From the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, technology companies have participated in the search for solutions to new challenges. One of these has been the need for public health authorities to engage in contact-tracing to help curb the spread of the disease. Manual contact-tracing for public health purposes is a well-established component of the management of epidemics and pandemics. Public health authorities identify infected individuals, question them about close contacts, and then reach out to those contacts with the appropriate public health advice. From the outset of the pandemic, many believed that technology could play a role in supplementing manual contact-tracing. How it could do so quickly became tied to issues of how it should do so, engendering a normative discussion affecting the partnership between business and government in the large-scale design and deployment of technology for public health surveillance.

There is currently disagreement in the international sports world about whether Russian and Belarusian athletes should be admitted to international competitions. While initially proposing to ban these athletes, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) is now recommending that sports federations readmit Russian and Belarusian athletes under certain conditions. The IOC believes that this is unavoidable in order to respect human rights. Sports federations are invoking their autonomy on this issue, with some following the IOC’s advice, some maintaining a ban, and others allowing unconditional participation. This piece seeks to correct the IOC’s interpretation of the applicable human rights standard. It asserts that sporting bodies must respect human rights, and that the principles of autonomy and neutrality of sport must be considered in light of internationally recognised human rights standards. If these are used as a yardstick, it becomes clear that collective exclusion can be justified in the extreme case of a war of aggression.

This article introduces a novel way in which human rights due diligence can be ‘enhanced’ to respond to business and human rights challenges specific to conflict affected areas. It makes two key arguments. First, it claims that a crucial and often neglected factor for understanding human rights risks in conflict affected areas is that businesses face escalating and largely unpredictable human rights risks once they become involved in conflict. Second, the article shows how integrating aspects of the well-established method of conflict sensitive business practice into human rights due diligence can help companies address this challenge. For instance, companies should include a conflict analysis in human rights impact assessments and systematically identify and address their actual or potential impacts on conflict. This article provides support to a UN Working Group proposal for the integration of conflict sensitive business practices into human rights due diligence.

After the endorsement of the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs) by the Human Rights Council on 16 June 2011, 15 March 2024 marked another milestone for transnational corporate governance. That day, a qualified majority of the member states of the European Union (EU) voted in favour of the Directive on Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence (CSDDD) setting human rights and environmental obligations for large companies in their global value chains.1 The CSDDD is the first region-wide due diligence legislation, yet it is also a political compromise among EU member states, which civil society and business have been watching closely. This piece explains the main elements of the CSDDD and outlines some of its implications beyond the EU.

The attention that the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) has given to public–private partnerships in solving global concerns including poverty, sustainable development and climate change has shed new light on the question of duties of corporations in relation to economic, social and cultural (ESC) rights. At the same time, objections to recognizing the obligations of corporations in relation to human rights in general and to ESC rights in particular have continued to be made. At the formal level, these objections are reflected in new distinctions such as between the duties of states and responsibilities of corporations, between primary duties of states and secondary duties of corporations, and between obligations of compliance and obligations of performance. All these objections and distinctions are untenable and serve only to stultify the discourse on business and human rights. The current state of human rights is dynamic, not static; commodious, not stale. There is ample space in it to accommodate duties of corporations regarding ESC rights.

In this paper I use South Africa as a reference point to discuss the company as a juristic person and its relationship to natural persons through the concepts of subjectivity and personhood. I do this in an attempt to reveal that granting of juristic personality as ‘the company’ is not a neutral, organic or inevitable product of the law and economy but a construct symbiotically bound to the colonial state. Underlying this juristic personhood is colonial ideology which perpetuates racialized and gendered poverty and inequality as systemic oppression, in order to deliberately facilitate and maintain conditions of domination and exploitation. Rather than taking the conventional business and human rights starting point that accepts the corporate structure without critique, it is argued that by reorienting away from juristic personality as purportedly ‘neutral’ and reframing the construct, the powers of the company might be curtailed, thereby interrupting these continuing colonial logics.

Business and human rights (BHR) has been taught as an academic discipline and field of practice for thirty years.1 Since the first courses at business schools, law schools, and schools of public policy in North America and Western Europe, BHR curricula have proliferated worldwide. BHR course content has expanded to include new international standards, such as the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs); tools for corporate accountability; 2 and examples from the growing body of corporate BHR practice. BHR pedagogy has evolved to embrace multidisciplinary teaching techniques, from business case studies to legal drafting exercises and experiential role plays.3 BHR teaching is taking place in every region, from Africa and Asia to the Middle East and Latin America. Over 350 individuals teach the subject in some form at more than 200 institutions in 45 countries.4 More than 100 universities have added BHR courses to their curricula in the past decade alone. BHR is also taught outside traditional university settings in dedicated workshops and training programmes for professionals, academics and students.5

As has now been well publicized, there is serious and credible evidence that Uyghur and other minority communities in China are being forced into internment or ‘re-education’ camps,1 with strong links to subsequent forced labour in factories, particularly centred in Xinjiang province.2 The use of forced labour (intimately connected to many international supply chains) as a hallmark feature of the Chinese state’s oppression of its Uyghur peoples requires a ‘business and human rights’ (BHR) lens to responses to the human rights violations in the region.

Cross-border surrogacy is a global industry that offers intended parents options for family formation by providing foreign surrogate mothers remuneration, directly or via an intermediary, in excess of their actual out-of-pocket expenses. It is a multi-million-dollar business with no international regulation.1 In most countries, limited domestic regulation or oversight is in place. Many countries − such as Australia, the United Kingdom, New Zealand, Canada, Hong Kong and South Africa − only permit altruistic surrogacy, while Germany and France ban surrogacy entirely.2 Fully legalized commercial surrogacy is the model followed in some states in the United States of America (USA), as well as Georgia and Ukraine.3 This unregulated cross-border market has produced a lucrative business, with surrogacy arrangements growing by nearly 1,000 per cent between 2006 and 2010.4 The for-profit surrogacy sector has expanded and fertility not-for-profit organizations have also entered the market.5

The Kenyan flower industry is one of the largest in the world and it is estimated to contribute around one per cent to Kenya’s gross domestic product (GDP).1 According to the Kenya Flower Council (KFC), Kenya exports about 70 per cent of its cut flowers for sale on the European market.2 Women constitute around 65 to 75 per cent of the workforce in the Kenyan flower industry, performing unskilled and poorly paid jobs.3 Female floriculture workers in Kenya experience high rates of sexual harassment (SH) and other forms of workplace violence.4 SH is deeply rooted in power imbalances between the parties involved, which can impact on the ability of the victim to resist or expressly indicate that the conduct is unwelcome. Such power imbalance can threaten victims into silence, resulting in incidences going unreported.5 According to a study on gender, rights and participation in the cut flower industry in Kenya, SH is particularly prevalent among women who are supervised by male managers.6 It was found that the persistence of SH is related to the hierarchical employment structure of floriculture companies, coupled with the lack of female managerial staff, both of which also prevented women from reporting incidences of SH.