On May 18, 1899, die first Hague Peace Conference was convened in the House in the Woods provided by the Dutch royal family. It was attended by invitation by representatives of twenty-six of the fifty-nine governments that then claimed sovereignty. The hundred delegates included diplomats, statesmen (no stateswomen!), publicists, lawyers, and technical and scientific experts. Unlike earlier peace conferences, which were convened to terminate ongoing armed conflicts, the Hague Conference met in peacetime for the purpose of making law. The conference was called at the initiative of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia with the intentions principally to seek agreements to limit armaments and their consequent financial burdens, and secondarily to improve the prospects for the peaceful setdement of international disputes and to codify the laws of war. Doubtiess, the tsar’s initiative was inspired in part by his grandfather’s earlier success in obtaining the St. Petersburg Declaration of 1868, which prohibited, for humanitarian reasons, the use of explosive projectiles weighing less than four hundred grams. In any event, the Hague Peace Conference pursued a much broader agenda than the meetings at St. Petersburg and was able to draw upon certain preparatory work on the laws of war, including the Geneva Convention on the Amelioration of the Conditions of the Wounded in Armies in the Field of 1864, the draft Project of an International Declaration concerning the Laws and Customs of War produced by the Brussels Conference of 1874, and the Oxford Manual on the laws of war of 1880, which had been adopted unanimously by the Institute of International Law.

Much has been written about the legal relationship between China and Taiwan. The discussion often focuses on whether the People’s Republic of China (PRC) or the Republic of China (ROC) is the government of China or what entity has territorial sovereignty over Taiwan.1 It is hard to find definitive answers to these questions. This article seeks to reexamine aspects of the issues in the light of the relevant historical facts and contemporary international law. Although no conclusive answers are possible, this study attempts to open new perspectives that could facilitate the development of a solution acceptable to all interested parties.

Since the early 1970s a considerable number of multilateral agreements have been concluded in the environmental field that establish a common pattern of institutional arrangements. The purpose of these arrangements is to develop the normative content of the regulatory regime established by each agreement1 and to supervise the states parties’ implementation of and compliance with that regime. These institutional arrangements usually comprise a conference or meeting of the parties (COP, MOP) with decision-making powers, a secretariat, and one or more specialist subsidiary bodies. Such arrangements, because of their ad hoc nature, are not intergovernmental organizations (IGOs) in the traditional sense. On the other hand, as the creatures of treaties, such conferences and meetings of the parties, with their secretariats and subsidiary bodies, add up to more than just diplomatic conferences. Because such arrangements do not constitute traditional IGOs and yet are freestanding and distinct both from the states parties to a particular agreement and from existing IGOs, we have chosen to describe them as “autonomous.” They are also autonomous in the sense that they have their own lawmaking powers and compliance mechanisms.

The centennial of the Hague Convention (No. II; No. IV in the 1907 version) on the Laws and Customs of War on Land and the fiftieth anniversary of the four Geneva Conventions for the Protection of Victims of War of August 12, 1949, present an opportunity to reflect on the direction in which the law of war, or international humanitarian law, has been evolving. This essay focuses on the humanization of that law, a process driven to a large extent by human rights and the principles of humanity. As the subject is vast, major issues must inevitably be left out of my discussion, including the impact of the prohibitions on unnecessary suffering and indiscriminate warfare on the regulation of weapons, the proscription of antipersonnel land mines and blinding laser weapons, and the progression of international humanitarian law from largely protecting noncombatants to protecting combatants as well.

The belief that a world free of war might be possible, be more than simply a dream, is a relatively recent phenomenon. In earlier times, war—like disease—was a part of life. There existed then a fatalism about war that no doubt persists in many parts of the world today. During the nineteenth century, however, parts of the world developed a confidence in progress and a hope that progress might extend to the abolition of war. Most importantly for this essay, a popular belief circulated at the e nd of the century that the establishment of a permanent international court would be an important step toward a world free of war. Ad hoc arbitration, as distinct from adjudication by such a permanent court, was not the same and, by itself, not enough. The 1899 Peace Conference was a point of inflection, a turn in the river, in the effort to move beyond ad hoc international arbitration to adjudication by a permanent international court as a means to avoid war a nd preserve international peace and security.

Temporary protection of refugees (TP) gained surprising prominence during the 1990s as a response to forced migration, at times seeming poised to displace the regime based on the 1951 Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees and its 1967 Protocol. The unprecedented Humanitarian Evacuation Programme to airlift Kosovar refugees to temporary safety in European and more distant states exemplifies TP’s appeal and adaptability. The Kosovo experience, by restoring faith that some mass influxes are genuinely temporary, may reinvigorate enthusiasm for TP, which had flagged during the endgame to the Bosnian refugee crisis.

Over the last several years, a chorus of voices have called for international action in the area of competition policy. A good deal of dissonance, however, can be discerned among these voices. Most who have joined in share at least a stated commitment to promoting competition principles, as embodied in the antitrust laws of many countries. Yet their policy prescriptions differ dramatically, as evidenced by the divergent views of the United States and Europe. The European Commission proposes that the member states of the World Trade Organization (WTO) negotiate a binding competition code. The United States has rejected this idea and counterproposes increased bilateral cooperation between national competition authorities and continued study of the issue. Of course, national differences may arise as much from negotiating tactics as from disagreement on the analytics of which kind of arrangements are most likely to advance competition principles; but for those interested in law and policy, these analytics should be central to choosing among varying proposals. Since competition policy was one of the many issues left unresolved by the failed Seattle ministerial meeting of the WTO in late 1999, and will surely be revisited, how and why certain institutional configurations advance or retard agreed policy aims are questions ripe for attention. The answers will help define the possibilities for competition policy in an era of globalizing markets and contribute to a broader debate over the limits of trade policy in reconciling national economic policies.

The Hague Conferences of 1899 and 1907, and the conventions they produced, opened the doors—just barely—to the era of arms control. But they did so in a way that would not have been expected. Arms control can be understood as having two main branches—the quantitative and the qualitative. “Quantitative”refers to controls that permit a given category of weapons—such as batdeships, nuclear warheads, and andballistic missile systems—but restrict the number that each of the participating powers may hold. “Qualitative” refers to prohibitions on the use of specified items—such as explosive bullets, poison gas, and bacteriological weapons. Curiously, it was the matter of quantitative control—the desire to check the costs of the arms race—that led to the calling of the Hague Conferences, but their only arms control outcome concerned qualitative limitations. One can trace influences of the Hague experience in this regard on both sides of the arms control movement after World War I and more faintly after World War II, though its descent is less clear than that of the prisoner-of-war conventions and other law of war rules. The inclination of scholars and policymakers to neglect the arms control efforts made between the two world wars has tended to obscure the indirect influence of the Hague Conferences.

In 1953 the United States ratified the North Atlantic Treaty Organization’s Status of Forces Agreement of 1951 (SOFA), which set forth “conditions and terms which will control the status of forces sent by one state, party to the Agreement, into the territory of another state, party to the Agreement.” The drafters foresaw that the presence and training of foreign military forces within and between their territories would probably, if not inevitably, cause injury to civilians, giving rise to claims that, if not settled quickly and satisfactorily, could spark incidents disruptive to their cooperation in mutual defense. To this end, the SOFA established ajurisdictional regime designed to minimize the political friction these incidents threatened to generate, by providing prompt and manifestly fair settlement procedures. The SOFA’s jurisdictional framework protects nationals of a foreign military force from the criminal processes of the alienjurisdiction in which they reside and train, yet permits injured citizens of the host state to pursue civil damages for the tortious acts of foreign forces without fear that their claims might receive prejudicial treatment in the foreign state’s local courts.

Profound changes in the structure and composition of today’s international community of states and equally profound changes in the kinds of disputes coming before the International Court of Justice are making essential a thorough review of the Court’s methods of handling contentious cases, and possibly advisory cases as well. Attention has been focused on hearings, where some useful modifications have been introduced. It seems, however, that more is needed than adjustments in the oral proceedings, which nevertheless can serve as the point of departure for further developments. Article 48 of the Statute gives the Court almost unfettered power to “make orders for the conduct o f the case... and to make all arrangements connected with the taking o f evidence” (emphasis added). As will be seen, in 1999 the General Assembly of the United Nations encouraged the Court to adopt additional measures aimed at expediting its proceedings. This Note has the limited purpose of drawing attention to some recent measures taken by the Court with that end in view, and suggests directions for a more fundamental change in the Court’s procedures.

The norms and mechanisms for international prosecution of humanitarian law and mass human rights violations have been refined in the 1990s to include affirmation of the principle that separate (or “affirmative”) defenses to individual liability are admissible in international criminal law. Explicit recognition of the availability and nature of separate defenses is found in the statute of the international criminal court (ICC). Indirect application is found to a very limited extent in the Statute of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY), but not in the Statute of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR). Moreover, although the Appeals Chamber of the ICTY has rejected the argument that duress is a complete defense under customary international law or general principles of law to a charge of crimes against humanity involving the taking of innocent lives, it has implicidy accepted that duress could be available in other circumstances.

One hundred years after the Hague Peace Conference of 1899 seems an appropriate time to review the subsequent developments in codification and practice that have molded the present laws applicable to the conduct of armed conflict and, more importantly, to identify those aspects of the law that are most in need of further development in the early years of the next century. Any attempt to do so in a comprehensive and detailed manner would obviously far exceed the scope of an article; consequendy, what follows is a more selective approach, consistent with this limited scope, that focuses on the most troubled areas of the law.

The law of naval warfare as it existed in 1899 and as it is understood in 1999 exhibits a few similarities but many differences. The fundamental similarity is that the law of naval warfare can be seen, then as now, as consisting primarily of customary international law. The many differences in this law have been caused by the major changes in war at sea and the law of the sea. In 1899 war at sea meant combat primarily by gunfire between surface warships, control of maritime commerce, and shore bombardment. Today, war at sea also involves nuclear-powered aircraft carriers; supersonic aircraft, helicopters and tilt-rotor aircraft; submarines; high-speed patrol craft; ballistic, cruise, and other guided missiles; long-range secure communications for command, control, computers, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance; radar; underwater sound technology; electronic and information warfare; satellites in space; unmanned aerial and undersea vehicles; and stealth and computer technology; as well as expeditionary and amphibious capabilities. Nevertheless, the fundamental role of navies continues to be to establish control at sea or to deny it to the enemy, linking that control to broad political and economic issues ashore. In view of these constants and changes, this article reviews the state of the law of naval warfare at the end of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and assesses its future prospects.

In the thirty cases that have led to the adoption of dispute settlement reports in the World Trade Organization (WTO), the enforcement tool of last resort—countermeasures—has been invoked five times. This number is more—in five years—than in the forty-seven-year history of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), the WTO’s predecessor. In addition, on six occasions WTO members have invoked the expedited procedure to solve disagreements concerning compliance with dispute setdement reports, a procedure newly introduced with the establishment of the WTO. In another case, compliance procedures are looming.