Crimes Against International Humanitarian Law in Myanmar: Will the Philippines Impose Universal Jurisdiction on behalf of Burmese Refugees?

Crimes Against International Humanitarian Law in Myanmar: Will the Philippines Impose Universal Jurisdiction on behalf of Burmese Refugees?

Lorenz Dantes

I. Introduction

On October 25, 2023, a first-of-its-kind legal effort began in the Philippines. The “Philippine Act on Crimes Against International Humanitarian Law, Genocide, and Other Crimes Against Humanity,” Republic Act (RA) No. 9851, was invoked as a means of prosecuting and achieving justice for atrocities that occurred outside of the Philippines. Burmese refugees who fled to the Philippines initiated criminal proceedings against members of the ruling junta regime in Myanmar for violations of International Humanitarian Law before the Philippine Department of Justice.  According to one Burmese refugee, “[w]e can’t find justice in our own country[,] and we are expecting that the Philippines is the place where we can find some form of justice from the atrocities we have suffered.” Philippine prosecutors must first determine the existence of “probable cause” before the case can proceed to court.

The charges against the junta primarily involve violations of RA 9851’s Section 4(b)(1), Section 4(c)(2), Section 4(c)(7) and  Section 4(c)(10). RA 9851 is often referred to as the Philippine version of the 1998 Rome Statute and was enacted in 2009 to enable the Philippines to prosecute “serious crimes of concern to the international community” such as genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes, especially since it is not a member of the International Criminal Court (“ICC”). Section 4(b)(1) covers situations of non-international armed conflicts wherein “serious violations of common Article 3 to the four Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949” occurred, through the infliction of violent acts against persons taking no active part in the hostilities. Sections 4(c)(2), 4(c)(7), and 4(c)(10), on the other hand, penalize “serious violations of the laws and customs applicable in armed conflict.” This includes intentional attacks on civilian (non-military) objectives, bombardment of undefended towns, and attacks on buildings dedicated to “religion, education, art, science or charitable purposes, historic monuments, hospitals and places where the sick and wounded are collected.”

One main feature of RA 9851 that Burmese refugees sought to use is Section 17, which states that jurisdiction can be exercised:

[O]ver persons, whether military or civilian, suspected or accused of a crime defined and penalized in this Act, regardless of where the crime is committed, provided, any one of the following conditions is met:

(a) The accused is a Filipino citizen;

(b) The accused, regardless of citizenship or residence, is present in the Philippines; or

(c) The accused has committed the said crime against a Filipino citizen.

In assessing its applicability, it is important to remember that the accused, in this case, are the members of the military junta. The complaint includes Dr. Vung Suang Thang (Chief Minister of the State of Chin), Lt. Gen. Min Naing (chair of the Cyclone Mocha Emergency Response in the State of Chin), Lt. Gen. Tay Zar Kyaw (chief of the Bureau of Special Operations), Maj. Gen. Phyo Thant and Than Htike, Brig. Gen.  Myo Htut Hlaing, Col. Saw Tun, Lt. Col. Myo Zin Tun, and Maj. Nay Myo Oo. Notably, it also includes Gen. Min Aung Hlaing, the overall head of the ruling military junta and the commander in chief of the Tatmadaw, the military forces of Myanmar.

The Burmese refugees stated in their complaint that these members of the military junta bear criminal liability for the murder of civilians and the torching of houses in Myanmar’s Chin state, one of the least developed regions in Myanmar. They also narrated that following a clash between the Tatmadaw and rebel groups that resulted in the deaths of 30 Tatmadaw soldiers, the Tatmadaw took revenge on the residents of the town of Thantlang by burning their houses and firing on villagers and members of a Baptist church group delivering medical supplies and putting out the fires. This violence then produced a massive forced displacement of the town’s villagers into neighboring India’s Mizoram state. To support these factual allegations, the complaint cites a report dated February 25, 2022, from the United Nations High Commissioner of Human Rights, which states that the Tatmadaw Light Infantry Brigade burned down over 900 buildings in Thantlang through at least 23 successive attacks on churches, houses, schools, churches, and offices of non-governmental organizations.

According to the Filipino lawyers of the Burmese refugees, RA 9851 is sufficient to provide the Philippine legal system with universal jurisdiction over these incidents. They contend that “universal jurisdiction means that any state can prosecute a crime … This is not an ordinary crime. It’s considered a crime against the entire international community.” The lawyers also argued that since the military junta “do not represent the legitimate government of the people of Myanmar under international law,” they cannot invoke sovereign or diplomatic immunity. Coincidentally, this complaint also corroborates the damning evidence released last August by a group of investigators from the United Nations known as the Investigative Mechanism for Myanmar, which indicates that the Tatmadaw deliberately targeted civilians with bombs and carried out mass executions of detained people during its operations. This includes dropping fuel-air explosives on a village in the Sagaing region that resulted in the deaths of numerous children.

With the filing of this case, the Philippines has now become the fifth country after Germany, Turkey, Indonesia, and Argentina where legal cases have been sought to be initiated over the crimes committed by the Tatmadaw against a number of civilian population groups in Myanmar. In addition, proceedings are also ongoing at the ICC and at the International Court of Justice (“ICJ”). The lawyers of the Burmese refugees in the Philippines note, however, that the combination of the Philippines having its own domestic law over crimes against International Humanitarian Law as well as being geographically conducive towards getting testimony from witnesses in Myanmar makes it a crucial legal jurisdiction for pursuing international justice over the crimes committed in Myanmar.

It remains unclear whether the existing domestic legal framework in the Philippines is sufficient to pursue international justice over the alleged atrocities committed in Myanmar. To answer this question, we must examine relevant legal and policy considerations.

II. Relevant Philippine Legal Framework

As early as 1952, the Philippines had already ratified the Fourth Geneva Convention on the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War. As such, Article 146 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, which has been described as an explicit reference to universal jurisdiction, has the force and effect of a domestic statute within the Philippine jurisdiction. According to this provision, “[e]ach High Contracting Party shall be under the obligation to search for persons alleged to have committed, or to have ordered to be committed” grave breaches of the convention, as well as to “bring such persons, regardless of their nationality, before its own courts.”

In the case of Bayan Muna v. Romulo, the Philippine Supreme Court (“The Court”) described the relationship between “jus cogens crimes” and universal jurisdiction. According to the Court, jus cogens crimes are so fundamental to the existence of a just international legal order that

[A]ny state may exercise jurisdiction over an individual who commits certain heinous and widely condemned offenses, even when no other recognized basis for jurisdiction exists. The rationale behind this principle is that the crime committed is so egregious that it is considered to be committed against all members of the international community and thus granting every State jurisdiction over the crime.

Thus, the Court concluded that even if a particular country does not have domestic legislation on crimes against humanity and war crimes, it would still have jurisdiction to try these crimes due to the principle of universality. According to the Court, this is even more so in countries that adhere to the doctrine of incorporation or those that “recognize [ ] international law as part of the law of the land, necessarily including international crimes, even without any local statute,” since international legal principles on genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity have already attained the status of customary international law (“CIL”). Through this pronouncement, therefore, the Court recognized that universal jurisdiction can indeed be utilized within the Philippines’ domestic legal system.

However, a right to try does not mean a duty or obligation to do so, especially for an accused that is in absentia. As stated by the Court in another case, “notwithstanding an array of General Assembly resolutions calling for the prosecution of crimes against humanity and the strong policy arguments warranting such a rule, the practice of states does not yet support the present existence of an obligation to prosecute international crimes.” Moreover, the Court added that an invocation of the concept of erga omnes obligations, or those obligations which are “owed by States towards the community of states as a whole,” will not alter this analysis because it cannot be shown yet that the duty to prosecute perpetrators of international crimes is an erga omnes obligation.

Fittingly, the Court has thus described universal jurisdiction as being an “accepted” concept in international law, but only applying in special circumstances, rather than absolutely or unconditionally. Accordingly, before Section 17 of RA 9851 can give rise to universal jurisdiction within the Philippine domestic legal framework, it must first comply with the conditions set forth therein. In the case of the Myanmar junta, these conditions can never be satisfied as long as they are in absentia (outside the Philippines). As stated by the Court, universal jurisdiction confers authority unto the forum only after physical custody of the perpetrator of offenses considered particularly heinous and harmful to humanity is obtained.

Considering the above, both Section 17 of RA 9851 and the Philippine Supreme Court’s pronouncements on universal jurisdiction constitute a significant hurdle to the exercise of jurisdiction by Philippine courts as the perpetrators, the Myanmar junta, are outside the Philippines. Theoretically, it may be true, as one legal observer pointed out, that R.A. 9851 also states that the provisions of the Geneva Convention and the rules and principles of CIL are also to be considered in the application and interpretation of RA 9851. Nonetheless, it is also arguable that the limited enumeration of instances under the law where jurisdiction can be exercised operates to preclude any notion of an expansive grant of universal jurisdiction under the interpretative legal maxim of Expressio unius est exclusio alterius. Moreover, even if the supplementary application of the principles of the Geneva Convention and CIL are interpreted as granting an implied universal jurisdiction to Philippine courts beyond what Section 17(b) provides, it would still not solve the quandary of the lack of obligation to assume jurisdiction and try a case against persons who are in absentia. As mentioned in the commentary provided by the International Committee of the Red Cross on the Geneva Convention, the “decision whether or not to prosecute an alleged perpetrator should be taken by competent authorities in line with national legal requirements.” According to the commentary, the words “bring such persons, regardless of their nationality, before its own courts,” which can be found in both Article 49 of the First Geneva Convention and Article 146 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, conceivably “does not imply an absolute duty to prosecute or to punish.” While the principle of Aut Dedere Aut Judicare may provide an important argument in favor of the obligation to assume jurisdiction over the case, doubts about the consistent and widespread state practice of this principle, in the absence of treaty obligations, raise uncertainty and debates over its status as CIL. It is worth remembering the observation made by the former President of the ICJ, Gilbert Guillaume, in a Separate Opinion that “Universal jurisdiction in absentia […] is unknown to international law.”

III. Foreign Comparisons?

Curiously, the filing of this criminal complaint is also being compared to the prosecution and sentencing by Senegal of former Chad leader Hissène Habré. While universal jurisdiction was also invoked in that case, the similarities are more surface level. Senegal had to institute “constitutional and legal amendments that removed the obstacles to holding Hissène Habré’s trial in Senegal, as well as to the establishment of the Extraordinary African Chambers within the Senegalese judicial system to judge Hissène Habré.” Senegal likewise signed a judicial cooperation agreement with Chad to facilitate investigations in Chad. None of these circumstances are present here. As highlighted by one observer, “the Habré case was made possible by different movements, both political and judicial, key of which was the African Union supporting the creation and funding of a special court, then pushing Senegal to amend its law so they could clearly obtain universal jurisdiction.” Moreover, even taking into account the ruling of the ICJ in Belgium v. Senegal, the comparison would still not square with the legal action in the Philippines. In Belgium v. Senegal, Belgium submitted that Senegal failed to prosecute the former President of Chad, Mr. Hissène Habré, for large-scale human rights violations that he allegedly committed during his presidency in Chad.  At that time, Mr. Habré was already a resident of Senegal. The ICJ then ruled that Senegal breached its obligations under Article 6(2) and  Article 7 (1) of the Convention Against Torture (“CAT”).  Article 6(2) requires Senegal to “immediately make a preliminary inquiry into the facts” against “a person alleged to have committed acts of torture” that is within its territory. Article 7 (1), on the other hand,  requires Senegal to “submit the case to its competent authorities for the purpose of prosecution.”

Evidently, the legal ruling in Belgium v. Senegal relates more specifically to the interpretation of the provisions of the CAT rather than on crimes against humanity and war crimes. More importantly, Mr. Habré was present in the territorial jurisdiction of Senegal at that time, while General Min Aung Hlaing and the members of the Myanmar junta are not within Philippine territory, nor will they be in the foreseeable future. This is essentially the same reason why the requirement under Section 17(b) of RA 9851 for the presence of the accused within Philippine territory is so important. While universal jurisdiction can present an important tool for pursuing international justice and accountability, RA 9851’s conditional view of it asserts that it cannot come at the expense of the accused’s fundamental due process rights. Even in Germany, a country that has been frequently described as a model of universal jurisdiction through its Code of Crimes against International Law (Völkerstrafgesetzbuch – VStGB), it has been noted that “a trial can never be initiated without the accused being before the court” because it is a “mandatory requirement for a lawful process that defendants have the chance to defend themselves against the accusations brought against them.”

Relevantly, it was reported in 2014 that Spain moved away from absolute, unconditional universal jurisdiction by enacting reform legislation that adopted a restrictive model of universal jurisdiction, just like the Philippines’ RA 9851. This reform legislation thus excluded the possibility of conducting investigations, prosecutions, and trials in absentia, and limited “the exercise of universal jurisdiction to the circumstance that the suspect is present in the territory of Spain.” When this change was questioned before the Supreme Court of Spain, the Spanish Supreme Court rejected the challenge by stating that an absolute and unconditional exercise of universal jurisdiction is not mandated by international law, whether through international treaties such as the Geneva Conventions or by CIL. This ruling from the Supreme Court of Spain is persuasive authority within the Philippine legal jurisdiction, and there is a strong possibility that Philippine prosecutors and courts may interpret Section 17 of RA 9851 similarly to the Spanish Court.

Concomitantly, RA 9851 also provides that the relevant Philippine authorities may dispense with the assumption of jurisdiction if another court or international tribunal is already conducting such an investigation or undertaking the prosecution. As noted previously, legal proceedings over atrocities in Myanmar have been initiated in Argentina, Turkey, Indonesia, and Germany and also in the ICC and the ICJ. While some of these cases may deal with completely different egregious acts committed by the Myanmar military, such as those against the Rohingyas, the possibility of an overlap and connection between these cases can present another challenge to any assumption of jurisdiction by Philippine authorities.

IV. Policy Considerations

Under the Philippine legal system, it is the executive branch, through the Secretary of Justice and the prosecutors, that first determines the existence of probable cause before the case can proceed in court, akin to grand juries in the American legal system. As an executive function, it would be hardly surprising if other factors beyond just the legal questions are also investigated by Philippine executive officials in making their determination. Current Philippine foreign policy, for example, may increase the hesitancy of Philippine authorities to assume jurisdiction on behalf Burmese refugees. The Philippines, as a member of the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, or ASEAN, is expected to observe the long-standing principle of non-interference in the internal affairs of other member countries. While this principle has not stopped the Philippines from issuing and supporting critical statements on the atrocities in Myanmar, allowing criminal proceedings to progress and possibly result in Philippine courts issuing arrest warrants for the members of the ruling junta regime can altogether become a step too far for the Philippines in terms of non-interference. Two years ago, it was essentially this very same principle that prevented the Philippines from even joining the call made by the United Nations’ Human Rights Council that the military junta should release detained Myanmar leader Aung San Suu Kyi.

Additionally, an executive determination by the Philippine Department of Justice must also consider any potential reprisals by the ruling Junta regime against the Filipino population in Myanmar. For instance,  it was reported previously that the arrest of a British national in Myanmar was possibly made in retaliation to the imposition of sanctions by the United Kingdom on Myanmar. Since the welfare of Filipino nationals overseas continues to play a significant and primary role in the country’s foreign policy dealings with other states, any executive decision on the Myanmar cases would therefore have to take into account its potential ramifications for the Filipino nationals that are residing in Myanmar.

V. Conclusion

While not entirely implausible, there are a number of legal and policy obstacles to the Philippines assuming universal jurisdiction over the case filed by the Burmese refugees. These obstacles could impede possible investigations and court hearings conducted by relevant Philippine authorities. As such we should not expect the existing legal framework in the Philippines to become the go-to destination for pursuing international justice over atrocities committed in Myanmar anytime soon.

However, the Philippine domestic legal framework may still be useful to the pursuit of justice by the Burmese refugees. Even if no criminal cases are tried in the Philippines, officials can assist Burmese refugees in the gathering of evidence. This is akin to structural investigations conducted in Germany, whereby investigations are “led irrespective of whether it is foreseeable that investigation proceedings on specific cases will arise.” In this manner, evidence is gathered merely for purposes of submitting it later on to a foreign or international jurisdiction that wants to assume jurisdiction over the case.


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2024 Annual Symposium Roundup: Harvard Looks to the Future of International Economic Law

2024 Annual Symposium Roundup: Harvard Looks to the Future of International Economic Law

Harvard International Law Journal and The Harvard Law & International Development Society*

On March 2, the Harvard International Law Journal and the Harvard Law & International Development Society jointly hosted the 2024 Harvard International Law Conference. The Conference focused on the future of international economic law and featured panels on foreign investment, sovereign debt, international financial regulation, and global trade reform. Each panel included experts from academia, governments, and private practice. In total, the Conference welcomed 19 speakers and over 100 attendees. 

The Conference began with a discussion on foreign investment and emerging markets. Panelists included Dr. Zongyuan Zoe Liu of the Council on Foreign Relations, Daniel Crosby of King & Spalding, Rohan Sandhu of the Harvard Kennedy School, and Karen Mathiasen of the Center for Global Development. The panel was moderated by Cristian Rodriguez-Chiffelle of the OECD Business Investment Committee. The discussion began by questioning whether current multilateral regimes governing resources, exports, and investments are geopolitical in nature, and, if so, how they might require institutional reforms to better allocate monetary and market investments. Ms. Mathiasen cited the World Bank as an example of an institution with an inbuilt lending preference for emerging market economies, which are responsible for many current climate challenges, as opposed to low-income countries, which shoulder most of the effects of climate change. The panelists also commented on the rise of new geopolitical players in the global investment landscape. For example, Dr. Liu drew attention to the lack of transparency in Chinese mixed-ownership entities investing in the United States, while Mr. Sandhu pointed out the lack of capacity in India’s government to manage an influx of private investment.

The second panel explored sovereign debt in an era of “great powers.” The panel featured four experts: Prof. Mark Weidemaier of UNC Chapel Hill School of Law, Dr. Gregory Makoff of the Harvard Kennedy School, Melissa Butler of White & Case, and Dr. Sebastian Grund of the International Monetary Fund. Of particular interest to both the panelists and the participants were debt-for-nature swaps, a solution that exchanges a portion of a state’s existing debt for its investment in local nature conservation projects. The discussion also touched on various contributors to the global debt environment: collective action restructuring provisions, complex creditor groups, and the rise of new country lenders like China. Although the panel at times included lively disagreement, the speakers largely agreed that “brutal restructurings,” as described by Prof. Weidemaier, were often the only way out for sovereigns in debt distress. Current reform proposals that merely “tinker at the edges” (e.g., proposals to limit the powers of holdout creditors) may be masking the growing underlying sovereign problems,including the magnitude of refinancing needs in the coming decades.

Hassane Cisse, Former Deputy General Counsel of the World Bank, delivered the Conference’s keynote address on the theme of global governance. Mr. Cisse was introduced by Ada Ordor, Professor of Comparative Law at the University of Cape Town and Visiting Professor at Harvard Law School. Prof. Ordor emphasized the need for international institutions to refocus their attention on issues relevant to developing economies, and, in particular, to Sub-Saharan Africa. Mr. Cisse’s speech built on the theme of s institutional refocusing as he encouraged consistent self-reflection and reform in global governance. He drew on 30 years of experience at the IMF and World Bank to share both positive and sobering examples of international institutional reform. Mr. Cisse then called for the development of more inclusive governance structures that accurately reflect the modern global political economy and proposed a “Declaration on Values, Principles, Rights, and Obligations to Govern Nation States and other Stakeholders in Global Governance”.

After the lunch break, the Conference proceeded with a panel on the future of international financial regulation. Present at the panel was Dr. Larissa de Lima of Oliver Wyman, Prof. David Zaring of Wharton Business School, and H. Rodgin Cohen of Sullivan & Cromwell. The speakers agreed that emerging technologies and digital innovations will challenge the international financial regulation status quo (e.g., digital assets and distributed ledger technologies), and regulators will need to improve their ability to keep pace with technology. The speakers noted that shared goals for  future governance frameworks could include focusing on stability, limiting spillover effects, ensuring proper data sharing, and scaling  standards to avoid regulatory arbitrage opportunities. The panelists noted that Basel III Endgame is a promising sign of international cooperation, but the fact that the U.S. may end up treating it as an aspirational ceiling for banking standards potentially endangers the coherence of Basel III’s workability. Further discussion centered on the need for liquidity regulation rather than a myopic focus on capital regulation. Finally, when it came to the future of  the dollar’s reserve currency status, the panel noted that the current currency hierarchy may be affected by changing technology  related to price discovery and search costs.

The fourth and final panel discussed the World Trade Organization and the international trading system more broadly. The panel consisted of Prof. Kathleen Claussen of the Georgetown University Law Center, Prof. Shipping Liao of Beijing Normal University School of Law, Pablo Bentes of Baker McKenzie, Prof. Petros Mavroidis of Columbia Law School, and Marc Gilbert of Boston Consulting Group. Taking place in the aftermath of a controversial meeting of the 13th Ministerial Conference of the WTO, the panelists generally agreed that international trade law and the institutions undergirding it are, if not in outright crisis, very much adrift. Against a backdrop of countries increasingly resorting to trade policy measures that the WTO had long ruled out of bounds, the recent Ministerial Conference’s inability to agree to more than stopgap measures, such as a temporary extension of the international moratorium on digital trade taxes, was uniformly found to signal a crisis of leadership, with major players such as the U.S., China, and the E.U. either unwilling or unable to take the reins in repairing the WTO’s credibility. The panelists also agreed that this gave room for rising powers, such as India, South Africa, and Brazil to exercise increased leverage, furthering their agendas and obstructing major initiatives that clash with their economic priorities. Finally, the panelists noted that international trade flows themselves had shifted, with the U.S.-China bilateral trade relationship giving up ground to new patterns of exchange between the U.S. and its North American neighbors, and with the developing economies of South and Southeast Asia. The panelists disagreed, however, on the nature of a core feature of this new status quo in international trade: the use of national security as a justification for departures from international trade norms. Some took the stance that this phenomenon is an inevitable feature of the international system, given that states have always intertwined economics with  national security, and that the WTO would have to adjust to this reality by giving members  greater flexibility to pursue national security goals under Article XXI of the GATT. Others adopted the position that this resort to national security is  a slippery slope, giving countries  a useful pretext to circumvent existing rules and unilaterally pursue non-national security oriented goals, such as climate policy or protectionism.

Speakers and participants finished the Conference by an evening reception at Harvard Law School’s Wasserstein Hall, where discussion on the future of international economic law continued.


*The Harvard International Law Journal and The Harvard Law & International Development Society are student organizations at Harvard Law School.

The Political and Legal Ambiguities of the Multilateral Security Support Mission Authorized for Haiti

The Political and Legal Ambiguities of the Multilateral Security Support Mission Authorized for Haiti

Moise Jean*

Introduction

Almost a year after the Haitian government requested an international force to deal with gang violence, the United Nations Security Council adopted a resolution under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter authorizing the formation and deployment of a Multinational Security Support (MSS) mission. This resolution came at a time when public opinion was beginning to question the inaction of the international community, and even its responsibility to protect, in situations such as this, where the state is incapable of ensuring the protection of its own population.

The resolution contains some particularly encouraging aspects: it requires the Mission to carry out its mandate in strict compliance with international law; it commits the Mission to guarantee respect for fundamental human rights, to protect children, and to prevent sexual and gender-based violence and exploitation; and it provides for the establishment of a complaint mechanism. In the event of allegations of misconduct, the Mission is required to conduct investigations and, if necessary, determine who is responsible. The resolution also requests member states participating in the MSS to adopt appropriate wastewater management and other environmental controls to guard against the introduction and spread of water-borne diseases, in accordance with the “World Health Organization’s 2001 report on water quality guidelines.”

These aspects are encouraging because international military interventions are at a high risk of violating international law, whether it be the risk of misuse of the mandate or the risk of human rights violations. In Haiti, U.N. peacekeepers were accused of human rights violations, sexual exploitation, and being responsible for the cholera epidemic that claimed thousands of victims. The formal inclusion of these provisions in the resolution is therefore a commendable initiative: it should help to dissuade the states involved and could contribute to the conduct of operations on a basis closer to the rule of law.

Beyond these positive prospects, however, the resolution raises several fundamental issues by authorizing the creation and deployment of an international military force whose legal nature is ambiguous. As we shall see, this ambiguity may have a negative impact on the smooth running and effectiveness of the authorized operation and may generate difficulties in the event of responsibility for any violations of international obligations.

I. A New Kind of Mission

The Mission to be deployed in Haiti is neither a collective security mission nor a U.N. peacekeeping mission. Although it is based on Chapter VII of the Charter, the resolution does not mention the precise article that is being invoked for authorization of the Mission. The authorized intervention, like many others before it, will not be carried out under the authority of the Security Council. It is therefore not a collective security mission. Similarly, it cannot be described as a peacekeeping mission, since the link between these types of operations and the United Nations is clear from their names––which is not the case for the Mission in question. The international force to be deployed in Haiti is therefore akin to what the doctrine calls an “authorized operation,” as was the case in Korea in 1950, Iraq in 1991, and Libya in 2011. The only difference is that, in those cases, the operation was imposed. Here, it was requested.

There are, however, distinctive features of the Mission that set it apart from authorized operations.  First, there is the question of its mandate. According to the resolution, the Mission is to “provid[e] operational support to the Haitian National Police, including building its capacity through the planning and conduct of joint security support operations.” It must also “provid[e] support[] to the Haitian National Police[] for the provision of security for critical infrastructure sites and transit locations.” In other words, it is not a direct intervention force, with a clear mission to restore security in Haiti. Rather, its mission would be to support the Haitian police in their efforts to combat crime and insecurity. The multinational force would carry out its operations in complementarity with, or even under the leadership of, the police.

This is a new feature in the history of operations authorized by the Security Council. In principle, operations authorized under Chapter VII of the Charter are intended to intervene directly to pacify a situation threatening international peace and security. They do not have to act as a complement to a national force. They are operations that are justified by a peace-threatening situation, requiring emergency military intervention to maintain or restore peace. This is their raison d’être. By deciding that the authorized operation should be carried out in conjunction with the local police, the Security Council is breaking new ground.

What’s more, and this is even more curious, the resolution asks those in charge of the Mission (Kenya, or possibly another state that would take the lead), in coordination with the Haitian government, to communicate to the Security Council information concerning “the goals of the mission and the end result sought, the rules of engagement” prior to the deployment of forces on the ground. In clear terms, this means that it is the participating states, in consultation with the Haitian authorities, who will define the Mission’s operational and final objectives.

This is unprecedented. Never before in the history of the United Nations has an authorized operation had to define its own objectives, never mind in cooperation with the authorities of the state in which it is intervening. In principle, it is up to the Security Council to define the objectives of the mandate, and to monitor and supervise its execution. It cannot delegate this power to a third party. Nor does the Council need the approval of the state concerned to determine the objectives of the mandate of an authorized operation adopted under Chapter VII of the Charter, even if it is the state that requests it. In the latter case, the Council may, if it sees fit, authorize the state concerned to participate simply as an observer in meetings of the “steering committee” for the operation, as was the case with Albania in 1997 (S/1997/362, par. 7). But the state’s participation is not decisive, still less in defining the terms of the mandate. The Security Council is therefore setting a new precedent. No previous resolution adopted in connection with the creation and deployment of a coercive international military operation contains provisions of this kind.

As a result, the nature of the Mission in Haiti is ambiguous. It is an authorized operation created under Chapter VII of the Charter, even though its main characteristics diverge from this type of mission. In reality, it is a U.N. peacekeeping operation created under the umbrella of an authorized operation. Almost all its features, from the question of operational support for the national police to the involvement of the government in determining objectives and rules of engagement, are peacekeeping in nature. It is a hybrid mission combining elements of the collective security system (Chapter VII) and the peacekeeping system but ultimately establishing an institution with an uncertain legal status, that is, a mission which in practice clearly does not fit into any of the categories of institutionalized international military intervention hitherto known.

Because of these legal uncertainties, the MSS Mission is not without its political and legal concerns.

II. Political Issues: The Question of Mission’s Effectiveness

Established on foundations as unstable as they are superficial, the operation authorized in Haiti is undoubtedly fragile. This shortcoming could undermine its effectiveness. It is hard to understand why the Security Council should so lightly authorize an international mission that will mobilize so many resources in a country that is only asking for real support from the international community to solve its problems. One of the consequences of the ambiguities in the Mission’s mandate will be that any disagreement between the operations directorate and the Haitian police or authorities will paralyze their actions. The Haitian government undoubtedly has its own agenda, its own understanding of the problems, and its own solutions. The countries involved also have their own. Compromises will have to be made every time. Will this compromise always be possible? At this stage, it is hard to say.

In the meantime, suffice it to say that while this kind of arrangement, which seems to take Haiti’s sovereignty and independence into account, is not a bad thing in itself, it is something to be wary of. We would be surprised if the Mission were effective in such circumstances. But more fundamentally, there is a risk of disempowerment. For, in the end, it will be easy for those in charge of the Mission to point to the fact that cooperation with the Haitian authorities has not worked well to justify a lack or even an absence of results. What’s more, when Security Council resolutions authorizing a mission are ambiguous, the states involved tend to interpret them for their own benefit, for example by considering their mission accomplished and withdrawing their troops, particularly if they have suffered losses on the ground, as was the case in Somalia.

The vagueness identified in the definition of the mandate of the operation authorized in Haiti can have another, even more devastating consequence: misuse of the Mission. Indeed, in this type of operation, there is always a risk of deviation or instrumentalization. However, the risk becomes even greater when the resolution authorizing its implementation does not sufficiently clarify the mandate, does not clearly spell out what is authorized and what is not, and does not precisely delimit the scope of the intervention. In Libya, for example, Resolution 1973 (2011) did not authorize the overthrow of the Libyan government, contrary to what actually happened. Intervention forces have interpreted it broadly. The lack of precision in these parameters in the resolution adopted on October 2 could lead to a deviation from the mandate of the operation authorized in Haiti, which would ultimately be a disservice to the population we are supposed to be helping.

III. Legal Issues: The Question of U.N. Responsibility

Because of these essential ambiguities, the MSS Mission also raises the fundamental legal concern of responsibility. This is an important issue, given the risks of violations of international law, in particular international humanitarian law and human rights law, during the military intervention. This is especially so in a country like Haiti, where the question of U.N. responsibility has been the subject of debate in the recent past, even though there was not a shadow of a doubt as to whether the mission responsible for the illicit acts (MINUSTAH) belonged to the United Nations. The situation therefore becomes very worrying when the intervening mission is one whose legal nature is not very clear.

And with good reason: according to the United Nations, a distinction must be made between operations authorized by the United Nations and carried out under national or regional command and control, and U.N. operations carried out under their command and control, when assessing imputability to the United Nations (A/CN.4/637/Add.1, p. 10). In the case of U.N. operations, there are two hypotheses to be considered. First, if the operations were carried out jointly by a U.N. force and a force under national command and control, such as the U.N. Operation in Somalia II (UNOSOM II) and the U.S.-led Rapid Reaction Force in Somalia, the conduct of the troops would be attributed to the entity exercising operational command and control. Second, if the operations were carried out by peacekeeping forces, as was the case with U.N. Stabilization Mission in Haiti (MINUSTAH), the Secretary-General considers that, given these forces’ status as subsidiary organs of the United Nations, the conduct would be attributed to the United Nations.

On the other hand, when it comes to operations authorized by the Security Council, as is the case with the Mission to be deployed in Haiti, the United Nations declines all responsibility. According to the venerable organization, international responsibility for operations authorized by the Security Council under Chapter VII of the Charter and conducted under national or regional command and control lies with the state or states conducting the operations in question (A/CN.4/637/Add.1, p. 10). This was the case, for example, in Somalia during Operation Restore Hope, when a car accident occurred. The United Nations declined responsibility on the grounds that the person involved in the accident was working for Operation Restore Hope and not for the UNOSOM. According to the United Nations, the troops of the Unified Task Force were not under its command.

A priori, this should not pose any particular problem if, once established, the responsibility of the state or states could be called into question without any particular difficulties. In practice, however, there is no room for optimism. In most of the authorized operations in which international obligations have been violated and lawsuits brought against the states concerned, the latter have constantly tried to absolve themselves of responsibility by insisting on the central role of the Security Council, and ultimately on the responsibility of the United Nations. This was the case, for example, with the appeals against Kosovo Force (KFOR). While for the plaintiffs, KFOR’s actions or omissions could not be attributed to the United Nations, for the targeted states, on the contrary, KFOR’s actions were indeed attributable to the United Nations. Moreover, both international and national judges have so far refused to rule on the conduct of multinational forces. This creates a gap between the principle of state responsibility for acts committed during an authorized operation and the actual implementation of their responsibility for said acts.

Hence the importance of clarifying the legal nature of the Mission. As already mentioned, the Mission to be deployed in Haiti has the appearance of a U.N. mission in terms of its characteristics, but it is officially an authorized operation. This means, therefore, that the United Nations will not be held responsible for any misadventures that may occur during operations. They automatically rule out any possibility of linking any illicit acts to them.  This is an important legal issue, particularly in a country where the United Nations has shirked its responsibility for damage committed by an international force that was its own. The Haitian government, politicians, and civil society need to be aware of this aspect of the issue.

Conclusion

Ultimately, the authorization of the international military force is not a bad thing, given the situation in Haiti. The Haitians could not take it anymore. Even the intellectuals and other actors traditionally opposed to any international military intervention were for the most part in favor or almost in favor of military intervention, subject to certain conditions. However, the mission that has been set up has shortcomings in its design that leave us perplexed and questioning. Finally, the main, if not the only real virtue of the resolution adopted by the Security Council lies in the fact that it commits the intervening states to act within the framework of the law. It remains to be seen whether this rare virtue will enable the mission to succeed in its challenge, that is, to set an example, bring peace to Haiti, and enable the Haitian people to resume the normal course of their lives, not only for the duration of the operation but beyond.

*Moise Jean is a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Geneva, in the Department of International Law and Organization. He is very grateful to Jacob Libby for his very thoughtful comments and edits.

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A Global Standard Setter for Virtual Currencies:  A Case for Strengthening International Financial Law

A Global Standard Setter for Virtual Currencies: A Case for Strengthening International Financial Law

Juan Carlos Portilla*

Introduction

Because a paradigm shift is currently underway in the international monetary system, international financial regulators should establish a global standard setter for virtual currencies (“VCs”). This article will refer to such an entity as the Global Agency for the Virtual Currency Economy (“GAVCE”). Two monetary ecosystems coexist today. The first ecosystem involves central banks and depository institutions that supply economies with fiat currency; the second includes VCs. VCs emerged in 2009 “as a means of defiance against a financial system in crisis and ‘captured’ by state regulation and private agents.” For some, VCs inspire a level of confidence that money managed by central authorities might not sustain. Nevertheless, the rise of VCs also implicates important risks including market manipulation and financial crime—and governments across the globe are struggling to regulate VCs because of their disintermediated technological constitution.

Although the European Union agreed in June 2023 on a provisional version of the Markets in Crypto Assets framework, and while some scholars in the United States are making the case for self-regulation in the VC industry, this article argues for some form of global governance intervention in case these or other mechanisms fail. Regulations must protect VC consumers from market failure, asymmetric information, and negative externalities. Yet, most countries have not taken any regulatory action on VCs, creating significant regulatory gaps. According to the World Economic Forum, regulatory systems governing VCs are “fragmented, ineffective, and, in some countries nonexistent.” Because there is no harmonized global regulatory governance for VCs, criminal enterprises can engage in regulatory arbitrage across nations to commit financial crimes, such as the financing of terrorism and money laundering. Therefore, international financial law should establish a GAVCE to regulate VCs.

This article draws upon the interdisciplinary dialogue between international law (“IL”) and international relations (“IR”) scholarship to make the case for a GAVCE. In Part I, the article introduces blockchain technologies and the VC ecosystem. Part II outlines emerging risks related to VCs and discusses matters of law related to the establishment of a GAVCE. Finally, Part III discusses the politics that would emerge while establishing global governance for VCs, which implicate regulatory capture theories and the role of time as an analytical variable, in the rule-making process.

I. Introducing Blockchain

VCs are peer-to-peer electronic cash systems that use blockchain technology to operate without the need for intermediaries (banks). According to a memorandum by presumed Bitcoin creator Satoshi Nakamoto, the peer-to-peer nature of VCs “allows online payments to transfer directly from one party to another without routing through a financial institution.” Blockchain technology, in turn, gathers information (a ledger for transactions) into “blocks” that hold it. Blocks have storage capacities; ledgers for transactions are placed into a block until it is filled. Once a block is filled, it is then closed and immediately linked to the previously filled block. This process forms a chain of information (a “blockchain”), whose blocks are linked through cryptography, creating a peer-to-peer electronic cash system. Thus, VCs “are distributed, open-source, math-based peer-to-peer virtual currencies” that can operate with no central bank involvement, no intermediaries, and no government oversight.

VCs are different from fiat currencies, e-money, and central bank digital currencies (“CBDCs”). While fiat currency is the paper money of a country that is designated to be its legal tender, and accepted as a medium of exchange, VCs are digital representations of value that can be digitally traded, and they are typically neither issued nor guaranteed by governments. VCs are also different from e-money, which digitally represents fiat currency and is utilized to electronically transfer the value denominated in fiat currency. Although some countries have used blockchain technology to issue CBDCs, like the digital yuan of China, CBDCs do not fully encapsulate all of the attractive features of VCs, such as anonymity, decentralization, and governance. While central banks that issue CBDCs decide on the rules governing those CBDCs, the users of VCs control VC networks by making consensus-based decisions. 

The VC Ecosystem

Several specific VCs—including Bitcoin and Ethereum—are well-known to the public. Bitcoins, which are convertible units of account composed of unique strings of letters and numbers constituting units of the currency, are decentralized in nature. Since individual users are willing to pay for Bitcoins and other VCs, they have value in the marketplace. Ethereum, Ripple, Litecoin, and Dashcoin came after Bitcoin and utilize a similar form of blockchain technology. Stablecoins, in turn, are VCs backed by fiat currencies, like the U.S. dollar, or commodities, like gold. Tether, for example, is the largest stablecoin by market capitalization and its value is pegged to the U.S. dollar.

Several different actors make up the VC market. The supply side of the VC market consists of exchange firms, such as Binance. Supply-side firms also include administrators, miners, and wallet providers. Exchangers, for a commission, trade VCs for other VCs—or for precious metals or fiat currencies. Administrators are individuals or legal entities that issue VCs, write rules for the use of VCs, maintain central payment ledgers, and redeem VCs. Miners act as market makers; they use computer systems to verify transactions by adding them to the blockchain. VC wallets hold, store, and transfer VCs (examples of wallet providers include Multibit or Coinbase). Finally, users compose the demand side of the VC market. Users exercise their freedom of choice to select VCs and they generally buy VCs for payment or investment needs.

II. Emerging Risks

Emerging risks related to VCs include consumer panic, market manipulation, and financial crime. Confidence is a bedrock principle of the modern financial system. Unlike traditional financial products (such as savings accounts), Bitcoin and other VCs are presently uninsurable—which undermines investor confidence and heightens the risk of consumer panic. When an individual in the United States deposits money with a bank in a single ownership capacity, he or she has access to up to U.S. $250,000 at the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (“FDIC”) if the bank fails for the U.S. dollar is backed by the full faith and credit of the U.S. government. In contrast, government deposit insurance is not available for VCs because they are not regulated or backed by any government. Additionally, the price history of VCs demonstrates that the VC market may in fact be a speculative bubble. Bitcoin investors can manipulate its price; for example, media coverage of Bitcoin or fake news associated with Bitcoin can induce individuals who have not previously traded Bitcoin to invest in it for the first time. In the absence of a central government authority backing the value of Bitcoin, Bitcoin investors could lose their shirts, were Bitcoin to fail.

According to Nobel Prize-winning economist Joseph Stiglitz, VCs are also often used for illicit purposes such as tax evasion. According to the Financial Action Task Force (“FATF”), money launderers, terrorist financiers, and sanctions evaders use VCs as a powerful tool for financial crime endeavors, outside the reach of law enforcement. Indeed, bad actors can and often do use technology and Bitcoin to pursue chaos and perpetrate financial crimes. One example is the May 2017 WannaCry ransomware attack, in which a worm component exploited vulnerabilities in the widely used Microsoft Windows operating system. Ultimately, the cyberattack cost eight billion US dollars in damages. The criminals behind the attack demanded payment in Bitcoin because they have easy access to VC service providers around the world.

III. Global Governance for VC

Multiple instruments, including but not limited to treaties, may be used to create a GAVCE. Traditionally, states have been the primary source for the creation of international organizations (“IOs”), particularly by way of international treaties. Examples of this approach include the International Monetary Fund Articles of Agreement. Nevertheless, many legitimate and powerful IOs have also originated outside of the treaty process. These IOs, with more innovative institutional designs, have increasingly found their way into the international legal order. For example, the central bank governors of the G-10 countries established, without a treaty, the Basel Committee on Banking Supervision (“BCBS”)—the primary global standard setter for the prudential regulation of banks. Likewise, the International Organization of Securities Commissions (“IOSCO”)—the international body recognized as the global standard setter for securities—is not a treaty organization but rather a not-for-profit legal entity incorporated under a private act in Quebec, sanctioned by the Quebec National Assembly. FATF—the global money laundering and terrorist financing watchdog—is similarly not a treaty-based international organization but rather a task force composed of member states who fund FATF on a temporary basis for the achievement of specific mandates. Decentralized government agencies, under the control of the executive branch of national governments, can also form IOs; in 1995, a network of national financial intelligence units established the Egmont Group, which provides a platform to exchange financial intelligence to combat financial crime. In sum, there are multiple legal instruments besides treaties available to create a GAVCE.

Considering the above, domestic regulatory agencies should establish GAVCE outside the treaty-based model, which involves a slow and politically costly ratification journey. Although the establishment of GACVE outside the treaty process may face concerns related to legitimacy or a perceived democratic deficit, a more efficient approach here is warranted because of the urgency of the issuance of global VC regulations as well as the widely recognized success of other non-treaty based IOs like IOSCO.

The proposed GAVCE should also have the capability to influence relations amongst states, market agents within the virtual currency economy, and multilateral financial institutions. GAVCE should build power and influence from the inside out to affect the behavior of states when regulating VCs; to achieve this, domestic regulatory agencies should delegate certain law-making capabilities to GAVCE to regulate VCs. This act of delegation upon GAVCE is feasible because IOs can be explicitly empowered to make international law through a delegated law-making process, which is best explained under the principal-agent theory, mainly associated with corporate law. The principal-agent theory can be applied to the relationship between state actors and global standard setters under international law. According to Ian Johnstone of the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University, the simplest form of delegation exists in this context when states explicitly grant authority to IOs, because it is typically fairly straightforward to identify the agent, the principals, and the powers that the principals have conferred.

Although this type of delegation to GAVCE may face criticism related to a loss of sovereignty or the risk of capture by special interests, several distinct benefits of delegation outweigh those concerns. First, the delegation at issue will be limited in scope—exclusively to the world of VCs. As such, there is no significant incursion on state sovereignty. A second benefit of delegation is the standardization of norms across jurisdictions to avert regulatory arbitrage and mitigate financial crime. As previously stated, current regulatory systems governing VCs are fragmented, ineffective, and often nonexistent. Third, there is currently a dire need for regulatory experts to develop technical skills related to the various complex features of VCs, blockchain, and exchangers. The development of such expertise through the proposed GAVCE would in turn help the international community to sow the seeds for a good governance model for the VC market. Under this good governance approach, global crypto policymakers would make decisions, through the proposed GAVCE, based on data and widely accepted methodologies to protect the virtual currency economy from the risks outlined above.

Another way to reduce the risks of delegation and institutional capture is for GAVCE to issue soft law rather than hard law. International law is more than just a formalistic set of black-letter rules; a more pluralistic conception of international law, embraced by many scholars today, also considers soft law, which is formally non-binding but habitually obeyed. According to Shaffer and Pollack, states do not always only favor the hard law model when making international law and instead often adopt the soft law approach, as a design choice. Although the concept of soft law may be problematic to legal positivists because it suggests a continuum between political and legal commitments, functionalist scholars argue that soft law norms offer several advantages over hard law, including 1) greater flexibility for states to cope with uncertainty, 2) greater opportunity for states to gain expertise over time through information sharing and deliberation, and 3) lower negotiation costs. In this context, hard law does not provide states with the necessary flexibility to deal with the uncertainties of VCs, because VCs are an emerging, ever-changing technology. Soft law will better accommodate the shifting nature of VCs.

Politics of International Corporate Capture

Concerns about international corporate capture may play a significant role in the establishment of a GAVCE, as corporate capture could materially affect the substantive outcomes of GAVCE’s eventual regulations. Institutional theory, regulatory capture, and the role of time as an analytical variable are all key topics that capture the attention of scholars when analyzing global financial rule-making processes. The politics that revolved around BCBS while it began to regulate international banking set a precedent that leaders should consider in the process of regulating VCs. Indeed, there are different sets of conditions that result in captured regulation, which serves narrow vested interests, versus common interest regulation, which serves the broader public interest.

Indeed, global VC regulators would not be immune to the risk of regulatory capture by self-interested actors and powerful interest groups. If VC firms were to capture GAVCE’s rulemaking, they might pursue policies that would be contrary to the public interest. One hypothetical example to illustrate the risk of VC capture would be a rule allowing the issuers of stablecoins to use an algorithm-based system to maintain their peg to the U.S. dollar instead of a system of cash reserves. History proves that such a rule would have costly effects; TerraUSD—a U.S. dollar stablecoin that sparked a crisis in VC markets in 2022—used an algorithm-based system rather than cash reserves to maintain its peg to the dollar, causing it to lose its price peg during a crisis of liquidity in early 2022.  During this crisis, investors expected to be able to cash out the stablecoin for one U.S. dollar at any point, but ultimately were not able to when TerraUSD lost its price peg. The TerraUSD meltdown caused losses of $300 billion across the broader VC market.

To prevent corporate capture and scenarios like the above, scholars have presented theoretical frameworks that emphasize the importance of timing and sequencing in determining rulemaking outcomes in global finance. For instance, a close examination of Basel Committee deliberation records and other key documents provides strong evidence that the first movers in the Basel process, namely powerful international banks, played a key role in determining the Committee’s outcomes. Domestic regulatory agencies should carefully consider time and sequencing to prevent large VC groups from arriving at the decision-making table well before others. The first-mover advantage cannot be part of the regulatory process for VCs. In addition, transparency around lobbying and the establishment of a “cooling off” period after serving in the private sector can prevent powerful VC firms from capturing GAVCE’s rulemaking.

Conclusion

So far, VCs have largely escaped from the regulatory grasp of national governments. Because there is no harmonized regulatory governance regime in place, VCs are often used for illicit purposes. International law must regulate VCs to strengthen the governance of the overarching global financial architecture. Multiple instruments, including treaties and non-treaty mechanisms, are available to create a GAVCE that can issue soft law to regulate VCs. Nevertheless, non-state actors may also pose regulatory capture risks concerning the global VC rule-making process. Global policymakers should take careful measures to avert regulatory capture if they decide to establish a global standard setter for VCs.


*Juan Carlos Portilla is an International Financial Law Professor at Sabana University School of Law (Colombia) & Anti-Corporate Crime Law Professor at the ITAM Law School (Mexico), an ACAMS Speaker, a Legal Consultant and a Compliance Professional at several different global financial institutions including the Central American Bank for Economic Integration (Honduras), Santander Securities LLC, Raymond James Financial Services Inc., Wise Ltd (a fintech company), and Wells Fargo NA. Juan Carlos is a lawyer with a LL.B. degree from Sabana Law School, Colombia. He earned a master’s degree in international law from the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy, Tufts University, and completed the Program on Negotiation and Dispute Resolution course at the Harvard Law School.


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A Defense for Guardian Robots: Are Defensive Autonomous Weapons Systems Justifiable?

A Defense for Guardian Robots: Are Defensive Autonomous Weapons Systems Justifiable?

Rizky Citra Anugrah*

Introduction

The humanitarian crisis in Gaza highlights the persistent struggle to enforce international humanitarian law (IHL), a legal framework aimed at mitigating the devastating consequences of armed attacks, particularly the loss of innocent lives. Within just one week, we were confronted with a toll of approximately 3,500 lives lost, with no less than 2,215 belonging to the Palestinian people. In contrast, over the years, Israel has consistently experienced significantly lower casualties. This asymmetry raises a complicated question at the intersection of ethics, technology, and justice: what role does cutting-edge technology play in this equation, and can it contribute to upholding humanitarian principles in the face of such immense suffering?

To understand Israel’s relatively low casualty rate, we must delve into the deployment of the world’s most advanced defensive autonomous weapons system (DAWS), known as the ‘Iron Dome.’ Marco Sassòli, a professor and leading expert on international law at the University of Geneva, Switzerland, affirmed that the Iron Dome has helped Israel reduce its civilian casualties despite the arbitrary targeting by Hamas’ traditional rockets. Introduced in 2011, this defense system has been claimed to have a 97 percent success rate in intercepting incoming missiles. Put into context, Israel’s weekly average of around 3,000 incoming missiles translates to approximately 415 successful interceptions daily.

To get this number, the Iron Dome operates through three key components: radar, control, and battery. First, its radar detects incoming missiles and other airborne threats, distinguishing their size, velocity, and type. Second, the control acts as the ‘brain’ of the operation, employing algorithms and, more recently, artificial intelligence (AI) to guide interceptor rockets toward their targets automatically, even when the incoming missiles exhibit erratic movements. Additionally, it can prioritize intercepting missiles aimed at populated areas. Lastly, the battery fires two interceptors at each incoming missile and can release up to 20 interceptors at a time.

While Israel stands out as a prime example of the application of the world’s most advanced AI-powered DAWS, it is far from being the sole user. The United States, a co-producer of the Iron Dome, has ventured into testing the system’s application in Guam. Meanwhile, the United Kingdom is making significant progress in developing the DragonFire, a DAWS that harnesses concentrated laser beams to safeguard both land and maritime targets. Israel has taken a similar approach to developing the Iron Beam, which is designed to be a cost-efficient alternative to the Iron Dome.

Generally, autonomous weapons systems (AWS) have seen decades of use, but not all have been employed exclusively for defensive purposes. Recently, we have witnessed their integration with AI technologies, enabling these systems to operate substantially independently from human interference. In response to this growing threat to human dignity, there is an uprising movement to limit the further developments of AWS, with some advocating for stopping its development entirely. Spearheaded by the Campaign to Stop Killer Robots, this coalition has made significant progress in raising global awareness about the escalating threats posed by autonomous weapons. Particularly noteworthy is the coalition’s Vote Against The Machine campaign, which prompted the United Nations (UN) General Assembly to adopt Resolution L.56, entitled “Promoting International Cooperation on Peaceful Uses in the Context of International Security,” in October 2023. Sponsored by 44 states, the proposal has garnered the support of 120 other states, calling for all states to address the humanitarian, legal, and ethical risks posed by AWS.

I. The Case for Defensive Autonomous Weapons Systems

While extensive discussions and policies have delved into the legal and ethical challenges associated with lethal autonomous weapons systems (LAWS), a noticeable gap exists with DAWS. In the discourse on AWS, the focus has predominantly gravitated toward LAWS, often overlooking the existence and potential of AWS designed exclusively for defensive purposes. Furthermore, the terminology used in these discussions has contributed to this oversight. The term AWS is frequently used interchangeably with ‘Killer Robots,’ emphasizing the perception of autonomy in weapons systems predominantly geared toward offensive actions. In Resolution L.56 itself, although the title explicitly concerns LAWS, the umbrella term of AWS is still used repeatedly throughout several clauses. It is essential to acknowledge that weapons, in general, are not exclusively developed for offensive purposes. In this context, Black’s Law Dictionary provides an inclusive legal definition of ‘weapon’ as “an instrument of offensive or defensive combat.” In the realm of lexical discourses, weapons are inherently recognized as serving two opposing functions. However, this duality is often overlooked in legal discussions surrounding AWS. In light of this reality, this article proposes introducing a new term, ‘Guardian Robots,’ as a synonym for DAWS, aiming to provide a balanced perspective.

The differentiation between DAWS and LAWS is crucial because several ethical and legal considerations driving the push for a ban on LAWS are not applicable to DAWS. First and foremost, LAWS are often challenged on the grounds that they cannot comply with IHL, which requires adherence to the principles of humanity, distinction, proportionality, and military necessity. These arguments are based on the fact that current AI technologies are incapable of making decisions to the extent humans can. Indeed, AI is not yet technologically advanced enough to differentiate a surrendering soldier from a civilian who might be carrying weapons for defense. However, DAWS do not even need to make such decisions because of its purpose to exclusively aim at offensive weapons. Conversely, it can help and has helped humans in upholding humanitarian principles. For instance, the Iron Dome’s capability to target only missiles directed at civilian areas can help both the aggressor and the defender align with the goals of the distinction principle in IHL, significantly protecting civilian lives.

Another common argument supporting legal limitations on the development and deployment of LAWS revolves around the concept of meaningful human control (MHC). MHC is rooted in the philosophical discussions surrounding AWS, with the primary objective of constraining the reduction of significant human oversight and deliberation in weapons deployment. Two fundamental principles guide the preservation of MHC. The first principle dictates that weapons systems should not be able to apply force and operate without any form of human control. The second principle highlights the notion of ‘meaningful’ control, asserting that pressing a ‘fire’ button falls short of constituting substantive human oversight.

Some scholars argue that, while permitted, automation must be largely restricted to ensure significant human control in AWS. Others have pointed out that even a limited role for automated systems in AWS decision-making promotes an authority imbalance, perpetuating automation bias and ultimately influencing the human operator who should be in charge of the system. Automation bias is a psychological phenomenon in which individuals tend to favor decisions made by automated systems over their own judgments, even when the automated decision is proven inaccurate. Undeniably, automation bias and systematic errors are not exclusive to LAWS and can also arise in the decision-making of DAWS. However, the substantial benefits of widespread DAWS deployment far outweigh the potential drawbacks. Unlike LAWS, in which error exacerbates its already-destructive nature, DAWS only poses a risk in cases of extreme malfunctions. So far, the Iron Dome’s failures have been linked almost exclusively to the inability to intercept missiles without any breaches of IHL principles. Moreover, the Iron Dome is classified as a weapon with a very short launch range. This limitation prevents the Iron Dome from becoming lethal. Given the Iron Dome’s exceptionally high success rate, DAWS’s lawful and comprehensive technological development remains unlikely to pose lethal concerns during errors.

This proposition can be further argued to assert that, in the evolving landscape of military weaponry, autonomous defenses are not only beneficial but also essential for upholding IHL principles. Even without LAWS and AI technologies, military weapons are developed in increasingly complex ways that often surpass human capacity for effective defense. Due to its precision and rapid response capabilities, DAWS can be strategically deployed in vulnerable areas or sectors where the threats are beyond human control. Even in cases where DAWS fail to completely stop an attack, its role in mitigating its consequences can significantly help uphold IHL’s principle of proportionality. When sufficiently developed, the utilization of DAWS is pivotal in significantly reducing civilian casualties, as evidenced by the Iron Dome.

II. The Challenges of Defensive Autonomous Weapons Systems

Nevertheless, the pursuit of lawful development for DAWS while eliminating LAWS is not without its unique set of challenges. The first fundamental concern revolves around the definition of ‘defense.’ To what extent does the use of AWS qualify as an act of defense? The Caroline Doctrine provides a clear framework for ‘anticipatory’ self-defense, allowing a response when the need to react is “instant, overwhelming, and leaves no choice of means, and no moment for deliberation.” It readily addresses the permissibility of actions based on whether they constitute an attack or a counterattack. If the counterattack aligns with the criteria outlined in the Caroline Doctrine, it can be considered a lawful and justifiable response to an action initiated by another party. However, this doctrine is only relevant to decide whether or not the start of a defense is justifiable.

The definition of defense becomes increasingly blurry when it comes to the proportion of the counterattack. Two common yet contradictory parameters are often used to define proportionality in times of defense: the ‘tit for tat’ and the ‘means-end’ parameters. The ‘tit for tat’ parameter suggests that defensive actions are permissible when the counterattack is proportionate to the initial attack. In contrast, the ‘means-end’ parameter focuses on completely deterring the attacker from the ability to launch further attacks, determining the legitimacy of a proportional counterattack based on the objective of using force. The utilization of systems like the Iron Dome aligns more closely with the ‘tit for tat’ approach, where defense matches the scale of the attack.

Proponents advocating for the complete prohibition of all forms of AWS may argue that DAWS could potentially be exploited as LAWS under the guise of self-defense. The lack of a universally agreed-upon definition for defensive weapons creates a vulnerability, allowing for the manipulation of international law principles and doctrines. However, this concern can be effectively addressed by establishing an international agreement that outlines the characteristics of DAWS. The international agreement could explicitly define the elements that categorize a weapon as a DAWS to enhance clarity and prevent misuse. Additionally, incorporating the ‘tit for tat’ parameter into the agreement would provide a specific criterion for assessing the legitimacy of an AWS in relation to its defensive or lethal nature. This criterion ensures that the evaluation of autonomous weapons aligns with the principle of proportionality, wherein the defensive response corresponds appropriately to the scale of the initial attack. By deliberately excluding the ‘means-end’ parameter from the assessment criteria, such an agreement would significantly reduce the potential for abuse of DAWS and uphold IHL principles.

The second fundamental concern revolves around the danger of reverse engineering. As Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu expressed on the Russo-Ukrainian war, “We’re concerned also with the possibility that [the Iron Dome] systems that we would give to Ukraine would fall into Iranian hands and could be reverse engineered.” He continued by adding that this is not a theoretical concern, as a similar case has happened previously with other anti-tank systems. The Iron Dome’s technologies are especially at a heightened risk for reverse engineering due to their high mobility nature. While this feature is an advantage for Israel to strategically place the weapon in densely populated areas, it means that it is also severely vulnerable to being captured. Beyond the concern of physical capture, as AI is also a highly adaptive technology, the other party can learn to continuously feed the system with false positives, which intentionally transforms DAWS into LAWS. In this scenario, the aggressor can use human shields and trick the AI into thinking that the ‘human baits’ are weapons to be attacked for defense.

Critics of DAWS may argue that even when adhering to a strict definition of DAWS to govern their permissibility, the inherent unpredictability of machine learning still introduces a great risk of reverse engineering. However, in the case where the adversary employs false positives to reverse engineer the DAWS, this issue can be overcome by continuous and close oversight from humans to evaluate the decisions carried out by the DAWS. Also, DAWS can incorporate mechanisms such as timers before taking actions to allow human intervention when it responds to false positives. While such a mechanism does not equate to MHC as it does not involve human decision in the firing process, it allows humans to override the system’s action when necessary. In addition to temporal safeguards, advanced physical and technical features can be embedded in DAWS to thwart potential misuse, particularly if the system is captured. These measures include a self-destruction feature, rendering the system inoperable if compromised. Moreover, incorporating custom-built proprietary hardware, which is not commercially available, adds complexity to reverse engineering attempts. Continuous code obfuscation, achieved through regularly updating the codebase with intricate modifications, makes understanding the system’s logic and functionality more challenging for those attempting to reverse engineer DAWS.

Reverse engineering also presents a unique legal issue surrounding the development of DAWS that is not present in the deployment of LAWS. By design, LAWS are made with the intention to attack, while DAWS are not. This distinction prompts a critical consideration regarding whether an act of reverse engineering can be categorized as an attack when the underlying intent to cause harm is absent. According to Article 8 of the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, intention, or mens rea, is an element of finding a war crime in an attack against civilians. In a reverse-engineered DAWS, the two parties’ responsibility for the attack becomes divided. The weapon user becomes accountable for the physical act of the offense, referred to as actus reus, while the party manipulating the system holds the mens rea element. So far, there is no international law governing reverse engineering. This dilemma poses another layer of complexity in AWS’s accountability.

Conclusion

Cutting-edge defensive technologies, particularly when integrated with AI, play an indispensable role in upholding humanitarian principles. However, our current global governance on AWS seems to overlook the promising potential of such technology despite the remarkable success evident with the Iron Dome. The L.56 Resolution stands as evidence of the denial of this potential, as it fails to acknowledge the crucial distinction between DAWS and LAWS. The Iron Dome’s pivotal role in safeguarding civilian lives is a testament to years of continuous development. Restricting the freedom to explore such technology further jeopardizes its promise to enhance civilian protection, as emphasized in the resolution’s preamble. While this article presents a diverse set of arguments justifying the use of DAWS, it is undeniable that further elaboration and detailed implementation are required. Beyond advocating for the promotion and protection of the lawful development of DAWS, comprehensive governance should encompass other essential aspects. This governance involves clarifying the definition of defense, establishing a legal foundation for cases of reverse engineering, and researching the possibility of further technical restrictions on DAWS.

Planned to conclude in a legally binding instrument by 2026, the UN is set to have the next provisional agenda on AWS next year. In the following forum, the UN plans to involve various parties to start taking action on the issue and revisit Resolution L.56 to develop it further. This article advocates for a strong and explicit recognition of the distinction between DAWS and LAWS within the UN General Assembly’s resolution on AWS. This recognition can be achieved by refining the legal and political language related to AWS, steering clear of the ambiguous use of the term “LAWS” in the current resolution. Additionally, this article emphasizes the imperative for separate legal instruments governing DAWS and LAWS to duly acknowledge their inherent differences in impacting human lives. While reaching international consensus on military and warfare-related laws remains a challenging endeavor, the adoption of soft laws by the UN to acknowledge the significance of DAWS can carry significant political influence. Such recognition can contribute to the promotion of a peaceful, legally sound, and ethically responsible.


*Rizky Citra Anugrah is an S.H. (LL.B.) Candidate at Universitas Gadjah Mada, specializing in international law. Rizky has received numerous awards from several international institutions for his proficiency in writing and researching within various aspects of international studies. As an undergraduate student, he actively engages in multiple international youth organizations, promoting multilateral cooperation through people-to-people diplomacy. The author is grateful for the guidance and support given by Mr. Haekal Al Asyari, S.H., LL.M., during the process of writing this article.


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“Extraterritorial Observance”: The Invisible Laws that Compete to Govern China’s  Belt and Road Loans

“Extraterritorial Observance”: The Invisible Laws that Compete to Govern China’s Belt and Road Loans

Michael Yip*

I. Introduction

In October 2023, two dozen countries gathered in Beijing to celebrate the Belt and Road Initiative’s (“BRI”) tenth anniversary. However, in ten years, little is understood about the bank loans that finance this initiative. On the one hand, the loans have been described as “debt traps” or “unsettling” projections of Chinese geo-economic power. On the other, the BRI has been characterized as an “international public good” or—in the words of the UAE’s Economy Minister—even “a gift to the world.” Naturally, both approaches—particularly when taken in isolation—are oversimplifications.

1. The Value of a Legal Perspective

Adopting a legal lens, however, would materially enrich our understanding of how BRI loans work in practical and empirical terms—enabling us to “look behind the headlines.” One aspect that has been overlooked is the “invisible law” that governs the loan agreement and disputes arising from the loan. Although this law—codified in the loan agreement’s choice of law, jurisdiction, and procedural law clauses—is an indispensable (albeit “boilerplate”) part of any banking contract nowadays, it has acquired an added significance in BRI loan documents. These clauses have become a venue in which different legal regimes—Chinese, English, New York, and others—project legal power and jostle with one another to shape China’s global development financing initiative (which itself goes on to project power and compete for prominence and acceptance in international affairs).

2. Key Findings

The data presented below shows that, based on the text of BRI loan agreements, Chinese law and dispute resolution mechanisms have been an increasingly popular choice. This indicates a characteristic of the BRI to induce “extraterritorial observance”: a shorthand term used by this article to describe the patterns and processes by which national laws are—as a matter of common and expected practice—observed by persons outside the country from which the laws originate. (In this case, Chinese law happens to be the object of extraterritorial observance, but history tells us that—because of processes such as globalization, migration, revolution, and colonialism—Soviet, Islamic, English, New York, and European Union laws have undergone a comparable experience.)

However, taking what the clauses in BRI loan agreements expressly say at face value would lose sight of the fact that they govern the loan in ways that cannot immediately be evident upon a cursory reading of the loan documentation. In other words, the governing laws have been—to a material extent—“invisible.” This is for three reasons. BRI loan agreements have often been kept secret; the depth, breadth, and content of the governing law have not been fully enunciated in the loan agreement; and some of the governing law may be found elsewhere in the laws of other countries.

3. Article Roadmap

This article will first explain the origins of the contest between legal regimes; describe the extraterritorial observance of Chinese law; and explain what makes the law governing BRI loans both consequential and invisible, before concluding thereafter.

These considerations are not merely academic. Indeed, when BRI projects go wrong, the “invisible law” determines how China and its borrowers will work out problems—on which, according to Christoph Nedopil, over a trillion dollars of taxpayers’ money, citizens’ livelihoods, and geo-economic power are staked.

II. Does a Competition Between Legal Regimes Exist?

At first glance, a competition between legal regimes may not appear to exist. After all, BRI loan agreements—and their clauses—constitute the final product of a negotiation and documentation process between the borrower and lender, supported by legal and financial advisers. Given this, any “competition” most visibly lies between the loan parties, rather than different legal regimes. This interpretation is supported by Ian Ivory and Cora Kang, who—in their book on the use of English law in BRI transactions—suggested that negotiations may be won or lost as part of a quid pro quo: “Where the question of using PRC law is sometimes raised, this is usually as a tool in negotiations and is traded for some other concession on the deal.”

However, the English judiciary and bar associations published a position paper titled: The Strength of English Law and the UK Jurisdiction. This paper advocated for the predictability of English law, claiming that it “respects the bargain struck by parties” and “will not imply, or introduce, terms into the parties’ bargain unless stringent conditions have been met.” Were disputes to arise, the paper also advocated for the UK’s “incorruptible judiciary” that was described as “structurally and practically independent.”

Those comments were made in 2017, attempting to provide reassurance and bolster confidence that—even after the UK’s departure from the European Union—English law was still suitable to govern cross-border contracts and English judges could still be trusted to adjudicate cases. Although the context of these comments, Brexit, is salient, they are just as applicable to the BRI—which at that point was still in its relative infancy (at four years old) and was, according to sentiment analysis conducted by Bruegel, better able to court interest in the West.

At the time, the judiciary’s and bar association’s comments also formed part of a broader set of advocacy messages by the UK state. They include 2016 remarks by the UK Advocate General for Scotland—a member of the executive branch—which emphasized the value of the UK’s law enforcement and legal services on the Belt and Road. In this light, both sets of comments can be cast as an example of one legal regime attempting to maintain its competitiveness in what Gilles Cuniberti called an “international market for contracts” and (by extension) for BRI loan agreements too. To those ends, there is no reason not to include initiatives such as the BRI as a plausible means to maintaining competitiveness in Cuniberti’s “market.”

By contrast, attempts by the Chinese legal regime to extend (rather than, in the English case, maintain) competitiveness have assumed a different form. Rather than an enticement-led approach (through position papers and other marketing campaigns), China’s approach has been directive-based and action-oriented. For example, the Opinions of the Supreme People’s Court on Further Providing Judicial Services and Guarantees by the People’s Courts for the Belt and Road Initiative stated that: “The people’s courts shall extend the influence of Chinese laws… and strengthen the understanding and trust of international businesses on Chinese laws.”

III. The Competition and “Extraterritorial Observance” in Numbers

To date, no attempt has been made to measure the contest between legal regimes to govern BRI loans. However, original analysis of AidData’s loan agreement repository undertaken by the author reveals the extent to which the BRI is inducing the extraterritorial observance of Chinese law.

1. Choice of Law Clauses

Choice of law clauses set out “the law that applies when interpreting the agreement and in determining any disputes regarding it.” A typical formulation of the clause can be found in the 2017 loan agreement signed between China and Sierra Leone that financed the upgrade and expansion of the Queen Elizabeth II Port, which reads as follows: “This Agreement and all non-contractual obligations arising out of or in connection with it shall be governed by English law.”

Fig. 1a shows the composition of choice of law clauses occurring in 48 loan agreements entered into by Chinese banks and overseas borrowers following the inception of the BRI. As shown, Chinese law has emerged as the dominant choice by 2020 (71%). However, this observation runs contrary to common practice of selecting a choice of law originating from a third country. This practice has been described by Philip Wood in a 2016 book commemorating the Loan Market Association’s twentieth anniversary as important “not because of familiarity or commercial orientation or any of those soft virtues, but rather to ensure that the loan obligations were insulated against changes to the loan agreement by a statute of the sovereign.” Philip Wood went on to indicate that such changes could include passing legislation to “forcibly” impose a debt moratorium, a debt rescheduling or a foreign exchange control of the loan currency. The primacy of Chinese choice of law clauses, however, most likely reflects Matthew Erie’s and Sida Liu’s view that China, as a “capital exporter, may occupy a dominant bargaining position vis-à-vis the host state.

Fig. 1b shows the cumulative frequency of choice of law clauses in 101 Chinese-financed loans from 2003 to 2020. As shown, the adoption of Chinese choice of law clauses increased by 1.8 times from the BRI’s inception in 2013 onwards, whereas the same for English choice of law clauses grew by 1.5 times. This rate of adoption has meant that Chinese law clauses not only maintained but also enlarged their extraterritorial observance over time. English law clauses—the first-choice common law preference but nonetheless the second-choice overall—was unable to challenge Chinese law primacy, instead entering into a plateau that by 2020 had not yet been reversed.

2. Jurisdiction Clauses

Jurisdiction clauses “deal with the physical location of where a dispute will be heard, the type of institution (Court or Arbitration Tribunal) that will hear the dispute.” In practice, these clauses will often mimic choice of law clauses because, as Philip Wood noted in relation to syndicated loan agreements: “Once the governing law had been chosen, jurisdiction followed suit since the benefits of an external governing law might well be lost if the courts that enforced it were different, even though technically most courts could then, as now, apply foreign law.”

However, Chinese lending has produced noteworthy exceptions. In the pre-BRI era, an illustrative example is a RMB32 million loan provided by the Export-Import Bank of China (“China Eximbank”) to the Botswana Ministry of Finance and Development Planning for a housing project in the capital. In that loan agreement, the parties agreed upon an English governing law, but elected that disputes would be submitted to the China International Economic and Trade Arbitration Commission (“CIETAC”). In the AidData repository, other noteworthy hybrid combinations during the BRI era include a US$219 million loan provided by China Eximbank to the Philippine Department of Finance for the “Philippine National Railways South Long Haul Project.” In the loan agreement, Chinese governing law was chosen but the dispute resolution seat was the Singapore International Arbitration Centre.

Fig. 2a shows the composition of jurisdiction clauses, which have aggregated variants such as different physical locations for the same arbitration tribunal or alternative venues if an urgent decision is required. However, as with the case of choice of law clauses and irrespective of the permutations on offer, the preference for the Chinese option—CIETAC—has been dominant (56%). In transactions for which a jurisdiction clause was ascertainable, the London Court of International Arbitration and Hong Kong International Arbitration Centre were in close contention, respectively competing for second and third place.

Fig. 2b shows the cumulative frequency of jurisdiction clauses. As shown, the adoption and extraterritorial observance of Chinese jurisdiction clauses grew by 1.8 times from the BRI’s inception in 2013 onwards. This growth rate mirrors the rate for Chinese choice of law clauses (discussed above), which indicates that the “hybrid combinations” discussed above were outliers rather than the norm. Meanwhile, Hong Kong jurisdiction clauses grew by 1.5 times and those of London grew by 1.7 times.

3. Procedural Law Clauses

Procedural law clauses stipulate the rules by which the dispute resolution seat will administer the adjudication of the dispute. In practice, these clauses will often mimic jurisdiction clauses because—where national courts have been nominated—compliance with their procedures tends to be mandatory. For example, litigants in Chinese and English courts must follow the civil procedure rules for each country in order for their case to be tried. However, the rules of arbitration tribunals give an established right to choose and/or modify the procedural law governing their arbitration.

The “right to choice” in a BRI arbitration context is demonstrated by an US$85 million loan provided in 2010 by the CITIC Bank and China Construction Bank to the Argentinian Ministry of Economy and Public Finance to finance construction of and supplies to the Lina-A Metro in Buenos Aires. In that loan agreement, the Hong Kong International Arbitration Centre was given jurisdiction, but the procedural law chosen by the parties was that of the U.N. Commission on International Trade Law.

What both transactions show is that there is substantial flexibility in the contractual terms governing procedural law – but only where arbitration is concerned. Furthermore, no loan agreements substituted the procedural law of one national arbitration tribunal for those of another national arbitration tribunal. No transaction, for example, gave jurisdiction to the London Court of International Arbitration but chose the procedural law of a Chinese arbitration tribunal. Instead, where substitutions have occurred, they have swapped the procedural law of a national tribunal with multilateral procedural law formulated by an international organization.

Fig. 3a shows the composition of procedural law clauses. As with the choice of law and jurisdiction clauses, the preference for the Chinese option—the rules of CIETAC—has been dominant (54%). Fig. 3b shows the cumulative frequency of procedural law clauses. As shown, the adoption and extraterritorial observance of Chinese procedural law clauses grew by 1.8 times from the BRI’s inception in 2013 onwards.

IV. The Laws are Consequential but Operate “Invisibly”

1. On Consequentiality

The laws described above are consequential in three ways. First, they serve as a gateway for troubled transactions and parties in dispute to seek support from judges and arbitrators on contested points of law. As the BRI matures and moves into its second decade, loan transactions will enter rougher waters and the three clauses discussed will come to the fore—especially as China is pushing to play a more active dispute resolution role in the international legal order through the China International Commercial Court. Doing so enables China to place less reliance on resolving problems through ad-hoc diplomatic channels, as was recently seen when Zambia restructured US$4.1 billion of debt owed to China.

Second, the clauses serve as conduits for extraterritorial observance and channel the legal power that countries exert on each other. The impact of these clauses is at their most pervasive when individual jurisdictions (such as England, New York and—increasingly—China) shape the international legal order to induce others from overseas to voluntarily observe their laws or, alternatively, their approach to the practice of law. For instance, the English jurisdiction, through its Loan Market Association, promulgates standard-form loan agreements—that have often been English law-governed – to lenders and borrowers of all origins. So, in a similar vein, could a standard-form template for BRI loans materialize one day? Possibly. In their landmark work How China Lends, Anna Gelpen et al. have already identified emergent patterns in clauses covering events of default, confidentiality duties and repayment mechanisms across 100 Chinese loan agreements. However, notwithstanding that those patterns are—in their 2024 form—unlikely to constitute a self-standing BRI template, templates materialize slowly. By way of illustration, Philip Wood recollected that the first syndicated loan agreement governed by English law may have drafted in 1968. Since then, it has accumulated nearly 60 years of updates and modifications. Building a template takes time. Let us wait and see.

Third, the clauses—and their propensity to nominate one choice of law or jurisdiction to the exclusion of others—drive and divert significant amounts of business for law firms. Over a longer time horizon, the BRI may go on to bring many millions of dollars of business to the law firms with the capability to advise on Chinese law matters. These law firms include both “home-grown” Chinese firms as well as international outfits that have entered into joint ventures with Chinese partners.

2. On “Invisibility”

Yet, the law governing BRI loan agreements operates invisibly and in ways that a mere examination of the documents would not reveal. It does so in three ways. First, as Anna Gelpern et al. have discovered, BRI loan agreements contain “far-reaching” confidentiality clauses that restrict the borrower’s ability to disclose information about the loan. (This differs with commercial practice, in which it is typically lenders who have been prevented from disclosing confidential information, primarily to uphold borrower privacy.)

Second, the content of the law and the situation-specific rules governing BRI agreements will not be fully enunciated in the three clauses. The clauses cannot (and simply do not have the space to) articulate the legal rule for a complete universe of legal problems that may arise in relation to the loan. Accordingly, at best, the clauses serve as signposts to very large bodies of law, which in turn require further expertise to understand and apply. (Furthermore, the varying levels of comprehensiveness and depth of codification within the Chinese, English and other legal systems will not only add further complexity to ascertaining the proper legal rule, but also subject that ascertainment to interpretation and/or modification by judges.) In this sense, the governing law of a BRI loan may not only be invisible to the reader of loan agreement, but also uncertain.

Third, although parties to a BRI loan generally have the autonomy to select their own choice of law, this may be (or attempt to be) overridden by a foreign mandatory law that is “unseen” and on which the text of the loan agreement was silent. For example, in the case of loans governed by Chinese law and involving a private borrower, plausible mandatory laws—as noted in 2022 by Philip Wood—most likely include the borrower country’s insolvency laws. These could conflict with a Chinese governing law expressly chosen by the parties if the borrower entity became insolvent and claims on borrower assets were made by creditors. (The same, however, would not apply to sovereign borrowers who would instead be caught between an expressly-chosen Chinese governing law and soft international obligations such as Paris Club rules.) Elsewhere, a similar (albeit more indirect) example arises in the field of environmental law. A borrower country’s planning and environmental laws would apply to government licences which, in turn, would be required to develop a site into a project and which would typically be listed as part of conditions precedent to the loan being drawn down by the borrower. Finally, with respect to loans governed by a non-Chinese law, plausible sources of mandatory Chinese law include the social public interest” exception to party autonomy. Given that mandatory laws of any jurisdiction present a “hidden minefield” to BRI parties, their advisers would do well to acquaint themselves with Chinese and non-Chinese approaches to conflict of laws.

V. Conclusion

There is a contest between legal regimes to be attractive and to—wherever and whenever possible—be taken up and observed by international commercial parties. This contest has long predated the BRI. However, the loan agreements underpinning China’s initiative serve as a new arena for contestation in which a new alternative—China’s laws and dispute resolution mechanisms—show early signs of taking primacy over more established alternatives from North America and Europe. The consequences of this “extraterritorial observance” are significant: a legal regime’s entrenchment and prominence in transactions tends to sustain itself, by setting the norm for future transactions and/or by governing the forthcoming disputes. In turn, extraterritorial observance precipitates more business activity for its lawyers. For practitioners, this can indeed be a virtuous cycle.

However, the laws governing BRI loans operate invisibly. As has been the case with any complicated transaction pre-dating the BRI, it may be difficult to ascertain which loans are governed by which laws; which doctrines of expressly-chosen laws apply; and how local laws may mandatorily override the choice of the parties. One day, these laws could be called upon to determine the outcome of the very first BRI banking dispute. Such a dispute will plausibly place billions of dollars at risk; materially shape the direction of BRI lending practices; and bring about the collision of law against another. For these reasons, how invisible laws govern bank loans on the “Belt and Road” deserve an ever-watchful eye.


*Michael Yip is a Research Associate in “China, Law and Development” at the University of Oxford, where he is also the Research Cluster Lead for legal services. Previously, he was a British civil servant and worked at the World Bank’s Legal Vice Presidency, specialising in export and infrastructure finance. Michael also holds an LLM as a Yenching Scholar from Peking University in China.


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