Does the Indonesian government adequately protect human rights?

It does and it does not; it really depends on the context. Indonesia looks good among its neighbours in Southeast Asia in terms of protection of civil and political rights, and to some extent economic, social and cultural rights, although room for improvements exists.

But one of the promises of the current president, Joko Widodo, during his 2014 campaign was about international criminal justice, which involves rights for many victims of past cases of human rights abuses in Indonesia. In that sense, it does not protect these rights, including the rights to justice, truth, reparations or guarantees of non-recurrence.

For example, in the case of the conflict over independence for East Timor in 1999, there were many gross violations of human rights. However, there has never been any sort of effective judicial process to address gross violations of human rights, and crimes against humanity in particular.

In 1965–66, during the government’s violent anti-communist operations, 500,000 people or more were killed. Indonesia’s National Commission on Human Rights was tasked with conducting an investigation into this period within its limited mandate, but it led to nothing; there have never been any prosecutions relating to these crimes.

The election promise of the current president was to deal with a number of these past human rights cases, and this promise has not been met at all. His opponent in 2014, Prabowo Subianto, was a former military general involved in alleged past human rights abuses, so it was politically expedient to make such a promise. But it has not been pursued in office.

In 2000, Indonesia established its own Human Rights Court. What is your assessment of its record?

Some human rights activists suggested that the establishment of the Human Rights Court took place under international pressure following the independence of East Timor. To avoid international scrutiny, for example the creation of an ad hoc international tribunal, the government established this court.

Based on the report of the International Commission of Inquiry on East Timor in 2000, it was indeed recommended that an international human rights tribunal be set up. Indonesian government rejected the proposal with strong assurances that it would provide justice for atrocities committed by its nationals. So it is fair for some to see the establishment of Indonesia’s Human Rights Court as a political move by the government at that time, in order to avoid scrutiny by the international community.

When it comes to performance, the Human Rights Court actually investigated and prosecuted cases relating to atrocities in East Timor. There were around 100 suspects identified, and 18 were put on trial. Out of these 18, only one trial, of Eurico Guterres, ended in a conviction for crimes against humanity. However, the Indonesian Supreme Court cleared Guterres of all charges in 2008. So the Human Rights Court did take steps, but the net result amounted to essentially nothing. Impunity remains.

So it has not lived up to its mandate, but there is another factor, which is that the founding law of the Human Rights Court does not accommodate international standards of criminal justice. It only covers two of the four categories of crime as outlined in the Rome Statute – crimes against humanity and genocide. It also does not provide adequate protection for victims and witnesses. So there are issues not only with the performance of the Human Rights Court but also with the legislation establishing it.

Why hasn’t Indonesia become a party to the Rome Statute to join the ICC?

The main opposition came from the military, because they were afraid of being targeted by the ICC. There was also a lot of discussion about Indonesia’s ‘sovereign right to prosecute’.

But what those opposing failed to understand is that the ICC is bound by temporal and territorial boundaries, meaning that it will not intervene if the state in question is able and willing to prosecute. So I think accession to the Rome Statute has not taken place because of this misunderstanding.

I think another factor since this was initially raised is there is a focus on other issues. Indonesia is an emerging country economically; there is a focus on building infrastructure. So many in government feel like they are done with the past. But for the millions of victims of past crimes and their families, the past is not done.

So it’s very important at this point in the country’s history to revisit the commitment to international criminal justice to be able to contribute to sustainable peace and development.

What steps could the Indonesian government take to improve how it handles these issues?

The establishment of the Human Rights Court was an important starting point, but clearly there has to be significant reform, both in terms of the substantive law underpinning it and its procedures.

Clearly the domestic laws need to be reformed, but also, an effort needs to be made to improve the courts capacity in terms of manpower and logistical support. This is why the government needs to restart the discussion about becoming a party to the Rome Statute. Through the outreach programme of the ICC, this would give the Human Rights Court the capacity, in terms of manpower and logistical support, to tackle past human rights violations in Indonesia, which the Human Rights Court is currently lacking.

Only if these two steps are taken – reforming the domestic Human Rights Court and restarting discussion about becoming a party to the Rome Statute – will the Indonesian government be able to say it has made progress on international criminal justice.

The Indonesian government is actually running for a seat on the UN Security Council for the period of 2019–20. So I think it is an urgent discussion that the Indonesian government needs to have before it makes another pledge to contribute to the maintenance of international peace and security. It is difficult to have sustainable peace without justice.

Last month the European Commission proposed that the EU should mobilize the next tranche of funding for Turkey (€3 billion) under the EU–Turkey deal agreed in 2016. The deal is part of a rapidly developing strategy on the part of the EU to improve cooperation on migration issues with countries of origin as well as those through which migrants and refugees transit en route to Europe. Since 2015, the EU has ramped up negotiations, with the New Partnership Framework underpinning arrangements with countries such as Niger, Mali and Ethiopia, and endorsing a memorandum of understanding between Italy and Libya in February 2017.

A common thread that runs across all of these deals is their focus on containment in exchange for funding, rather than a principled approach to refugee protection. For example, the EU has committed around €6 billion to Turkey as a contribution towards the cost of humanitarian assistance for the over 3 million Syrian refugees residing there. This funding also operates as an incentive for Turkey to take back all refugees and migrants who have irregularly arrived in Greece via Turkey since the deal entered effect.

Similarly, the EU is providing financial support to Libya in exchange for its cooperation in reducing the flow of migrants and refugees towards Europe, while the New Partnership Framework aims to reduce the number of migrants and refugees departing for Europe in exchange for EU aid. While financial incentives geared towards containment do not amount to new policy, with the increasing number of deals being negotiated, the use of such a strategy appears to be both accelerating and becoming more explicit.

An effective investment?

Implementation of these deals has been hindered by obligations under international law, raising questions not only as to their legality but also their value for money.

Under the EU–Turkey deal, refugees arriving in Greece irregularly were to be returned to Turkey, with an equal number of Syrian refugees resettled to Europe in exchange. However, implementation of this aspect of the deal has been limited.

Under EU asylum law, Greece is obliged to provide access to asylum procedures for those arriving on its shores. Given that most arrivals from Turkey came from refugee-producing countries (including Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq), an individualized assessment of ‘safe third country’ is required before any possible return to Turkey can take place. This requires a finding that Turkey can guarantee effective access to protection for the individual in question, including protection against refoulement (i.e. forced return to a country where he or she is at risk of serious harm or persecution). By the end March 2018, only 2,164 people had been returned to Turkey.

As for Italy, with EU support, under the MOU with Libya it has been training as well as providing funding and logistical support to the Libyan coastguard – including an Italian naval presence in Libyan waters – to intercept boats in the Mediterranean. Given the mounting evidence of abuse of migrants and refugees, whether by Libyan coastguards or inside Libyan detention centres, this raises questions as to whether the support being provided by Italy and the EU amounts to a breach of international law.

Despite concerns about the protection risks for refugees, advocates of such deals claim they have the potential to prevent dangerous journeys, saving lives and interrupting the business model of smugglers. Numbers crossing the Mediterranean have indeed dropped since the deals were agreed. However, in Libya it has created an ‘anti-smuggling’ market which, despite leading to a reduction of migration in the short term, may not be sustainable in the long term if it drives conflict between various non-state actors.

In the case of the EU–Turkey deal, while it has led to a fall in arrivals to the Greek islands in the first six months of 2017, there is also evidence that smugglers were already adapting their routes, forcing refugees and migrants to travel on the more dangerous central Mediterranean route.

For now, at least, these deals appear to have gained significant popular support within the EU. Italy’s approaches in Libya, for example, have been broadly backed by the Italian public – unsurprising given that some polls indicate 50 percent of the Italian population believe migrants to be a threat to public security. However, the drivers of public attitudes towards refugees and migration are complex and, as noted in a policy brief published under the Chatham House–ODI Forum on Refugee and Migration Policy, influenced in part by narratives driven by politicians and the media.

What some of these deals have achieved is the significant flow of aid money towards job creation and economic opportunities for refugees, incentivizing policy change in some contexts and producing real benefits for the refugees concerned (while reducing pressures on them to move onwards via dangerous journeys).

A prominent example is the Jordan Compact, a 2016 agreement between Jordan, the EU and international financial institutions including the World Bank to improve the livelihoods and education of Syrian refugees inside Jordan. While challenges in its implementation remain, including concerns about labour rights, the Jordan Compact has resulted in real improvements in education and access to the labour market for Syrian refugees. The Jordanian government has made policy concessions on access to work permits for Syrian refugees, removing some of the barriers that prevented refugees accessing jobs, while the EU has committed to ease trade barriers for goods produced in Jordanian factories on condition they hire a percentage of Syrian refugees.

Likewise, the EU–Turkey deal’s most successful component has been its financial contribution of €3 billion of aid under the EU Facility for Refugees towards support for the 3.7 million Syrian refugees currently being hosted by Turkey. This includes €1 billion allocated to the Emergency Social Safety Net, described by the European Commission as the ‘largest single humanitarian project in the history of the EU’, directly impacting the livelihoods of some 1.1 million vulnerable refugees.

Moving ahead

While some aspects of these deals reflect a genuine effort to cooperate in addressing the needs of refugees, other elements risk undermining the very essence of the global refugee protection regime.

The diplomatic squabble over a proposed refugee ‘swap’ of 1,250 refugees between the US and Australia in February 2017 highlights the danger of refugees becoming bargaining chips. Similarly, the Kenyan government’s announcement that it would close Dadaab refugee camp in late November 2016 cited the EU-Turkey deal as justification. Migration partnerships which emphasise the securing of EU borders against refugee arrivals may diminish the willingness of states in the Global South to continue to host large numbers of refugees.

While the positive aspects of such deals deserve acknowledgement, understanding their impact on refugee protection must be given greater attention. This is vital not only to ensure their workability but also to ensure that those countries who spearheaded the creation of the global refugee protection regime do not end up undermining its existence.

This roundtable focuses on the economic dimensions of displacement and migration and brings together an international group of experts from government, international organizations, civil society, research institutes and the private sector.   

The event was co-hosted with the Overseas Development Institute.

On 10 September, US National Security Advisor John Bolton used his first major speech since joining the White House to attack the International Criminal Court’s (ICC) potential investigation of American personnel in Afghanistan. The ‘American patriots’, as Bolton describes them, are being investigated for potential torture and ill-treatment of detainees, mostly in 2003 and 2004, during the United States-led invasion of the country.

Bolton has a long history of opposition to the ICC. Although the US signed the ICC Statute under president Bill Clinton, it was ‘unsigned’ by Bolton, then an under-secretary of state in the George W Bush administration.

And when the court first opened its doors in 2002, Bolton helped secure, in what he described on 10 September as one of his ‘proudest achievements’, around 100 bilateral agreements with other countries to prevent them from delivering US personnel to the ICC. Those agreements were often extracted under pressure, with the US threatening to cut off military and other aid to countries that refused to sign.

In recent years under the Obama administration, relations between the US and the ICC improved, and the US offered help and support to the court. Bolton’s attack is aimed at reversing those gains – with measures aimed directly at the court and its staff.

These include: (i) negotiating ‘even more binding, bilateral agreements to prohibit nations from surrendering US persons to the ICC’; (ii) banning ICC judges and prosecutors from entering the US, sanctioning their funds in the US financial system and prosecuting them in the US criminal courts (and doing the ‘same for any company or state that assists an ICC investigation of Americans’); and (iii) ‘taking note if any countries cooperate with ICC investigations of the United States and its allies, and remember[ing] that cooperation when setting US foreign assistance, military assistance and intelligence sharing levels’.

These are serious threats – they would potentially undermine the work of a court that is designed to prosecute the world’s worst crimes. The ICC prosecutor and its judges would be barred entry from the US to attend to vital work of the court.

Some of that work, ironically, is at the behest of the US. For instance, two of the UN Security Council’s referrals to the ICC, one in relation to atrocities committed in Sudan, the other in respect of the crimes committed by Muammar Gaddafi in Libya, were referred with US support. 

Also, the meetings of the ICC Assembly of States Parties are held each year at UN headquarters in New York. Those meetings may have to be held elsewhere if the ICC judges and staff are under threat of arrest.

In the case of the potential torture linked to operations in Afghanistan, the ICC has not been acting on its own initiative in investigating. For example, the Center for Constitutional Rights submitted ‘victim’s representations’ to the ICC on behalf of two of their clients, Sharqawi Al Hajj and Guled Hassan Duran, emphasizing the importance of an ICC investigation of US officials for serious crimes arising out of post-9/11 detention and interrogations.

According to the center, both Al Hajj and Duran were detained by the CIA in black sites or 'proxy-detention' by other countries, tormented and tortured.

Although the US is not a party to the ICC Statute, Afghanistan is, and therefore the court has jurisdiction over US nationals who allegedly committed atrocities in Afghanistan. And it should be noted that the investigation includes pursuing any atrocities committed by the Taliban and Afghan security forces during the same period.

So the basis for attacking the work of the ICC based on this is shaky, and Bolton’s threats raise a number of important international law questions going forward. 

For one, they may be unlawful retaliatory steps, given that the US has obligations to accord at least some privileges and immunities to judges and other personnel of the ICC under the 1947 UN Headquarters Agreement between the UN and US. Counter-measures might be considered by member states of the ICC, either alone, or collectively. 

In this regard, Bolton’s comments about the EU will not go unnoticed: he suggests Europe is a region where ‘the global governance dogma is strong’. The US may yet come to learn just how strong that ‘dogma’ is.

With US abstention from the ICC, the opening remains for Europe and other regions to position themselves at the heart of the international criminal justice regime, thereby – as in response to the US attitude towards climate change – building a network of partnerships with other like-minded nations to compensate for US disengagement.

Further, while the ICC has many critics, and could be improved as an institution, Bolton’s speech may have the effect of galvanizing support for the world’s first permanent international criminal court. That could be a good thing for the court, which is sorely in need of support for its work.

Whatever concerns states may have about the ICC, they may be outweighed by a mutual desire to stand up to perceived bullying by the Trump administration, in favour of the international rule of law. 

China’s involvement in UN peacekeeping contributions has been on the rise for some time. China is also stepping up its own military and security operations abroad to protect its commercial and strategic interests, particularly in Africa. In doing so, China is exposing itself to a more complex set of issues – including international legal issues – with which it is only just starting to grapple.

China’s contribution to UN peacekeeping over the last 10 years has expanded dramatically. In September 2016, it pledged $1 billion to help fund UN peace, security and development activities, while in 2018 it supplied 10.3 per cent of the UN peacekeeping budget, up from 3.93 per cent in 2012. China is also the largest contributor of peacekeeping forces among the five permanent members of the Security Council. As well as its regular troop contributions, it has also established a stand-by rapid deployment force of 8,000 peacekeeping troops.

For China, increased involvement in UN peacekeeping offers what it likes to refer to as a ‘win-win’ situation. China’s contribution is very valuable at a time when peacekeeping is in need of resources, given the cutbacks from the other four permanent members of the Security Council in both financial and personnel contributions, waning US support for the UN and pressures on the UN budget.

China’s increased involvement in UN peacekeeping has coincided with the adoption of a more pragmatic position in relation to its traditionally staunch adherence to the principles of state sovereignty and non-intervention.

China was initially sceptical of the UN’s Responsibility to Protect (R2P) doctrine, endorsed by member states in 2005, which seeks to protect populations from gross human rights violations, and which can include recourse to use of force by the international community, if authorized by the Security Council under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. Over time, though, Beijing has softened its stance to intervention and has gradually acknowledged the ability to respond to humanitarian catastrophes in certain circumstances, for example voting in favour of the Intervention Brigade in the Democratic Republic of the Congo in 2013. 

The softening of China’s stance on non-intervention is also evident in the significant rise not only in the involvement of Chinese troops in UN peacekeeping, but also in the deployment of Chinese military and security forces in a number of African states in order to protect China’s investment and infrastructure projects located there.

In 2017, China established its first foreign naval base in Djibouti, and in 2018 it held military drills in several African countries. The significant increase in China’s military presence in Africa since 2015 gives rise to a number of more complex issues for both China and the local communities involved. According to a recent report, China’s growing military and security presence in Africa is leading to concern in some local constituencies. The fact that China’s state-centric perception of security and development downplays the importance of human rights is likely to compound these tensions on the ground.

New international law implications

The growing presence of Chinese peacekeeping, police and security forces abroad also carries implications for China in a number of different areas of international law with which it has only recently started to grapple. These include the law on the use of force and, given that many Chinese infrastructure projects are situated in fragile states, the law of armed conflict.

The mushrooming presence of Chinese companies and investments abroad also carries implications for the Chinese state, and for the companies concerned, under international human rights law (particularly the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights). The international law on state responsibility could also be relevant if security companies owned or employed by the Chinese government, where their actions are attributable to China, become complicit in breaches of international law by other governments (such as human rights abuses).

Compared to other areas of international law, such as international economic law and the law of the sea, China has not invested much to date in education in these areas, which may leave it exposed as it increases its global footprint. It was clear from a recent Chatham House roundtable at Columbia Law School in New York that China is now seeking to rapidly upskill in these areas.

China’s global economic and security ambitions appear to be tilting China towards a more interventionist approach, which is extending beyond UN peacekeeping contributions towards security and military missions of its own. Time will tell how China will respond to the challenge of burnishing its image as a good global citizen while maintaining an approach to peacekeeping, security and development which is closely informed by its own economic and security interests.

The 1998 treaty which established the International Criminal Court (ICC) was adopted at a time when the world (or most of it) was willing to reach multilateral agreements on a variety of topics and was encouraging the development of international criminal justice. The two tribunals, set up by the UN Security Council, for the former Yugoslavia and for Rwanda had been relatively successful. The time was ripe for states to agree together to set up a permanent international court with wider scope than the two tribunals.

So the ICC was created, with jurisdiction over the international crimes of genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes; its jurisdiction for the crime of aggression developed later. The court was given the power to prosecute nationals of states that were parties to the ICC Statute, and also to prosecute where the crime was committed in the territory of a state party, whatever the nationality of the alleged criminals. The court had further jurisdiction when the Security Council referred a situation to it.

That was some 20 years ago. There is now a perception in many quarters that the ICC has not fulfilled the expectations of its founders. The court’s proceedings are cumbersome and lengthy. Many of the accused are still at large, including Omar al-Bashir, the former president of Sudan. Some €1.5 billion has been spent, and there have been only three convictions for the core international crimes.

There have been criticisms of the judges, the former Prosecutor and other officials, as well as concern over particular decisions of the court. The allegation that the court is only interested in crimes in Africa[1] is perhaps heard less frequently now than it once was (most of the African governments concerned referred the situations in their countries to the ICC themselves), and there has not been the mass walk-out of African states that was once predicted.

But in other quarters there is serious unease about the situation in the court. As the UK representative said at a meeting last year, ‘We cannot bury our heads in the sand and pretend everything is fine when it isn’t.’[2]

The negative assessment of the ICC’s work may be countered by the fact that it is the failure of states to cooperate with the court that causes many of the problems. Further, the expectations of states and civil society about the possibilities of international criminal justice have been so high that no court would be able to meet them. It is not possible for one court actually to ‘end impunity’ for international crimes,[3] nor to prevent war-related violence and mass atrocities, nor to satisfy all victims.

Moreover, the criticisms of the ICC come against the background of the global crisis for multilateralism more generally. The present US administration is notoriously hostile towards this international institution.[4]

On the plus side, the establishment of the court has encouraged states to revise their own laws on international crimes and to institute their own prosecutions where it is possible to do so. It is also claimed that the very existence of the court can be a deterrent to potential perpetrators of international crimes. The court has begun to add to the body of international criminal law and has increased the possibility that mass atrocities will be investigated.

But there is indeed some truth in the criticisms made of the internal workings of the court. One problem is that the particular combination of the civil and common law systems that has developed has produced cumbersome procedures regarding the representation of victims at most stages of the proceedings. It has also resulted in endless appeals from huge numbers of small decisions made by one chamber or another.

Then there are the management failures which have led to officials of the court being awarded compensation by the administrative tribunal of the International Labour Organization (ILO) because of the way they were treated by the court, and finally the decision of a few of the judges to take proceedings themselves at the ILO to have their salaries increased. 

Some ICC decisions have been met with surprise. For example, a former vice-president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Jean-Pierre Bemba, who was in the custody of the ICC for 10 years, was convicted by a unanimous trial chamber of various crimes and then succeeded on his appeal. Following this and the acquittal of former Côte d’Ivoire president Laurent Gbagbo,[5] there are concerns about the ability of the prosecution to succeed in cases against high-level alleged perpetrators.

Most recently, there has been criticism of the reasoning behind the appeal court decision regarding the immunity – or, rather, lack of immunity – of former president Bashir. And a decision of a chamber of the ICC not to authorize the opening of an investigation in Afghanistan has been seen as shielding the US from possible proceedings (though it has been welcomed by others as a pragmatic approach).

The message that certain problems with the ICC need fixing is coming not just from the writings of academics and the legal blogs,[6] but from governments too, including those, like the UK, which are among the foremost supporters of the court.

The former presidents of the ICC’s Assembly of States Parties (which comprises the representatives of all states parties) say that they ‘are disappointed by the quality of some of [the court’s] judicial proceedings, frustrated by some of the results, and exasperated by the management deficiencies that prevent the Court from living up to its full potential’.[7] 

Changes to remove the worst excesses of the procedures that have evolved could be effected without amendments to the treaty incorporating the ICC Statute. It may be that a change in culture is also needed. More modesty by the court, along with more realism from governments and civil society, is needed.

And, attractive as it might seem to push at the boundaries of the law, the court should be realistic in what it can achieve. It is next to impossible to prosecute a case effectively where there is no cooperation from the state on whose territory the crimes were committed.

What is needed is a court that can undertake efficient and effective criminal proceedings, delivering fair and impartial justice in the small number of cases which it is reasonable to expect it to address, in the light of the evidential challenges, limited resources and limited state cooperation.

Governments should decide together at the Assembly of States Parties to set in hand a review of the ICC’s operations. It has been suggested that a group of experts might be mandated to assess the management of the court;[8] on the basis of their report, governments could agree on the necessary improvements.

Not everything, however, can come within the remit of such a group. Governments should adopt new rules and practices to address matters such as the election process for judges and their training; governments might consider reaching their own understandings on how some provisions of the ICC Statute should be interpreted in practice. Governments should reach out to the many civil society organizations which have supported the court over the years, to ensure that they are involved in the process.

Measures of this kind cannot detract from the fact that the ICC is fundamentally sound and that its role is as necessary as when it was first established. As Richard Goldstone, former chief prosecutor of the United Nations International Criminal Tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda, has said, ‘If there were no ICC in existence today, many people in many countries would be agitating for and demanding one. That we have one is a singular achievement. It behoves us to make it the best possible and to assist it, as States, civil society, and individuals, in the best and most productive way possible.’[9]

Notes

[1] See, for example, du Plessis, M., Maluwa, T. and O’Reilly, A. (2013), Africa and the International Criminal Court, London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, July 2013, https://www.chathamhouse.org/publications/papers/view/193415.

[2] GOV.UK (2018), ‘UK statement to ICC Assembly of States Parties 17th session’, 5 December 2018, https://www.gov.uk/government/speeches/uk-statement-to-icc-assembly-of-states-parties-17th-session.

[3] As the preamble to the ICC Statute desires. See ICC (2011), Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, p. 1, https://www.icc-cpi.int/resource-library/Documents/RS-Eng.pdf.

[4] See the speech of John Bolton, US National Security Advisor. Just Security (2018), ‘Bolton’s Remarks on the International Criminal Court’, 10 September 2018, https://www.justsecurity.org/60674/national-security-adviser-john-bolton-remarks-international-criminal-court/.

[5] Gbagbo was accused of various crimes which took place after Côte d’Ivoire’s election in 2010, in which Gbagbo lost power to Alassane Ouattara. The case was terminated by the court following a year’s hearings in which the prosecution put forward its evidence.

[6] See, for example, Guilfoyle, D. (2019), ‘Reforming the International Criminal Court: Is it Time for the Assembly of State Parties to be the adults in the room?’, EJIL:Talk! blog post, 8 May 2019, https://www.ejiltalk.org/reforming-the-international-criminal-court-is-it-time-for-the-assembly-of-state-parties-to-be-the-adults-in-the-room/.

[7] Al Hussein, Z. R., Stagno Ugarte, B., Wenaweser, C. and Intelman, T. (2019), ‘The International Criminal Court Needs Fixing’, Atlantic Council, 24 April 2019, https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/new-atlanticist/the-international-criminal-court-needs-fixing.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Goldstone, R. (2019), ‘Acquittals by the International Criminal Court’, EJIL:Talk! blog post, 18 January 2019, https://www.ejiltalk.org/acquittals-by-the-international-criminal-court/. Richard Goldstone is also a former justice of the Constitutional Court of South Africa.

This essay was produced for the 2019 edition of Chatham House Expert Perspectives – our annual survey of risks and opportunities in global affairs – in which our researchers identify areas where the current sets of rules, institutions and mechanisms for peaceful international cooperation are falling short, and present ideas for reform and modernization.