such as bottlenose dolphins and California sea lions—to perform military tasks, like ship and harbor protection, or mine detection and clearance. Millions of horses, mules, donkeys, camels, dogs, and birds are obliged to serve on various fronts (transport, logistics, or communications) and become particularly vulnerable targets.

In their article, Dan Efrony and Yuval Shany claim that post-Tallinn Manual practice demonstrates that states entertain doubts about the applicability to cyberspace of the rules contained in the Tallinn Manuals. According to the authors, post-Tallinn practice reveals that states treat the application of international law to cyber operations as optional; operate in parallel—legal and nonlegal—tracks of conduct; and engage in gradated enforcement. They also claim that their study invites further research into the implications of state conduct in cyberspace for general international law theory. I will use this last point as a springboard to explain the process of normativization in cyberspace—that is, the process of subjecting states’ cyber operations and behaviors to legal standards. To do this, I will use Oscar Schachter's representation of a normative (legal) order as a three-story building. According to Schachter's metaphor, the third floor is occupied by public values and general policy aspirations; the second floor is occupied by law with its distinctive normative patterns of prescribing, proscribing, and applying; while the ground floor is occupied by the social reality of conduct. The three floors are not isolated but connected by escalators and staircases that go in both directions.

This piece is adapted from an address delivered to a conference sponsored by the Council of Europe and PluriCourts on The Long-Term Future of the European Court of Human Rights in Oslo, Norway on April 7, 2014.

This post addresses the successes and challenges for the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR), as seen from the outside. It draws upon my co-authored research on human rights systems outside of Europe to explain how these systems have responded to some of the same challenges now facing the Council of Europe and the ECtHR. My main contention is that international human rights courts, wherever they are located, require sustained political and material support if they are to thrive and grow over time.

International law has long recognized that the power of a state to identify its nationals is a central attribute of sovereignty and firmly within the purview of domestic law. Yet these boundaries may be shifting, in part due to the effect of international human rights norms. In 2011, citizenship scholar Peter Spiro asked, “[w]ill international law colonize th[is] last bastion of sovereign discretion?” Ten years later, this essay reframes the question, asking whether the international law of Indigenous Peoples’ rights will “decolonize” the discretion, by encouraging its exercise in ways that respect and enable Indigenous connections to their traditional land. It considers this possibility in light of two recent cases decided by courts in Australia and Canada, both of which ascribe a distinctive legal status to non-citizen Indigenous persons: Love v. Commonwealth, Thoms v Commonwealth (“Love-Thoms,” Australian High Court) and R. v. Desautel (“Desautel,” British Columbia Court of Appeal, currently on appeal before the Supreme Court of Canada). In each case, the court in question recognized that some Indigenous non-citizens have constitutional rights to remain within the state's territory (and perhaps also a correlative right to enter it), by virtue of their pre-contact ancestral ties to land within the state's borders.

The climate is changing, and so is climate diplomacy. Global treaties may be failing, while unilateral actions are proving to be contentious both within the climate and the trade regime. At the same time, countries need to be given the right incentives to participate in the fight against climate change and to start curbing their emissions substantially. The European Union's (EU) decision to introduce a Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM) and the momentum around carbon pricing may be the perfect opportunity to revisit these ideas in the form of clubs. What if small groups of countries got together and set the pace for a new era in climate diplomacy? What if they relied on trade measures to do so? Clubs are not new in international law, let alone in international climate law. Compared to global approaches, they may avoid freeriding; compared to unilateral ones, they may reduce the risk of trade frictions. And not all major emitters need to participate right away. As few as two parties could start a climate club, a sort of club within the club, gradually catalyzing or influencing action on climate change. In this essay, we argue that climate clubs enable like-minded countries to assume more ambitious commitments and gradually pull in other countries with them.