In a preceding article has been described the first edition of the De Jure Belli ac Pacis, printed in Paris by Nicholas Buon in the spring of 1625. It would appear that this first edition was soon exhausted and Grotius set about the preparation of a second edition. He wrote to his brother William, August 29,1625, as follows: “Buon says that the edition of the Apologeticus is exhausted and that he has few remaining copies of the Law of War and Peace. Therefore he is preparing to reprint them both. I shall await the advice of my friends as to what they think ought to be changed or added.” How far he went with this is not clear. It was planned that the second edition would be printed by Buon, but delays intervened and Buon's death, April 22, 1628, took place probably when about half of the printing had been done. In writing to his brother William July 27, 1628, Grotius said: “My books concerning the Law of War and Peace have been revised by me in many places. Buon has died. His heirs are continually at odds. In the meantime I am considering whether I should send these books to Leyden.” At the end of 1628 he sent his brother a copy in which were noted emendations and additions. He said: ”I send you the books on the Law of War and Peace with not inconsiderable additions. I submit the care of these to you and your friends as, if I judge correctly, it is the most important of my works.”

For 167 years the shadow of the Logan Act has fallen upon those Americans who trespass on the Federal monopoly of international negotiations which it creates. In theory, up to three years’ imprisonment and a $5,000 fine await those Americans who, without authority, communicate with a foreign government intending either (a) to influence that government with respect to a controversy with the United States or (b) to defeat the measures of the United States. Though only one indictment and no trial have taken place under the Act, who can tell when a new Administration, thinner skinned or harder pressed than its predecessors, may in its irritation call into play this sleeping giant? Now, at a time when domestic opposition to certain aspects of our foreign policy has reached a pitch unknown for many years, it would be well to reflect upon this curious product of the confluence of criminal law and foreign relations law before we are in fact confronted by a test of its strength. All could be the losers from an unpremeditated encounter—the defendant by finding himself, perhaps to his very great surprise, the first person subjected to the Act’s severe criminal penalties, the Government by finding itself stripped of its long accustomed protection by a ruling that the statute as it now reads is unconstitutionally vague or restrictive of free speech. Despite its long desuetude as a criminal statute, the Act represents a principle which I cannot help but think is, at its core, a salutary one; that America in sensitive dealings with other governments “speaks with one voice.” It embodies the concept of bipartisanship, that quarrels about foreign relations are fought out domestically and not with the adversary. It deters sometimes very ill-advised attempts to take the conduct of foreign affairs into foolish and unauthorized hands. On the other hand, it cuts into freedoms which we regard as having the highest value, and many of the situations in which its use has been suggested clearly involve no danger that would justify such a restraint.

The recent sudden upsurge of interest in Swiss behavior during and after World War II seems to call for a brief review of the international law issues that were relevant to that country’s decisions. Many of them, in particular the law of neutrals, have become obsolete and are obviously not understood by many commentators. Of course, to reach a judgment that the behavior of Switzerland was compatible with the rules of international law then in effect does not dispose of issues of humanity and morality. But it does contribute to explaining Swiss behavior, particularly since the Government in Bern was quite legalistic in its approach to the questions of the time.

The International Law Commission (ILC) explains in its 2017 Commentary to Draft Article 7 of its Draft Articles on the Immunity of State Officials from Foreign Criminal Jurisdiction that the draft articles are “intended to apply within an international legal order whose unity and systemic nature cannot be ignored.” The quest for coherence is admirable. It enhances legal certainty and predictability in an evolving area of the law. But a systemic approach can also go too far—stretching analogies and ignoring differences, seeing a trend where there is none. The trajectory of the ILC's work on Draft Article 7 illustrates certain dangers.

The South China Sea Arbitration is a leading case in a new generation of environmental disputes, namely, environmental disputes that occur in disputed territorial or maritime areas. The dispute between the Philippines and China before the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) Annex VII Tribunal (the Tribunal) dealt in significant part with the Philippines’ allegations of environmental violations by China. The Philippines asserted that China tolerated harmful fishing practices and proceeded with harmful construction activities, and that both caused serious harm to the marine environment of the South China Sea.

In a proceeding brought against the People’s Republic of China by the United States (in which Japan and the European Union joined), the Appellate Body of the World Trade Organization (WTO) ruled that China violated its obligations under the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade 1994 (GATT)1 by imposing export restrictions on “rare earths,” minerals used in mobile phones, hybrid cars, and other high-tech products. In upholding the earlier decision of a WTO dispute settlement panel, the Appellate Body rejected China’s argument that export duties, quotas, and other restrictions could be justified by health and environmental concerns.

Although caution must be exercised in attributing a policy to the International Court of Justice, it is difficult not to see the Marshall Islands judgments as part of a longer trend of the Court using formalistic reasoning to decline cases concerning nuclear weapons.

A twenty-four-year-old agreement was reborn on October 1, 2018, when President Trump announced that the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) had been successfully renegotiated. The deal came after an arduous, year-long negotiation process that almost left Canada behind. As one indicator of its contentiousness, the deal lacks an agreed-upon name, but the United States is referring to it as the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA). It keeps some key NAFTA provisions mostly the same, including with respect to state-to-state dispute resolution, but eliminates, modifies, and adds other provisions. Among the changes: investor-state dispute settlement has been eliminated as between the United States and Canada; rules of origin for automobiles and rules for U.S. dairy products have been modified; and new provisions address labor protections, intellectual property rights, rights for indigenous persons, rules for trade negotiations with non-market countries, and the agreement's termination. The agreement was formally signed by the leaders of all three countries on November 30, 3018. It must be approved through the domestic ratification procedures of the three countries before it enters into force.

By laboring underneath the radar of formal law, using a diverse array of conceptual tools and working from material disregarded by mainstream legal scholarship, Fleur Johns’ research has consistently opened up novel ways of grappling with international legal problems. The article at the focal point of this symposium continues to push the envelope of international legal studies. It sheds light on how the rise of Big Data and algorithmic decisionmaking is transforming international authority. It also speaks to the increasing deformalization of international law. Examining the mundane practices of global governance may sound unrevealing to some. But Johns shows how this approach can yield important insights into international law's operations and effects.

Neither legal authors nor United Nations practice question the conclusion that resolutions of the General Assembly and the Security Council must conform to the U.N. Charter. Faced with a challenge to the legality of a resolution, the majority has never maintained that the acts of U.N. organs have to be complied with when they are inconsistent with the Charter. In such cases the majority has always preferred to deny that a violation of the Charter occurred, often resorting to a liberal, sometimes excessively liberal, interpretation of the provisions of the Charter.

The question of the form to be given to reservation clauses has long perplexed the advocates of arbitration treaties. The making of the new Franco-American treaty, action taken at the Sixth Pan American Conference looking to a conference on an American arbitration convention, and more recent discussion of plans for the prevention of war have re-emphasized the problem which has commanded chief attention during four decades of sporadic effort to establish obligatory arbitration on a treaty basis. Important extensions of the principle of obligatory reference have been effected in certain bipartite arrangements since the conclusion of the World War, largely through revision of old forms by which arbitral jurisdiction was limited. Built upon past experience, these extensions are the result of efforts to shape reservation clauses so as to modify them in the interest of state security, without at the same time nullifying, the arbitral engagements. The theory of reservation clauses has found application in a variety of forms. An examination of these forms in some representative modern agreements reveals the manner in which phrases now used have evolved and especially the development occurring since 1919.

The question of including in an international multilateral instrument provisions defining the application of the instrument to the dependent territories of the contracting states has been a controversial subject in the United Nations. Such provisions, generally known as “colonial clauses,” may take one of three forms. They may provide for the optional application of an instrument to the dependent territories of the contracting states, so that the instrument does not apply to the dependent territories of any contracting state unless the latter chooses to extend the application of the instrument to all or any of its dependent territories. On the other hand, they may provide for the optional exclusion from the application of the instrument of the dependent territories of the contracting states, so that the instrument applies to the dependent territories unless a contracting state chooses to exclude from the application of the instrument all or any of its dependent territories. A third type of colonial clauses may provide for the automatic application of the instrument to the dependent territories of all contracting states. However, there are instruments, notably the Convention on the Privileges and Immunities of the United Nations, which do not contain any reference at all with respect to their application to dependent territories. In such cases, the general rule seems to be that, subject to express or implied provisions to the contrary, the instruments apply to all the territories of the contracting states, including their dependent territories. The following is an account of the developments in connection with several multilateral instruments considered by the General Assembly of the United Nations or concluded under the auspices of the United Nations.

The undersigned, appointed by the President as Commissioners to represent the Government of the United States at the Conference on Limitation of Armament, have the honor to submit the following report of the Proceedings of the Conference.

On July 8, 1921, by direction of the President, the Department of State addressed an informal inquiry to the group of Powers known as the Principal Allied and Associated Powers—that is, Great Britain, France, Italy, and Japan—to ascertain whether it would be agreeable to them to take part in a conference on the subject of limitation of armament, to be held in Washington at a time to be mutually agreed upon. In making this inquiry, it was stated to be manifest that the question of Umitation of armament had a close relation to Pacific and Far Eastern problems, and the President suggested that the Powers especially interested in these problems should undertake in connection with the Conference the consideration of all matters bearing upon their solution with a view to reaching a common understanding with respect to principles and policies in the Far East.

There are two generally accepted modes of classifying insurgent governments: (1) according to their purpose, and (2) according to their success or failure. If the aim of an insurgent government is to secede and form a new state, it is normally referred to as a seceding government; and if its aim is to overthrow and replace the de jure government within the old state, it is normally spoken of as a mere insurgent government.