What duties, if any, does international human rights law establish for individuals, corporations, and other private actors? For many years, the conventional answer has been that it places duties on states to respect the rights of individuals and creates few or no private duties. In other words, human rights law is aligned vertically, not horizontally. But that view has regularly been challenged. Most recently, in 2003, the United Nations Commission on Human Rights (Commission), historically the most important incubator of human rights agreements, received two proposed instruments that might appear to realign human rights law horizontally: private actors would have duties as well as rights, and they would owe those duties to society as a whole or to individuals within it. The draft Declaration on Human Social Responsibilities (Declaration) would identify duties that all individuals owe to their societies; and the Norms on the Responsibilities of Transnational Corporations and Other Business Enterprises with Regard to Human Rights (draft Norms) would set out duties of businesses under human rights law. The Human Rights Commission did not embrace the proposals before its replacement by the Human Rights Council in 2006, and the Council has not considered them. Both received some support, however, and it seems likely that their proponents will continue to pursue adoption of their principles in one form or another. This article argues that if adopted, those principles would cause serious damage to human rights law.

This article provides a critical assessment of the corpus of law that the adjudicating bodies of the World Trade Organization (WTO)—the Appellate Body (AB) and panels—have used since the organization was established on January 1, 1995. After presenting a taxonomy of WTO law, I move to discern, and to provide a critical assessment of, the philosophy of the WTO adjudicating bodies, when called to interpret it. In discussing the law that WTO adjudicating bodies have used, I distinguish between sources of WTO law and interpretative elements. This distinction will be explicated in part I below. Part II provides a taxonomy of the sources of WTO law, and part III a taxonomy of the interpretative elements used to illuminate those sources. Part IV concludes.

Not so long ago the overwhelming majority of courts in democratic countries shared a reluctance to refer to foreign and international law. Their policy was to avoid any application of foreign sources of law that would clash with the position of their domestic governments. Many jurists find recourse to foreign and international law inappropriate. But even the supporters of reference to external sources of law hold this unexplored assumption that reliance on foreign and international law inevitably comes into tension with the value of national sovereignty. Hence, the scholarly debate is framed along the lines of the well-known broader debate on “the countermajoritarian difficulty.” This article questions this assumption of tension. It argues that for courts in most democratic countries—even if not for U.S. courts at present—referring to foreign and international law has become an effective instrument for empoweringthe domestic democratic processes by shielding them from external economic, political, and even legal pressures. Citing international law therefore actually bolsters domestic democratic processes and reclaims national sovereignty from the diverse forces of globalization. Stated differently, most national courts, seeking to maintain the vitality of their national political institutions and to safeguard their own domestic status vis-a-vis the political branches, cannot afford to ignore foreign and international law.

In courts and tribunals, political arenas like the United Nations Security Council, and popular and scholarly journals, discursive recourse to the principle of proportionality has become frequent and vehement. It tends most audibly to arise in the midst of military conflicts pitting states against each other. But it also emerges in interstate trade disputes and when states, seeking to protect national security or public health, restrict internationally protected human rights.

Over the past few decades, regional human rights tribunals have grown in both number and activity. The European Court of Human Rights (European Court or ECHR) now receives tens of thousands of petitions and issues over fifteen hundred judgments on the merits each year. The Inter-American Court of Human Rights recently tripled the number of cases that it resolves annually. At the time of this writing, in mid-2008, Africa’s own regional human rights court, the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights, prepares to begin hearing its first contentious cases. Currently, sixty-eight states are subject to the decisions of the two established regional courts (forty-seven in Europe and twenty-one in the Americas), up from less than half that number twenty years ago. In the nascent African system, twenty-four African Union member states have ratified the Protocol establishing the African Court, with an additional twenty-five signatory states.

Critiques of decision making in international organizations are often framed in terms of the democratic deficit. Leveled against the United Nations Security Council, the charge has become more pointed in light of recent quasi-legislative and quasi-judicial acts—most notably the adoption of Resolutions 1373 and 1540 on the financing of terrorism and the spread of weapons of mass destruction, respectively, and the Resolution 1267 sanctions regime, which targets individuals suspected of involvement in terrorism. With the first two resolutions, the Security Council imposed general obligations on all states for an indefinite period; with the third, it set up a sanctions committee that has courtlike powers to identify and freeze the assets of individuals, groups, and corporations. Despite broad sympathy among the UN membership for collective counterterrorist action in the aftermath of the attacks of September 11, 2001, a degree of skepticism accompanied these initiatives from the start and grew with the diplomatic debacle surrounding the war in Iraq. Some critics asked whether an “imperial” Security Council had become an instrument for the imposition of “hegemonic international law.” The Council has moved to address these concerns, but they remain serious enough that the regimes established under Resolutions 1267, 1373, and 1540 are at risk of collapsing.

The last decade has witnessed a rebirth of popular and academic interest in the international norms governing expropriation. Debate has centered on the competing claims of corporations, host states, nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), and other actors over the extent to which governments may regulate their economies in a manner that affects foreign investment without compensating investors for resulting economic harm. The current controversy over regulatory takings represents the second act in international law’s expropriation battles; whereas the first act comprised the long dispute between North and South over compensation after an overt nationalization, today’s dispute turns on whether a governmental regulation is an expropriation in the first place. This issue is not new to international law, as old diplomatic intercourse and arbitrations demonstrate; but the range of actors making claims, the venues for their resolution, and the outcomes of these processes are more diverse, particular attention having been generated by the case law of arbitrations under the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) and bilateral investment treaties (BITs). Complaints have concerned both the outcomes of disputes and the processes involved in their resolution.

For global business, international trade and investment are bound at the hip. When businesses trade internationally, goods or services cross borders; when they invest, it is capital and other factors of production that do so. Companies trade to supply their foreign investments; they invest to facilitate and diversify their trade. In contrast, international law addresses trade and investment separately and regulates them in ways that are dramatically different. First, trade has been governed multilaterally since 1947 through what today is the World Trade Organization (WTO), whereas close to 2,600 separate bilateral investment treaties (BITs), which mushroomed only in the 1980s and 1990s, now regulate foreign direct investment (FDI). Second, hundreds of increasingly sophisticated WTO rules discipline trade, whereas a mere handful of principles cover investment—many of which derive from customary international law. Third, trade agreements are enforced exclusively between states, with reciprocal trade sanctions as the remedy of last resort; under investment treaties, private companies have standing to claim monetary damages from host country governments.

Much of the scholarly attention given to the U.S. Supreme Court’s March 2008 decision in Medellín v. Texas has focused on the Court’s supposed ruling as to the presumptive nonself-execution of international agreements entered into by the United States, and the power of the president to implement such agreements without an act of Congress. Less heed has been paid to the impact and implications of the Court’s reasoning and analysis in interpreting the four international agreements at issue in the case: the 1945 United Nations Charter and Statute of the International Court of Justice, and the 1963 Vienna Convention on Consular Relations and its Optional Protocol. Although the Court’s analysis of the self-execution questions is beyond the scope of my contribution to this Agora, I acknowledge that the jurisprudence of treaty interpretation fits uncomfortably with the calculus of an international agreement’s selfexecution into U.S. law. And while it may seem obscure to view the Medellín decision through the lens of treaty interpretation, that is what truly brings its importance into focus, so that its impact may ultimately be seen as clarifying the established norms of U.S. foreign relations law, particularly in the selection of appropriate sources for treaty construction and the deference to be granted to various foreign relations actors and institutions.

Ever since the Supreme Court’s 1829 decision in Foster v. Neilson, it has been settled that some treaties ratified by the United States are “non-self-executing” and thus are not enforceable in U.S. courts unless implemented by Congress. Despite its pedigree, both the theory behind the self-execution doctrine and its mechanics have long befuddled courts and commentators. There is significant uncertainty, for example, concerning the materials that are relevant to the self-execution analysis, whose intent should count in determining self-executing status, the proper presumption that should be applied with respect to self-execution, and the domestic legal status of a non-self-executing treaty.

Although “[tjreaties are the law of the land, and a rule of decision in all courts,” the president and the courts may sometimes be powerless to achieve compliance with a U.S. treaty. That was the puzzling outcome of Medellin v. Texas. Even though the Supreme Court declared that the United States has an international obligation to comply with the Avena judgment of the International Court of Justice (ICJ), the Court invalidated the president’s memorandum directing Texas and other errant states to comply.