Does the rise of international arbitration signify a retreat of the State from classical adjudication? In examining this question, it is important to distinguish contract-based arbitration of individual claims against the State from arbitration pursuant to investment treaties. The former is broadly limited to the private sphere of the State's activity, whereas the latter gives arbitrators a comprehensive jurisdiction over public law. An elaboration of this distinction, and the grey area within it, demonstrates that the significance of international arbitration for juridical sovereignty is its privatization of the authority to define the very concept of the public sphere.

Judicial notice has become a widely used tool in the practice of international criminal tribunals but its use has always been constrained by the fair trial rights of the accused. This article considers the possible impact on those rights of the decision of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) Appeals Chamber to take judicial notice of the genocide in Rwanda as a notorious fact against the backdrop of the legal requirements for judicial notice as a fact of common knowledge and as an adjudicated fact. The question whether it would have been more appropriate to notice the Rwandan genocide as an adjudicated fact is addressed in the context of the implications for other instances of genocide, for example Srebrenica.

The International Court of Justice's decision in DRC v Uganda touches on, but fails to address, the circumstances under which a State has a right to use force in self-defence against non-State actors.1 In particular, the Court holds that, because the attacks carried out by anti-Ugandan rebels operating from the Democratic Republic of Congo's (DRC) territory are not attributable to the DRC, Uganda has no right to use force in self-defence against the DRC.2 The separate opinions in DRC v Uganda lament the Court's failure to take the opportunity to address the right to act in self-defence against non-State actors3–an issue of such obvious importance to the international community in an age of terrorism. As will be examined below, there are arguably good reasons–on the facts of the case–for the Court's refusal to pronounce itself on the matter. Furthermore, its decision need not be read as absolutely precluding a use of force in foreign territory in response to armed attacks by non-State actors.

This article deals with the revocation of wills in South African private international law with reference to other Commonwealth jurisdictions and the provisions of the Hague Convention on the Conflict of Laws Relating to the Form of Testamentary Dispositions (1961). Specific reference is made to section 3bis (1) (d) of the South African Wills Act 7 of 1953 (which is partially based on Article 2 of the Convention) and to revocation of wills by marriage and divorce.

The role of the UN and the legitimacy of its collective security system have been seriously challenged in recent years. First, because of the Security Council.s failure to act in cases of genocide or other humanitarian disaster. There has been much criticism of the limited and delayed response of the Security Council to events in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Rwanda, somewhat unfairly in so far as it was the lack of political will on the part of the Member States rather than any institutional failure that was responsible for the failure to act. Secondly, the UN's central role in collective security has been undermined by unilateral use of force by States. After the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001 the UN was sidelined with regard to the forcible response against Afghanistan: in Operation Enduring Freedom the USA preferred not to act through the UN or even through NATO. Subsequently, the US National Security Strategy (September 2002) famously made no mention of the UN as a means of addressing perceived new threats from global terrorists. Most seriously, the US Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003 was undertaken unilaterally, that is, without express Security Council authorization.1 This was often portrayed as a crisis of legitimacy for the UN as much as for the USA and the States which participated in the invasion. As the Deputy Secretary-General put it recently:

International tribunals and legal scholars have been considering the relationship between International Humanitarian Law (‘IHL’) and International Human Rights Law (‘IHRL’) for a number of years.1 The International Court of Justice famously or infamously (depending on your perspective) considered their relationship in its Nuclear Weapons Advisory Opinion in 1996.2 The Court concluded that while IHRL did apply in times of armed conflict, when it came to the prohibition of arbitrarily taking human life in Article 6 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights 1966, the content of that prohibition had to be found in the lex specialis of IHL.

The issue of religious dress, specifically female Muslim religious dress, has been the subject of intense controversy within Europe over recent years. In the United Kingdom comments by Jack Straw MP, Leader of the House of Commons and a former Home and Foreign Secretary, that he felt uncomfortable talking to women at his constituency surgery who wore the Muslim veil sparked a storm of intense and, at times, acrimonious debate.1 In France the banning of headscarves in State schools has provoked major controversy.2 In the Netherlands the Dutch Parliament voted to ban the burka in public places3 and in five Belgian towns its wearing has been banned on pain of a fine.4

The EC maritime transport policy was slow to develop. Although the EC Treaty requires the Member States to create a Common Transport Policy,1 the focus of the Treaty transport provisions2 is on inland modes of transport (road, rail and inland waterways).3 However, the EU Council is expressly given competence to decide what ‘appropriate provisions’ may be adopted for maritime and air transport.4

Maritime transport is by its very nature an international mode of transport regulated by a large number of international treaties and conventions, most of them negotiated and concluded within the International Maritime Organization (IMO). Members of the international community, including some EU Member States themselves, were initially reluctant to transfer their sovereignty in this field of transport to the Community. However, two main events gradually changed the attitude of the Member States to the Community's competence to regulate this mode of transport. First, the mid-1980s impetus to establish an internal market by 1992 placed all modes of transport at the centre of the project. It was not feasible to establish a geographical market, stretching from the Atlantic to the Eastern European countries and from the North Sea to the Mediterranean, where goods, people, services and capital would be able to circulate freely,5 and in a competitive manner, without the Community seriously addressing transport issues. Thus, unsurprisingly, a number of important legislative proposals affecting the provisions of maritime transport services were adopted and implemented during that period.6 The second significant factor in the development of a maritime transport policy was the number of serious marine accidents which took place in the Community's coastal waters during the last 20 years.7

A peculiar and unique agreement exists between Australia and Nauru, which has ensured that, since 1976, appeals may be brought from the Supreme Court of Nauru, an independent Republic, to the High Court of Australia by virtue of a bilateral treaty1 and statutes of the respective Parliaments.2 In 1998 and 1999 two High Court judgments left a question mark hanging over the constitutional validity of this appellate scheme.3 Furthermore, in 2001, the Australian Law Reform Commission (ALRC) expressed the view that Australia should terminate the agreement as the arrangement was of no perceived ‘utility’ to Australia.4 For 29 years only two rather trivial cases were appealed from the Supreme Court to Australia's High Court.5 In 2005 a much more significant case, Ruhani, 6 was appealed from Nauru to Australia. The case was not only significant in that it concerned the validity of the so-called ‘Pacific Solution’, which involved Australia holding asylum-seekers offshore in Nauru for the processing of their refugee claims, but it also raised doubts about the desirability of the offshore municipal model of foreign appeals. This article examines the latter of those issues, intending to demonstrate that the model of foreign appeal adopted in the Nauru Treaty is a compromised version of appeal in comparison with the other two more common models.

The outcome of the litigation before the International Court of Justice can be seriously affected by the Court's treatment of the parties' submissions, not just because the Court's disregard of the submission of the party can affect the legal rights of that party. The final decision can end up being substantially different from what most people would expect. This happened, for instance, in some cases in which much was at stake, such as Arrest Warrant, Oil Platforms or Legality of the Use of Force. The reasoning and outcome of these cases, involving the issues of the use of force and the account-ability for serious violations of human rights and humanitarian law, was important not merely for the parties' rights and interests, but also had a wider dimension of clarifying the applicable law on the important questions that very frequently arises within the international legal system and affects its operation and efficiency. It is therefore crucial to ascertain what the Court's powers are in dealing with the parties' submissions and if such powers are subject to certain limits.

Any observer of the practice of the International Court of Justice (hereafter the ICJ or the Court) may have noticed the growing tendency of the United Nations judicial body to formulate recommendations to the parties that have appeared before it. Indeed, the Court is more and more inclined to recommend that the parties allay their dispute and alleviate all ensuing human sufferings. This leaning is particularly observable when the Court simultaneously dismisses a request for the indication of provisional measures. For instance, in the recent order rendered by the Court in the case concerning the Armed Activities on the Territory of Congo (Democratic Republic of the Congo v Rwanda), the Court made the following declaration:

The period under review (Autumn 2003–December 2006) saw in not only the expansion of the Union from 15 to 25 Member States, but also the attendant ‘big bang’, on 1 May 2004, in competition rules with the entry into operation of Regulations 1/2003 and 139/2004. The changes introduced by Regulation 1/20031—primarily abandoning the notification/authorization procedure which had obtained since 1962 in favour of a directly effective Article 81(3) and exception légale, and including further measures enabling/compelling the decentralized enforcement of Articles 81 and 82—are discussed in previous notes2 and (copiously) elsewhere, and it is not proposed to rerehearse them here. Rather, the concern is the manner in which the dust has settled, in what is, after the frenetic legislative change and the absorption of 10 new Member States into a new culture of competition, a time of consolidation.

The expansion of claims of extended territorial and extraterritorial criminal legislative jurisdiction and the increasing facility with which States are able to obtain custody over defendants by way of more effective extradition arrangements is leading to a new problem in transnational criminal law. The result of these developments is that more than one State may have legitimate jurisdiction to legislate for the same conduct and the courts of more than one State may be entitled to exercise judicial jurisdiction over those persons charged with crimes arising from that conduct. For prosecutors, the problem may present itself as one of prosecutorial efficiency—how may the case be proceeded with expeditiously, in particular, in which jurisdiction is a conviction most likely to be secured? Considerations such as the availability of witnesses or the admissibility of evidence may influence the prospects of conviction and prospective punishments may be a factor when deciding in which system prosecutors prefer the case to go ahead. Defendants have different perspectives. In many cases involving extradition to face a charge based on an exercise of extended jurisdiction, the defendant will be removed from the place where he lives and works to another State. There may be adverse consequences for him compared to facing a trial where he is usually located. Criminal proceedings abroad will be in an unfamiliar legal system; bail may be harder to obtain because of a perceived greater danger of flight; the impossibility to continue working during the period in which the trial is being prepared may impose financial hardship; defendants will be removed from their families and social networks for considerable periods.

In July 2006, three bankers, all UK nationals, were extradited to the United States on charges of conspiracy to defraud their one-time employers, a British bank, a subsidiary of Natwest. The conduct took place under the shadow of the ‘Enron’ affair. The defendants were said to have conspired with senior officials of Enron. Enron was the subject of the largest corporate bankruptcy in US history. In comparison the sums involved in the Enron collapse, those at stake in what the papers called the ‘Natwest Three’ case were small, but the involvement of persons implicated in the Enron affair made the defendants of interest to US prosecutors. The cases enjoyed an unusual public profile, partly because the extraditions took place under the unique legal regime which governs US-UK extradition,1 partly because this case was simply one of several cases in which persons charged with what one might loosely call economic crimes were sought by US prosecutors2 and partly because the defendants argued that their offences (which they denied) were allegations of what were ‘really’ English crimes which should have been proceeded with here. Although the extradition aspects have loomed largest, this last matter, possible conflicts of criminal jurisdiction, is the most interesting.

In Harding v Wealands1 the House of Lords had to consider the vexed question of where the dividing line between substance and procedure should lie in private international law. The specific issue before their Lordships was whether matters relating to the assessment of damages in tort should be treated as matters of substance, and thus be for the applicable law, or whether they should be treated as matters of procedure, and therefore be left for the law of the forum. The decision of the House of Lords has resolved this difficult question in favour of a procedural characterization. The result of the House of Lords' decision is that in all such cases, regardless of the foreign law element, the assessment of damages will be conducted in accordance with English (Northern Irish or Scottish) law, as the law of the forum. Nonetheless, some reservations do exist as to the justification for the decision and as to how likely it is to remain the last word on the subject.

Somalia has been without government since 1991. A transitional government was established in 2004 under the presidency of Abdullahi Yusuf, with the backing of the United Nations, the African Union (AU), the Arab League and the Inter-governmental Agency for Development (IGAD). The Government sat in Baidoa in southern Somalia from June 2005 until December 2006. In June 2006 the Union of Islamic Courts (UIC) took control of much of southern and central Somalia, including the capital, Mogadishu, but not Puntland and Somaliland. They declared and tried to establish an Islamic State. Somalis were told to comply with stringent Islamic rules or face harsh punishment. In the meantime, efforts to achieve national reconciliation were ongoing under the auspices of IGAD, though without much success. It was reported that on 20 July 2006 Ethiopian troops crossed into Somalia. Ethiopia only admitted to having military trainers to help the Somali Government (estimated to be 400 military personnel). On 21 July, the UIC declared a ‘holy war’ against Ethiopia. In September 2006 the Somali interim President survived an assassination attempt in Baidoa. On 25 October 2006 Ethiopia said that it was ‘technically at war’ with the Islamic Courts. After few days the UIC claimed to have ambushed and killed Ethiopian troops near the Ethiopian border.1