Private International Law in the Digital Age: Evolution and Application

Zarlala Khan, LLM Student University of Hertfordshire

In the realm of dispute resolution, the legal issues that cross international borders involve the laws of many jurisdictions are addressed by the field of “conflict of laws,” sometimes known as “private international law,” which is an important subject of jurisprudence. Private international law has evolved since 1945 to reflect developments in international trade, relationships, and technology. This area of law provides procedures for identifying the relevant law and jurisdiction in cross-border conflicts, navigating the complexity that arises when disparities in legal systems and standards come into play. [1] The unique duality of private international law has been underlined, which is founded in national legal traditions yet embodies an international spirit that aims to bridge gaps across diverse legal systems. 

In contrast to public international law, which deals with nations and international organisations, private international law regulates cross-border personal relationships for individuals and enterprises. It settles legal conflicts involving several countries, chooses the appropriate legislation and courts, and acknowledges and upholds decisions made abroad. In private international law, jurisdiction refers to a court’s right to hear cases with foreign parties; such an understanding is essential for figuring out the court’s legal authority over parties and disputes.

Beyond just settling international conflicts, private international law also seeks to advance international judicial collaboration and offer a foundation for legal certainty.[2] Through treaties, conventions, and reciprocal agreements, private international law promotes international judicial cooperation and guarantees the enforcement of decisions beyond state boundaries. In today’s globalised world, where legal issues frequently cross national borders, cooperation is essential. Through the development and promotion of international legal tools, the Hague Conference on Private International Law promotes this kind of collaboration.[3] 

International Judicial Collaboration

Due to globalisation and the emergence of international agreements, the post-World War II era saw a revolutionary time for private international law. Increased cross-border connections as a result of international initiatives to mend fences called for a more coordinated strategy for resolving conflicts across different jurisdictions.[4] International trade and investment increased as a result of globalisation, which prompted the creation of legal frameworks to handle complicated problems. International conventions have become vital tools for standardising regulations to provide consistency in the settlement of cross-border conflicts, hence promoting international collaboration.

Impact of Digital Technology

Particularly about jurisdiction and the application of the law, private international law has been profoundly impacted by the emergence of digital technology from the middle of the 20th century. Due to the internet’s ability to transcend national boundaries, there has been discussion on how national laws should be applied to international digital activity. Due to the disruption of geographical boundaries caused by the internet, scholars call for a reevaluation of jurisdictional concepts.

Digital innovations pose a challenge to legal systems, especially in data protection. The EU’s General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) is the world’s leading privacy and security law. The 1995 data protection directive’s guiding principles were brought up to date and modernised by this law. It was approved in 2016 and went into implementation on May 25, 2018 expanding its authority internationally, igniting discussions over extraterritoriality and sovereignty. The significance of international cooperation in developing principles for addressing jurisdiction and law application problems in the digital age is highlighted by evolving legal answers.[5]

Private international law must change to meet the problems of digitalisation as a result of technological improvements. Changing legal responses emphasise how crucial international harmonisation and collaboration are to the development of sound legal concepts and thus it is crucial in the digital era that the complications of jurisdiction and legal application are properly addressed.[6]

Recognition of Foreign Judgements

The concept of forum non conveniens is globally recognised as a sophisticated approach to jurisdiction in cross-border disputes. It enables judges to reject cases that would be more appropriate for overseas courts by taking into account elements like witness availability and party convenience. Its implementation highlights a shift toward equitable considerations in legal procedures by striking a balance between preventing undue demands on court institutions and ensuring access to justice.[7]

The development of private international law is further demonstrated by the introduction of new concepts, like the principle of comity. Many contemporary doctrines and agreements intended to facilitate cross-border legal processes, such as the acceptance and enforcement of foreign judgments, are based on the principle of comity, which promotes mutual recognition and respect between legal systems. 

Significant regional integration initiatives emerged after 1945, radically changing the field of private international law. The EU’s Brussels Regime is one of the most prominent of these initiatives. The 2001-adopted Brussels I Regulation, which was recast in 2012, completely changed how EU member states recognised and implemented decisions, as well as how jurisdiction is approached. To lessen conflict and improve legal predictability inside the internal market, it set precise guidelines for determining jurisdiction in civil and commercial matters.[8]

There have been attempts to unify private international law outside of the EU. Systems to ease cross-border legal procedures and dispute resolution have been put in place by the Organisation for the Harmonisation of Business Law in Africa (OHADA) and the Mercosur trading bloc in South America. These regional frameworks serve as examples of how private international law can be tailored to various legal systems and socioeconomic environments.[9] 

Challenges posed by Modern Global Developments

There are many obstacles facing the field of private international law, including its intrinsic complexity, charges of prejudice, and issues in keeping up with modern global developments. Due to its endeavour to harmonise many legal systems, private international law is complicated and creates complex legal frameworks. Not only does this complexity have academic implications, but it also affects the predictability and equity of legal results.[10] Critics of private international law contend that the creation and implementation of its regulations frequently serve the political and economic interests of stronger governments, giving rise to long-standing accusations of bias in the field. 

Furthermore, the continued applicability of private international law is seriously threatened by the speed of globalisation and technological development. From e-commerce conflicts to digital copyright challenges, the digital age has brought new forms of cross-border interactions that current frameworks find difficult to appropriately handle. 

These difficulties highlight the need for further development and modification of private international law.[11] 

To resolve legal disputes and transactions that traverse international borders, private international law is essential. Nonetheless, issues like cybercrimes and e-commerce conflicts continue to arise and are difficult for conventional frameworks to manage. In an interconnected world, embracing creative legal solutions and encouraging global discourse will harmonise legal standards, promoting legal clarity, access to justice, and international cooperation.

[1] Kalenský P, Trends of Private International Law (Springer Science & Business Media 2013)

[2] Juenger F, Choice of Law and Multistate Justice, vol 2 (Brill 2021)

[3] Jueptner E, ‘The Hague Jurisdiction Project – What Options for the Hague Conference?’ (2020) 16 Journal of Private International Law 247

[4] Nukusheva A and others, ‘Transnational Corporations in Private International Law: Do Kazakhstan and Russia Have the Potential to Take the Lead?’ (2020) 8 Entrepreneurship and Sustainability Issues 496

[5] Barrett C, ‘Emerging Trends From the First Year of EU GDPR Enforcement’ (2020) 16 Scitech Lawyer 22

[6]  Svantesson DJB, ‘Private International Law and the Internet’ (2021) Private International Law and the Internet 1

[7] Dorsel C, Forum Non Conveniens (Duncker und Humblot 2021)

[8] Bradford A, The Brussels Effect: How the European Union Rules the World (Oxford University Press, USA 2020)

[9] Fossung MF and others, ‘Transition to the revised OHADA law on accounting and financial reporting: Corporate perceptions of costs and benefits’ (2020) 13 Journal of Risk and Financial Management 172

[10] Mills A, ‘The identities of private international law: lessons from the US and EU revolutions’ (2012) 23 Duke J Comp & Int’l L 445

[11] Zakir MH and Ali S, ‘Cross-Border Trademark Infringement In The Digital Age: Jurisdictional Challenges And Harmonization Efforts’ (2023) 3 Pakistan Islamicus (An International Journal Of Islamic & Social Sciences) 51

Treaties and Treatises: A Lockean Critique of the Rwanda Scheme

David Adeyemi-Abere LLB Student University of Hertfordshire[1]

On 5 December 2023, the UK and Rwanda signed an asylum partnership treaty.[2] Since then, much ink has been spilled discussing the practical difficulties of the Rwanda scheme. This post will make a theoretical contribution to the discussion: it will conjecture what John Locke’s stance would be on the scheme. It will do so on the sole basis of his essay Concerning the True Original Extent and End of Civil Government (i.e. his Second Treatise).[3] Whilst he wrote other, potentially relevant works (like his For a General Naturalisation essay)[4], his Second Treatise is his major political work. It is his attempt to theorise government. Accordingly, it is a valid basis on which to theorise his stance on the Government’s Rwanda scheme.

Sections one and two of this post will argue that Locke would oppose the scheme. First, he would oppose the Government’s exercise of power. He would say that the Government cannot employ extra-community force, or determine the facts, re Rwanda. Secondly, he would oppose the Government’s compulsion of asylum seekers. He would say that the Government cannot legally force them to become members of Rwandan society. The third and final section of this post will argue that Locke, unlike many today, would not use international law to oppose the scheme. Said law has four potential features: an origin in the unification of powers, a reliance on self-enforcement, an intention to benefit third parties and a lack of individuals’ consent. In light of these, Locke would protest against the UK’s international legal obligations.

I. Of Political Power

Locke says that political power can be exercised to ‘secure the community from inroads and invasion’ (131). The former Immigration Minister, Robert Jenrick, said that the Rwanda scheme will help ‘secure our borders’.[5] Hence, prima facie, it seems Locke would approve of the scheme. However, on closer inspection, it is clear that the scheme exceeds Locke’s limits on political power, on two counts.

First, Locke limits political power to the right of ‘employing the force of the community’ (3). However, the Rwanda scheme employs the Rwandan Government. Indeed, the full title of the UK-Rwanda treaty is: Agreement between the Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the Government of the Republic of Rwanda for the provision of an asylum partnership to strengthen shared international commitments on the protection of refugees and migrants.[6] The Rwandan Government is not the force of the community; it is force outside of the community. Therefore, Locke would say that the treaty (and thus, the scheme more broadly) is ultra vires.

Secondly, Locke limits political power to the ‘right of making laws’ (3). However, the Rwanda scheme relies not only on the making of law, but also on the determination of fact (or, more accurately, the enactment of fiction)[7]. The Safety of Rwanda (Asylum and Immigration) Bill seeks to incorporate the treaty into domestic law.[8] Clause 1(2)(b) of the Bill says: this Act gives effect to the judgement of Parliament that the Republic of Rwanda is a safe country.[9] Likewise, clause 2(1), which is probably the key provision in the Bill,[10] says: Every decision-maker must conclusively treat the Republic of Rwanda as a safe country.[11] Evidently, these provisions do not seek to make law; rather, they seek to settle fact. The former falls within the parameters that Locke sets for political power, but the latter falls outside. Consequently, as with the treaty, Locke would say that the Bill (and thus, the scheme more broadly) is ultra vires.

With respect to the second count, one might object that the Rwanda scheme gives rise to specific facts which are for the determination of the Government. Whilst individuals are entitled to determine domestic facts, one might object that the Government is entitled to determine foreign facts. One might support this view by pointing to Locke’s ‘federative’ power (i.e. the power concerned with society’s international relations) (146), which is ‘hardly to be separated’ from his ‘executive’ power (e.g. the Government) (148). Granted, the federative power is tasked with the management of foreign affairs, but this does not include the determination of foreign facts. To the contrary, Locke gives an explicit example wherein individuals determine the foreign facts. He reasons that monarchical governments existed, because individuals thought such governments would help them ‘secure themselves against foreign force’ (107). In other words, individuals (not governments) determined the foreign facts (in this example, the existence of foreign force). Following their factual determination, they formed governments, not to determine facts for them, but to protect them from foreign forces and to ‘be their ruler[s]’ (107). It should be presumed that factual determination remains the role of individuals. The burden of proof to disprove this presumption lies with its opponent. Therefore, Locke would oppose the Rwanda scheme, because the Government cannot frustrate the rights of the community (by employing foreign force), or frustrate the rights of individuals (by determining facts).

II. Of Political Societies

Although Locke does not use the term, his Second Treatise does allow for asylum seekers, at least in principle. Locke says that the ‘chief end’ to which societies are formed is the ‘preservation of property’ (85). Locke defines property broadly as ‘lives, liberties and estates’ (123). Hence, he would assent to the actions of asylum seekers (and even economic migrants), since they immigrate to the UK in order to preserve their property: their lives, liberties and estates. There is, however, an exception to Locke’s assent. In the final paragraph of his Second Treatise, Locke says that when someone becomes a member of a society, ‘they have given up their political power to the legislative, and cannot resume it’ (243). In other words, becoming a member of a society is an irreversible decision. But many asylum seekers were once members of another society. Does Locke thus deny them? No; at least, not all of them. In fact, he accounts for many of them. Individuals remain members of a society ‘unless by any calamity the government [they were] under comes to be dissolved’ (121). The ‘usual’ reason governments are dissolved is ‘the inroad of foreign force’, on account of which society ‘must necessarily cease’ (211). Many asylum seekers know this all too well. Indeed, ‘the world is too well instructed in, and too forward to allow of this way of dissolving of governments, to need any more to be said of it’ (211). When a society ceases, its individuals ‘return to the state [they were] in before’, that is the ‘state of Nature’, wherein they are free to incorporate ‘into one politic society’ (211). So Locke does not deny all asylum seekers. On the contrary, he describes the plight of many in detail, and he makes substantial provision for it.

In Locke’s view, ‘foreigners’ (122) are subject to society’s laws, for two reasons: ‘conscience’ (122) and ‘enjoyment’ (119). Locke says that foreigners are ‘bound, even in conscience, to submit to [society’s] administration’ (122). Conscience only binds when ‘foreigners… [are] enjoying the privileges and protection’ of the government (122). However, the Supreme Court found that the Rwanda scheme created a ‘real risk of refoulement’.[12] For this reason, asylum seekers do not enjoy all the privileges and protection of the Government. They only enjoy some of them. So they might not be bound, on this ground, to submit to the law. Even so, they are subject to society’s laws because of Locke’s other reason: individuals are ‘obliged to obedience to the laws of [a] government’, because of their ‘enjoyment of any part of the dominions’ (119). Such enjoyment need not be extensive. For Locke, ‘barely travelling freely on the highway’ is sufficient (119). Ergo, docking a dinghy in Dover is also sufficient.

Arguably due to one of Locke’s reasons, and certainly due to his other one, asylum seekers are subject to British laws. Nonetheless, said laws cannot force asylum seekers to become members of Rwandan society. The Safety of Rwanda (Asylum and Immigration) Bill cannot force asylum seekers to become members of Rwandan society. Membership of a society can only come about through ‘positive engagement and express promise and compact’ (122). Asylum seekers cannot unilaterally make themselves members of a society. Nor can they be unilaterally made members of a society by a government: ‘nothing [is] able to put [them] into subjection to any earthly power’ (119). And yet, the Government seeks to do just that. Article 10(3) of the UK-Rwanda treaty reads:

No Relocated Individual (even if they do not make an application for asylum or humanitarian protection or whatever the outcome of their applications) shall be removed from Rwanda except to the United Kingdom in accordance with Article 11(1). The Parties shall cooperate to agree an effective system for ensuring that removal contrary to this obligation does not occur, which includes systems (with the consent of the Relocated Individual as appropriate) for returns to the United Kingdom and locating, and regularly monitoring the location of, the Relocated Individual.[13]

In essence, the treaty forces asylum seekers to become members of Rwandan society, either as refugees (Article 10(1)),[14] or as individuals akin to refugees (Article 10(2)),[15] or as permanent residents (Article 10(4)(a)).[16] The treaty does not require any positive engagement on asylum seekers’ part. Even the exception only arises because of the UK’s positive engagement (following which, the ‘the consent of the Relocated Individual’ may be sought ‘as appropriate’).[17] Admittedly, Rwanda is not required to take steps to prevent asylum seekers from leaving the country (Article 10(5)).[18] However, leaving would not terminate their membership anyway, since members of one society can ‘[live their] lives under another government’ (122). Therefore, Locke would contest asylum seekers’ membership of Rwandan society.

In sum, the Safety of Rwanda (Asylum and Immigration) Bill seeks to incorporate the UK-Rwanda treaty into national law. But the treaty contradicts Locke’s assertion that individuals are in a ‘state of Nature’ until ‘by their own consents, they make themselves members of some politic society’ (15). Consequently, Locke would oppose the Rwanda scheme, because the Government cannot compel asylum seekers to become members of Rwandan society, even if the law says it can.

III. Of International Political Societies

Public discourse on the Rwanda scheme has focused on its disregard for international law. Noticeably, in this post, it has not been argued that Locke would oppose the scheme on this ground. In fact, it will now be argued that he would challenge the legitimacy of the UK’s international legal obligations.

Locke’s theory has been characterised as a social contract. Individuals begin in a ‘state of Nature in reference to one another’ (14). Then, they enter into national societies, ‘by positive engagement and express promise and compact’ (122), ‘for the mutual preservation of their lives, liberties and estates’ (123). The same might be said for national societies themselves. They might be said to form international social contracts. They begin in a ‘state of Nature in respect of all other states’ (145). Then their governments enter into international political societies, ‘by positive engagement and express promise and compact’ (122) (i.e. signing treaties and conventions), ‘for the mutual preservation of their lives, liberties and estates’ (123). Social contract theory seems scalable, but Locke would not say so. He would oppose international law, for four reasons.

First, international law can originate from the unification of powers. The Government is the executive power. It ‘[sees] to the execution’ of law (144). Yet, it assented to international law like the Refugee Convention.[19] In doing so, it breached the separation of powers, since the ‘power of making laws’ is ‘the legislative power’ (143). Admittedly, treaty-making in the UK is a royal prerogative power, and Locke says that prerogative power is ‘left to the executive power’ (160). However, the royal prerogative of treaty-making is similar to Locke’s prerogative in name only. Locke’s prerogative is the power to act ‘without the prescription of the law’ (160). In contrast, the royal prerogative of treaty-making is the power to prescribe international law. It is a legislative power, so the Government should not possess it.

Secondly, international law can rely on self-enforcement. Locke’s social contract works, because there is consideration from both parties. Individuals give their power of ‘private judgment’ (88), and governments give a commitment to ‘act as the public good of the society shall require’ (89). But with international social contracts, national societies can retain their power of private judgment. When this power is retained, international social contracts are rendered invalid, since there is no consideration. Furthermore, there is a reliance on self-enforcement. By way of example, the UK would be obliged to abide by a final judgment of the European Court of Human Rights (Article 46(1) of the ECHR).[20] But the Court’s Committee of Ministers would merely ‘supervise’ the execution of the judgment (Article 46(2) of the ECHR).[21] The UK would be the one to execute the judgment on itself. Such enforcement surely leads to ineffective remedies, since national societies will be ‘partial to themselves’ (125). Granted, the Government (the power which is bound by incorporated international law) is distinct from the judiciary (the power which enforces incorporated international law), but this distinction would not appease Locke. This is because he argues for a single enforcement mechanism for all of society (i.e. the executive power). Accordingly, different parts of an international political society should not have different enforcement mechanisms (i.e. different judiciaries enforcing the law). Instead, different parts of international political society should be under ‘one supreme government’ (89).

Thirdly, international law can intentionally benefit third parties. The UK Government is party to the Refugee Convention, but it is individuals within the UK that are mutually preserved by the principle of non-refoulement; it is the rights of third parties that are preserved. For Locke, this is wrong. He conceives a simple bilateral contract between individuals and their government. He does not intend to afford rights to third-party individuals, because their governments, not they, consent to be governed by international law.

Fourthly and finally, because governments (and not individuals) consent to be governed by international law, said law can lack individuals’ consent. Suppose a majority of UK individuals wish to do away with the principle of non-refoulement. If it were only a principle of national law, a majority of UK individuals would be able to bring about this change, since they ‘have a right to act and conclude the rest’ (95). However, because it is a principle of international law, a UK majority might not be able to bring about this change. It would only be able to do so if an international majority (i.e. a majority of individuals from all national societies that were subject to the relevant international law) desired that change. Therefore, the UK majority is potentially bound by law which it seeks to renounce. Locke would lament this, because ‘the liberty of man in society is to be under no other legislative power but that established by consent in the commonwealth’ (21). Admittedly, the Government could terminate its international social contracts. It could withdraw from the treaties and conventions with which the majority disagree. However, this might not have the intended effect. If non-refoulement is a principle of customary international law, ‘it is consequently binding upon all states in international law, regardless of whether they are party to any treaties which give it effect’.[22]

In summary, international law can have four features. It can originate from what should be separate powers; it can rely on self-enforcement; it can intentionally benefit third parties; and it can lack individuals’ consent. For these four reasons, Locke would definitely dispute the UK’s international legal obligations.

Conclusion

Many of those against the Rwanda scheme have objected on international legal grounds. This post has argued that John Locke would have no such objection. Notwithstanding, it has been argued that he would oppose the scheme. In his view, the Government cannot employ the force of Rwanda, or dictate the facts in Rwanda, or compel membership of Rwanda. He has taught us the rights of the Government; but more importantly, he has taught us. His 300-year-old essay has offered a fresh perspective on a fraught policy. So now and in the future, let us learn from the past. Critique new treaties using old treatises.


[1] I am very grateful to Jason Krentos, Kate Ollerenshaw and Laura Lo Coco for their comments on an earlier draft of this post.

[2] Agreement between the Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the Government of the Republic of Rwanda for the provision of an asylum partnership to strengthen shared international commitments on the protection of refugees and migrants (UK–Rwanda) (5 December 2023).

[3] John Locke, Two Treatises of Government (first published 1689)<https://www.yorku.ca/comninel/courses/3025pdf/Locke.pdf> accessed 25 December 2023. In this post, references to the text are pinpointed using brackets.

[4] John Locke, For a General Naturalisation (unpublished 1693).

[5] HC Deb 12 December 2023, vol 742, col 766.

[6] UK-Rwanda Treaty (n 2).

[7] Adam Tucker, ‘The Rwanda Policy, Legal Fiction(s), and Parliament’s Legislative Authority’ (U.K. Const. L. Blog, 22nd November 2023) < https://ukconstitutionallaw.org/2023/11/22/adam-tucker-the-rwanda-policy-legal-fictions-and-parliaments-legislative-authority/> accessed 25 December 2023.

[8] Safety of Rwanda (Asylum and Immigration) HC Bill (2023-24) [38].

[9] Rwanda Bill (n 8), cl 1(2)(b).

[10] Ronan Cormacain, ‘What’s wrong with the Safety of Rwanda Bill?’ (U.K. Const. L. Blog,11 December 2023) <https://ukconstitutionallaw.org/2023/12/11/ronan-cormacain-whats-wrong-with-the-safety-of-rwanda-bill/> accessed 25 December 2023.

[11] Rwanda Bill (n 8), cl 2(1).

[12] R (on the application of AAA (Syria)) v Secretary of State for the Home Department [2023] UKSC 42, [2023] 1 WLR 4433 [102].

[13] UK-Rwanda Treaty (n 2) art 10(3).

[14] UK-Rwanda Treaty (n 2) art 10(1).

[15] UK-Rwanda Treaty (n 2) art 10(2).

[16] UK-Rwanda Treaty (n 2) art 10(4)(a).

[17] UK-Rwanda Treaty (n 2) art 10(3).

[18] UK-Rwanda Treaty (n 2) art 10(5).

[19] Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees (adopted 28 July 1951, entered into force 22 April 1954) 189 UNTS 137.

[20] Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (European Convention on Human Rights, as amended) (ECHR) art 46(1).

[21] Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms (European Convention on Human Rights, as amended) (ECHR), art 46(2).

[22] AAA (Syria) (n 12) [25].

Criminalisation of virginity testing and hymenoplasty: No more social injustice and hypocrisy

By Dr. Muki Gorar senior lecturer in law and criminology University of Hertfordshire

Female virginity and sexuality are one of the main concerns of honour based patriarchal communities, where they are seen and treated as a communal issue instead of a private matter for the individual.  As a result, female sexual autonomy is restricted and controlled by the family and community members. Honour-based violence (HBV) and honour-based oppression are the tools to maintain such control and restrictions.[1]

Honour is a social construct and deeply held gendered beliefs and cultural traditions are participating factors in the committing of honour crimes.[2] However, patriarchy is a feature of all societies and religions (in some places more predominant than others), and violence against women (VAWG) is used to maintain power over women and control their sexuality.[3] Under the norms of an honour-based patriarchal communities women and young girls are expected to remain virgins and pure until they are married.[4] Not meeting this expectation may attract very serious consequences, such as forced marriages and honour killings.

In honour-based patriarchal communities, virginity is perceived as an asset, a matter for the family and the community to be concerned about.  It is not the individual choice of the woman.[5] Thus, a high premium on women’s virginity is placed, for varies reasons such as social, economic, and religious beliefs.[6] Any event, where a woman loses her virginity (even by rape) or any allegation (gossip- whether true or not) or any form of  sexual activity before marriage, tarnishes the family honour and diminishes the value of the woman.[7] Therefore, women are expected to prove their virginity in the first night of  marriage,  by producing a bloody sheet (as proof after the first sexual intercourse).  Failure to provide this evidence, may result in a medical examination.[8]

Such demands with regards women’s virginity, has led the medical sector to intervene in two ways: firstly, carrying out a virginity test (physical examination) and providing certificates to verify the virginity; secondly, performing a hymenoplasty in the event of a ruptured hymen (which may occur for different reasons).[9] Under the Health and Care Act 2022, virginity testing is defined as “the examination of female genitalia, with or without consent, for the purpose (or purported purpose) of determining virginity.” And ‘hymenoplasty’ is defined as “the reconstruction of the hymen (with or without consent).”  Both practices are recently criminalised in the UK by this Act.  Now, it is illegal to carry out, offer or aid and abet virginity testing or hymenoplasty. In addition, these offences carry extra territorial jurisdiction which carry a maximum sentence of 5 years imprisonment and/or an unlimited fine.

Before the Health and Care Act 2022 whether to perform such interventions (i.e., virginity testing and hymenoplasty), which are not medically necessary, was placing medical professionals in an ethical dilemma. Consequently, this Act has now alleviated this issue. Previous to this new Act such practices were actually infringing on the women’s dignity and privacy.  Despite that in order to avoid HBV, women and girls may have consented to virginity testing and hymenoplasty. The new Act made it very clear that since both procedures are now criminalised, the consent therefore is irrelevant. Thus, it clarifies that ‘there are no circumstances under which a woman or girl should be subjected to a virginity test or hymenoplasty’.[10]

Like any other instance of HBV, the virginity requirement of female members of a family is all about subordination of women and girls. It is also considered VAWG because it is inflicted on them due to their sex and gender. The Act is a step forward in the promotion of gender equality and fundamental human rights and freedoms of women and girls.  However, it is crucial to note that to change deeply rooted beliefs and the fight against patriarchal values are not easily achieved only via legislations. Since the patriarchal mentality remains intact, women who fail to bleed during the wedding night will continue become victims of HBV. Alternatively, this may lead to a black market which may offer unsafe interventions. A genuine fight against gender inequality (whether in the form of HBV or VAWG) requires more effort than only passing a legislation. The legislations need to be backed up with appropriate education on principles of equality[11] so in the long term, the young generation of today, will not be perpetrators or enforcers of such violence in the future.  


[1]M. Gorar, Honour Based Crimes and the Law (Routledge 2021)

[2] N. Begikhani, A. Gill, G. Hague and K. Ibraheem (2010) Final Report on Honour-based Violence and Honour-based Killings in Iraqi Kurdistan and in the Kurdish Diaspora in the UK, Centre for Gender and Violence Research, University of Bristol, UK, and Roehampton University, UK, in partnership with Kurdish Women’s Rights Watch, 1– 166

[3] M. Gorar (2021) “Female Sexual Autonomy, Virginity, and Honour-based Violence with Special Focus on the UK,” Journal of International Women’s Studies: Vol. 22: Iss. 5, Article 

[4] M. Gorar, Honour Based Crimes and the Law (Routledge 2021)

[5] D. Cindoglu (2000) Virginity tests and artificial virginity in modern Turkish Medicine, Women for Women’s Human Rights Publications: Istanbul

[6] L. Welchman and S. Hossain (2005) ‘Honour’ Crimes, Paradigms, and Violence Against Women (Zed Books 2005)

[7] M. Gorar, Honour Based Crimes and the Law (Routledge 2021)

[8] M. Gorar (2021) “Female Sexual Autonomy, Virginity, and Honour-based Violence with Special Focus on the UK, “Journal of International Women’s Studies: Vol. 22: Iss. 5, Article; Virginity testing and hymenoplasty: multi-agency guidance, Department of Health and Social Care (1 July 2022)

[9] M. Gorar (2021) “Female Sexual Autonomy, Virginity, and Honour-based Violence with Special Focus on the UK,” Journal of International Women’s Studies: Vol. 22: Iss. 5, Article; Virginity testing and hymenoplasty: multi-agency guidance, Department of Health and Social Care (1 July 2022)

[10] Virginity testing and hymenoplasty: multi-agency guidance, Department of Health, and Social Care (1 July 2022)

[11] Think Equal, Empowering change through education:  Thinks Equal is a global initiative which calls for a system change in education, to end the discriminatory mindset and the cycle of violence across the world and ensure positive life outcomes for the next generation < https://thinkequal.org/&gt; [assessed 22/04/2023]

National Human Rights Institutions (NHRIs): How They Bridge the Gap Between International Law and Domestic Practices?

By Md. Abdul Halim, PhD Candidate and Visiting Lecturer at Hertfordshire Law School

Introduction

Although one of the fundamental aims of the formation of the United Nations (UN) was to establish peace among nation-states, the term ‘human rights’ was mentioned seven times in the UN’s founding Charter, making the promotion and protection of human rights a key purpose and guiding principle of the Organisation. However, since its adoption in 1948, the UN has struggled a lot to make state parties bound to enforce and follow international human rights norms at the domestic level. To this end, one of the most important setbacks for realising human rights has been the contradictory position of the state, which is responsible for enforcing human rights obligations and, at the same time, is often the violator of these rights. Few researchers have shed light on this complex ‘Janus-faced’[1] state in the context of the enforcement of international human rights[2] although many researchers have worked on the sharp rise of National Human Rights Institutions (NHRIs) worldwide since 1990. This leads to an important question- how could these NHRIs working within the state functionaries offer a solution to the Janus-faced state in the area of human rights protection? In other words, how have these NHRIs around the world been turning into agents of international human rights law within the domestic governmental system? As of September 2023, there are 120 states which have NHRIs and 88 of them have ‘A’ status whilst 32 have ‘B’ status given by the Global Association of NHRIs.

The NHRIs and Their Emerging Role in the Protection of International Human Rights Law:

NHRIs are unique institutions in many ways. They have carved out a place for themselves within the international and national human rights architecture. International organisations are an interlocutor for their goals and aims and domestic monitors and supporters of international human rights standards. Although NHRIs vary enormously in structure and function, they exist either in the form of a Commission (e.g. Equality Commission in the UK), Committee (e.g. National Human Rights Committee for Qatar), Ombudsman (e.g. Ombudsman of the Republic of Bulgaria) or Institute (e.g. German Institute for Human Rights (GIHR)). Whatever the form, they have some common elements- first, they are autonomous bodies within the state structure established by a ‘Constitutional or legislative text’.[3] Second, they are all mandated to promote and protect human rights.[4] Third, most of NHRIs have quasi-judicial powers, i.e., they all have powers to compel the appearance of witnesses and the production of evidence.[5] Fourth, they can often refer cases to prosecution authorities, bring suits and cases before a court, or be a party to pending cases.[6] Fifth, they have the power to review existing and proposed legislation for its compliance with the Paris Principles.[7] Sixth, these NHRIs are not courts but they have investigative power to find out gross human rights violations and can make recommendations to the Government for redress to those violations. Seventh, these institutions have a further responsibility to provide transitional and procedural justice in complaints where they find that there have been gross human rights violations. For example, many NHRIs dispose of complaints with recommendations to provide compensation and other remedial measures[8] and at the same time they have institutional links with the formal justice system including higher courts to take effective steps to protect violations of human rights.

NHRIs: Bridging the Gap between International Human Rights Law and Domestic Practice:

NHRIs are specifically described as bridging the gulf between international human rights law and domestic human rights practice with the active guidance of the UN.[9] At present, the UN and other regional human rights bodies and instruments such as the European Convention on Human Rights and the European Court of Human Rights, the American Convention, and the American Court of Human Rights provide wide-ranging, comprehensive human rights protections. The UN, despite its huge efforts and strength, has not been able to ensure that these international human rights standards are implemented by independent states. This may be due to the fact that the UN’s institutional capacity makes it unable to conduct effective monitoring of the countries required, but also the fact that many governments are unwilling to implement these standards.[10] Against this background, the attention of the UN has turned to establishing NHRIs as a way of improving implementation procedures both at the domestic level and international levels.[11] As stated at the very beginning, in today’s world, these NHRIs are routinely described as a bridge between international human rights standards and their domestic systems of human rights protection.[12] This bridging role has been so evident and strong within the UN systems that the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights has invested a large portion of its resources in the creation and sustenance of NHRIs- leading to the legitimate observation that they have become less national institutions and more an international project.[13] Starting from the active promotion of human rights at the national level, these NHRIs have become increasingly involved in independent reporting to treaty monitoring bodies[14] and also in the Universal Periodic Review as the UN’s only peer-review human rights mechanism.[15] In addition, these institutions draft the Secretary-General’s and High Commissioner’s reports to the General Assembly and the Human Rights Council on the Office’s NHRI-related activities.[16] Many NHRIs now routinely apply international standards in their monitoring and case-handling activities.[17] Those NHRIs that are accredited by the International Coordinating Committee of National Human Rights Institutions (ICC, now GANHRI) are seated at the UN Human Rights Council and have speaking rights on all agenda items, with national institution representatives increasingly involved in the development of international law, including by involvement in drafting treating.[18] Importantly, some NHRIs have even expanded their activism to undertake extraterritorial obligations (ETO) as a means to investigate human rights threatened by cross-border investment projects.[19]

Conclusion:

NHRIs that comply with the Paris Principles are cornerstones of national human rights protection and they can be a force for making international human rights obligations a national reality. Their continuous working strategy and procedure may be seen as a fast-developing supranational entity in the area of international human rights protection. In particular, their effective protection strategy is being seen by many as realistic as opposed to the ‘window-dressing performance’[20] of treaty obligations by states.


[1] The word ‘Janus-faced’ means having two faces, one looking forward, other looking backward, as the Roman deity Janus has two opposite faces.

[2] Cardenas, S., Chains of Justice: The Global Rise of State Institutions for Human Rights (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014) p. 17; also Meuwissen, K. NHRIs and the State: New and Independent Actors in the Multi-layered Human Rights System? (Working Paper No. 154, March 2015, Leuven Centre for Global Governance Studies), Human Rights Law Review, Volume 15, Issue 3, September 2015, pp. 441-484.

[3] Paris Principle, Article 2.

[4] See generally Burdekin and Naun, National Human Rights Institutions in the Asia Pacific Region (Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 2007) at xiv, 555; Carver, Performance and Legitimacy: National Human Rights Institutions (Geneva: International Council on Human Rights Policy, 2000) at 132; De Beco, A Commentary on the Paris Principles on National Human Rights Institutions, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015); Murray, The Role of National Human Rights Institutions at the International and Regional Levels: The Experience of Africa (Oxford: Hart, 2007); Smith, “The Unique Position of National Human Rights Institutions: A Mixed Blessing?” (2006) 28 Human Rights Quarterly 904.

[5] Carver, R. A New Answer to an Old Question: National Human Rights Institutions and the Domestication of International Law, 10 Hum. Rts. L. Rev. 1, 31(2010). See, for example, section 16, NHRC Act, 2009 (Bangladesh), section 13(1) the Protection of Human Rights Act 1996 (India), section 18 Law on the Public Defender of Georgia 1996, section 14, Human Rights Commission of Malaysia Act 1999, section 21, Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Act 1986 (Australia), section 9(c) Human Rights Commission Act 1994 (South Africa).

[6] Carver (supra n 5) p. 4.

[7] Paris Principles, Article 3(i).

[8] UNDP-OHCHR ToolKit for Collaboration with National Human Rights Institution, 2010 (available at https://www.ohchr.org).

[9] Linos, K. and Pegram, T. Architects of their own Making: National Human Rights Institutions and the United Nations, Human Rights Quarterly, 38(2016) 1109-1134.

[10] Sullivan, M. (2000). National Human Rights Institutions: Effectively Protecting Human Rights? Alternative Law Journal, 25(5), 236-240.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Reif, Linda. Building Institutions: The Role of National Human Rights Institutions in Good Governance and Human Rights Protection, (2003) 13 Harvard Human Rights Journal 1; also Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, Fact Sheet 19, National Institutions for the Promotion and Protection of Human Rights, at http://www.ohchr.org/Documents/Publications/Fact Sheet19en.pdf> (last accessed 10 January 2022).

[13] Cardenas, Emerging Global Actors: The United Nations and National Human Rights Institutions, (2003) 9 Global Governance 23.

[14] Carver (supra n 5).

[15] Glusac, Luka, Universal Periodic Review and Policy Change: The Case of National Human Rights Institutions, Journal of Human Rights Practice, 2022, 285-304.

[16] https://www.ohchr.org/en/countries/nhri

[17] Carver (supra n 5).

[18] Carver (supra n 5).

[19] Middleton, C, (2018). National Human Rights Institutions, Extraterritorial Obligations, and Hydropower in Southeast Asia: Implications of the Region’s Authoritarian Turn, Australian Journal of Southeast Asian Studies, 11(1), 81-97.

[20] Emilie M. Hafner-Burton and Kiyotern Tsutsui, Human Rights in a Globalising World: The Paradox of Empty Promises, American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 110 No. 5 (2005), pp. 1373-1411.

Is the Distinction Between the Two Types of Armed Conflict Adequate and Justified?

By Olumide Aaron Makinde, LLM International Human Rights Law Student at Hertfordshire Law School

Two types of armed conflicts are recognised in International Humanitarian Law: International Armed Conflicts and Non-International Armed Conflicts. The separation is in order for the parties involved to be identified, and to ensure the application of the appropriate laws.[1] For instance, if the armed conflict was of an international character, then states would be involved.[2] An example is the Syrian conflict of 2017, between the Syrian government and the United States of America.[3] On the other hand, Non-International Armed Conflicts are those conflicts that take place between either a state’s armed forces and an organised armed group[4], or between non-state armed groups within a particular state.[5] An example of this is the Libyan uprising of 2011.[6] The question here is, what is the distinction between the two types of armed conflicts and is it justified?

The first distinction between the two types of armed conflicts lies in their intensity. The intensity threshold that requires the application of the laws of International Armed Conflict is very low.[7] The scenarios envisaged by the instruments of International Armed Conflict merely need to exist.[8] Therefore, as Sylvain Vite states;

“as soon as the armed forces of a state find themselves in custody of wounded or surrendering members of the armed forces or civilians of another state on their hands, or they detain prisoners or have actual control over a part of the territory of the enemy state, then they must comply with the relevant convention.[9] It is not necessary for the conflict to extend over time or to create a certain number of victims for it to be classified as International Armed Conflict.”[10]

However, for a Non-International Armed Conflict to exist the armed conflict must reach a level that distinguishes it from other forms of violence to which International Humanitarian Law does not apply.[11] These include situations of internal disturbances and tensions, such as riots, isolated and sporadic acts of violence, and acts of a similar nature.[12] A Non-International Armed Conflict that attained the level of intensity required was the 1936-1939 Spanish Civil War, where atrocities were committed on both sides, including the aerial bombing of undefended towns and civilians.[13] The factors to consider in assessing the intensity of an armed conflict are the types of weapons used, duration, number of combatants or persons partaking in the fighting, number of casualties, and the extent of material destruction amongst others.[14] Therefore, the threshold of intensity required in this case is higher than for an International Armed Conflict.

The second distinction between the two armed conflicts concerns the need for recognition of the state of war. Once there is recourse to armed force by one state against another, the state of war does not have to be recognised by that other party for an International Armed Conflict to occur.[15] In such a scenario, it is implied that the state of war is recognised officially by the parties concerned.[16] The existence of an armed conflict does not also depend on how the parties define them.[17] Conversely, the existence of a Non-International Armed Conflict depends on the recognition either by a state involved in civil war or by a third state, of the belligerency of the insurgent party.[18] The recognition of insurgents turns the civil conflict into a ‘real war’ and has several legal consequences.[19] It confers on the insurgents the same rights and duties as a state[20]; the territorial state would be required to treat the recognising state as neutral in the conflict[21] and the territorial state will be relieved from any responsibility for injury suffered by the recognising state as a result of the actions or omissions of either the state or the insurgents.[22]

The third distinction between the two armed conflicts is that concerning belligerent occupation whereby a state’s territory is occupied by a foreign army whether or not the occupation is resisted.[23] For instance, during the Second World War territories such as Denmark decided not to resist German occupation, believing resistance to be futile.[24] This implies that the state of belligerent occupation can only exist in an International Armed Conflict since the definition of belligerent occupation entails one state occupying an area of another state without consent.[25] This is as opposed to Non- International Armed Conflicts, where the insurgent party resides within the state’s territory despite the lack of recognition by the state.

The justification or otherwise of the distinction between the armed conflicts stimulated the debate of sovereignty versus humanity. The states argue that eliminating the distinction between the two armed conflicts would undermine state sovereignty and in particular national unity and security.[26] This is why the United Kingdom failed to recognise the campaign of the Irish Republican army between 1969-1997.[27] The concern expressed by states is that said elimination would encourage secessionist movements, by giving them a status under International Law, while restraining the hand of states in seeking to put down rebellions.[28] The principle of combatant immunity can be used as an example. If said principle applied to Non-International Armed Conflicts, states would be unable to criminalise acts which are normally regarded as treasonous.[29]

On the other hand, the humanity argument is divided into two parts. First, scholars argue that a majority of armed conflicts in International Law are those that take place within a boundary of a state.[30] They reason that because of the cruel nature of these internal conflicts, the lives of civilians and other protected groups and properties are destroyed. Therefore, the law as it is fails to fulfil the humanitarian aims set out by International Humanitarian Law.[31] Due to the aforementioned, the consensus amongst said scholars is to the effect that a unified body of rules is established to regulate both armed conflicts. The creation of a unified law to govern both armed conflicts is feasible, as they have become less distinguishable. However, whether such unification is advisable is a matter for further discussion.

A viewpoint is that since the laws of International Armed Conflict serve as a source for the development of those governing Non-International Armed Conflicts, would it not be better to adopt a uniform body of rules to avoid confusion regarding interpreting the law?[32] For instance, during the Nigerian Civil War the Operational Code of Conduct for Nigerian Armed Forces, issued in 1967, stated that in Nigeria’s conflict with the Biafran rebels, Nigerian troops were ‘in honour bound to observe the rules of the Geneva Convention’.[33] Lastly, there is the argument concerning the lack of a clear definition of Non-International Armed Conflict under Common Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions. The definition provided is negative and though it lays down certain basic principles it does not convey the true meaning of what a Non-International Armed Conflict is.

For now, the distinction between the two armed conflicts still persists, despite the well-founded flaws of the same. International Law should favour the protection of individuals where it conflicts with the sovereignty of states. However, it is important to note that the unification of both armed conflicts will not be without complications. For instance, how will the conflicts that fall outside the purview of both International and Non-International Armed Conflicts be regulated?[34] The author agrees with the opinion that what is required is the adoption of a practical mechanism that will ensure stringent regulation[35] as opposed to the one size fits all approach to regulation.[36]


[1] Amit Anand, Preethi Lolaksha Nagaveni, Amlanika Bora and Tripti Bhushan, ‘Re-examining The Distinction Between International and Non-International Armed Conflicts in The Backdrop of International Human Rights Law’ (2022) 15(2) Baltic Journal of Law & Politics 306-320

[2] Common Article 2, Geneva Conventions, 12 August 1949; ICRC, ‘How is The Term, “Armed Conflict” Defined In International Humanitarian Law?’, ICRC Opinion Paper, March 2008, p.5, www.icrc.org/eng/assets/files/other/opinion-paper-armed-conflict.pdf, accessed 23 March 2023; Jean Pictet (ed.), Commentary to Geneva Convention I for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Wounded and Sick in Armed Forces in the Field (Geneva: ICRC, 1952) p. 32; Knut Dormann, Liesbeth Lijnzaad, Marco Sassoli and Philip Spoerri (eds), Commentary on the First Geneva Convention: Convention (I) for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Wounded and Sick in Armed Forces in the Field (Geneva: ICRC, 2016) pp. 85-8

[3] Stephanie Nebehay, ‘Exclusive: Situation in Syria constitutes international armed conflict – Red Cross’, Reuters, World News, 8 April 2017, http://www.reuters.com /article/us-mideast-crisis—syria-redcross-idUSKBN17924T

[4] AP II, Article 1(1)

[5] Common Article 3, Geneva Conventions, 12 August 1949

[6] ‘ICRC Seeks Access to All of Libya as Conflict Intensifies’, Voice of America, 9 March 2011, http://www.voanews.com/a/international-red-cross-president–libya-in-civil-war-117725988/136289.html.

[7] Dietrich Schindler, ‘The Different Types of Armed Conflicts According to the Geneva Conventions and Protocols’ (1979) 63 The Hague Academy Collected Courses <http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/1875-8096_pplrdc_A9789028609303_03&gt; accessed 25 March 2023

[8] Sylvain Vite, ‘Typology of Armed Conflicts in International Humanitarian Law: Legal Concepts and Actual Situations’ (2019) 91(873) International Review of the Red Cross

[9] Ibid p. 72

[10] Ibid

[11] Ibid p. 76

[12] AP II, Article 1(2)

[13] Frédéric Siordet, ‘The Geneva Convention and Civil War’ (1950) 3 IRRC Supplement, pp. 112-14

[14] Vite (n 8) p. 76; Prosecutor v Haradinaj, Balaj and Brahimaj, IT-04-84-T, Judgment, 3 April 2008, para 49

[15] Common Article 2, Geneva Conventions, 12 August 1949

[16] Vite (n 8) p. 72

[17] Ibid

[18] Dapo Akande, ‘Classification of Armed Conflicts: Relevant Legal Concepts’ (2012) Legal Research Paper Series, University of Oxford <http://ssrn.com/abstract=2038217&gt;; Elizabeth Wilmshurst, International Law and the Classification of Conflicts (1st edn, Oxford University Press, 2012); Lassa Francis Lawrence Oppenheim, International Law: A Treatise on War and Neutrality (2nd edn, Longmans, Green and Co, 2012); Lindsay Moir, The Law of Internal Armed Conflict (Cambridge University Press, 2002)

[19] Lassa Francis Lawrence Oppenheim, International Law: Peace (1st edn, Longmans, Green and Co, 2012)

[20] William Edward Hall, A Treatise on International Law (Clarendon Press, 1884)

[21] Ibid p. 26; Oppenheim (n 19) p. 322

[22] Ibid; Ibid p. 212-13; John Westlake, International Law (The University Press, 1910)

[23] Common Article 2, Geneva Conventions, 12 August 1949

[24] Emily Crawford and Alison Pert, International Humanitarian Law (2nd edn, Cambridge University Press, 2020)

[25] AP I, Article 1(1); Crawford and Pert (n 24) p. 58

[26] Akande (n 18) p. 8; François Bugnion, ‘Jus Ad Bellum, Jus In Bello and Non-International Armed Conflicts’ (2003) 6 Yearbook of International Humanitarian Law 167,168

[27] UK Ministry of Defence, ‘UK Defence Statistics 2008’, p. 155; webarchive.nationalarchives.gov.uk/20140116142443/http://www.dasa.mod.uk/publications/UK-defence-statistics-compendium/2008.pdf; Crawford and Pert (n 19) p. 70

[28] F. Bugnion (n 26) p. 176 ; UK Ministry of Defence, The Joint Service Manual of Armed Conflict 2004, p. 386; Gary D. Solis, The Law of Armed Conflict (2nd edn, Cambridge University Press, 2021)

[29] Dieter Fleck, The Law of Non-International Armed Conflict (4th edn. Oxford University Press, 2013)

[30] Anand, Nagaveni, Bora and Bhushan (n 1) p. 1; Ben McGuckin, ‘The Conflict Between Armed Conflicts: Dispensing with the Distinction Between International and Non-International Armed Conflicts’ (2018) 1 Durham Global Security Institute                  

[31] Anand, Nagaveni, Bora and Bhushan (n 1) p. 311; James G. Stewart, ‘Towards a Single Definition of Armed Conflict in International Humanitarian Law: A Critique of Internationalized Armed Conflict’ (2003) 85(850) International Review of the Red Cross 313; Alison Duxbury, ‘Drawing Lines in the Sand: Characterizing Conflicts for the Purposes of Teaching International Humanitarian Law’ (2007) 8 Melbourne Journal of International Law 259; Emily Crawford, ‘Unequal Before the Law: The Case for the Elimination of the Distinction Between International and Non-International Armed Conflicts’ (2007) Leiden Journal of International Law 441

[32] Anand, Nagaveni, Bora and Bhushan (n 1) p. 310; McGuckin (n 30) p. 22; Prosecutor v. Tadic, IT—94-1-AR72, Decision on the Defence Motion for Interlocutory Appeal on Jurisdiction, 2 October 1995, para 127

[33] See the Operational Code of Conduct for Nigerian Armed Forces, issued in 1967, which stated that, in Nigeria’s conflict with the Biafran rebels, Nigerian troops were ‘in honour bound to observe the rules of the Geneva Convention’. Directive to All Officers and Men of the Armed Forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria on Conduct of Military Operations, para. 3, available at http://www.dawodu.com/codec.html (accessed 28 March 2023)

[34] Anand, Nagaveni, Bora and Bhushan (n 1) p. 318

[35] Ibid

[36] Ibid