I. Introduction
What unites states and other global actors around a governance project? How does the group—what I will call an “international community”—coalesce and stay engaged in the joint enterprise?Footnote 1 A frequent assumption is that an international community is cemented by its members’ commonalities and depleted by their intractable disagreements. I argue in this article that that assumption is incorrect. And I present, as an alternative, a theory that accounts for the combined integration and discord that actually characterize most global governance associations. As I will explain, this theory is not just of academic interest. It has far-reaching implications for the design and practice of international law.
The assumption that I aim to refute is evident in much of the literature on international law. Take the prominent claim that a universal international community—the so-called international community as a whole—must “embody [the] common interest[s] of all States and, indirectly, of mankind.”Footnote 2 Here, the community's existence and strength are contingent on certain shared precepts.Footnote 3 Thus, jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations—the two principles in positive law that purport to define this community—are said to promise a “‘higher unity,’ … the representation and prioritization of common interests as against the egoistic interests of individuals.”Footnote 4 By the same token, the regular disregard for those interests and the diversity and discord in the world are thought to betray that any universal community is only nascent or aspirational.Footnote 5
The flawed assumption also animates the principal interdisciplinary theories on international law. These theories focus not on any universal community but on discrete subcommunities that organize around specific governance issues. Various terms are used for such communities: regimes,Footnote 6 networks,Footnote 7 interpretive communities,Footnote 8 and so forth.Footnote 9 Despite meaningful differences among these theories, they all define global governance associations by that which the participants share—common values, goals, interests, or practices.Footnote 10 Again, the participants’ commonalities are what bind them together. Internal divisions are treated as weaknesses that must be overcome, lest they detract from the association.Footnote 11
The idea that an international community is rooted in common precepts and impeded by internal discord portends a particular role for international law. It suggests that, in order to establish and fortify global governance relationships, international law must reinforce the participants’ shared tenets and deter or defuse their disputes. For example, this is why many analysts describe as uniquely robust the community that centers at the World Trade Organization (WTO): the participants share an elaborate set of rules and processes for promoting a common trade agenda and curbing the disputes that might otherwise get in the way.Footnote 12
In this article, I draw on work in political philosophy, sociology, and U.S. constitutional legal theory to expose a problem with that conception of an international community and to present an alternative that better captures a world with so much heterogeneity and division. The alternative is a decidedly political community. Members are bound together in a joint governance project and have certain practices and policies in common. But they also disagree, at times intently and without substantive resolution, about core facets of their association. The key difference between the now dominant conception and my own is that, here, irresolvable disagreements and disputes are not necessarily corrosive to the association. To the contrary, conflict can be and often is a unifying force that binds an international community together.Footnote 13 Thus, international law might construct a community—and bolster its governance project—not by consistently pressing for consensus or reconciliation but by at times doing almost the opposite: enabling the participants to disagree.
The article proceeds as follows. Part II elaborates on the prevailing conception of an international community and then presents the theoretical construct for my alternative. I argue that an international community is ultimately constituted through the participants’ interactions about their joint enterprise.Footnote 14 These interactions can be harmonious but are often contentious. In groups that are, like many international communities, highly diverse or diffuse, conflict plays a particularly important integrative role. Such groups need conflict to bind themselves because their members otherwise have little in common or limited opportunities to interact. To be sure, not all conflicts are constructive for the group; some are extremely damaging. But conflicts that manifest in law have the unique potential to unify, even as they divide, a group. The nature of a legal argument is to purport to speak not just for oneself but on behalf of a group. The argument helps construct the group by presupposing that it exists and then purporting to define its attributes. Further, some legal conflicts are especially powerful in this respect. Building on Philip Bobbitt's work in U.S. constitutional law, we can call these conflicts “ethical” because they focus the participants on the ethos—the shape and character—of the mutual association.Footnote 15
Parts III and IV show that ethical conflict is routine in international law. Part III assesses the two principles in positive law that expressly speak of an international community: jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations. These principles do not establish operative rules of decision, so their relevance and role in the global order have long been uncertain. I argue that they serve to foster ethical conflict. They invite global actors to fight about what an all-encompassing community is and stands for. They thus help construct the community as a going concern that binds the participants together. To clarify, my claim is not that this community is robust or even that it is truly universal. My claim is that a community that purports to be universal is constituted, not diminished, through ethical legal conflict. Disputes about jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations unify the participants around a shared governance project, even as the contours of that project remain contested. Part IV shows that ethical legal conflict is not limited to those two principles. It also serves a unifying function in highly integrated communities, like the one at the WTO. The WTO community is constituted both by the participants’ shared precepts and by their protracted disagreements and divisions.
Together, Parts II through IV argue that international legal conflict can have systemic value either for particular regulatory arrangements or for the global order as a whole. This value does not turn on whether the conflict is ultimately resolved and is sometimes best achieved by leaving it unresolved. The article thus counters the common view that international law matters to the extent that it shapes behavior toward or otherwise advances specific policy objectives.Footnote 16 Even when international law does not do that work, it might do other important work. It might foster productive conflicts and thereby help preserve or fortify global governance relationships. Part V discusses some of the implications for the practice and theory of international law.
II. Two Conceptions of Community
To start, I present two conceptions of an international community—the now dominant one and my alternative. The two have important similarities. Each is a positive theory of how an international community is constituted and sustained. Neither assumes that community members will have a particular level or kind of attachment to the group. Connections to the group might be affective or cognitive, and are likely to be fluid and varied. Some members might be extremely influential or invested in the community, while others are more peripheral or disengaged. The community's boundaries might even be contested or difficult to ascertain. The inquiry is not about the defining criteria of an international community. It is about how a recognizable community—a governance association that exists as a social fact—comes to be and endure.
Because the theories are descriptive and analytic, they do not necessarily address related normative questions, like whether particular communities are fair, who ought to participate them, or what their governance projects ought to entail. My only normative assumption is that it is desirable to have some fairly resilient international communities. An international community shapes how the participants relate to and interact with one another in a given domain of human activity; it provides the relational infrastructure for international law. As such, having an international community makes any international legal project, if not possible, at least more easily realizable than it otherwise would be.Footnote 17
Finally, both theories recognize that an international community is constituted at least in part by its members’ commonalities. Shared interests, values, goals, or practices can bind the participants together and help construct their association. The flaw in the dominant theory—and the thing that distinguishes it from my own—is that it assumes that conflict detracts from or evinces weaknesses in the community. I argue that conflict is often a unifying force that binds and strengthens the community.
A. Community as Constituted by Shared Precepts
International legal theorists often suggest that an international community can be constituted only by commonality. The more that community members share, the thicker or stronger their community is thought to be. Of course, community members inevitably also disagree. But in this conception, ineradicable diversity and discord detract from, rather than enhance, the community. The community exists despite, not because of, those qualities.
Scholars who address the generic or universal international community almost always ground it in shared interests or values.Footnote 18 They treat disagreements and discord as evidence that the community is weak. An approach that is especially prominent in Continental Europe draws on the work of German sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies. Tönnies famously distinguished between a community (gemeinschaft) and a society (gesellschaft) as two forms of social ordering.Footnote 19 He claimed that community bonds are stronger. Members of a society are atomized and pursue only their own interests, but community members also act to advance collective interests.Footnote 20 Extending that logic to the global sphere means that the defining feature of an international community is that it, too, advances collective interests—interests that belong not to specific states but to all of them or even to humanity itself. When community members are divided by self-interest, their community is thought to be weak or unrealized.Footnote 21
Other accounts of the generic international community reflect similar themes. For example, James Brierly claimed that “the acid test of the reality of a community is that common standards of conduct should be held with a conviction strong enough to induce its members to take common action.”Footnote 22 For Brierly, “the main and obvious cause” of the “weakness of the community sense in international society” was the world's division into strong subunits, in the form of sovereign states.Footnote 23 Likewise, Georges Abi-Saab has argued that an international community depends on two factors: (1) “a community of interests or of values,” and (2) the minimization of conflict “to manage the disintegration of the community.”Footnote 24 Abi-Saab claimed that “the end of the Cold War, far from pushing international society towards a more integrated global international community, has introduced new dangers with new bones of contention among the members of this society, which create the risk of making it evolve in the opposite direction.”Footnote 25 Abi-Saab's worry was that disagreements and divisions would erode the international community.
Over the past fifteen or so years, international legal theory has become more interdisciplinary. The dominant interdisciplinary theories on international law focus not on any universal community but on discrete subcommunities with issue-specific governance projects. These theories still assume that a community is constituted by commonality and diminished by discord. Consider the rational choice approach in international relations. According to this approach, global actors create joint governance associations in order to realize mutual objectives or solve common problems.Footnote 26 That shared agenda is what binds the participants together. And while they might at times disagree about the agenda, their disputes are treated as obstacles to the governance project that ought to be overcome. Thus, most of the rational choice scholarship on international law asks either how to buttress shared norms—usually, norms that have been collectively prescribed in law—or how to deter or settle related disputes.Footnote 27
A similar assumption is evident in constructivist theories on “communities of practice,” though as I will explain, some of these theories come closer to my own. Emanuel Adler has defined a community of practice as consisting of “people who are informally as well as contextually bound by a shared interest in learning and applying a common practice.”Footnote 28 Adler acknowledges that community members occasionally disagree.Footnote 29 Yet what defines and unites them as a community is their “like-mindedness” and shared practice—common “routines, words, tools, ways of doing things, stories, symbols, and discourse.”Footnote 30 Legal scholars who build on Adler's work to describe the communities that engage with international law likewise define these communities by that which the participants share. More telling, they cite ineradicable divisions as evidence either that the participants do not belong to the same community or that their community is thin.Footnote 31
Ian Johnstone's account of what he calls “interpretive communities” is illustrative.Footnote 32 According to Johnstone, an interpretive community consists of actors who participate in the same field of legal practice.Footnote 33 What makes them a community seems to be that they “share a perspective and way of understanding the world acquired through their immersion in the law and interaction with one another.”Footnote 34 Like Adler, Johnstone recognizes that these participants “may not share all the same values.”Footnote 35 Further, he underscores that conflict can be constructive for a community because it can help the participants find more common ground.Footnote 36 But Johnstone ultimately insists that “[i]f after extensive deliberation on an issue international legal opinion is sharply divided”—in other words, if consensus is unattainable and the dispute persists—“then almost by definition no interpretive ‘community’ exists, or perhaps there are multiple communities.”Footnote 37 Here again, protracted disputes detract from or betray weaknesses in the community.
B. Community as Constituted Partly by Conflict
A conception of community that is grounded in shared precepts and impeded by internal division is oddly disconnected from the real world. Many global governance associations are, at once, highly integrated and replete with diversity and discord. Below, I offer an alternative conception that captures that reality. In this account, global actors engage together on a governance project, even as they disagree about its contours. The community is constituted through their interactions about the joint project. These interactions have the potential to construct and fortify the group no matter whether they are harmonious or persistently conflictual.
1. Conflict's Constitutive Role
The idea that conflict can constitute a community might seem counterintuitive but is not new.Footnote 38 Bernard Yack has attributed the idea to Aristotle himself. An Aristotelian community is, according to Yack, comprised of “individuals who differ from each other in some significant way.”Footnote 39 Of course, that kind of diversity creates the grounds for conflict. People with real differences invariably disagree about aspects of their social organization. But as Yack explains, Aristotle understood diversity as “a necessary element of community rather than the obstacle to social harmony that community seeks to overcome.”Footnote 40 People coalesce into a community not necessarily by overcoming their differences but by engaging together in what Aristotle called a practice of justice—a practice of trying to establish and hold one another accountable to standards that are generalizable for the group.Footnote 41
The practice of justice helps unify a community both by solidifying areas of agreement and by structuring persistent conflict. First, community members who engage in the practice might eventually converge on a common substantive policy. If they do, the policy can be a communal glue that binds them.Footnote 42 Second, even when—as is more often the case—a practice of justice “structures nothing more than the way we engage in conflict with each other, it still reinforces the sense that we participate with others in a community.”Footnote 43 It does so because the people who partake in the practice presuppose that they are in a governance project together. They might disagree about which substantive standards are appropriate for the group, or about who may define or apply those standards. But in arguing about those issues, they take for granted that the group has generalizable standards. They assume that the group is a group.
The blend of commonality and conflict that binds a given community depends on its specific makeup. Yet highly heterogeneous and loosely structured communities are especially dependent on conflict to unify and sustain themselves. Members of these communities have little in common or few opportunities or reasons to interact. For them, the most plausible alternative to coalescing through conflict is not to coalesce through a drastic uptick in social unity. It is to have a weaker community—one in which members are less connected to the group or to its governance project.
To appreciate how conflict can constitute a group, imagine that dozens of loners live on a deserted island. The islanders do not have much in common or much reason to fight. They have almost nothing to do with one another. We would hardly call their bunch a community. Now imagine that they get together once a week to fight over island resources. At each meeting, they disagree—fiercely and intently—over the use and distribution of the available resources. Depending on the week, some islanders get what they want, while others bitterly lose out. Here, they at least have a recognizable association. Their resource disputes help constitute, rather than diminish, their association because they congregate as a group in order to have those disputes. Without the resources to fight over, they would not interact or have a common enterprise.Footnote 44
It bears underscoring that a community that is constituted largely through conflict is not necessarily weaker or more immature than one that displays high levels of social unity. Return to the fantasy island. Assume now that the islanders terminate their weekly meetings and anoint a king to make all resource decisions on their behalf. The king acts arbitrarily, but the islanders follow his rule because they see themselves as his subjects and would rather spend their time leading their loner lives than arguing over resources. In this scenario, the islanders share a governance project and have minimal levels of conflict. If their earlier conflicts were corrosive to or did not help constitute their community, then anointing the king would have strengthened their community. But surely, the group has become less cohesive and integrated. The islanders are completely checked out of their governance project, no longer engaging together on it.
Some of the constructivist work on communities of practice gestures in a similar direction. It highlights that international communities are constituted through social interaction.Footnote 45 And it acknowledges that the relevant interactions can be discordant.Footnote 46 But because this work ultimately defines a community by that which the members share—by their common practice—it misses, or at least does not press, the key conceptual claim that I am advancing here: a community is constituted not just by commonality but also by disharmony and discord. In order to interact as a group, the islanders needed a shared practice on when, where, and why they would meet. But that base of commonality was insufficient to generate their interactions. They also needed conflict. Without the resource disputes, the islanders would not have created or used a shared practice—or, therefore, engaged together on their governance project.
Readers might intuit that the community would be stronger still if its members interacted regularly and had minimal conflict. However, that vision of a community is completely unrealizable, and efforts to achieve it are often repressive.Footnote 47 Even very homogenous and tight-knit groups are replete with conflict. The commonalities that tie together the members of such groups and cause their lives to be so intertwined also give them many reasons and occasions to disagree.Footnote 48 In other words, conflict can bring people together, but coming together also brings conflict.Footnote 49 It is a part of, not inherently corrosive to, a social order.
Because conflict is inevitable in social life, creating space for it to occur routinely and in relatively productive ways serves an important systemic function; it helps stabilize and fortify a community in the face of inevitable divisions. If nothing else, a conflict exposes individual priorities and positions of relative strength or weakness within the group. When conflict is routinized, a community has ample opportunity to adjust its social structure so that internal strains do not become too intense to withstand.Footnote 50 To be clear, this “rebalancing” does not necessarily entail resolving or addressing the underlying dispute. The balance that is struck at any particular moment might be transitory or contentious. The social structure's contestability is itself what strengthens the association. It reduces the risk that tensions will build, antagonistic alliances will harden, and conflicts will express themselves in more virulent ways. Thus, even when a dispute does not lead to substantive change or resolution, it might serve to clear the air and release pent up hostilities that would otherwise fester and become corrosive.Footnote 51 The point is that conflict is not only inevitable in human groups; it can also be productive for them.
It is not always. Some conflicts clearly diminish or threaten to tear apart a community. If the weekly meetings on the island become too combative, attendance might drop. Some islanders might prefer to do without the allocated resources than to engage with the group. Alternatively, a dissatisfied bunch might revolt and form a splinter group that competes with the original one for island resources. In either event, the community could dissipate. As several theorists have explained, however, the best way to avoid such destructive conflicts—and to maintain the community as a going concern—is not to try to ignore, suppress, or resolve intractable divisions. It is to enable community members to have their disputes routinely and on terms that reinforce, rather than undercut, their mutual association.Footnote 52 The trick, then, is to foster the “right” kinds of conflict.
2. Law's Constitutive Role
I argue in the remainder of the article that international law can be an “eminently efficient producer of integration and socialization” when it facilitates and structures—but does not necessarily defuse—conflict.Footnote 53 Some readers might object to the very idea that this is what international law does. I start by addressing that objection. Next, I look to U.S. constitutional legal theory for insights on how legal conflict can construct a political community. In Parts III and IV of the article, I apply these insights to international law.
a. Law as the ground rules for conflict
Many international lawyers define international law as a tool not for conflict but for consensus and reconciliation.Footnote 54 They treat conflict as if it either operates outside of international law, in the domain of politics,Footnote 55 or is a problem for international law to mitigate.Footnote 56 For these lawyers, the claim that international law affirmatively enables conflict might seem apocryphal. However, a prominent school of thought already defines international law as an argumentative practice. International law establishes a set of ground rules—texts, processes, methods, sources of authority, and so on—that structure cross-border interactions. The interactions can be congenial. Participants can use the ground rules to identify and work toward common aims. But the interactions can also be contentious. Adversaries use the same ground rules to compete and disagree with one another.Footnote 57
I have built on that idea in other work to make three claims that set the stage for my argument here.Footnote 58 First, international law does not merely channel the conflicts that would occur in its absence. International law affirmatively enables conflict. Having shared ground rules helps the participants crystallize and focus on their disagreements. It gives them normative ammunition to condemn particular situations as problematic. It establishes mechanisms through which they can communicate their discontent and demand change. And it creates incentives to fight by promising material or normative support if they prevail. In all of these ways, international law gives global actors the tools and sometimes the reasons to disagree; it facilitates and even fuels their conflicts.Footnote 59 In Parts III and IV of the article, I offer specific examples of international law doing this work. For now, I emphasize that, as a positive matter, it is part of what international law does.
Second, although international law is an argumentative practice, the conflicts that it enables are not only discursive or confined to legal arenas. Law is a social phenomenon that interacts with and shapes how people experience the material world.Footnote 60 Just as global actors use international law to foster real-world collaborations, so too do they use it to foster real-world conflicts. In other words, international law enables conflicts that manifest in operationally relevant ways—through economic restrictions, deteriorated diplomatic relationships, and the like. The fact that it does is not necessarily problematic because, again, conflict is part of any social order.Footnote 61
Third, the effect of using international law to disagree is not always to defuse the dispute or achieve some kind of reconciliation. The key insight of global legal pluralism is that the actors who engage with international law have diverse, sometimes incompatible views on how best to organize themselves.Footnote 62 These actors at times find ways to compromise. But other times, reconciliation seems too costly, and separation is infeasible. In these latter cases, they still use international law. They use it to disagree.Footnote 63
b. The unifying effects of legal conflict
Though a protracted legal conflict is divisive in some sense, it can also be unifying. Legal arguments are structured like the Aristotelian practice of justice. Adversaries purport to speak not just in their own interests but on behalf of a group. Whatever the law requires, it is presumed to establish generalizable standards for the group.Footnote 64 Thus, even as a legal conflict pits community members against one another, it can reinforce the association.
The idea that legal conflict can help constitute a political community has been developed in U.S. constitutional theory. To be clear, the idea is that conflict itself does this work. A conflict need not be resolved, and might best be left unresolved, to nurture a community. For example, Robert Post and Reva Siegel argue that, on some issues in constitutional law, “authoritative settlement is neither possible nor desirable.”Footnote 65 The right to an abortion is their example. Because Americans disagree about this right, it has been pliable and contentious for decades. Post and Siegel contend that, “[s]o long as groups continue to argue about the meaning of our common Constitution, so long do they remain committed to a common constitutional enterprise.”Footnote 66 By this account, the Constitution is “a discursive medium through which individuals and groups engage in disputes about ideal forms of collective life.”Footnote 67 Such disputes can “strengthen social cohesion and constitutional legitimacy in a normatively heterogeneous nation like our own” precisely because the Constitution is a “powerful symbol of common American commitments”—a key referent that defines Americans as a community.Footnote 68 An intense and protracted constitutional conflict can bring Americans together to fight about their joint enterprise.
Further, several scholars have underscored that, in the face of deep normative divisions, such engagement with the enterprise is best sustained by keeping the law pliable.Footnote 69 The Constitution's contestability allows people with competing perspectives to continue tapping into and arguing through it—using constitutional law to partake in the governance project. By contrast, high levels of legal settlement risk estranging dissatisfied groups from the law.Footnote 70 That risk might be especially pronounced for an international community. Whereas Americans who are boxed out of constitutional law have other opportunities to participate in communal life, such opportunities are more attenuated at the global level.
c. Ethical legal conflict
The analogy between constitutional law and international law is imperfect because the U.S. Constitution has symbolic and normative power that is unparalleled at the international level. Although the United Nations Charter is sometimes described as the constitution of the international community,Footnote 71 it does not invoke the same sense of belonging and collective project. However, there is a particular kind of constitutional argument—ethical argument—that has analogs in international law and is especially suitable for constructing a community.
As Philip Bobbitt described it, ethical argument calls attention to the ethos—the shape and character—of a governance association. Such argument invokes the community's ethos, either expressly or by implication, as a justification or source of authority for concrete legal positions. Bobbitt underscored that ethical argument is not the same as moral argument. It does not “claim that a particular solution is right or wrong in any sense larger than that the solution comports with the sort of people we are and the norms we have chosen to solve political and customary constitutional problems.”Footnote 72 Ethical argument helps construct a community by purporting to define it: Who belongs to the community, what does it stand for, and how has it chosen to address core facets of social or political life?
Part of Bobbitt's claim is that ethical argument permeates U.S. constitutional law, even though it is not always presented as such. Take the U.S. Supreme Court's decision in District of Columbia v. Heller.Footnote 73 The decision rests on an account of U.S. founding history to justify an expansive interpretation of the Second Amendment right to bear firearms. The dominant mode of reasoning in Heller is, on its face, originalist. As some constitutional lawyers have explained, however, originalism is itself a form of ethical argument.Footnote 74 It is about how Americans imagine themselves as a polity. Richard Primus argues that, although Heller’s discursive form is originalist, “[i]ts substance and its persuasive power are matters of ethos.”Footnote 75 He characterizes originalist arguments as ethical because their normative force “depends less on the accuracy of their historical accounts—or the plausibility of their theories of intertemporal authority—than on whether their audiences recognize themselves, or perhaps their idealized selves, in the portrait of American origins that is on offer.”Footnote 76 Heller put at issue the question of “whether twenty-first-century Americans (and in particular twenty-first-century American officials) are disposed to see the keeping and use of firearms as near the core of what makes them Americans and what connects them to the American past.”Footnote 77 As such, Heller was not just about the particular gun regulation in the District of Columbia. It was also about whether gun culture is part of who Americans are.
Of course, Americans disagree on that question, as they do on many other ethical questions. Even when ethical argument is used to reinforce a norm that is deeply held and uncontroversial, like the First Amendment right to freedom of expression, Americans contest its content or implementation in particular settings. This means that the ethos is unstable and contestable. The “true” ethos might not be discernable, and arguments about it might not be reliable indicators of what it really is.Footnote 78 To say that lawyers use ethical argument is to say that they put the ethos at issue and make it part of what is at stake in concrete legal battles or decisions.Footnote 79 Here, law can be the mechanism through which community members fight about the contours of their governance association—and in the process, construct it as a going concern that binds them.
III. International Legal Paradigms
In international law, ethical argument is most evident in two principles that expressly invoke the international community as a whole: (1) jus cogens norms, and (2) erga omnes obligations. As these principles are articulated in positive law, they portray a community that is unified by shared precepts. The principles are said to embody and protect values that are foundational to all of humanity. That idea has had enormous symbolic force over the past several decades. But its descriptive and analytic purchase are limited. Although jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations are regularly cited as positive law, their content is so nebulous, and their operational effect is so negligible, that they have an almost illusory quality.Footnote 80 They do not meaningfully foster the kind of community that they depict on their face—one unified by core values.
I contend that jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations help constitute an international community not by defining commitments that are universally shared but by inviting loosely connected actors to battle over what those commitments are or might be. In other words, the principles enable ethical conflicts. They establish ground rules for disparate actors to argue about the tenets of this community on terms that presuppose that it is a community. This community might not be robust or even truly universal. While some global actors are clearly very invested in it, many others—not to mention the people whom it claims to represent—are not. The point is that it is constituted, not corroded, by the conflicts that jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations invite. Its shallowness as a community results less from the participants’ heterogeneity and divisions than from their overall disconnection and scarce opportunities for serious, broad-based engagement with the group.
I present this account of jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations in order to advance my broader claim about the constitutive effects of international legal conflict. I also make a more discrete contribution. I explain what the principles on jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations actually do in the global order. These principles have received enormous scholarly attention, but we still lack a compelling theory that accounts for the combination of persistence, rhetorical power, and opacity that they display in practice. As I show, that combination makes them particularly apt for fostering ethical conflicts.
A. The Doctrinal Muddle
To appreciate how jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations constitute a community, we first must understand their instantiation in positive law. The principles are regularly invoked and endorsed with language that puts them at the heart of the global order. However, they do not establish operative rules of decision or otherwise seem to promote specific substantive interests.
1. Jus Cogens Norms
Jus cogens norms are defined in positive law as peremptory and foundational to the international community as a whole.Footnote 81 States first collectively endorsed the principle in the 1969 Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT).Footnote 82 Since then, authoritative bodies have consistently invoked it.Footnote 83
Still, we lack criteria for identifying the norms that qualify as jus cogens.Footnote 84 The set is usually said to include the prohibitions of armed aggression, genocide, war crimes, crimes against humanity, slavery, torture, racial discrimination, and denials of the right to self-determination.Footnote 85 That set is not necessarily exhaustive, but efforts to expand it or to articulate a workable standard for inclusion have been unavailing.Footnote 86 Take the common refrain that jus cogens norms protect fundamental community values.Footnote 87 This standard is too blunt to guide decisions or capture current expectations. For example, most jus cogens lists include the prohibition of race-based discrimination but not the prohibition of sex-based discrimination. Are we to understand that one is more highly or widely valued? If so, what is the basis for that position? Both forms of discrimination are proscribed in treaties that are almost universally ratified.Footnote 88 And alas, both are pervasive in this world.
Moreover, no matter which norms qualify as jus cogens, the operational relevance of the designation appears to be negligible. The VCLT suggests otherwise because it articulates a strict rule of preemption. Under the VCLT, jus cogens norms invalidate contrary treaty obligations.Footnote 89 As a matter of practice, however, that rule is rarely, if ever, implemented.Footnote 90 States generally do not claim the right to contract out of recognized jus cogens norms, just as they do not claim that right for many other international legal norms. When they commit the proscribed conduct, they claim that they do not. The legal question then becomes what a particular jus cogens norm requires or whether a state has violated it in the case at hand, not whether it or a contrary norm applies.
Further, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) has consistently declined to treat a norm's jus cogens status as relevant to its judicial enforceability. The jus cogens status does not override the usual requirement that states consent to ICJ jurisdiction.Footnote 91 Neither does it override the customary law on foreign state immunity. As the ICJ explained in its 2012 judgment in Jurisdictional Immunities of the State, one state may not exercise jurisdiction over another simply by asserting a jus cogens violation.Footnote 92 The ICJ's jurisprudence thus limits the authority of international or national courts to enforce jus cogens norms. Although these norms might at times be judicially enforceable, their enforceability does not turn on their jus cogens status, at least not under international law.Footnote 93
Admittedly, the International Law Commission (ILC) has claimed that the jus cogens designation matters in other ways—specifically, under the law on state responsibility.Footnote 94 The claim is that, when one state grossly or systematically violates a jus cogens norm, all other states have duties: (1) not to contribute to the violation, (2) not to recognize as lawful a situation resulting from the violation, and (3) to cooperate to end the violation.Footnote 95 The ILC's claim is weak. Despite what the ILC says, its first two duties do not turn on the jus cogens designation. The first applies more broadly. States must refrain from contributing to international legal violations generally, not just when a jus cogens norm is at stake.Footnote 96 The ILC's second duty at best applies more narrowly—only to the prohibitions on aggression and self-determination. In other words, states might have to refrain from recognizing as lawful situations resulting from a violation of one of those two prohibitions. But comparable duties have not been established for other jus cogens norms.Footnote 97
As for a duty to cooperate to end jus cogens violations, the ILC itself acknowledged in 2001 that the duty might not be positive law.Footnote 98 The ICJ has since endorsed something like this duty in Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory.Footnote 99 Without using the phrase “jus cogens,” the Wall opinion asserts that, “[g]iven the character and importance” of the relevant norms, all states must work to end Israel's violations of humanitarian law and of the Palestinian right to self-determination.Footnote 100 The opinion thus might indicate that a duty to cooperate is gaining legal traction. But for now, this duty remains almost entirely aspirational—both in the case of the Palestinian situation and more generally.Footnote 101 Any effect of the jus cogens designation is still, at best, marginal.
2. Erga Omnes Obligations
The law on erga omnes obligations follows a similar script. These obligations entered mainstream legal thinking with the ICJ's 1970 judgment in Barcelona Traction, Light & Power.Footnote 102 The judgment declared in dicta that erga omnes obligations are owed to “the international community as a whole” such that “all States … have a legal interest in their protection.”Footnote 103 The ICJ has since attached the erga omnes label to norms that are widely accepted as jus cogens.Footnote 104 One might reasonably infer, then, that obligations to comply with jus cogens norms are erga omnes—owed to everyone at once. Beyond that basic inference, the law in this area remains opaque.
Nearly five decades since Barcelona Traction, we have little guidance on how an obligation becomes erga omnes or whether the category extends beyond jus cogens norms.Footnote 105 We also know little about its practical effect. The famous dicta in Barcelona Traction arguably suggest that the defining feature of an erga omnes obligation is that any state may enforce it, no matter whether the state is uniquely injured by a breach.Footnote 106 In other words, erga omnes obligations might ground a universal enforcement right. But that just begs the question of what such a right would entail or how it would turn on the erga omnes designation.
The three most plausible answers are all unsatisfying. First, the designation might entitle states to initiate judicial proceedings against a scofflaw.Footnote 107 If states have this right, it remains untested. An international court has never admitted a claim solely on the basis of an erga omnes designation. The ICJ would conceivably do so only in exceedingly rare cases—where it already has jurisdiction and cannot ground the claim in treaty law.Footnote 108 Second, the erga omnes designation might entitle states to protest a violation through diplomatic or other informal channels. States may engage in such protest no matter whether an erga omnes obligation is at issue.Footnote 109
The third possibility is more complicated. The erga omnes designation might entitle states to target the scofflaw with unfriendly measures, like economic restrictions. Some of these measures are permissible no matter whether an erga omnes obligation is violated.Footnote 110 The most that can be said about the others is that the law is unsettled. The question is whether all states may respond to an erga omnes violation with countermeasures—measures that would ordinarily be unlawful but are excused as self-help enforcement.Footnote 111 The ILC Draft Articles on State Responsibility are widely thought to reflect the customary international law in this area and suggest that the answer is no. According to the ILC, countermeasures may be taken only by a state that is uniquely injured by the violation.Footnote 112 The ILC specifically declined to recognize an exception for violations of erga omnes obligations, but it indicated that such an exception might develop in the future.Footnote 113 Scholars have since looked to state practice to argue that the exception has become or is becoming positive law.Footnote 114 So, erga omnes obligations might ground a universal right to take countermeasures, but any such right is tenuous and has not been widely endorsed.Footnote 115
B. The Analytic Gap
Commentators appreciate that the principles on jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations do not do what they purport to do—that despite their powerful rhetoric, they do not meaningfully advance universal interests on behalf of the whole world.Footnote 116 Most analysts interpret this to mean either that the principles are not fully realized or that they betray the limits of any international community or of international law itself.Footnote 117 Analysts rarely entertain the possibility that the principles do something other than they say.
To be sure, some scholars claim that the principles serve an expressive or symbolic function by signaling that certain norms are uniquely important and not negotiable.Footnote 118 However, expressive accounts of these two principles remain underdeveloped and have not grappled with even the most basic questions.Footnote 119 For example, what message do the principles send, given that their substantive content is so nebulous? What function is served by prioritizing a small handful of norms and thereby degrading the relative worth of so many others? How powerful of a message do the principles convey through the discourse alone? A legal system ordinarily expresses its values not only discursively but also—perhaps primarily—through action. If the rhetoric is unaccompanied by action, do the claims about core universal values seem empty?
The possibility remains that the principles do not do anything at all and are just “cheap talk.”Footnote 120 Realist scholars have leveled this attack against international law generally: that global actors use it as a discursive medium because doing so is nearly costless, not because it actually affects or is intended to affect the material world.Footnote 121 The usual response to that attack is to argue that, even if engaging with international law is cheap,Footnote 122 it must do something.Footnote 123 After all, it permeates global interactions, and as constructivist theorists have underscored, these interactions shape perceptions and behaviors. Yet the something that international law is said to do is almost always described in regulatory terms. International law helps global actors identify, implement, and enforce their shared norms.Footnote 124 That explanation is inapt for jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations.Footnote 125 The question is whether the principles do something else.
C. Contestations About Community
What they do, I argue, is help construct an international community. To do this work, the principles need not establish meaningful rules of decision. And their substantive content need not be settled. Indeed, it is probably best left unsettled. The principles must simply help global actors disagree on terms that call attention to and presuppose their mutual association. That is precisely what they do.
Consider a protracted dispute that occupied the ILC as it worked on the law on state responsibility. In 1976, after an already extensive internal debate, the ILC proposed distinguishing between ordinary violations that states commit and so-called crimes of states.Footnote 126 The proposal was motivated by then-recent developments on jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations.Footnote 127 The ILC defined state crimes as violations of obligations that are “essential for the protection of fundamental interests of the international community.”Footnote 128 It reasoned that, if an obligation protects core community values (jus cogens), and a violation affects everyone (erga omnes), then unique consequences ought to follow under the law on state responsibility.Footnote 129 The ILC's distinction between state crimes and other international legal violations was “[t]he single most controversial element in the Articles on State Responsibility.”Footnote 130 After twenty-five more years of debate, the ILC finally dropped the language on state crimes but continued to claim that jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations have unique implications for state responsibility.Footnote 131
The episode is illuminating for two reasons. First, the positive law on jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations provoked the entire debate. When the principles were authoritatively endorsed—in the VCLT and Barcelona Traction, respectively—they were sure to raise the state responsibility question; by then, the ILC's project on state responsibility had already begun.Footnote 132 Moreover, although the concept of state crimes might have been introduced even if the principles had not yet been established in law, it is inconceivable that the fight would have been as contentious or prolonged as it was. Having that positive law gave the proponents of state crimes the normative ammunition that they needed to press hard for their position. The ILC's reports and the contemporaneous secondary literature thus are replete with references to jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations as justifications for state crimes.Footnote 133
Second, the principles focused the debate on the community's ethos:Footnote 134 Who belongs to this community?Footnote 135 Who may act on its behalf to sanction specific conduct?Footnote 136 Which norms are central to its identity?Footnote 137 And what is the most suitable organizing principle for protecting those norms?Footnote 138 These questions presuppose the existence of an international community and focus the participants on defining its shape and character. For decades, the questions were at the center of an intense and prominent debate.
The answers that were batted around in this debate might have been inaccurate. Ethical argument constructs a community not necessarily by capturing the community's true ethos but by putting the ethos at issue and inviting claims about its content. One might reasonably ask about that content—for example, whether the community actually stands for universal norms or whether all states are really members. But however we answer those questions, the debate on state crimes clearly gave actors who otherwise have only tenuous connections to one another regular opportunities to engage with and see themselves as part of a common enterprise. The reason that the debate became so heated is that many of these participants care deeply about the enterprise. They want the international community to stand for some things (e.g., peace and human rights) and not others (e.g., aggression or state impunity). The principles allowed them to battle over the core tenets of their association without calling into question—indeed while reinforcing—that they are an association.
The debate on state crimes was not aberrational. Because jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations expressly invoke an international community, they regularly fuel ethical argument. The ICJ's recent Jurisdictional Immunities case is another high-profile example.Footnote 139 The case arose out of a suit against Germany in Italian court for claims of forced deportation and labor during World War II. In Ferrini v. Germany, Italy's highest court relied heavily on the jus cogens concept to override Germany's immunity and allow the case to proceed.Footnote 140 Ferrini explained that the claims against Germany rested on norms that “lie at the heart of the international order and prevail over all other conventional and customary norms . …”Footnote 141 Ferrini then echoed the debate on state crimes, asserting that immunity would be inappropriate for “such grave violations” because these violations require “a response which, in qualitative terms, is different and more severe than that reserved for other illegal acts.”Footnote 142
Here again, the jus cogens principle enabled a set of conflicts. If Ferrini had upheld Germany's immunity, the dispute probably would have dissipated; the Italian claimant lacked a good alternative outlet. By stripping Germany of immunity, Ferrini instead allowed the dispute to proceed. Ferrini also catalyzed several other lawsuits or enforcement proceedings against Germany in Italian court for conduct relating to World War II.Footnote 143 Eventually, Germany's discontent with these developments led it to initiate a case against Italy at the ICJ.Footnote 144 Greece then intervened in that case.Footnote 145 (A group of Greek nationals had separately been seeking redress against Germany for similar conduct.) The sparring did not end with the ICJ's 2012 judgment. In 2014, Italy's Constitutional Court declined to follow the ICJ and held that Italian courts have jurisdiction over foreign states for claims relating to gross violations of fundamental rights on Italian territory.Footnote 146 Since then, lower Italian courts have issued a number of rulings against Germany for World War II–era conduct.Footnote 147
These disputes are plainly about more than the rules on immunity or the relief that is due to particular claimants. They are about the central contest in international law over the past several decades: the extent to which states’ traditional prerogatives trump the interests of individuals.Footnote 148 The ICJ proceedings thus are dripping with ethical argument.Footnote 149 Greece's intervening statement is particularly colorful; it proclaims that granting Germany immunity in the case would “jeopardize all of the progress made within the international community.”Footnote 150 Skeptics might dismiss this talk as cheap or pretextual. Greece surely spoke in ethical terms to advance what it believed to be its self-interest. But that does not render its argument meaningless or irrelevant. Even if Greece used ethical argument cynically, it did so in order to engage with the international legal project and because it believed—correctly—that ethical argument would resonate with key players on the international stage.
The alternative to having these disputes is not a more unified community. Global actors disagree sharply on the proper balance between state and individual interests. The alternative is to have a lesser community, one in which fewer actors have reason to interact on, or to see or treat themselves as part of, a common project. In the context of jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations, that project concerns the basic foundations of the legal order.
IV. Ethical Argument in the Mainstream
The ethical arguments about jus cogens norms and erga omnes obligations are easy to spot because they expressly speak of community. But ethical argument in international law is not limited to those two principles. Usually, it appears without explicit reference to community, and it works to construct not an all-inclusive community but communities that organize around specific issues. Such communities are known to exist. International law consists of a patchwork of regulatory arrangements. Participants in any given arrangement comprise an international community to the extent that they engage together on and act like they are part of a shared governance project.
To show that ethical legal conflict helps constitute these communities, I use as an example the community that centers at the WTO. I focus on this community for two reasons. First, scholars widely recognize that it is, at least at its core, a tight-knit group. The WTO “club” or “insider network” consists of actors who regularly interact on the trade project—national trade officials, international civil servants, academics, and private sector attorneys and consultants.Footnote 151 WTO adjudicators are also key players in this community. Other actors participate more indirectly, episodically, or at the margins.
Second, I use the WTO community because it is, in many respects, the poster child for the view that I resist. The WTO's success is usually attributed to the members’ shared precepts—their common policy objectives, rules, and practices—and to their mechanisms for curbing disputes.Footnote 152 I show that that view is incomplete. Although the participants in the WTO have plenty in common, they also have profound and intractable differences. In the face of this internal division, WTO law constitutes and fortifies the group in part by enabling ethical conflict—establishing the ground rules for the participants to disagree about the tenets of their association while reinforcing that they are in it together. I examine below two kinds of ethical conflict that are routine at the WTO: (1) conflicts about the trade agenda, and (2) conflicts about the terms of membership in this community.
A. Agenda Conflicts
The Uruguay Round of trade negotiations that culminated with the WTO agreements in 1994 significantly expanded the trade project.Footnote 153 The effect was to magnify what Robert Howse has called the “core dilemma” in trade governance—the fact that trade liberalization is in tension with “a rather huge number of possible nontrade or not explicitly trade-based policies” that individual states might legitimately pursue.Footnote 154 This dilemma goes to heart of the WTO. It raises the question of what the trade agenda is all about: To what extent and when should the policy on liberalization bend to accommodate other social or economic interests? Disagreements about that question are a persistent and largely intractable feature of the WTO.Footnote 155
The WTO Appellate Body has responded not by trying to resolve the contest but by enabling states continually to have it. In WTO law, the question presented is usually whether a trade-restrictive measure falls within one of the recognized “public interest” exceptions to liberalization.Footnote 156 A series of decisions predating the WTO interpreted those exceptions narrowly, prioritizing liberalization over states’ autonomy to pursue other regulatory goals, like protecting human health or the environment.Footnote 157 As discontent with that approach grew, the WTO Appellate Body shifted gears. It started affording states more discretion to restrict trade for other interests.Footnote 158 However, the Appellate Body has not in any meaningful sense resettled or established new rules of decision in this area. Its test for assessing measures that are justified in the public interest is opaque, shifty, and fact-specific.Footnote 159 What the Appellate Body has done is create space for states to use WTO law to fight about the proper balance between liberalization and other interests in concrete settings. This balance is unstable and consistently at issue in WTO legal disputes.
The 2014 decision in EC-Seal Products is illustrative.Footnote 160 Canada and Norway contested a European Union regulation that prohibited the importation and sale of products containing seal, with exceptions for seals hunted by indigenous communities or for marine management. The case was widely understood to be about more than the particular regulation at issue; it was about the kind of community that the WTO would be—the extent to which this community would permit states to restrict trade in order to advance their idiosyncratic policy preferences.Footnote 161 The Appellate Body decided that trade restrictions for animal welfare can fall within the public morals exception to liberalization.Footnote 162 It then found that the particular regulation at issue was noncompliant because the exception for indigenous hunts was arbitrary.Footnote 163 Trade scholars have criticized the decision for its muddy reasoning, departures from precedent, and failure to guide states on the larger ethical contest that the case presented.Footnote 164
But leaving this area of law pliable allows states to continue arguing through it. Here, WTO law brings states together to fight about their trade agenda on terms that reinforce that this is where trade governance happens. Again, the alternative to having these conflicts is not more unity on trade policy. WTO members invariably disagree on precisely when and how the policy on liberalization intersects with other interests. The most plausible alternative is for the community to be less integrated—for members that disagree with one another or with particular WTO policies to disengage from the enterprise. For example, some members might just accept the policies that others prescribe, without themselves expending the energy to crystallize or fight for their preferences. Others might try to undercut the WTO by shifting decisionmaking to arenas that they find more favorable. Still others might just disregard WTO rules with which they disagree or refuse to participate in WTO processes when they are unlikely to prevail. Playing out their conflicts through WTO law keeps them engaged in the governance project and has the effect of strengthening, not weakening, the association.
B. Membership Conflicts
The WTO community is also beset by disagreements about its composition and terms of membership. I use “membership” here in a functional, rather than a technical, sense—to mean not just states, which the WTO agreements formally recognize as members, but the full set of actors who engage with the WTO. Questions about the participation or role of specific actors regularly arise and are contested at the WTO.Footnote 165 The disputes are ethical because they go to the community's constitutional makeup.
For example, the participation of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) received considerable attention in the 1990s and early 2000s.Footnote 166 NGOs were becoming more aware of the WTO and interested in shaping trade policy. The initial response from within the WTO was meager. The General Council, which consists of all WTO member states, decided to give NGOs new opportunities to interact with and learn about the WTO, while keeping them at the periphery of WTO decisionmaking.Footnote 167 The council proclaimed that “there is currently a broadly held view that it would not be possible for NGOs to be directly involved in the work of the WTO or its meetings.”Footnote 168 Shortly thereafter, the WTO Appellate Body decided, with highly legalistic interpretations of the relevant treaty, that WTO adjudicative bodies may consider amicus curiae briefs that NGOs submit.Footnote 169
The Appellate Body's legal decisions on amicus briefs provoked an intense ethical conflict.Footnote 170 The dispute came to a head in November 2000, when the Appellate Body took the initiative to establish “working procedures” for the submission of amicus briefs in a case that was then pending before it.Footnote 171 States responded loudly and negatively. They convened a special General Council meeting, and almost every state that spoke criticized the Appellate Body's working procedures.Footnote 172 Developing countries were especially vocal; their principal complaints went directly to the membership's composition and terms of participation.
Uruguay's comments are representative. It claimed that the Appellate Body's working procedures improperly “affected the rights and obligations of WTO Members and altered the relationship between the bodies within the system.”Footnote 173 Uruguay's worries were twofold. First, the Appellate Body arrogated for itself “decisions on relations with NGOs while such decisions statutorily belonged to the General Council.”Footnote 174 Second, the Appellate Body effectively “grant[ed] individuals and institutions outside of the WTO a right that Members themselves did not possess.”Footnote 175 Egypt, speaking on behalf of the Informal Group of Developing Countries, echoed those concerns, underscoring that “[t]he WTO was a Member-driven”—by which it meant state-driven—“organization and this basic fundamental nature of the organization had to, and would, remain as such.”Footnote 176 India proclaimed that “the effect of the Appellate Body's approach to amicus curiae briefs was to strike at the intergovernmental nature of the WTO.”Footnote 177 As these comments reveal, the dispute was as contentious as it was not because amicus briefs are so important but because it put at issue a question that went to the core of the community's ethos: Would this community remain insular and controlled mostly by states, or would it integrate other actors and allocate more authority to its adjudicative bodies?Footnote 178
In the end, the brouhaha over amicus briefs fizzled without substantive resolution. The Appellate Body decided that none of the nonparty briefs in the case before it satisfied its working procedures.Footnote 179 Since then, WTO adjudicative bodies have continued to accept amicus briefs on a case-by-case basis but have generally treated these briefs as tangential to their decisions.Footnote 180 Meanwhile, NGOs have identified other ways to engage with the WTO,Footnote 181 though the terms of their participation remain fluid and contestable.Footnote 182 Perhaps for these reasons, commentators have said that the amicus dispute “produced little more than frustration”Footnote 183 or was “much ado about nothing.”Footnote 184
Those assessments overlook the role of ethical conflict in constructing a community. The amicus dispute not only presupposed that the community existed but also treated it as worth fighting for—as if belonging and exercising authority in it mattered. The dispute was particularly significant because it gave developing countries, which historically have been marginalized at the WTO,Footnote 185 an opportunity to reaffirm their stake in it and claim it as their own. Again, the alternative was not more unity or consensus. It was for one WTO organ to try to settle the issue, with the effect of further alienating an important constituency—either developing countries or the NGOs and their supporters. The Appellate Body's legal decisions on amicus briefs incited an ethical conflict that, though never really resolved, reinforced the community's standing as the locus of trade governance.
V. Implications for International Legal Practice
I have argued that conflict—especially conflict that plays out in ethical legal terms—can be productive for an international community. It can help constitute and fortify the community. My argument so far has been descriptive and analytic, but its prescriptive message is clear. Insofar as we favor and want to support particular governance arrangements, we ought to preserve or create space for ethical conflict. We ought to ensure that the relevant participants (however defined) have opportunities to fight on terms that reinforce their association. That message runs counter to much of the current thinking on international law. Many analysts assume that an international community is constituted by commonality and corroded by internal divisions or discord. And they press for international law to solidify consensus and deter or curb disputes. My argument suggests that we need to alter that thinking. Below, I discuss what this might mean in specific contexts. To be clear, my goal here is not to offer concrete proposals for reform. It is to explain why and how we might reassess some common tropes in the design and practice of international law.
A. Doctrinal Design
Several foundational rules of international law are justified on the ground that, by simply reducing interstate friction, they foster friendly relations and enhance global stability. That logic is flawed. Friction is not inherently an impediment to—and is often an ingredient for—friendly and stable relationships. So, we should stop treating this justification as if it is persuasive on its face. We should demand additional support for it in discrete contexts, defend the relevant rules on other grounds, or adopt different rules.
Take the rule on foreign state immunity that was at issue in the Jurisdictional Immunities case. The most prominent justifications for this rule are that it: (1) respects state sovereignty, and (2) enhances interstate relations by reducing friction.Footnote 186 The first justification has never been sufficient to explain why a foreign state's prerogatives trump the host state's, especially if the host is regulating conduct in its own territory.Footnote 187 The sovereignty justification has also become less tenable over time. In contemporary international law, sovereignty is no longer an adequate basis for shielding states from accountability. Thus, the second justification—about reducing interstate friction—is doing much of the heavy lifting. For example, Steven Ratner recently proclaimed that the rule on foreign state immunity “can easily be justified for its contribution to peace, for the complete absence of immunity would inflame interstate tensions.”Footnote 188 The assumption here is that friction necessarily impairs and destabilizes interstate relations.
It does not. What matters is not whether exercising jurisdiction produces friction but how that friction manifests and affects the frequency or nature of the interactions. Indeed, the idea that exercising jurisdiction necessarily corrodes global relationships is belied by a well-accepted exception to immunity. Under the so-called restrictive theory of immunity that most states now endorse, national courts may exercise jurisdiction over foreign states for claims relating to commercial conduct.Footnote 189 This exception invariably produces friction in the form of domestic litigation. But there is little evidence that it destabilizes—and good reason to believe that it instead enhances—global relations. Allowing courts to adjudicate commercial claims lessens the pressure on the host state's political branches to get involved in these disputes.Footnote 190 The litigation helps keep the conflicts confined to the actual disputants. It probably also helps deepen commercial ties between countries. Private entities are more likely to do serious business with a foreign state if they are confident that they can hold it liable for its misconduct than if they are not.Footnote 191 In short, the rule on foreign state immunity needs a more rigorous justification.
So too does the rule that limits countermeasures to states that are uniquely injured by a breach. An oft-stated reason for this rule is that allowing “third” states to take countermeasures “would certainly cause a very disturbing increase in international tension”Footnote 192 or even devolve the global order into chaos.Footnote 193 Again, that reasoning is suspect. Expanding the right to take countermeasures might inflame interstate tensions and exacerbate disputes. But it would do so by enabling multiple states to engage seriously and simultaneously on an issue—which is part of how broad-based multilateral relationships are sustained.Footnote 194 For example, since 2011, more than a dozen countries have imposed countermeasures and other economic restrictions on the Syrian government for atrocities in the Syrian civil war.Footnote 195 The remedial or deterrent effect of third-state countermeasures tends to negligible.Footnote 196 The measures are significant because they are an occasion for multiple states to rally behind the violated norms and to insist that these norms apply equally to all states. The rule that limits countermeasures to uniquely injured states should be relaxed or justified on other grounds. And if it is maintained, we ought to appreciate its potential costs. At times, it likely will deprive states of opportunities to engage together on their shared governance project and deepen their association.
B. Institutional Design
1. Adjudicative Institutions
Recognizing that conflict can be productive for a community should also affect how we assess key international institutions. In recent decades, international courts, tribunals, and other adjudicative bodies have flourished. Adjudicative institutions are generally thought to enhance global governance arrangements by helping to resolve concrete disputes and clarify the law's normative content, either generally or as applied in specific cases.Footnote 197 My argument suggests that these institutions can also enhance global governance arrangements by enabling protracted conflicts.
The suggestion is not as radical as it might appear because it actually captures quite a bit of practice. Recall that the WTO Appellate Body created space in WTO law for states to fight about the proper balance between liberalization and other regulatory goals.Footnote 198 Here, an adjudicative institution unsettled, rather than clarified, the law's normative content. And while WTO adjudications can help resolve concrete disputes, they often also catalyze additional rounds of battle. Many WTO disputes last years after an initial finding of noncompliance, as losing states make only modest adjustments to or refuse to alter their offending regulations.Footnote 199 Such tactics are facilitated, not hampered, by the adjudicative process. The fact-specificity of WTO decisions and the availability of countermeasures to remedy only prospective harms give noncompliant states leeway to keep fighting for their positions, rather than accept the unfavorable rulings and work earnestly toward compliance.Footnote 200 Thus, even if WTO adjudication eventually leads to a dispute's resolution, it often first serves to structure an extended conflict.
Indeed, adjudicative bodies sometimes make explicit that they intend neither to settle a concrete dispute nor to clarify the law. The ICJ's judgment in Gab číkovo-Nagymaros is an example.Footnote 201 The case arose out of a 1977 treaty between Hungary and Czechoslovakia about the joint construction of various installations along the Danube River. (When Czechoslovakia dissolved, Slovakia inherited the case.) The ICJ found that each party had acted unlawfully.Footnote 202 It then addressed the question of what the parties must do going forward. The Court acknowledged that the treaty's “literal application” was no longer feasible,Footnote 203 but rather than give the treaty new content, it directed the parties to define that content themselves.Footnote 204 The dispute still lacks a substantive resolution.Footnote 205
Analysts of course know that international courts and tribunals do not always resolve the disputes before them or clarify the law's normative content. But most interpret this practice as evidence of dysfunction—that the institutions are weak, flawed, or ineffective.Footnote 206 My claim is that the practice can be productive. There is value to enabling global actors to fight about the tenets of their governance project, even when they cannot agree on its content. Adjudicative bodies are especially suited to teeing up and sharpening these disputes because adjudication spurs each side to defend its position as forcefully as possible, on terms that assume an existing relationship.Footnote 207
2. Institutional Redundancy
For similar reasons, we might see upsides to international law's institutional redundancy. Recall that the various communities that use international law operate mostly independently from one another. Each has its own governance project and institutional structure. But these communities inevitably overlap and intersect. Multiple studies show that global actors exploit that institutional redundancy to undercut decisions with which they disagree. Those who dislike a decision by one community often work to obtain a competing and more favorable decision within another. In other words, they purposefully create conflicts between communities.Footnote 208
The extended dispute over the regulation of genetically modified organisms (GMOs) is a well-known example.Footnote 209 Under the WTO agreements, health or environmental restrictions on food imports must satisfy a “sound science” requirement: any restriction that exceeds international standards must be based on a scientific risk assessment and “not maintained without sufficient scientific evidence.”Footnote 210 In the late 1990s, some states began to resist that requirement and to favor more of a precautionary approach. When these states failed to alter the law within the WTO, they pursued their agenda through a different community—the one that is grounded in the Convention on Biological Diversity. There, states established the Cartagena Protocol, which implicitly undercuts the WTO sound science requirement by endorsing a precautionary approach and preserving some state discretion in this area.Footnote 211
The dispute about the proper scope of an importing state's regulatory discretion has never really been resolved. A WTO panel in the EC-Biotech case examined the European Union's GMO regulations but did not answer the broader question of how strictly to interpret the sound science requirement.Footnote 212 Thus, while that specific case has dissipated, either side could easily reignite the normative conflict by reasserting its position in a new context.
The majority view in the literature is that such conflicts damage international law, to the extent that they linger without substantive resolution.Footnote 213 That view is animated by principally two concerns. First, a normative conflict might undercut the efficacy of international law. A state with incompatible obligations can easily invoke one to evade the other.Footnote 214 Second, the conflict might destabilize or delegitimize international law.Footnote 215 Because distinct communities operate independently, conflicts between them tend to be resolved, if at all, through competition and the jockeying for power, not through the application of accepted legal principles.Footnote 216 Those two concerns ought to be directed toward specific substantive rules. For example, we might reasonably worry that the Cartagena Protocol undermines the efficacy, stability, or legitimacy of the WTO's strong science requirement. But the concerns are often expressed at a level of greater generality, as if the conflicts that stem from institutional redundancy cause systemic damage to entire regulatory arrangements or to the legal order itself.Footnote 217
In fact, such conflicts might carry systemic benefits. Because distinct communities have overlapping memberships, a conflict between communities often also reflects divisions within a particular community. The GMO dispute was not only between the trade and biodiversity communities but also internal to the trade community. Like other WTO conflicts, this one might have strengthened that community. At the very least, it revealed the fortitude of the opposition to the sound science requirement and provided opportunities for modest but organic adjustment. The dispute was also a way for dissatisfied states to continue engaging with and pressing for their vision of the WTO. The principal backers of the Cartagena Protocol worked through the biodiversity community not because they had given up on the WTO or sought to shift the overall locus of trade governance but because they were invested in the WTO and wanted it to reflect their preferences. They provoked a normative conflict in order to continue participating in the trade project.
Conflicts between international communities might also benefit the legal order more generally. The sheer number of international communities means that conflicts persistently cut across different alliances, rather than cleave along one dividing line. For instance, Europe worked with many developing countries and against the United States on GMOs, but those alliances shift in other contexts. Quite a bit of research suggests that having continuous, crisscrossing conflicts helps stabilize loosely structured societies.Footnote 218 When conflicts cut across different associations, no single incident comes to embody all of a state's interests or grievances. A state that is disgruntled in one community can easily tap into and try to address its concerns in another. This reduces the state's incentives to fight to the hilt in any particular case. Thus, even if conflicts between communities undermine particular substantive rules, they might stabilize the broader legal order. Rather than persistently try to defuse or settle these conflicts, we might at times let them linger or even find ways to cultivate them.Footnote 219
C. Regulatory Legitimacy
Finally, my argument offers new insights on the legitimacy of international law. Analysts often tie international law's legitimacy to the participants’ consent or consensus.Footnote 220 That approach suggests that protracted ethical conflicts pose a legitimacy problem for global governance arrangements. Such conflicts show that an arrangement is still contentious to the core. But if, as I argue, ethical conflicts help constitute a political community, then they might instead be an ingredient for legitimacy. Establishing a meaningful political community might help legitimize legal arrangements in the absence of a thick substantive consensus.
Grounding international law in some kind of consensus is attractive because it has the potential to satisfy, simultaneously, three distinct but interdependent dimensions of legitimacy.Footnote 221 First, jurisprudential legitimacy, concerning the criteria for validating specific norms as law. Second, sociological legitimacy, on whether people perceive and treat the norms as authoritative. Third, normative legitimacy, about the circumstances in which global actors ought to comply with specific norms. For instance, a state's consent when it ratifies a treaty might show: (1) that decisions under the treaty are legally valid, (2) that the state accepts the decisions as authoritative, and (3) that the state is properly bound by them. However, as the state's actual or felt acceptance of a decision becomes more attenuated, its consent loses purchase along one or more of the above dimensions. As such, a claimed consensus can go only so far to legitimize particular arrangements. It is unlikely to be sufficient when an arrangement has extensive ramifications for constituents who do not participate in it or when it governs issues that remain divisive.
Absent a meaningful consensus, an arrangement's legitimacy—and particularly its sociological legitimacy—might be enhanced through ethical conflict. As discussed, ethical conflict can foster a political community, in which the participants engage together on a common enterprise. Having that kind of community can help legitimize governance decisions in the face of substantive disagreement. In other words, global actors might more readily accept as legitimate community decisions with which they disagree if they are connected to and invested in the community than if they are not.Footnote 222 The implication is not that the arrangement should be entirely up for grabs at any given moment but that it should strike a balance between settlement and contestability.Footnote 223 Parts of it should be fixed, while other parts are pliable and open to debate.
To be sure, this path to legitimizing regulatory arrangements has certain limits. First, legal decisions in the zones of contestation are likely to be inconsistent with one another and motivated by considerations, like raw power, that would ideally be external to law. The decisions thus would not satisfy a prominent vision for the rule of law—one that prioritizes consistency in application and constraints on the exercise of power.Footnote 224 However, that vision for the rule of law is not the only plausible one. As Christopher Kutz has explained, inconsistency and external influence in legal decisionmaking are not necessarily incompatible with the rule of law. A decision that claims the mantle of law still must be defended on its own terms, with reasons that support it. “The force of such reasons is not cancelled by the presence of competing considerations.”Footnote 225 Meanwhile, the law's pliability gives dissenters room to resist a decision and press their opposing views. Kutz contends that this dynamic advances, rather than weakens, the rule of law. “The ideal of the rule of law is far better served by lively debate than by wooden consensus because debate renders the law's many values perspicuous in the actual exercise of authority.”Footnote 226 The point for now is that any rule of law concern with ethical legal conflict ought to be taken seriously but not overstated.
Second, if international law is too open-ended, it might not effectively regulate behavior.Footnote 227 This just means that international law would serve a different function in its open spaces.Footnote 228 It would facilitate conflict. Moreover, it might to some extent still serve a regulatory function if it establishes authoritative processes that can define codes of conduct for concrete settings. For example, this is what the WTO Appellate Body does now that it has unsettled the law on the balance between trade liberalization and other public policies: it makes fact-specific determinations of how the disputing states ought to behave in specific contexts.
Third, ethical conflict will not solve all of the legitimacy concerns that surround international law. Conflict's legitimizing potential is starkest for actors who actively engage with and see themselves as part of the relevant community. These actors might come to accept as legitimate decisions with which they disagree. But conflict is unlikely to have a similar impact on actors who are marginalized within or completely outside of the community. Groups that are disenfranchised are likely to continue questioning the legitimacy of community decisions that affect them. As such, an arrangement's legitimacy for its core members might be out of step with its legitimacy for other constituencies. That kind of legitimacy gap has already been identified at the WTOFootnote 229 and has led to various proposals for altering the WTO's ethos—by broadening the set of actors or interests that fall within its ambit.Footnote 230 My argument suggests that, rather than pursue specific substantive reforms, we might create more opportunities for ethical engagement and contestation. We might, in other words, enhance the legal mechanisms, both at the international level and within national systems, for various constituencies to argue about specific global governance projects.
VI. Conclusion
International law now touches almost every aspect of public governance, and in many areas it penetrates deeply into national legal systems. As international law's scope has expanded, the world has become more integrated. The number and range of actors who engage on global governance issues have grown, and their interactions have become more frequent. Inevitably, these actors have also found new reasons and occasions to disagree. It is wrong to assume that their conflicts detract from or impede their governance arrangements. Conflict is an integral—often critical—part of these arrangements. So, we should assess and treat it as such. Rather than persistently try to cabin, curtail, or defuse it, we should at times preserve or even cultivate it. And we should study how best to structure it so that it further enhances both specific regulatory arrangements and the global order more generally.