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Why Arbitrate Business and Human Rights Disputes? Public Consultation Period Open for the Draft Hague Rules on Business and Human Rights Arbitration

Published on July 12, 2019        Author: 
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In June 2019, the Draft Hague Rules on Business and Human Rights Arbitration (hereafter, “Draft BHR Arbitration Rules”) was released for global online public consultation, with the consultation period set to end by 25 August 2019.  Judge Bruno Simma chairs the global Drafting Team that has collaborated in developing the draft rules, since the Drafting Team started its work in January 2018 with the support of the City of the Hague.  (Drafting Team Members and Working Group Members all listed here.) The final version of the Hague Rules on Business and Human Rights Arbitration will be published on 10 December 2019.  Before the release of the Draft BHR Arbitration Rules, the Working Group had produced a 2017 concept paper on business and human rights arbitration.  This was followed by the creation and first meetings of the Drafting Team in January 2018; the Drafting Team’s production of its Elements for Consideration in Draft Rules, Model Clauses, and Other Aspects of the Arbitral Process in time for the November 2018 Online Consultation Procedure; the April 2019 meetings of the Drafting Team and the June 2019 publication of the Summary of the Sounding Board Consultationsup to the June 2019 release of the Draft BHR Arbitration Rules.  

As described in the Draft BHR Arbitration Rules:

“The Hague Rules on Business and Human Rights Arbitration provide a set of procedures for the arbitration of disputes related to the impact of business activities on human rights.  The Hague Rules are based on the UNCITRAL Arbitration Rules, with modifications needed to address certain issues likely to arise in business and human rights disputes.  As with the UNCITRAL Arbitration Rules, the scope of the Hague Rules is not limited by the type of claimant(s) or respondent(s) or the type of subject-matter of the dispute and extends to any disputes that the parties to an arbitration agreement have agreed to resolve by arbitration under the Hague Rules.  Parties could thus include business entities, individuals, labor unions and organizations, States and State entities and civil society organizations. Equally, the Hague Rules purposefully do not define the terms “business”, “human rights”, or “business and human rights.” For the purposes of the Hague Rules, such terms should be thus understood at least as broadly as the meaning such terms have under the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights. However, in the vast majority of cases, no definition of these terms should be necessary at all.

Like the UNCITRAL Rules, the Hague Rules do not address the modalities by which the parties to the arbitration may consent to it nor the content of that consent, which are matters for the parties. Consent remains the cornerstone of business and human rights arbitration, as with all arbitration, and it can be established before a dispute arises, e.g. in contractual clauses, or after a dispute arises, e.g. in a submission agreement (compromis). Model Clauses may provide potential parties with options for expressing their consent to arbitration. In addition, like the UNCITRAL Rules, the Hague Rules do not address enforcement of arbitral awards made under these Rules, which are governed by national law and various treaty obligations, including in most cases the 1958 New York Convention on the Recognition and Enforcement of Foreign Arbitral Awards. While these Rules have been conceived as a uniform set of rules, we acknowledge that the parties remain entitled to exercise their discretion in opting out of certain provisions that do not respond to their specific needs as arising out the dispute at issue. Certain other Model Clauses are being developed in this respect.” (Emphasis added.)

I have served in the Drafting Team under Judge Simma’s leadership since January 2018. My colleagues Martin Doe, Steve Ratner, and Katerina Yiannibas have helpfully crystallized elsewhere several of the main points of innovation contained in the Draft Rules, such as:

“1. provisions on facilitating settlement and mediation, and emphasizing the complementarity of arbitration to such procedures as the OECD National Contact Points system (Articles 1(6), 17(3), 42, and 51)

2. provisions to address the inequality of arms which may arise in such disputes (inter alia, Articles 5(2), 20(4), 24, 27(2), and 27(4));

3. the establishment of the Permanent Court of Arbitration as the default appointing authority, given its intergovernmental nature and experience in business and human rights disputes (Article 6);

4. procedures for multiparty claims and joinder by third parties (Article 17-bis);

5. a procedure for the early dismissal of claims manifestly without merit, developed on the basis of similar procedures in the ICSID, SIAC, SCC, and HKIAC Rules (as well as the proposed new ICSID Rules) (Article 23-bis);

6. provisions making the arbitral tribunal’s power over interim measures more robust, and at the same time more flexible (Article 26);

7. an emergency arbitrator mechanism elaborated on the basis of the ICC and SCC Rules (Article 26-bis);

8. specialized evidentiary procedures drawn up on the basis, inter alia, of the IBA Rules and Rules of the International Criminal Court, among others (Articles 27, 28, and 30(3));

9. measures to protect the identity of parties, counsel, and witnesses where such protections are warranted by the circumstances of the case, while ensuring due process is maintained for all parties (Articles 17(5), 28(3), and 37(5));

10. provisions on transparency and third-party participation (Articles 24-bis and 33-38);

11. tailored provisions on remedies in the business and human rights context (Article 40);

12. rules on applicable law that enhance flexibility and party autonomy (Article 41);

13. rules to protect the public interest in the case of confidential settlements (Article 42(1));

14. nuanced rules in respect of costs and deposits that encourage the tribunal to sensitive to the interests of access to justice (Articles 46-49);

15. an expedited arbitration procedure for small claims (Article 52); and

16. a Code of Conduct that reflects the highest standards for independence and impartiality in international dispute resolution (Annex).”

In this post, I do not aim to provide an authoritative commentary on the Draft Rules (which is exactly what our global online consultation procedure is for).  Rather, and notwithstanding the explicit caveat drawn by the Drafting Team above on leaving the modalities and content of consent to arbitration to the parties, I instead offer my personal observations to examine the essence of main criticisms (see public comments of the Columbia Center for Sustainable Investment here as well as a few questions and comments I received at Harvard Law School in April 2019), directed against having the BHR Arbitration Rules in the first place: 1) whether companies and human rights victims would even consent to arbitration; and 2) if they do consent, whether one should view that consent with skepticism as to the authenticity of arbitration as a mode of access to justice for human rights victims.  The gist of my argument is this: while the BHR Arbitration Rules will never purport to be the exclusively prescribed mechanism for human rights victims of transnational business conduct and neither does it presume to displace State-based judicial or non-judicial remedies, against the realities of a continuing limited universe of legally binding human rights recourse against the impacts of private transnational activities, we cannot afford to close off the arbitral option either. As human rights practitioners well know, no single dispute resolution mechanism for human rights disputes against transnational business is perfect, and even recent national court victories in Lungowe v. Vedanta (as spearheaded by my BHR Drafting Team colleague Richard Meeran of Leigh Day) depend on the jurisdictional openness of a State’s judicial system to transnational tort claims.  The question, in my view, thus has to be reframed away from “why international arbitration?“, to “why not also international arbitration?“.

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Has the ECtHR in Mammadov 46(4) opened the door to findings of  ‘bad faith’ in trials?

Published on July 4, 2019        Author:  and
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In the recent judgment of the European Court of Human Rights (the Court) in Ilgar Mammadov v Azerbaijan  (Mammadov 46(4)) examined under Article 46(4) infringement proceedings, the Grand Chamber found that Azerbaijan had failed to comply with the Court’s original judgment in Ilgar Mammadov (Mammadov No.1) by refusing to release political activist Ilgar Mammadov, who was arrested on politically motivated charges (in violation of a right to liberty and security under Articles 5 and the  prohibition to restrict rights for purposes other than those prescribed by the Convention under Article 18 of the Convention).

This case is not only novel in being the first to be considered under infringement proceedings (see blogs by Başak Çali and Kanstantsin Dzehtsiarou), but is also highly significant for the Court’s approach to the implications of politically motivated proceedings.  Until now the Court has been reluctant to clarify its position on whether trials and convictions can be explicitly held to be in ‘bad faith’ under Article 18 of the Convention. We argue in this blog that the Grand Chamber in this case (relating to Mr Mammadov’s arrest and pre-trial detention), went substantially further than the Chamber in the second case of the same applicant, Mammadov No. 2 (relating to his trial and conviction), and has paved the way for the Court to finally open the door to the applicability of Article 18 to a right to fair trial under Article 6, or risk incoherence. 

The Court’s approach so far to Article 18

Article 18 of the Convention provides that ‘The restrictions permitted under this Convention to the said rights and freedoms shall not be applied for any purpose other than those for which they have been prescribed.’ There is debate about whether the wording of the provision limits its applicability to ‘restricted’ rights under Articles 5 and 8-11 of the Convention (see below). Read the rest of this entry…

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The Limits of the Law: Putting Reparations into Practice

Published on July 2, 2019        Author: , , and
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Reparations have recently been the hot topic from its invocation at the US Congress, the Khashoggi killing to WWII claims by Poland and Greece against Germany. Reparations have a particular legal meaning that intends to acknowledge wrongdoing and remedy as far as possible victims’ harm. Private law notions of restitution heavily imbue the concept. Indeed, the seminal case of Chorzów Factory by the Permanent Court of Justice laid the foundations for reparation in international law which ‘must, as far, as possible, wipe out all the consequences of the illegal act and re-establish the situation which would, in all probability, have existed if that act had not been committed.’

In the past three decades we have seen an increase in reparation programmes from the German Compensation Scheme for Forced Labour, the UN Claims Commission, domestic reparation programmes such as Peru to jurisprudential strides of the Inter-American Court of Human Rights and the initial steps by the International Criminal Court. 2020 itself will mark fifteen years since the UN adoption of the Basic Principles for the Right to Remedy and Reparations for Gross Violations of Human Rights and Serious Breaches of International Humanitarian Law that sets the broad international standards for victims and states.

Despite these developments most victims of such violations do not receive reparations. Read the rest of this entry…

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The ESCR Revolution Continues: ILO Convention No. 190 on the Elimination of Violence and Harassment in the World of Work

Published on June 28, 2019        Author: 
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On 21 June 2019, the International Labour Organization (ILO) adopted the landmark ILO Convention No. 190 (Convention concerning the Elimination of Violence and Harassment in the World of Work).  The labour standards set in this Convention were negotiated over a two year period by ILO member governments, workers’ representatives, and employers’ organizations. The adoption of Convention No. 190 is itself revolutionary, considering that an estimated around 500 million working-age women  live in countries are reported not to have any legal protections against harassment at work. The World Bank reported in 2018 that “in 59 countries, women are not legally protected from workplace sexual harassment.  The lack of legal protection is observed in 70% of the economies in the Middle East and North Africa, half (50%) in East Asia and the Pacific, and one-third (33.3%) in Latin America and the Caribbean.”

In this post, I examine the key landmark detailed provisions of ILO Convention No. 190, and why they present significantly higher protections than the more rudimentary and general provisions in the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR) as well as the protections against sexual harassment indicated in the Convention on Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW).  In my view, ILO Convention No. 190 largely closes the global regulatory gap on workplace sexual harassment, not just by repeating ICESCR and CEDAW protections, but by adopting the most sweeping application of these protections (and even more substantive protections) to all the foreseeable permutations and changing employment arrangements today in the world of work.  Institutionally, the adoption of ILO Convention No. 190 also formally opens the door for ILO’s regular supervisory system to ensure this treaty’s implementation by States ratifying ILO Convention No. 190, including special procedures under the ILO Constitution, such as the complaints procedure (Articles 26 to 34 of the ILO Constitution) enabling any ILO Member State to file a complaint with the ILO if it finds that any other ILO Member State is not “securing effective observance of any Convention which both have ratified”.  The ILO Governing Body can refer the complaint to a Commission of Inquiry for investigation.  If the respondent ILO Member State does not accept the recommendations of the Commission on Inquiry, the ILO can propose to refer the dispute to the International Court of Justice.  The expansive protections against workplace sexual harassment afforded in ILO Convention No. 190 to all persons (including women) could thus also be more strongly protected in the international legal system as well as in domestic legal systems.  

In the age of MeToo and the increasing global awareness that vulnerabilities to workplace sexual harassment are highest in non-traditional work settings and arrangements where power imbalances are sharpest, ILO Convention No. 190 places human dignity at the center of the global regulatory paradigm.  It will be much harder for workplace sexual harassers and those who commit violence at the workplace to escape and avoid legal responsibility anywhere in the world.

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Callamard Report on the Murder of Jamal Khashoggi: Part II

Published on June 26, 2019        Author: 
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In my second post on the report on the murder of Jamal Khashoggi by the Special Rapporteur on extrajudicial executions, I will discuss some of its most interesting legal findings. The key finding, obviously, is that Saudi Arabia is responsible for committing an extrajudicial execution in violation of Mr Khashoggi’s right to life. The Special Rapporteur notes in that regard, quite correctly, that it is ultimately legally irrelevant whether Khashoggi’s killing was premeditated, ordered at the highest levels of the Saudi state, or was done as part of some ‘rogue’ operation. Saudi Arabia bears responsibility for the conduct of its organs, done in their official capacity, even if it was committed ultra vires (para. 219).

In addition to finding Saudi Arabia responsible for violating Khashoggi’s right to life and for failing to comply with obligations towards Turkey under the Vienna Convention on Consular Relations, the report also finds that Khashoggi’s killing constituted an unlawful use of force by Saudi Arabia against Turkey, contrary to the prohibition in Article 2(4) of the UN Charter (paras. 227-230). The report’s analysis in this regard focuses somewhat excessively on whether the killing of a journalist would be an act contrary to the purposes of the United Nations, but does not really engage with the prior question of whether the furtive assassination of a single individual can constitute ‘force’ in the sense of Article 2(4). This is in effect the question of whether there is any de minimis, lowest limit to the concept of force in Article 2(4), and is a point of some controversy, since a finding that interstate force has been used has a number of important implications. Most recently the same issue was raised with regard to the Salisbury chemical attack, when the UK government formally accused Russia for violating the prohibition on the use of force (which, as far as I’m aware, Turkey did not do here). For detailed discussions in this respect see this post by Tom Ruys on Just Security and Dapo’s post here on EJIL: Talk.

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Callamard Report on the Murder of Jamal Khashoggi: Part I

Published on June 25, 2019        Author: 
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Last week the UN Special Rapporteur on extrajudicial executions, Agnes Callamard, submitted to the Human Rights Council her long-awaited final report on the investigation she conducted on the murder of Jamal Khashoggi. In this post I’ll offer a few thoughts on some of the legal and factual findings of this report, which is the result of the only independent inquiry to-date into Khashoggi’s assassination in the Saudi consulate in Istanbul in October last year. Readers may recall that I’ve recently written extensively on the blog on the international legal aspects of Khashoggi’s murder, based on my forthcoming article in the Human Rights Law Review.

The Callamard report is extensive, detailed and rich in its legal and factual analysis. Indeed it is far too extensive to be summarized and discussed in a blog post, which I will not attempt to do. Rather, this two-part post will focus on a selection of the report’s most novel factual and legal findings; the first part will examine the former, and the second, to be published tomorrow, will look at the report’s legal analysis.

The report itself is comprised of two documents. First, the formal report to the Human Rights Council, submitted for its 41st regular session starting this week – UN Doc. A/HRC/41/36. Second, a one-hundred page annex to that report, which contains the Special Rapporteur’s detailed factual and legal findings with regard to the murder of Jamal Khashoggi – UN Doc. A/HRC/41/CRP.1. The former document by and large summarizes the contents of the latter, while emphasizing some important points of principle, e.g. regarding the duty to warn (on which more tomorrow). I will hereinafter thus only refer to the annex, i.e. whenever I cite a paragraph of the report, I mean to refer to the longer document, A/HRC/41/CRP.1.

Again, I will not cover the report exhaustively. The media coverage of the report, including succinct summaries of its main findings, has been extensive (e.g. here and here; see also this VoA interview with Ms Callamard). In a nutshell, the Special Rapporteur found that Saudi Arabia bears state responsibility for the extrajudicial killing of Mr Khashoggi, in violation of his human right to life, and that it has similarly violated its positive obligation to effectively investigate his killing. She has inter alia called on the UN Secretary-General, the Human Rights Council, and the Security Council, to establish an independent international criminal investigation into Khashoggi’s murder, and has specifically found that credible evidence existed for the potential responsibility of the Saudi Crown Prince, Mohammed bin Salman, and his principal henchman, Saud al-Qahtani.

As one could expect, Saudi Arabia has already rejected the report, alleging that it is biased, contains ‘nothing new,’ repeats allegations already made in the media, and is based on ‘false accusations confirmed as stemming from Callamard’s preconceived ideas and positions towards the kingdom.’ In reality, however, there are quite a few new significant factual findings in the report, which have been made with a commendable degree of care and rigour – all the more commendable in light of the very limited resources that the Special Rapporteur had at her disposal. In fact, the report expressly tries not to rely on media reporting, whenever possible, and acknowledges possible sources of bias when appropriate (see paras. 36-37, 42-47). The Special Rapporteur established as proven or credible only those facts that she herself could independently substantiate. And, of course, she applied in great detail the applicable rules of international law to the facts that she has established. As we will see, most of her legal findings are (at least in my view) unassailable, while others are somewhat more tenuous.

What, then, of the report’s novel factual findings?

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Russian Agents Charged with Downing of MH17; MH17 Cases in Strasbourg

Published on June 20, 2019        Author: 
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Yesterday international investigators charged three Russian nationals and one Ukrainian national before Dutch criminal courts for the 2014 downing of Malaysian Airlines flight MH17 over Ukraine. According to a report in the Guardian:

The suspects were named as Igor Girkin, a former colonel of Russia’s FSB spy service; Sergey Dubinskiy, employed by Russia’s GRU military intelligence agency; and Oleg Pulatov, a former soldier with the GRU’s special forces spetsnaz unit. All were Russian soldiers previously sent abroad.

A fourth suspect, Leonid Kharchenko, is a Ukrainian. He led a military combat unit in the city of Donetsk as a commander, it was alleged.

Girkin was minister of defence in the Moscow-backed Donetsk People’s Republic (DNR). He was the commander of the DNR when the plane was shot down on 17 July 2014. Dubinskiy served as Girkin’s deputy in the DNR, and Pulatov was Dubinskiy’s deputy. Kharchenko was under their command.

Investigators said the soldiers “formed a chain linking DNR with the Russian Federation”. This link was how the separatists obtained heavy equipment from Russia including the Buk launcher used to fire at MH17 with “terrible consequences”.

The accused did not push the button themselves but were responsible for bringing the anti-aircraft system to eastern Ukraine. They could therefore be held criminally liable and charged with murdering 298 people, investigators said.

Readers will recall that last year the investigators and the Dutch and Australian governments formally attributed the downing of MH17 to Russia. Yesterday, however, saw the first criminal charges brought against specific individuals. Obviously, it remains highly unlikely that any of them will face trial in the Netherlands in the foreseeable future, unless they are unwise enough to travel abroad, although they will likely be tried in absentia.

There have also been interesting developments about litigation regarding MH17 in the European Court of Human Rights. Back in 2014 I suggested that the families of the victims may decide to bring cases against both Russia and Ukraine:

In addition to whatever direct involvement these states may have had in the destruction of the aircraft, they could also be held liable for other internationally wrongful acts. For example, Ukraine could be responsible for failing to secure the right to life of the victims and failing to comply with its substantive positive obligations under Article 2 ECHR by deciding not to close the relevant airspace for civilian traffic. Russia could be held responsible for providing the rebels with anti-aircraft weaponry without sufficient safeguards (e.g. appropriate training of the missile crews), thus creating the risk that this weaponry could be used against civilian targets. Both states could be held responsible for failing to secure an effective investigation into the incident. Obviously the facts could yet develop and some very complex preliminary issues could arise (e.g. the extent of Russia’s control over the Ukrainian rebels and the question of the ECHR’s extraterritorial application), but all these points seem arguable.

At least two such cases have indeed been brought and have been communicated by the Court to the respondent governments for pleadings on admissibility and merits.

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More on the Duty to Warn Persons Threatened by Foreign Intelligence Services

Published on June 10, 2019        Author: 
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I recently wrote on the blog about the obligation of states, arising from their duty to protect the right to life under human rights law, to warn individuals subject to their jurisdiction of any real and immediate risk to their life, bodily integrity, or liberty and security of person, posed by foreign intelligence services. That duty arises if the state knows, or ought to know, of such a threat, i.e. if the threat is reasonably foreseeable to it. I’ve argued in that regard how it cannot be conclusively established, but may be so established after further factual inqury, that the United States or Turkey had enough relevant information in their possession to trigger their protective obligation with regard to Jamal Khashoggi and the threat posed to his life by agents of Saudi Arabia. If that obligation was triggered, however, the duty to warn Khashoggi arose, whereas no such warning was given to him before his assassination in the Saudi consulate in Istanbul.

As I have explained in my previous post, and in more detail in my full paper, the duty to warn does not impose unreasonable burdens on states engaged in intelligence-gathering activities. First, it is subject to a jurisdictional threshold, which may be looser, per the Human Rights Committee’s new functional approach to the extraterritorial application of the right to life, or stricter, per the more traditional spatial or personal conceptions of jurisdiction. Opinions will clearly differ in this regard as to which approach should prevail. The key point here, however, is that a state lacking the capacity to fulfil the duty to warn will never be expected to have to do so. Second, the duty will only be engaged if a specific unlawful threat to the life of an individual was reasonably foreseeable to the state. Third, the duty to warn is one of due diligence, and the state can take a number of relevant considerations into account in deciding on how to fulfil it. It might, for example, choose to convey the substance of the threat in a way that will avoid any risk of compromising intelligence-gathering sources and methods. It might choose to do so through an intermediary, such as a relevant agency of a partner state. In the vast majority of conceivable circumstances the state will be able to convey a warning without compromising its essential interests in any meaningful way. Granted, the state will have to devote some resources towards actually complying with the obligation. But such an expectation is not unreasonable, especially bearing in mind that this rather modest burden will usually fall on the wealthiest, most powerful states in possession of an extensive foreign intelligence apparatus, whose ultimate purpose should after all be the safeguarding of human life.

Importantly, in the past month or so, the CIA and partner security services have actually warned three associaties of Khashoggi of a Saudi threat against them, demonstrating that the duty to warn does not, in fact, impose unreasonable burdens on state authorities and that it can effectively be complied with.

First, after obtaining information about a specific threat from the CIA, the Norwegian security services warned a prominent Arab pro-democracy activist and vocal critic of the Saudi crown prince, who has been granted asylum and is living in Norway. As the Guardian reports:

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A Hypothetical on Deprivation of Liberty and Torture

Published on May 31, 2019        Author: 
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In light of today’s rather extraordinary statement by Prof. Nils Melzer, the UN Special Rapporteur on torture and other forms of cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment, that Julian Assange has been subjected not only to arbitrary deprivation of liberty, but also to a sustained campaign of collective persecution, the results of which were tantamount to psychological torture, here’s a brief hypothetical that can hopefully shed some light on Assange’s legal situation:

Variant 1: A is a human rights defender living and working in Dystopia, a highly authoritarian police state. He has helped countless people in his work, to much international acclaim. One day he receives reliable information that a Dystopian court has ordered his arrest, on charges of sedition, and that if convicted (which seems very likely) he could spend many years in prison. A decides to evade the police seeking to arrest him.  With the help of friends, A finds refuge in a cave in a remote location. He spends 7 years in that cave, with very little human contact, fearful that if he ever left the cave the police would find him and arrest him. The years take their toll. A starts suffering from a number of physical ailments. Even worse, the virtually total separation from his family, friends and the outside world eventually leads to serious impairment to his mental health, including severe anxiety and depression. After 7 years, the Dystopian police discover A’s hiding place and arrest him.

Questions: (1) While A was in the cave, was he subjected to a deprivation of liberty by the state of Dystopia? (2) If so, was that deprivation of liberty arbitrary? (3) In any event, do the accumulated consequences to A’s mental and physical health, due to the extended period of time he spent in the cave hiding from Dystopian authorities, qualify as torture or cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment of A on the part of the state of Dystopia?

Variant 2: R is the highest-ranking general of the army of a separatist regime in Anarchia, a country ravaged by a sectarian civil war. The International Criminal Court has issued a warrant for R’s arrest for war crimes and crimes against humanity on a massive scale; he is suspected of leading a campaign of ethnic cleansing which claimed the lives of tens of thousands of people. After the Anarchian civil war ends in the victory of his opponents, R decides to go into hiding. With the help of friends, R finds refuge in a cave in a remote location. He spends 7 years in that cave, with very little human contact, fearful that the Anarchian government authorities will arrest him and send him to The Hague for trial. The years take their toll. R starts suffering from a number of physical ailments. Even worse, the virtually total separation from his family, friends and the outside world eventually leads to serious impairment to his mental health, including severe anxiety and depression. After 7 years, the Anarchian police discover R’s hiding place and arrest him.

Questions: (1) While R was in the cave, was he subjected to a deprivation of liberty by the state of Anarchia? (2) If so, was that deprivation of liberty arbitrary? (3) In any event, do the accumulated consequences to R’s mental and physical health, due to the extended period of time he spent in the cave hiding from Anarchian authorities, qualify as torture or cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment of R on the part of the state of Anarchia? (4) If you have answered any of the preceding questions differently than their counterparts in Variant 1, please explain why you have done so.

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