The past few decades have witnessed a proliferation in the writings on risk and uncertainty. Led by the work of writers such as Beck, Luhmann, Ewald, and Giddens, scholars across the humanities and social sciences have been engaged in reflections on the ways in which our understanding of risk structure informs decision-making and the attribution of responsibility. One of the central topics in this body of literature is the transformation of the concept of risk in postmodern societies.

The idea of randomness is mostly excluded from international legal argumentation. If we need law at all, we are told, it is precisely to avoid arbitrary fortuity. Nonetheless, the exclusion of randomness renders international law structurally incapable of dealing with general risk issues, be they external or manufactured. The core of the problem is the notion of causation. International law seems to be infused by a model of causation that excludes any consideration of randomness. The law of state responsibility and certain elements of international trade law bear witness to this point. Randomness, however, is Janus-faced, and risk is its correlate aspect. By excluding randomness, risk is also left out. Therefore the model of causation embedded in international legal language makes that very language incapable of framing the ideas that a risk society needs to express. It is not surprising, then, that risk societies turn to other languages to express their needs, as is evidenced by the WTO SPS disputes. In this context, international law seems to become a broker of expertise, which refers to the relevant epistemic community that is needed to ‘get the job done’, and abandons any aspiration to holding an independent normative pull in itself.

This article understands risk dialectically as a decision-making resource stressing probability but as also giving rise to further uncertainties. It shows that the panel report in EC – Biotech reflects an understanding of risk as decision-making that is deterministic and leaves little room for the application of precautionary approaches and non-scientific factors. It submits that such an approach is unsuitable for novel technologies with limited background knowledge and reduces the accountability of risk regulators. A different approach is put forth, which allows members greater scope for precautionary action while preventing trade protectionism. The article concludes that law can enhance its authority and epistemic validity through scientific evidence but only if it recognizes science's epistemic and its own limitations. Law has to approach science as contested knowledge and risk regulation as political decision-making, leading – inevitably – to more indeterminate solutions to legal conflicts.

Contemporary security practices pose a particular paradox in the relationship between law and norm. On the one hand, the institution of risk practices in advance of, and in place of, juridical decisions appears to have become the technical resolution of choice to the politics of targeted security in the ‘war on terror’. The risk calculus makes possible an array of interventions – from detention, deportation, or ‘secondary’ security to asset freezing and ‘blacklisting’ – that operate in place of, and in advance of, the legal thresholds of evidence and decision. And yet, this article demonstrates, it is not the case that law recedes as risk advances, but rather that law potentially both authorizes and contests specific modes of risk management. As risk practices in the war on terror operate on and through a distinctive and novel terrain of the uncertain future, the capacity of juridical intervention to contest the exposure of people to dehumanizing technologies itself faces new potentials and limits.

While risk has established itself within the social sciences in general and international relations in particular as a theoretical concept in its own right, its ‘value added’ for understanding international legal processes and argumentation is still rather unexplored. While the dominant approach to risk and law focuses predominantly on the regulation of some specified risk such as diseases or environmental ‘risks’, this contribution argues that the overall semantic shift from ‘threats’ to ‘risks’ signifies an acceleration of time underlying legal argumentation. It introduces a distinction between norms and risks, highlights the respective temporality and reconstructs the current overlap and conflict between them in the case of the European human rights regime.

The discontent within legal ranks over the recent judgment of the International Court of Justice in Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro can be described as nothing other than poignant. The stylized characterization voiced privately by many critics is that the judgment amounted to ‘bad law’ and ‘good politics’; that the Court's ruling had been profoundly influenced by Serbia's fragile domestic politics and hence this worked silently to constrain the Court's rationale and lawmaking. Sadly, critics opine, this political intrusion into the sanctuary of lawmaking produced a judgment that now denies the ‘universal’ deterrent which the Genocide case could have provided. This article, however, takes direct issue with axiomatic interpretations of what constitutes ‘bad law’ and ‘good politics’ in the Genocide case, and argues instead that an antithetical characterization of law with politics proves fundamentally misleading when analysing the Genocide judgment, overlooking the inherent association between law and politics in complex cases that have now become ‘bread and butter’ for international lawyers. In sum, this article will argue, the judgment should not be written off using the dichotomy of ‘bad law’ and ‘good politics’, but rather should invoke critical reflection within the academic discipline and professional practice on the problems of politics which constitute and hence unavoidably permeate cases that emerge from calamitous failures of international politics. The hardening of the fictional boundary between law and politics may provide a convenient gambit for those advocating the ascendancy of international law. However, it is argued, obfuscating the political swamp which is ‘international justice’ cannot make a juridical pasture no matter how much authoritative or ‘learned’ ink is spent; and this is perhaps the key lesson which should be discerned by legal experts from the Genocide case as a whole.

This paper was written at the request of the LJIL editorial board as a reply to the article by Karemaker, Taylor, and Pittman published in the previous issue. It is argued that their position starts from incorrect assumptions and that their overall assessment of proofing is flawed, especially with regard to the risks for fair trial. As to the law of the international tribunals it is acknowledged, however, that there is a structural and normative difference between the ICTY (as the most important ad hoc tribunal) and the ICC. While the former still follows, despite some normative changes, a predominantly adversarial procedure, the ICC Statute provides for a mixed adversarial–inquisitorial procedure. Such a procedural model is not compatible with the adversarial origins of witness proofing and it is therefore not surprising that the ICC Statute does not provide for this technique. As a consequence, at the ICC proofing is neither legally admissible nor necessary.

This article examines the analytical framework and key arguments used by K. Ambos to conclude that witness proofing is neither a legally permissible nor necessary useful practice before the ICC in his reply to ‘Witness Proofing in International Criminal Tribunals: A Critical Analysis of Widening Procedural Divergence’. Contrary to Ambos, the article argues that witness proofing cannot be both acceptable at the UN international criminal tribunals and per se inappropriate at the ICC, given the ICC's procedural regime allowing for trials to be conducted in a form almost identical to those of the UN tribunals. A related argument is that the practice of witness proofing is not prohibited in the law governing the ICC, even if not provided for. Further arguments conclude that reliance upon spontaneity of a witness in court as a guarantee of reliability is misplaced, that the merits of national practices are irrelevant to the overall analysis, and that international judges are competent to manage the negligible risks associated with witness proofing.

The general narrative of international criminal law (ICL) declares that the system adheres in an exemplary manner to the fundamental principles of a liberal criminal justice system. Recent scholarship has increasingly questioned the adherence of various ICL doctrines to such principles. This article scrutinizes the discourse of ICL – the assumptions and forms of argumentation that are regarded as sound reasoning with appropriate liberal aims. This article argues that ICL, in drawing on national criminal law and international human rights law, absorbed contradictory assumptions and methods of reasoning. The article explores three modes by which the assumptions of human rights liberalism subtly undermine the criminal law liberalism to which the system aspires. These modes include interpretive approaches, substantive and structural conflation, and ideological assumptions. The identity crisis theory helps to explain how a system that strives to serve as a model for liberal criminal justice systems has come to embrace illiberal doctrines that contradict the system's fundamental principles.

How do we and how should we punish perpetrators of international crimes such as war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide? Is it fair to hold individuals responsible for their role in manifestations of this type of collective violence? Do the punishments issued by international criminal institutions support the usual penological rationales? Do they actually attain their goals? Is the Westernized international criminal justice system the most appropriate means of dealing with mass violence, especially in non-Western countries which might have a different perception of justice? What are the alternatives? These are just some of the questions which Mark Drumbl addresses in this book.

Recent political developments on the global scene have shed new light on established rules concerning the employment of military force while giving rise, among other things, to a reappraisal of the scope and limits of the right of self-defence. The terrorist attacks of September 2001 raised the question of whether actions by non-state actors can fall within the concept of ‘armed attack’. Those attacks were defined by UN Security Council Resolution 1368, under Article 39 of Chapter VII of the UN Charter, as ‘a threat to international peace and security’, but the ambiguous formulation left sufficient scope for upholding the prevailing view that Article 51 may only be invoked in the case of conflict between states. According to this view, which meanwhile has been contested, any resort to self-defence for legally justifying unilateral military action against terrorist organizations operating in other countries needs to be supported by evidence or argumentation that attacks perpetrated by those organizations can be attributed to a state. In defending the military campaign conducted to oust the Taliban regime in Afghanistan, the US government could credibly argue that this regime, exercising effective control over the country, was to be held accountable since it was harbouring members of al Qaeda on its territory and was actively supporting them.