Category Archives: Theory of Criminal Law

The Historical Importance of the Kouwenhoven Trial

Last month, a Dutch Court of Appeal convicted Dutch businessman Guus Kouwenhoven for complicity in war crimes that were perpetrated in Liberia and Guinea a little less than two decades ago. Kouwenhoven was a timber merchant, who also shipped weapons to the Liberian President Charles Taylor in clear violation of UN arms embargoes, which Taylor used to brutally terrorize civilian populations. The Kouwenhoven judgment is now available in English (see here). I know something of the backstory behind the case through the work of Global Witness, have benefited from Dieneke De Vos’s very helpful overview of the judgment (see here), and learned from Ruben Carranza at the International Center of Transitional Justice’s discussion of the trial’s significance as part of broader aspirations for economic accountability in transitional justice (see here). In what follows, I consider the self-consciously provocative claim that Kouwenhoven is among the most important war crimes cases in the history of international criminal justice.

There are several reasons why the Kouwenhoven case might come in at the top of a ranking of war crimes trials, if one were prepared to undertake such a strange exercise. No doubt, readers will object that the assumptions underlying my prioritization go largely unannounced, are highly contentious, leave much out that others might place greater weight on and presuppose the propriety of criminal law trials as a response to atrocity in the first place. All this I concede, but to guard against the possibility that this precedent’s potentially tremendous implications for this and associated fields might escape detection by relevant audiences, I here set out a brief series of reasons why the case may well live up to the grandiose billing I  assign it. Also, because comparing this case to the Hissène Habre trial in Senegal, the Justice Case at Nuremberg and the prosecution of war crimes in civil wars for the first time at the ICTY would involve unnecessary political insensitivity, I avoid all comparison by merely highlighting the Kouwenhoven case’s claim to the title.

To begin, the Kouwenhoven case brings accountability to the worst elements of the arms trade in ways that are almost entirely unprecedented. I will not labor the characteristics of the dark side of the global trade in weaponry, except to point out that authors like Andrew Feinstein paint a harrowing picture of it. Before now, the very worst weapons transfers to regimes bent on mass violence have taken place in a regulatory vacuum characterized by the almost perfect absence of all forms of accountability. Violations of UN-imposed arms embargoes, for instance, have stimulated almost no legal scrutiny. I say “almost” because a study I undertook together with a team of researchers some years ago of all UN arms embargo violations as documented by UN Panels of Experts since 1993 discovered that of 502 alleged violations, only 1 led to legal accountability for sanctions violations.[1] Against this backdrop, the Kouwenhoven case is the first that holds a nefarious arms vendor responsible for complicity in African atrocities.

In so doing, the case complements other regulatory initiatives. As many will know, the signing of a UN Arms Trade Treaty has sought to make the human rights and humanitarian law records of end-users relevant to the legality of transferring weapons to them. The adoption of the treaty is salutary, long overdue, and aside from its own regulatory effect, it helpfully draws attention to the tremendous social upheaval caused by what Harold Koh once described as “a world drowning in guns.” At the same time, the very idea that a new treaty should be needed to make the human rights and international humanitarian law records of end-users relevant to the legality of transfers will likely leave criminal lawyers and moral theorists slightly perplexed; the pre-existing notion of complicity already achieves that purpose. By enforcing this pre-existing norm, the Kouwenhoven case employs expressive condemnation to transmit the underlying moral principle across surrounding initiatives.

In addition, the contours of the version of complicity the Kouwenhoven trial employs helps overcome the ubiquitous but overly restrictive debate about the doctrine in Business and Human Rights.[2] For many years, litigation brought predominantly under the auspices of the now (nearly?) defunct Alien Tort Statute debated whether an accomplice must share a principal perpetrator’s purpose to carry out an international crime (Kouwenhoven would have to have positively wanted his weapons to bring about international crimes in Liberia and Guinea), as compared with a knowledge standard (which made cognition rather than volition the touchstone for complicity, thereby criminalizing indifferent implication in atrocity for profit). Understandably, Business and Human Rights largely absorbed these standards. As I have argued elsewhere (see here), however, this binary was never a complete articulation of the universe of available standards for complicity globally. The Kouwenhoven case confirms this proposition by applying a less stringent, dual test.[3] Although the case only indirectly relates to human rights, it is important because of the lessons it holds for that adjacent field.

This brings us to the theory of accomplice liability. Like all notions of complicity, the iteration the court adopts in the Kouwenhoven case is theoretically contestable,[4] and one can only anticipate that it will be a central point of Kouwenhoven’s appeal. Nonetheless, whatever debate the standard generates before and beyond the Dutch judiciary, the Kouwenhoven trial is important because it not only brings these even more accountability-friendly variants of complicity to the fore, it also reiterates the pressing importance of theoretical debates about the shape the doctrine should take globally. In earlier work, I entitled a section of an article on this topic “Towards a Moral Theory of Accomplice Liability,” precisely because cases like Kouwenhoven should be grounded in defensible first principles that I am tempted to think should be universal. That a businessman is sentenced to 19 years in prison via application of this doctrine amplifies the need for critical engagement with these ideas, including the need for further thinking about assigning complicity different meanings from one jurisdiction to the next.[5] In both these respects, the case is again critically important.

Significantly, it also involves the Dutch prosecuting their own national for participating in African atrocities, thus marking a move away from the “victor’s justice” paradigm that has long characterised international criminal justice. The term “victor’s justice” evokes the one-sided justice dispensed at Nuremberg despite no shortage of Allied offending, but it remains a recurrent theme in critiques of modern international criminal justice too. The longevity of the critique is understandable given ICL’s uneven record of enforcement at the international level, but what of enforcement locally? Although Kouwenhoven certainly does not offer a silver bullet through the power politics that made internationalising trials necessary in the first place, it certainly marks an important and under-theorized turn away from victor’s justice. In particular, it sounds the emergence of a new element of what Kathryn Sikkink calls a “Justice Cascade” – some states are beginning to take responsibility for war crimes committed by their own nationals, including their businesspeople. From an historical perspective, the shift seems momentous – although the circumstances are very different, the reluctance to assume this responsibility after WWI was so pronounced that it nearly caused a revolution in Germany and a return to war in Europe (see here).

Relatedly, the Kouwenhoven case promises to dilute perceptions that ICL is, to paraphrase Rwandan President Paul Kagame, a neo-colonial tool. In my view, that claim was always overstated, but it is hard to overlook the spectacle of indicting the most senior Congolese and Sudanese political leaders for pillaging property that is epiphenomenal to African armed conflicts without addressing corporate responsibility for the same offense that drives resource wars. In the past, the ICC prosecutor’s explanation for the unique focus on Africans has been that Africa produces the most serious atrocities, taking human suffering as a metric. Yet, as I have argued elsewhere, there is a fallacy in this justification: it assumes that only Africans are responsible for atrocities in Africa. To entertain this assumption is to overlook the long history of commercial implication in and, in especially egregious circumstances, instigation of atrocity in Africa, of which Kouwenhoven is an exemplar. By holding him accountable, this trial goes some way in addressing the fallacy, undermining the neo-colonial critique, and improving the field’s wider claims to legitimacy.

The case achieves this improvement by, at least in this instance, simultaneously overcoming a strangely regressive element of modern ICL. As many have shown, the awareness of corporate implication in atrocity was so prominent in the minds of the architects of post-WWII justice that they very nearly staged a second prosecution of “industrialists” after the main Nuremberg trial. While this business-specific second trial never came to pass, businesspeople were tried within the Nuremberg trial itself as well as in trials staged in occupied zones throughout Europe. Whatever the political aspirations for these processes at the time, for better or worse, their example has not formed a discernable part of the stratospheric ascendance of modern international criminal justice. While public recognition of corporate implication in atrocity grew dramatically after the Cold War, the rebirth of modern ICL over the same period overlooked the commercial angle its earlier incarnation viewed as painfully obvious. The Kouwenhoven trial is a partial correction for this curious regression, which again makes it all the more important in relative terms.

In the end, it is too early to discern the Kouwenhoven case’s overall significance, let alone pronounce on its relative importance even if one were prepared to try ranking the unrankable. With time, it may well prove to be a distracting fig-leaf over a colossal systemic problem, a weak apology for the one-sidedness of ICL’s enforcement globally, or the exception that reinforces the rule of very near total absence of accountability for the worst forms of corporate malfeasance in war. For now, though, it appears more likely that the Kouwenhoven trial is an important milestone in an imperfect, vulnerable, and under-theorized cultural shift in the long struggle to stem atrocity. In case it needs saying, no one should confuse this shift, if it is that, as being a panacea for all the woes of commercial interests in mass violence or delude themselves that criminal justice is anywhere near a sufficient substitute for ethical and political engagement with these problems. Likewise, no one has claimed that cases like this are beyond reproach or that they perfect the system.

In these respects too, the Kouwenhoven trial is important because it invites rigorous, inter-disciplinary scholarly argument for and against this type of accountability.

 

[1] Judgment of Replacement Rol N° 4465-09 (19 January 2012) (Chile’s Supreme Court) <http://www.poderjudicial.cl/modulos/InformacionCausas/INF_causas_corte_supr.php?opc_menu=7&opc_item=2> accessed 2 February 2012. Arguably, the American case against Viktor Bout offers another example, although technically, he was tried for his willingness in a sting operation staged by the FBI rather than for his complicity in any of the many atrocities his weapons smuggling enabled.

[2] My preliminary thoughts about the complicity-debate in Business and Human Rights are online, here.

[3] My kind thanks to Dieneke Vos, who generously provided the following translation of the relevant passage in the Kouwehnoven judgment: “In accordance with established jurisprudence, to convict for complicity, it must be proven not only that the accused person’s intent was directed at the contribution or facilitation of that crime in accordance with article 48 of the criminal code, but also that his intent – whether or not conditional – was directed at the crime committed by a third person, in this case the commission of war crimes.” In other words, under Dutch law complicity requires what the court calls “double intent”: intent to contribute means, and intent relating to the specific crime. The court adds that the accused person’s contribution need not have been indispensable or causal. It is sufficient for the contribution to have “actually encouraged or facilitated the commission of the crime”

[4] For an overview of competing theories as well as recurrent conceptual problems in the theory of complicity, see here. For my attempt to ascertain the meaning of complicity in the ICC statute, see this blog post and the various expert posts it draws upon.

[5] I have argued elsewhere that a multiplicity of complicity standards that can couple with international crimes throughout the world is not desirable. See here. For my (qualified) response with Asad Kiyani to objections that this argument unjustifiably tramples on important social and cultural values that are reflected in diverse criminal doctrine, see here.

Judicial Rejection of “Specific Direction” is Widespread

I hadn’t thought to use this blog to write individual posts on new judgments or decisions in international criminal law but at the instigation of some friends, I’m persuaded to offer some very short reactions to a number of interesting blog posts in the past week on “specific direction.” The posts include commentary by Marko Milanović, Kevin Heller, Dov Jacobs and Jens Ohlin. Despite my initial reticence to re-engage with this topic in the blogosphere, it struck me that offering some thoughts on these ideas would also be an appropriate topic to end the year on and a convenient pretext for me to wish readers happy holidays and a prosperous new year.

By way of background, the latest discussions of “specific direction” in complicity stem from a judgment by the ICTY Appeals Chamber in the Stanišić & Simatović case (hereafter “Stanišić), which again rejected “specific direction” as a relevant aspect of the actus reus for aiding and abetting (see paras 94 – 109). As most readers will know, a differently constituted Appeals Chamber at the ICTY had adopted the controversial “specific direction” standard two years ago in a case called Perišić (paras 17 –74), before the same body (differently constituted) reversed itself in a very detailed judgment called Šainović (paras 1617 – 1651). But as I point out below, the judicial treatment of this question since Perišić is actually a lot thicker than this brief history would suggest: rejection of “specific direction” is far wider.

To review, I was opposed to “specific direction” when it first emerged in Perišić. I have always thought that “specific direction” as announced by the ICTY in that case was a misreading of casual language in Tadić. I won’t rehearse everything I wrote opposing “specific direction” at the time, but I do want to reiterate my empirical findings that the concept had no grounding in customary international law, comparative criminal law or previous discussions of the theory of complicity by leading experts (see here). In addition, I also wrote a blog post on Opinio Juris responding to Kevin Heller’s thoughtful defense of the doctrine. To the extent that experts at the national level have considered this problem, this is the established orthodoxy on the topic.

To complete this (overly) long introduction, I should say that I’ve always insisted that specificity is one of the many difficult questions in the theory of complicity (see here). For this reason, I’m looking forward to reading Sasha Greenawalt’s new draft article on the topic in the new year, which discusses “specific direction” by drawing on much of the voluminous and difficult literature on the theory of complicity (sorry for the delay getting to this Sasha). I very much admire Sasha’s work and I’m very pleased to have colleagues engaging with this thorny literature, especially if they reach different conclusions to mine. As I’ve mentioned public recently, I believe that a major public debate on complicity will be a great benefit to the world, even if no consensus ever emerges about its contours.

With all these preliminaries said and done, I set out below a very short list of thoughts about the most recent emanation of the “specific direction” debate in the blogosphere. I hope some of my reactions are helpful:

  1. I would like to suggest that our discussion of “specific direction” would be far clearer if we dropped the word “direction” out of “specific direction,” calling this the specificity issue in complicity or some other clearer label depending on what we mean. As I say, “specific direction” was very casual language first employed in Tadić that didn’t really mean terribly much before Perišić (see here). The definition the Perišić court gave the concept really does the specificity problem a disservice – recall that according to the Perišić definition “specific direction” entails: (a) an assessment of whether the recipient of the aid is “an organisation whose sole and exclusive purpose was the commission of crimes” (Perišić Appeal Judgment, para. 52); (b) whether the aider “endorsed a policy of assisting” (Perišić Appeal Judgment, para. 52); and (c) a distinction based on whether the aider is present at the scene of the crime or not (Perišić Appeal Judgment, para. 39, 70). I maintain that these positions are clear misreadings of complicity and that they only detract from: (a) whatever there is that’s genuinely problematic about the specificity problem in complicity; and (b) attempts to account for that residual difficulty in the theory of blame attribution writ large. I also believe that, because advocates seldom define what they mean by the term “specific direction”, we frequently talk past one another.
  1. My main contribution to the discussions in the blogosphere, however, is to place a far larger number of cases on the table for discussion. In particular, I think it bears noting that many courts have now rejected “specific direction,” such that a differently constituted court in Stanišić could not really have taken us back to Perišić even if it had decided to readopt the controversial concept. The list of cases that have rejected “specific direction” now includes:
  • The ICTY Appeals Chamber in Šainović (paras 1617 – 1651);
  • The ICTY Appeals Chamber in Popović (para 1758)
  • The ICTY Appeals Chamber in Stanišić (paras 94 – 109)
  • The ICTR Appeals Chamber in Nyiramasuhuko et al (see para 44 of Judge Agius’s Separate Opinion)
  • The Charles Taylor Appeal Judgment (see here, paras 466 – 481).
  • The ECCC in Case No 002/01 (see paras 707 – 710)

I got the sense from some of the commentary in the last week or so that the rejection of “specific direction” here again in Stanišić was somehow a farce given the composition of the bench in this case or the lack of reasoning substantiating the position. To my mind, the first of these arguments plays down that a variety of courts, at both trial and appellate levels, have rejected the standard. Thus, the supposition that a differently constituted court would have just reinstated Perišić as a norm in ICL as a field is, I think, unconvincing.

  1. To expand on this observation, I plot here the number of judges across all courts and tribunals who have voted for and against “specific direction,” from Perisic onwards. By my rough count, at least 20 different judges have had opportunity to pronounce on “specific direction” if one includes the Perišić court and everyone since in the different cases I list in 2 above. Three judges endorsed the concept in Perišić, and now Judge Afande has on entirely different grounds, but that still leaves a full 16 judges who have voted to have it overturned, some multiple times. By the by, this includes Judge Khan in Nyiramasuhuko, which means that even in Stanišić, the Agius/Afande coalition would likely have been inadequate to reinstate the standard had the judicial changes many lament not taken place. Nevertheless, even if Khan had been on the case and helped reinstate “specific direction” in Stanišić, the resulting judgment would still be at sharp odds with the vast majority of judicial thinking on the topic. Four times more judges think it is incorrect than are willing to endorse it.
  1. Looking through these more recent cases post Perišić, I read one additional judgment (not in my list in 2 above) that I think warrants mention. The ICTR’s Ngirabatware Appeals Judgment was presided over by Judge Meron and included Judge Liu, but it also involved three other judges who were entirely new to the issue. Logically, counsel for the defense argued, drawing on Perišić, that “the Trial Chamber erred in failing to determine whether the ‘specific direction’ requirement of aiding and abetting had been satisfied in his case.” (see para 145). The Appeals Chamber unanimously rejected this argument, despite their finding that “the Interahamwe used at least some of the weapons Ngirabatware distributed […] during the attacks and killings” (see para. 148) (my emphasis). Again, I’m not sure what “specific direction” means in its best light, but if it operates to deny complicity where conduct has a dual use, then surely Ngirabatware’s conduct was not “specifically directed” and he should have been acquitted. I suspect that people may argue about this given Ngirabatware’s intentions (separate from “specific direction”), but I wanted to highlight the case to suggest that even the minority of judges who advocate for this controversial standard in complicity are less than clear about when it applies and how.
  1. On the issue of substantive reasoning, I don’t necessarily share the concern about the absence of deep reasoning in the Stanišić Judgment. I take this position because the prior decision in Šainović was surely amongst the most meticulously researched judgments in the history of this discipline, drawing on the criminal law of an enormous number of states (see Šainović Appeal Judgment, paras 1617 – 1651). I’d written a doctorate that addressed the comparative law and theory of accomplice liability in ICL, then four years of further research on the topic thereafter, but still there were many sources in this judgment I’d never even heard of before. I can’t imagine what it took to acquire and analyse all these legal materials in such a short period of time, but however one views “specific direction” as a normative concept, I think we have to acknowledge that this depth of research and justification goes far beyond what criminal courts normally offer. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, it is without parallel on any other issue in ICL before or since. Accordingly, I didn’t see terribly much reason for the Stanišić Appeal Judgment to reinvent the wheel on this; it had been fully addressed previously. To be clear, no court has offered a compelling theoretical explanation of this problem, but I believe that task falls to academics.
  1. This brings me to Judge Afande’s apparent endorsement of “specific direction” by way of dissent in Stanišić, wherein he is the first and only judge to defend the concept since Perišić (Judge Tuzmukhamedov questioned the need to address it on the facts in Šainović but he did not opine on the propriety of the doctrine itself and Judge Agius has included a paragraph in two judgments maintaining his earlier reasoning without further argument). Although I respect Judge Afande’s attempt at finding a third way through a difficult legal problem and competing dissenting positions, it strikes me that: (a) the account he offers is no longer speaking about “specific direction” as espoused by Perišić (see my point 1 above); (b) his methods for this novel third way are at times highly suspect, like the use of dictionary definitions to cut through all previous debates; and (c) the resulting position is hard to reconcile with any of the different schools of thinking about blame attribution in the theory of complicity (see here). Perhaps others will defend Afande’s reasoning, but personally, I have some difficulty imagining that it will prove adequately convincing to bring so many judges around to readopting “specific direction” given the widespread judicial disagreement with it now. My guess is that only the in-depth work of scholars will be able to do that at this point, to the extent that they are able to establish that the problem of specificity (or whatever more accurate label we can attribute to the problem) cannot be accommodated anywhere else in conventional theories of blame attribution.
  1. Finally, a brief word about the changes to the composition of the bench in Stanišić. As my colleagues have pointed out, two of the judges were replaced with others before the Stanišić appeal hearing. I know very little about this backstory and have consistently steered clear of the various political controversies surrounding “specific direction”, but I confess that I don’t fully understand the complaint that the composition made the decision predictable or arbitrary. Judge Meron, himself an advocate of “specific direction,” appointed one judge for and another against “specific direction.” I see no scandal. The orders doing so were perfectly hum-drum, speaking about “the appeal management and case distribution needs of the Tribunal.” Isn’t this entirely normal and very banal? As we now know, it’s unlikely to have changed anything in the concrete case (Khan appears to be against “specific direction”) or the field as a whole (the vast majority of ICL judges clearly oppose “specific direction.”) As for predictability, I’m not sure what the problem with that is either. Many would argue that predictability is highly desirable in a criminal trial. Moreover, judges the world over almost always come with a known set of legal commitments. Think of the US Supreme Court. The parallel isn’t entirely direct, but I wanted to raise these points because I’m not convinced that this situation at the ICTY is quite as bad, surprising or irregular as some of the previous commentators have suggested. To my mind, the only thing that would be objectionably arbitrary is if, by chance, the very few international judges prepared to endorse “specific direction” again found themselves on a single appellate bench.

In any event, I hope some of the foregoing is helpful. I’ve written this uncomfortably quickly, so I hope readers will correct my errors, if there are any. Once again, I encourage scholars of all stripes to engage with this issue and the very many other difficult problems in the theory of complicity. As I mention, I believe they are part of an important struggle to lead ethically decent lives in a world that is at once highly inter-connected and very dysfunctional.

Happy holidays to one and all.

 

An Important New Orthodoxy on Complicity in the ICC Statute?

This post is exceptionally long by blogging standards, partly because my own views on aiding and abetting in the ICC Statute only crystallized during this symposium, but also because I wanted to offer a semi-comprehensive defense of this new position to close out the groundbreaking dialogue. I do not intend to post anything this long again for this bog, it just seemed important and timely in this instance. I’ve written this piece very quickly, without the time to seek input from the experts I sometimes speak for in this text. Accordingly, I have opened up the possibility for readers to write comments (click the ‘Leave a Comment’ button immediately below the title to this post or scroll to the end of it). I hope that the experts I cite, those I have unfortunately not been able to include in this debate, and interested readers from all backgrounds will improve my account by criticizing it.


Something very significant happened over the course of this symposium—a new, analytically compelling, and very consequential interpretation of the “purpose” standard of complicity in the ICC Statute may have emerged among a leading group of scholars. In this closing post, I offer a defense of this new definition, which I call orthodox now because I take it to be supported by the majority of the scholars that participated in this symposium and some who did not. Under the twelve headings that follow, I offer an argumentative synthesis of the debate, which begins with doctrine, addresses theory, then concludes with a set of residual points of disagreement that I hope will spark further research.

The ramifications of this new interpretation are significant.

I suspect that, like me, most judges, academics, and practitioners have entertained a doctrinally flawed and theoretically indefensible interpretation of “purpose” as a standard for accomplice liability in the ICC Statute for many years, which I hope this final post, together with the fine expert opinion upon which it is based, will help dispel. The new orthodox interpretation not only overturns reasonably firmly held scholarly and professional views to the contrary, it also countermands appellate decisions in US Alien Tort Statute cases that had drawn heavily on the ICC language, breaths new life into discussion about the role of complicity in business and human rights, and arguably adds fuel to the fire of those who believe that forms of responsibility in the ICC Statute are arranged hierarchically.

  1. The history of the Old Interpretation of the “purpose” standard

To recall, the English version of Article 25(3)(c) states that:

“In accordance with this Statute, a person shall be criminally responsible and liable for punishment for a crime within the jurisdiction of the Court if that person:… (c) For the “purpose” of facilitating the commission of such a crime, aids, abets or otherwise assists in its commission or its attempted commission, including providing the means for its commission”

The received wisdom (I call “the Old Interpretation” for the remainder of this blog), is that the “for the purpose of facilitating the commission of such a crime” denotes a volitional commitment to the consummated crime. An accomplice has to positively want the perpetrator to use her assistance to commit the crime. On this interpretation, cognizance of a criminal outcome that would certainly flow from one’s assistance is insufficient, with the consequence that indifference marks the dividing line between the ICC Statute’s “purpose” variant of complicity and the knowledge standard other international tribunals apply as a matter of course. In light of points made during this symposium, I now believe that this position is doctrinally inaccurate and theoretically indefensible.

Nonetheless, many (myself included) bought it hook, line and sinker. At the level of theory, we posited that the knowledge standard entailed a more communitarian notion of responsibility, whereas “purpose” was libertarian in construction. In practice, fever-pitch battles were fought between advocates of either side of a purpose/knowledge divide, culminating in a circuit split among US appellate courts on the topic within Alien Tort Statute cases and detailed discussion at various ad hoc tribunals. Although the ICC itself has not addressed the provision in great depth, it has indicated (somewhat confusingly) that “what is required for this form of responsibility is that the person provides assistance to the commission of a crime and that, in engaging in this conduct, he or she intends to facilitate the commission of the crime.” (see Goudé Confirmation Decision, para. 167). All the while, experts within the Business and Human Rights movement insisted on the knowledge standard of complicity in customary international law, watering down “purpose” as best they could.

I argue here that this assumed interpretation of “purpose” was incorrect, and that accordingly, bringing forth the more accurate (and far more defensible) meaning ushers in something of a Kuhnian paradigm shift for all these fields. In fact, if Markus Dubber is correct that the history of German criminal law is a history of “discoveries”, it strikes me that this collective undertaking has unearthed an interpretation of complicity in the ICC Statute that may also deserve that label.

  1. The important new orthodox interpretation of complicity in the ICC Statute

I start by setting out what I will describe as the new interpretation of aiding and abetting in Article 25(3)(c) of the ICC Statute that emerged most clearly over the course of this symposium (for convenience, I will call it the “New Interpretation” hereafter). According to this New Interpretation, the mental element of aiding and abetting in the ICC Statute should be interpreted as requiring a double test that is comprised of the following two elements:

  1. As for the fact of assistance, the accomplice must purposefully do that which facilitates the crime (or attempt to do that which would facilitate the crime) – The “purpose” requirement does not go to the consummated offense, it attaches to the act of facilitation. An accomplice cannot facilitate by negligence or recklessness, say by forgetfully leaving a gun on the kitchen table that someone else uses to murder a third party, but she is responsible for an international crime that requires intent (say deportation as a crime against humanity) if she purposefully supplies the weapon to the perpetrator, in the awareness that it will be used to forcibly displace civilians as part of a widespread and systematic attack in the ordinary course of events. For clarity, I use language in the heading above that deliberately steers clear of describing this requirement as “for the purpose of helping” or “for the purpose to assist”, because the words “help” and “assist” often (wrongly) imply some type of disposition towards to consummated crime when, as we will see below, this language is really just meant to reference the conduct that facilitates the crimes;

and

  1. As for the criminal result of the facilitation (whether attempted or completed), the accomplice must have whatever mental element is announced in the crime charged. Importantly, this second element arises from Art 30 of the Statute, which stipulates that mental elements require intention and knowledge “unless otherwise provided” elsewhere. Thus, because Art 25(3)(c) is silent as to the mental element for consequences of an aider and abettor’s assistance, we should use definitions contained in Article 30 to fill this void. After all, this is how we read all the other forms of participation in Articles 25(3)(a) through (d). Thus, because the vast majority of international crimes are silent as to the mental element, Article 30 stipulates that the accomplice is liable if “in relation to a consequence, that person means to cause that consequence or is aware that it will occur in the ordinary course of events.” A minority of crimes explicitly raise the mental element higher by demanding a special intent (think genocide, persecution, torture), whereas a select few drop it lower (think of the war crime of using, conscripting or enlisting children in Art 8(2)(b)(xxvi), which only requires that “[t]he perpetrator knew or should have known that such person or persons were under the age of 15 years.” This is negligence.) For these exceptional offenses, the mental element for the accomplice is “otherwise provided for” by the crime. For all others, the lowest standard of intention applies, meaning that an accomplice will be found guilty if he purposefully provides the assistance, “aware that it [the prohibited criminal result] will occur in the ordinary course of events.”

 In what follows, I defend this New Interpretation, first by aggregating and synthesizing selected arguments made by other experts in this symposium, then by taking issue with the idea that a literal interpretation of Article 25(3)(c) necessarily leads to any particular conclusion. I go on to show how experts in our symposium might justifiably reach this new reading of the provision based on a range of factors that include the full structure of the US Model Penal Code and the negotiating history to the ICC standard. Finally, I argue that the Old Interpretation is theoretically indefensible whereas the new is not, even if this leaves a set of residual questions for further debate.

  1. Through different routes, the majority of experts confirm that, doctrinally speaking, “purpose” means the New Interpretation

 Here, I simply want to highlight how and to what extent our various discussants in this symposium support the New Interpretation. As you will see, they endorse it with varying degrees of directness and commitment, to the point that some may wish to retort at the bottom of this post if I have misunderstood their position. Until then, I explain my reading of each of our discussants in order to transform the New Interpretation into the dominant orthodoxy on this issue—given that the symposium involves a significant cross-section of experts who have worked very extensively on these topics for a large number of years, I believe their shared opinion holds great weight in this regard.

  • Thomas WeigendThomas Weigend’s contribution is a masterpiece. Later, I show how one of his arguments is a genuine breakthrough for the theory of complicity, which cuts through hundreds of pages in the (Anglo-American) literature on the topic. Leaving theory to one side momentarily, doctrinally speaking, Weigend is a powerful and explicit advocate for the New Interpretation I highlight here. His paragraph on the topic is worth re-quoting in full:

“The Statute speaks of “the “purpose” of facilitating the commission of such a crime”; the assistant’s “purpose” thus is not the crime but the facilitation. This means that the assistant’s objective must be to facilitate the act of the main perpetrator; but her will need not encompass the result of the perpetrator’s conduct. For example, if an arms trader sells weapons to a dictator, he will be punishable only if he does so with the “purpose” of facilitating the dictator’s use of armed force; but the fact that the armed force will be used against unarmed civilians and will therefore constitute a crime against humanity need not be the arms dealer’s “purpose” (although he needs to know about that particular use in order to be liable as an assistant under Art. 30 of the ICC Statute).”

Although none of the other authors employ wording so closely attuned to the New Interpretation, I believe they all offer analyses that support it. Below, I synthesize portions of their thinking that I read as supporting Weigend’s interpretation in an attempt to at least partially substantiate my claim that this represents the new orthodoxy in the hermeneutics of this provision within the ICC Statute.

  • Flavio Noto – Noto concludes his excellent post by stating that “a volitional commitment requirement for aiding and abetting [is] redundant and inappropriate.” This conclusion comprises both normative and doctrinal components, but focusing on just the doctrinal limb for now, he is of the opinion that “there is merit in suggesting that proof of certain knowledge fulfills the mens rea required by Article 25(3)(c)”. For most international crimes, this position squares with the language of Article 30, which requires, as a minimum, that an accomplice is “aware that it [the perpetrator’s crime] will occur in the ordinary course of events.” This terminology is as close as one gets to “certain knowledge of future events” (Noto’s term), meaning that Article 30 provides a powerful doctrinal grounding for his argument. Personally, I would argue that the mental element for accomplices should also vary for the small number of international crimes that require more or less than intention, in order to stay true to the “unless otherwise provided” language in Article 30, but I see counterarguments, and this is perhaps a topic for further research. The upshot is that Noto rejects forcefully a strong “purpose” standard, and embraces an interpretation that very significantly overlaps with the New Interpretation I offer here.
  • Sarah Finnin & Nema MilaniniaThis joint contribution to our symposium adroitly places the “purpose” standard in context, reasoning that “an additional ‘“purpose”’ requirement is problematic for a number of reasons”. Although their contribution raises a number of very helpful points that feature elsewhere in this synthesis, they limit they argument about interpreting the “purpose” standard in the ICC by arguing that knowledge of a particular outcome will usually allow courts to infer “purpose” absent other compelling explanations, and that a “purpose” may be one of many rationale for the accomplice’s actions; it need not be the sole Because Finnin and Milaninia’s contribution is more directed to a wider context than technicalities of interpretation, one cannot find anything overtly supporting the New Interpretation in their helpful contextualization. Nonetheless, nothing they say is obviously inconsistent with the New Interpretation, and much of their reasoning supports it in spirit
  • Cassandra Steer – I am not entirely sure whether she would agree with me, but I read Cassandra Steer’s contribution as consistent with the new definition I argue for. Steer defends the so-called compensation theory, which is the traditional rationale for elevating the mental element for complicity to a strong notion of “purpose”, viz. a volitional commitment to the criminal outcome. The rationale for this compensatory move derives from the relative weakness of the accomplice’s physical contribution as compared with that of the perpetrator (I return to this argument later). However, I read her use of this argument as defending the idea that “purpose” should go to the act of facilitation (not the consummated offence), in part because Cassandra helpfully points to the possibility of “double intent”, but predominantly since she ultimately concludes that in interpreting aiding and abetting in the ICC statute, “it may be possible to include knowledge, willful blindness or dolus eventualis, especially since in civil law jurisdictions these all amount to gradations of intent.” Therefore, “purpose” must define facilitation, whereas intent goes to results. If this is a fair reading of her, her position coincides with the New Interpretation.
  • Adil Ahmad HaqueHaque’s post affirms the New Interpretation very directly, if we read him as endorsing one of the possibilities he raises, namely, that “the drafters [of the ICC Statute] intended to track the MPC.” In particular, he argues that “[a]t the first step, we apply 2.06(3) to determine whether the defendant is an accomplice to the perpetrator’s conduct, ie, if the defendant aided the perpetrator with the “purpose” of facilitating the perpetrator’s conduct. Only at the second step do we ask whether, in addition, the defendant had whatever mental state with respect to the results of that conduct is required for commission of the crime. So 2.06(4) adds to, and does not subtract from, the “purpose” requirement of 2.06(3).” On the assumption that States meant to incorporate the whole MPC scheme into the ICC standard and used Art 30 of the ICC Statute to do the work the MPC assigned to 2.06(4) (see below on legislative intentions and the relevance of the MPC), I take Adil as an explicit advocate of the New Interpretation.
  • Elies van Sliedregt and Alexandra Popova – In their contribution to this debate, these authors too begin by “agree[ing] with James Stewart’s initial intuition, and the conclusions reached by others in this series of posts, that interpreting Article 25(3)(c)’s reference to “purpose” as requiring that the accomplice share the principal’s intent would set too high a threshold for responsibility.” However, they also opine that “it is self-evident that [purpose’s] inclusion in Article 25(3)(c) has the effect of displacing the application of Article 30.” While I would agree with respect to the facilitation, I (and others who support the New Interpretation) consider that it does not do so with respect to prohibited results. They may share this view—they go on to advocate for a double intent that is analogous in form to that contained in the New Interpretation, and a clear rejection of the old dominant interpretation. van Sliedregt and Popova argue that “purpose presupposes knowledge of the principal’s intent coupled with voluntariness, or will, to be party thereto.” All that is required to merge this language with the New Interpretation is to understand their “will to be party” as a purpose to do that which facilitates and their “knowledge of the principal’s intent” as an intention to bring about the criminal result, relying on Article 30 of the ICC Statute to enunciate the meaning of intent (which, of course, includes “aware[ness] that [the criminal result] will occur in the ordinary course of events,” which their “knowledge of the principal’s intent” could help prove).
  1. Other leading academics support the New Interpretation

 I describe the orthodoxy I believe emerged over the course of this symposium as new, but it is really only its rise to prominence that is especially novel. In truth, a number of leading experts in the field of international criminal justice had already advanced this interpretation, or something close to it, well before these debates. I take this opportunity to summarize some of this pre-existing expert opinion. Usually, views on the question are relatively concise, so I content myself in citing them verbatim then offering minor explanation where necessary:

  • Albin Eser – Albin Eser is a leading theorists of international and comparative criminal law, who has served as the Director of the Max Planck Institute for Foreign and International Criminal Law in Freiburg and an ad litem judge at the ICTY. Well before this symposium, he argued for the New Interpretation. His argument is also worth quoting at length and requires no commentary on my part:

“As a general norm on the mental element, Article 30 of the ICC statute is not only applicable to the perpetrator, but other participants in terms of article 25(3)(a) – (e) of the ICC statute as well. This means that, in principle, the mental requirements for an accomplice are neither higher nor lower than those for the perpetrator, therefore a participant can in particular not be held responsible for mere recklessness or negligence either. Nevertheless, there are some particularities of complicity to be observed.

 In general, due to the accessorial nature of complicity, the accomplice must have a ‘double intent’, both with regard to his own conduct and with regard to the content and knowledge of the principal. In both relations the requirements of intent and knowledge of basically the same as with regard to a single perpetrator. This general line is not without exceptions, however, which in particular concern two groups: one being aiders and abettors who, beyond their general double intent, must act “for the “purpose” of facilitating the commission of [such] a crime” according to article 25(3)(c) of the ICC Statute.”

Albin Eser, Individual Criminal Responsibility, in The Rome Statute Commentary, pp. 933-934

  • Kia Ambos – Although Ambos does not argue for the New Interpretation quite as explicitly as his compatriot, I read him as supporting it implicitly. Ambos argues that:

“it is important to note that this higher subjective threshold (‘“purpose”’) only applies to the relation between the contribution and the execution of the crime (‘facilitation’). With regard to additional mens rea requirements, for example, the ‘intent to destroy’ in article 6, it suffices for the assistant to be aware of the perpetrator’s special intent, but he need not himself possess this intent.”

(See Treatise on International Criminal Law, p. 166).

I hope Professor Ambos will correct me if I misread him, but I take his reasoning as oblique support for the New Interpretation. If “purpose” only goes to the facilitation, then the mental element required for consequences of the criminal undertaking is derived from the crime itself. Ambos uses genocide as his example but I see no reason why the principle should not hold for crimes that do not have special intents. Also, I believe that awareness of the perpetrator’s intent could well be and often is an indicia of the accomplice’s awareness that a crime will follow from her purposeful assistance in the ordinary course of events.

* * *

I do not include other excellent authors here, many of whom have argued against interpreting “purpose” as entailing a volitional commitment to the consummated offence. This is partly due to a lack of space, but predominantly because they adopt a different interpretative strategy, at least in the scholarship I’ve seen. Nevertheless, I did want to acknowledge the exceptional work of Hans Vest and Doug Cassal in this regard. I suspect that these scholars may also support the New Interpretation, but here I have no basis to speak for them.

  1. The literal interpretation of the ICC Statute’s complicity provision is ambiguous

 My task now is to defend this new orthodoxy, in doctrinal terms and (very briefly) in theory. I start by attempting to defeat its main adversary in these debates: the argument that a literal interpretation cannot support any reading other than the Old Interpretation. Undoubtedly, the Old Interpretation represents a very plausible literal interpretation of Article 25(3)(c) of the ICC Statute, but I here suggest that there are at least four others, and that the language of the provision itself does little work in guiding our choice between the variants. To draw on Herbert Hart, the provision is more penumbra of doubt than core of settled meaning. So, given this literal ambiguity, I believe that the contextual factors I address in subsequent sections are most important in suggesting the New Interpretation as the most cogent interpretation of all the literal possibilities.

Taking this language at face value, one can certainly come to the conclusion that aiding and abetting in the ICC Statute requires that the accomplice positively want to facilitate the commission of the entire offense. This is the first and most common interpretation. Yet, it is far from inevitable. This Old Interpretation makes several assumptions that the text itself does not inevitably impose, namely that: (a) the term “purpose” attaches to “commission of such a crime”; (b) the English language version of the ICC Statute is the only version worth considering in these debates; (c) “purpose” relates to the accomplice’s subjective mental element; and (d) “purpose” signifies the overall objective, motivation, or rationale for the acts that gave rise to the accessorial liability. Each of these assumptions is contestable, and in a way, all of the experts in this symposium have rejected at least one of them.

So, the New Interpretation offers a plausible second literal reading by contesting assumption (a) above. Structurally speaking, Article 30 of the ICC statute creates a general provision that goes to all forms of responsibility (and indeed crimes) unless these forms of responsibility and crimes designate otherwise. This is evident from the beginning of Article 30 of the ICC statute, which starts with the famous words “unless otherwise provided for.” Mental elements for forms of responsibility are frequently “not provided for” in the ICC Statute, which means that Article 30 does all the work in generating the applicable mental elements. For example, article 25(3)(a) of the ICC Statute, which deals with perpetration rather than complicity, makes no mention of mental elements at all, since these are left to Article 30 in the wider ecology of the statute.

If “purpose” goes to the act of facilitation rather than the consummated criminal offense, Article 30 is binding in defining mental elements for results of this facilitation. Some may say that this effectively inserts the words “the conduct that led to” into the phrase “for the “purpose of facilitating the commission of such a crime” such that a new reworked provision actually reads “for the “purpose” of facilitating the conduct that led to commission such a crime”. One can certainly understand how critics might object that this insertion is inconsistent with the strictures of literal construction, but it is better to think of the additional language as a mere clarification of an inherent ambiguity, which is consistent with the origins of the provision, expert opinion, and basic principles in the theory of blame attribution. I say more about each of these below. For now, I merely want to highlight this second, imminently plausible literal reading of this provision.

It is too early to say, but some might offer third interpretations by reading the equivalent of “purpose” in other official languages of the ICC Statute. Over the course of this symposium, a translator from the ICTY contacted me inquiring about the French equivalent “en vue de,” especially when French is the ICC’s other working language. Robert Roth’s insightful remarks assimilated the phrase “en vue de” to the strongest form of intention, but regrettably, I failed to ask him to explore precisely how, why and when this takes place in Swiss criminal law. My failure is important, since it leaves open the possibility that, if translated as “with a view to,” the French might prioritize cognition where the English “purpose” seemingly implies volition. I include this question as one of a long list of issues that require further research (along with analysis of the equivalent terms in the equally authoritative Chinese, Russian, Arabic and Spanish versions of the Statute). For now, suffice it to say that linguistic variations undermine the thesis that a literal interpretation of “purpose” necessarily leads anywhere particular.

In a fourth possible reading, Thomas Weigend points to an interpretation that treats “purpose” not as a mental element at all, but as an objective characteristic of the facilitation. In effect, he points to scholars who contest (c) above. In describing the work of Antje Heyer and Katherine Gallagher, both of whom I respect as scholars, Weigend considers as “plausible” that “for the “purpose” of facilitating the commission can also be interpreted as an element of the actus reus of assisting: the assistant’s conduct must be specifically shaped in a way to be of use to the perpetrator.” I don’t want to rush to judgment on this idea and defer to Weigend’s much greater wisdom on what may or may not pass the plausibility threshold and certainly appreciate these scholars’ work, but at present, I do confess grave doubts about the coherence of this explanation. The point is, the text itself is entirely silent on the topic; it does not confirm or deny this reading. Thus, I include this interpretation here to undermine the thesis that a literal interpretation inexorably leads to the Old Interpretation of “purpose.” Analytically, that’s simply untrue.

Finally, what does “purpose” mean anyway? Even if the provision was clear about what “purpose” attaches to (facilitation itself or the consummated crime), whether the reference to “purpose” is a mens rea requirement or an objective characteristic of the facilitation offered, and how linguistic variations of the standard affect the concept’s meaning across different languages, we still have to come to some understanding about the interpretation we give the term. In this regard, Thomas Weigend brilliantly insists on a firm distinction between “purpose” and motive, downgrading common perceptions of “purpose” as requiring a singular, ultimate desire towards a defined end. In short, he contests assumption (d) above. Robert Roth, Elies van Sliegdredt and Alexander Popova join Weigend on this score. Some of them also employ the term “joint-intention,” which adds new valences to an interpretative smorgasbord that the language in Art 25(3)(c) does not restrain.

In my view, references to “intention” are a great source of confusion in the theory of complicity generally and its incarnation in the ICC Statute specifically. In the 1950’s, when the American Law Institute was developing the U.S. Model Penal Code under the direction of Herbert Wechsler, the leading American scholars involved in the project elected to abandon the term “intention” completely, because it lent itself to far too many meanings, many of which were more prone to spark profound and lasting dispute than produce nuanced standards to work with. If that was true within a single nation state, one can only begin to imagine how much worse the problem is internationally, especially when other nations understand the term differently and there is an attempt to insert it onto a provision governing complicity in the ICC Statute that makes no mention of intention at all. Again, however we resolve these ambiguities, the language of Art 23(3)(c) itself will not prove terribly helpful.

For all these reasons, literalism does not inevitably support the Old Interpretation, requiring us to look elsewhere for guidance in deciding between these options.

  1. The US Model Penal Code, from whence the ICC standard comes, confirms the New Interpretation

As I mentioned in my initial post that began this symposium, the US Model Penal Code (“MPC”) is widely regarded as the inspiration for Article 25(3)(c) of the ICC Statute. Despite this, a key provision within the MPC’s treatment of complicity has never featured in debates about the shape we give to aiding and abetting in the ICC context, despite the fact that it clearly militates in favor of the New Interpretation. I start this section by demonstrating the striking paralleled between complicity in the ICC Statute and the version in the MPC to substantiate the latter’s influence on the former. Then, I set out the missing provision in the MPC that has important but under-appreciated implications for our preference between the different literal interpretations of Article 25(3)(c) we just considered.

Two features of the provision governing aiding and abetting in the ICC Statute are dead giveaways of its provenance. The first, of course, is that the MPC speaks of “with the purpose of promoting or facilitating the commission of the offense…”, whereas the ICC Statute statute reads “[f]or the “purpose” of facilitating the commission of such a crime…” In a second dead giveaway of the MPC’s great influence, the ICC standard for complicity is triggered when an individual merely attempts complicity. Art 25(3)(c) of the ICC reads “aids, abets or otherwise assists in its commission or its attempted commission.” This is something of a scandal conceptually, but doctrinally, it is a very significant parallel with the MPC that has no equivalent elsewhere in international criminal justice and is very rare nationally. Like the ICC Statute, the MPC reads “aids or agrees or attempts to aid such other person in planning or committing it” (See § 2.06(3)(a)(ii) (emphasis added). So, both points of mimicry between the two instruments substantiate the received wisdom that the provision in the ICC Statute was largely a copy and paste.

And yet, there is one provision within the MPC definition that has not featured within these debates, despite the fact that it obviously favored the New Interpretation of the ICC Statute. As I set out in my original post, the very next provision in the MPC after the “purpose” reference on aiding and abetting reads that “[w]hen causing a particular result is an element of an offense, an accomplice in the conduct causing such result is an accomplice in the commission of that offense if he acts with the kind of culpability, if any, with respect to that result that is sufficient for the commission of the offense.” (see page 22 of the article). For several reasons, the import of this second missing provision is hard to overstate in the transition from the Old to the New Interpretation of complicity in the ICC Statute.

Most importantly, this missing provision supports the idea of reading “the conduct that led to” into the phrase “for the “purpose” of facilitating the commission of such a crime” such that the new reworked provision in total now reads “for the “purpose” of facilitating the conduct that led to commission of such a crime”. Tellingly, this is precisely the way one must read the MPC, too. Under the MPC’s definition, there is no way of making sense of the inclusion of this reference to the missing passage dealing with “causing a particular result” (§ 2.06(4)) without assuming that “with the “purpose” of promoting or facilitating the commission of the offense (§ 2.06(3)(a)(ii)) goes to the act of facilitation, not the criminal result. Adil Haque’s excellent post on the topic from an American perspective confirms exactly this reading (see in particular, his discussion of Riley v. State as a good illustration).

Let me deal with the retort that, “well, this is all very pleasant but these intricacies in the MPC don’t have much to do with the entirely separate international treaty that is the ICC Statute.” A number of my colleagues mentioned Article 31 of the Vienna Convention as requiring a plain meaning to these terms. As I argue above, to my mind, that argument does not advance the ball terribly much: the provision governing complicity in the ICC Statute is literally silent as to whether “purpose” goes to the facilitation alone or the consummated offense, some leading theorists think there is plausible ambiguity about whether “purpose” should be considered a mental element, linguistic discrepancies pose real challenges to literal interpretations, and “purpose” goes undefined in the Statute too. If Thomas Weigend considers this drafting “enigmatic,” literalism alone is unhelpful.

Therefore, Article 32 of the Vienna Convention is germane. To recall, Article 32 of the Vienna Convention refers to the “preparatory work of a treaty”, that can be employed to determine the meaning of a treaty provision when the literal interpretation “(a) leaves the meaning ambiguous or obscure; or (b) leads to a result which is manifestly absurd or unreasonable.” The very fact that the interpretation of complicity in the ICC Statute gives rise to so much debate, that so many interpretations are available from the text, that so many of us who have spent years working on this topic seem to have got the wrong end of the stick up until now, and that at least one of the world’s leading scholars views the language as “enigmatic” would tend to prove that this wording is “ambiguous or obscure”.

As we saw a moment ago, I also read all participants in this symposium as concluding that the Old Interpretation of complicity in the ICC Statute (requiring a volitional commitment to the consummated offense) is “manifestly absurd or unreasonable.” On either count, I believe that reading the ICC standard of complicity in light of its forebear in the MPC finds a firm mandate in international law.

In fact, ignoring this genesis risks fundamentally distorting the concept. In light of the fact that the ICC standard incontrovertibly heralds from the MPC, that recourse to the MPC offers a compelling explanation of how to read an inherent ambiguity in the ICC standard, and that this New Interpretation accords with the interpretation that the vast majority of leading experts in this symposium would support as a matter of both doctrine and theory, it would be unfortunate to maintain an old interpretation that is effectively disproved merely because of some artificially formal divide between the ICC Statute as a treaty and the MPC as a national code. This is all the more true when other factors also militate so powerfully in favor of the New Interpretation.

  1. Negotiators of the ICC Statute intended the New Interpretation, not a volitional commitment to the consummated crime

In the proceeding section, I argued that the MPC is an important source of interpretation for the ICC Statute’s complicity standard, but if the MPC is the ICC’s obvious progenitor on this topic, it remains to be seen how those responsible for negotiating the Rome Statute saw these matters. Here, we are confronted with a curious fact—they never mention the MPC. Nonetheless, they do interpret the “purpose” standard in ways that are perfectly consistent with the New Interpretation derived from the MPC, and their views cannot be reconciled with the Old Interpretation in any way, shape or form. I start by setting out two of the most cited comments from prominent experts who negotiated the provision in the ICC Statute, then show how they more or less directly endorse the New Interpretation.

In my opening post, I cite an abbreviated passage written by Donald Piragoff, Canada’s representative during the negotiations of the ICC Statute, who played a leading role in the negotiation of the aiding and abetting provision at Rome. I include the full citation below because it unequivocally confirms the New Interpretation:

“A question arises as to whether the conjunctive formulation [intent and knowledge] changes existing international jurisprudence that an accomplice (such as an aider or abettor) need not share the same mens rea of the principal, and that a knowing participation in the commission of an offence or awareness of the act of participation coupled with a conscious decision to participate is sufficient mental culpability for an accomplice. It is submitted that the conjunctive formulation has not altered this jurisprudence, but merely reflects the fact that aiding and abetting by an accused requires both knowledge of the crime being committed by the principal and some intentional conduct by the accused that constitutes the participation . . . . Article 30 para. 2(b) makes it clear that “intent” may be satisfied by an awareness that a consequence will occur in the ordinary course of events. This same type of awareness can also satisfy the mental element of “knowledge,” as defined in article 30, para. 3. Therefore, if both “intent” and “knowledge” are required on the part of an accomplice, these mental elements can be satisfied by such awareness.” (See page 355 of this article).

Pause momentarily to notice the structure of this explanation before we move to analyze its content. Piragoff speaks of two mental elements: a knowledge component that goes to the principal’s commission of the crime, and an intentional disposition towards the accomplice’s participation. In the passage just quoted, he explicitly refers to this as a “conjunctive formulation.” That there are two elements immediately discredits the Old Interpretation, which viewed “purpose” as the singular standard that required the accomplice to harbor a volitional commitment to the completed offense. That there are two mental elements immediately contradicts that reading, regardless of their content.

In terms of content, Piragoff’s expression is readily reconcilable with the New Interpretation. His first element—knowledge of the crime being committed by the principal—squares with the lower standard of intention in Article 30 of the ICC Statute, which includes awareness that a consequence will occur in the ordinary course of events. He acknowledges this explicitly. If we take his second element, which refers to “intention,” to envision the strongest sub-component of that amorphous term, then he is explaining that “purpose” goes to what he calls “conduct by the accused that constitutes the participation.” Admittedly, he does not reference “purpose” at all in this explanation, but there is no other non-bizarre way of mapping his account onto the language that actually exists in the Statute he negotiated.

This reading of his explanation is in perfect accord with the content of the New Interpretation, which to repeat, views “purpose” as attaching to the act of facilitation and awareness that a consequence will occur in the ordinary course of events as the lowest relevant mental element for most international crimes in the ICC Statute. (Again, for the sake of completeness, recall that some international crimes require more than intention while others require less. I suggest that the second mental element for complicity should shift in line with these definitions of crimes, so that awareness that a consequence will occur in the ordinary course of events will not be the applicable standard in all instances).

David Scheffer, the head of the U.S.’s delegation in Rome, agrees with this assessment in even clearer terms. He states that:

“the ‘purpose’ language stated the de minimus and obvious point, namely, that an aider or abettor “purposely acts in a manner that has the consequence of facilitating the commission of a crime, but one must look to Article 30(2)(b) for guidance on how to frame the intent of the aider or abettor with respect to that consequence.” (See page 355 of this article).

The explanations both these authors offer regarding the text coincide with its origins in the MPC, the new orthodoxy among participants in this symposium, and theoretical questions about complicity I turn to below. Moreover, there is nothing whatsoever in this history that supports the Old Interpretation, namely, that “purpose” requires a volitional commitment to the consummated offense. Accordingly, it is hard to resist the view that the negotiating history to the ICC’s provision governing complicity is another nail in the coffin of the old mistaken interpretation so many of us unwittingly assumed for so long. The negotiating history is especially potent given the literal ambiguities I point to.

  1. The majority of the few national legal systems that employ “purpose” as a complicity standard confirm the validity of New Interpretation of the ICC Statute

In their post contextualizing the “purpose” standard in the ICC Statute, Sarah Finnin & Nema Milaninia do a great job pointing out how “purpose” is only applied as a standard of complicity in a great paucity of criminal law systems. All other international courts and tribunals apply a knowledge standard (that boils down to recklessness in practice), which is largely drawn from an equivalent standard in Anglo-American systems. Generally speaking, systems inspired by continental models apply dolus eventualis (vaguely akin to recklessness) as the lowest standard for accomplice liability, and the unitary theory countries like Norway, Denmark, Italy, Austria, and Brazil pair the accomplice’s mental element to that required for perpetration. Moreover, even if “purpose” is a great outlier in comparative terms, the majority of the few examples of it in national legal systems are striking in that they confirm the New Interpretation.

After accepting that the old interpretation of “purpose” in the ICC Statute is indefensible and therefore undesirable, Elies van Sliedregt & Alex Popova argue that “nor can Article 25(3)(c)’s reference to “purpose” be interpreted away, into non existence.” I agree with this argument, and hope that the foregoing shows how the New Interpretation does not bring about an affront on literal interpretation; it continues to assign “purpose” an important role but limits this role to the act of facilitation, leaving Article 30 to govern consequences. Put differently, the New Interpretation respects the terminology set out in Article 25(3)(c), it just attaches it to the conduct of the accomplice not the criminal enterprise en gross. This much is repetition. What is distinct about the limited national experience with “purpose” as a standard of complicity, however, is the fact that major national systems do exactly what van Sliedregt & Popova say is impossible—in the majority of national systems where the legislature has adopted a “purpose” standard of complicity, courts do interpret it into non-existence.

In my opening post, I set out a series of examples from various national systems that adopt “purpose” standards. I will not repeat them all again here, but in summary, the US Supreme Court recently adopted a knowledge standard explicitly in a case called Rosemond v. United States, even though their earlier caselaw required the accomplice to have “a stake in” the resulting offense. Justice Alito observed in dissent, having reviewed the history of the knowledge and purpose debates up until then in the U.S., that the majority opinion confounds these two standards. Nonetheless, it is tremendously significant that the resulting standard for complicity is knowledge, and that the US Supreme Court is clear that “[t]he law does not, nor should it, care whether he participates with a happy heart or a sense of foreboding.” This is the country that is said to be at the origins of the “purpose” standard for accomplice liability.

As the citations in my earlier post show, both Canada and New Zealand follow a similar logic. Both contain “purpose” standards in legislation, but their Supreme Courts interpret them as requiring either knowledge or intention vis-à-vis the completed offense. If reducing “purpose” to intention seems strange, see John Finnis’s (one of English law’s most important figures) explanation of how most English jurisdictions extent intention downwards, whereas “Canadians select purpose as the term to be artificially extended.” (see this article, fn 74). By this, he means that English systems include standards lower than a volitional commitment as intention, which he views as terminologically inaccurate. This, of course, reflects the debate about whether dolus eventualis can be accurately described as an element of intention in civil law systems, or whether it requires its own autonomous existence as a basis for blame attribution. Following Finnis’ logic, the jurisdictions that view “purpose” as containing more than pure volition towards a completed crime are just mimicking a similar approach in all other jurisdictions, including the ICC. Importantly, however, purpose means knowledge in these countries and cannot, therefore, be used to bolster the Old Interpretation.

On the other hand, Isreali criminal law clearly adopts the New Interpretation. As I point out in my earlier post, Israel is also a “purpose” jurisdiction, but the leading case stipulates that “where the aider only foresees the possibility of the commission of the principal offense, the aider may be convicted if it is his or her desire that should the offense actually be committed, his or her act will facilitate its commission.” Itzhak Kugler, Israel, in The Handbook of Comparative Criminal Law 352, 370 (Kevin Jon Heller & Markus Dubber eds.) (citing the Israeli Supreme Court case of CA. 320/99 Plonit v. State of Israel 55(3) PD 22 [1999]. In commenting on the decision, Kugler explains that “[t]he requirement of the code that the actor act with the “purpose” of facilitating the crime relates only to the contribution of the aider; that is, it is required that he or she want his or her act to facilitate the commission of the offense… Thus, in the case where the aider was almost certain that his or her act would facilitate the commission of an offense, the aider may be convicted in spite of the fact that he or she did not desire to facilitate the commission of the offense.”

These nationals examples displace the old assumptions about “purpose” as a mental element for complicity, which turn out to be unsupported by so many different sources of authority, including national law.

  1. The New Interpretation of complicity in the ICC Statute minimizes the discrepancy with the standard in customary international law

Finnin and Milaninia assert that “there is scope for the [ICC] to interpret the ‘purpose’ requirement broadly, and in a manner that minimizes the divergence from customary international law.” This opinion coincides with that of David Scheffer, who writes that:

“The wording of article 25(3)(c) was uniquely crafted for the ICC, and when read in conjunction with the mens rea standards set forth in article 30 of the Rome statute, it leaves the judges of the ICC the task of determining precisely the proper criteria for accessorial liability. Nothing discourages or prevents them from looking to the growing jurisprudence of the international criminal tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda, the Special Court for Sierra Leone, the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia, to state practice, and the scholarly texts for guidance on this issue.” (See page 352 of this article).

There are a range of good reasons for taking this advice seriously. In a separate piece I wrote for Elies van Sliedregt and Sergey Vasiliev’s new edited volume, Pluralism in International Criminal Law
(OUP, 2014), I pointed to a range of problems that arise from disparate understandings of forms of attribution for international crimes, amongst international and domestic jurisdictions alike. I will not rehearse those arguments here, except to say that the difficulties with the fragmentation of international law are real, particularly relevant for complicity, and without obvious solution apart from asking judges to attempt harmonization wherever possible. I suggest that the New Interpretation offers them an opportunity to do just this.

The Old Interpretation of “purpose” in the ICC Statute creates an important cleavage between complicity in the ICC Statute and customary international law. The idea that “purpose” somehow denotes a volitional commitment to the outcome, a desire to bring about the completed offense, clashes with “knowledge” as applied by other international courts and tribunals who purport to draw on custom. The choice between these two standards has led to protracted litigation in the context of the Alien Tort Statute, appellate litigation in national criminal tribunals, and confounds the business and human rights discourse. Moreover, as I have attempted to show once or twice (see here, pp. 38-39 and here, pp. 30-31), the customary standard reduces to recklessness in practice, which is problematic when recklessness will not suffice for perpetration of the crime the accomplice will be held responsible for.

The New Interpretation of aiding and abetting brings the mental element for complicity much closer to this customary standard, and does so while simultaneously preventing against excesses the customary standard may occasion. I say more about the theoretical credentials of both the old and New Interpretations further below. For now, I simply want to add the need for greater harmony in this area of law to the catalog of arguments for the New Interpretation listed elsewhere in this post.

10. The Old Interpretation is not theoretically defensible

One could easily write a book many times longer than this post on the theory of accomplice liability (and many, including those who contributed to this symposium, have). I don’t want to delve into this theory too deeply here, in part because I have written about the topic at far greater length elsewhere. In previous work, I have set out a relatively neutral survey of the various theoretical options for constructing accomplice liability (see here), and offered a more opinionated set of arguments for adopting a unitary theory of perpetration as the best option for international crimes (see here). Most recently, I canvased the literature for and against a “purpose” standard for accomplice liability (see here, Section II.C Towards a Moral Theory of Accomplice Liability).

In each of these earlier pieces of work, I made various normative criticisms of the Old Interpretation of the “purpose” standard (i.e. one that requires the accomplice to positively want the completed offense). They range from a strong sense of “purpose” driving a stake between desert and responsibility, to a “purpose” standard failing to match popular notions of blame and guilt, thereby undermining the social function of international trials (see here, pp. 44-47). Instead of rehashing these various arguments here again, I want to pick up on Falvio Noto’s observation about how this Old Interpretation came into being internationally, then address the three strands of argumentation he rightly claims maintained the Old Interpretation as a received wisdom about complicity in the ICC Statute. Before proceeding, however, I do think it is important to note that no expert in this symposium defended the Old Interpretation in conceptual terms.

According to Noto:

“[t]hree lines of argumentation can be discerned: Some authors claim that the purposive motivation requirement balances the low objective threshold. That reasoning is difficult to uphold given that the Lubanga Trial Chamber interpreted Article 25(3)(c) as requiring substantial effect (even though it did so in an obiter dictum). Other commentators appear to view Article 25(3)(c) in the light of domestic doctrines restricting the scope of aiding and abetting by means of an elevated mens rea requirement. Lastly, a variety of scholars derive a dolus directus in the 1st degree threshold from their reading of Article 2.06 MPC, on which Article 25(3)(c), they claim, was based on.”

We have already addressed the second and third arguments, I hope convincingly. The majority of the very few national systems that use “purpose” as a standard for complicity do not support the Old Interpretation as we all suspected—they either dilute the term so that in means knowledge or adopt the New Interpretation that attaches “purpose” to the facilitation rather than the completed offense as a whole. Moreover, one can only think that the MPC supports the Old Interpretation by leaving out a key provision within that instrument—as we’ve seen, once this missing provision is reinserted into the interpretative frame, the MPC unmistakably favors the New Interpretation (see section 5, above). Finally, those who actually negotiated the ICC standard report that States intended the New Interpretation, trumping all arguments from national law anyway. The second and third arguments fall away, leaving just the first.

It is really Noto first argument that has served as the Old Interpretation’s theoretical anchor—we need to drive the mental element of “purpose” to the highest possible ground, goes the argument, in order to compensate for the weak physical contribution an accomplice makes relative to the perpetrator. On its face, this idea of compensation is appealing, and it looms large in the very few conceptual accounts of accomplice liability that are prepared to defend a strong notion of “purpose” as the appropriate mental state for accessorial liability. As I say, it appeared once or twice in the symposium too, although no one appeared to use it to defend the Old Interpretation explicitly.

In a very significant moment for the field, Thomas Weigend’s post dispatched this argument very convincingly. His dismantling of the compensation argument for “purpose” as a standard for aiding and abetting is one of the most exciting (and important) aspects of this symposium. To reiterate, the compensation argument, which features throughout the literature and once or twice in this series, suggests that elevating the mental element for aiding and abetting beyond intention to “purpose” (note the ambiguities of intention) is perfectly justifiable given that the accomplice makes a weaker or less direct causal contribution to the crime. The frailties of the physical contribution, goes the argument, are cured by amplifying the requisite mental requirement.

In a passage of critical importance Weigend masterfully dissects this position. In one portion of his samurai-like dispatch of the thesis, he argues that:

this calculus, to me, makes little sense.  If the assistant’s objective contribution is of lesser importance, then her sentence should reflect that fact. But the question whether the assistant desires the perpetration of the crime should have no influence on her punishment, because her “volition” does not increase the harm she causes or supports.”

Later, Robert Roth agreed, calling the compensation theory a “paralogism”, which to my mind, captures the thesis perfectly. Thus, all three rationale for a strong “purpose” standard are without merit. Again, none of these expert commentators defended it.

11. The New Interpretation is theoretically defensible

 A few years ago, I wrote a paper called The End of Modes of Liability for International Crimes (see here). If the somewhat unnecessarily provocative title suggests a nihilistic approach to blame attribution, it obscured the fact that the project was a very intellectually honest attempt at arriving at a concept of complicity I felt able to defend. As I entered into the project, I quickly found that the hallmarks of the “modes of liability” literature in ICL indicated that “modes of liability” should not extend beyond the contours of the crimes they couple with (for fear of violating principles of culpability and fair labeling). On this basis, I argued that the mental element for complicity should be exactly the same as it is for perpetration. In effect, this meant that the mental element for complicity had to be dynamic (because different crimes require different mental elements), not static like knowledge and “purpose” (which seemed to apply to the accomplice regardless of the mental element in the crime she was charged with).

In actual fact, I was wrong that the “purpose” standard for complicity in the ICC Statute is static; that position assumed the Old Interpretation, which has turned out to be false. The New Interpretation corrects for this problem. Notice how the missing provision in the MPC is dynamic in structure, inviting courts to determine, with respect to results of one’s assistance, whether the accomplice has the necessary mental element required for conviction of the crime she is charged with. This structure is mirrored in the ICC Statute to the extent that Article 30 functions in a dynamic manner, too. Because Article 30 of the Statute commences with the words “unless otherwise provided,” the definitions of intention and knowledge within it apply in instances where the Statute is silent (as is the case for complicity, on issues of result). If the Statute requires a stronger mental element (for genocide, which requires a special intent) or a weaker standard (for the war crime of using, conscripting or enlisting children, for which negligence suffices), the mental element required for complicity shifts, too.

In my opinion, this is entirely theoretically defensible—indeed, it is preferable to all other standards on offer in customary international law or national law. If “purpose” goes to assistance, then someone is not liable for negligently leaving their gun unlocked when someone else removes it for a crime spree, but they are responsible for an international crime that requires intent (say deportation as a crime against humanity) if they purposefully supply the weapon to the perpetrator, in the awareness that it will be used to forcibly displace civilians as part of a widespread and systematic attack in the ordinary course of events. The New Interpretation is sensitive to the crimes complicity couples with whereas both the knowledge standard and the Old Interpretation of “purpose” randomly skew the meaning of responsibility by making liability turn on chance couplings between mental element and the crime charged.

I resist the temptation to defend this theory again here. I am conscious that many excellent scholars disagree with me about the unitary theory of perpetration as a model for all forms of liability for international crimes (for an interesting critique, see Gerhard Werle and Boris Burghart’s article in this edited volume and Cassandra Steer’s great book Translating Guilt: Identifying Leadership Liability for Mass Atrocity (T.M.C Asser Press, 2015)). I confess that I am not entirely convinced by their thoughtful responses, but the interesting aspect for present purposes, is that the New Interpretation creates dynamism within the mental element for complicity without leading to the collapse of the differentiated system a number of theorists hold dear. Once cabined in this way, I suspect that the dynamism of the mental element I call for will seem considerably more palatable conceptually. Certainly, I hope I raised a number of arguments for it, and have seen none against. Perhaps this dialogue will begin that new debate. Whatever the case, I believe that there are strong conceptual arguments against the Old and for the New Interpretation.

12. Points of residual disagreement, areas for further research

There are numerous points of residual disagreement, which will hopefully stimulate a new wave of critical scholarship. First, what is the equivalent of the English “purpose” in all the other official language versions of the ICC Statute? Second, is this double intent standard normatively defensible? For myself, I wonder whether the first step (requiring “purpose” for the facilitation) is conceptually redundant—why not just consider whether the person who left their weapon out negligently had the mental element(s) necessary for being found guilt of the offense? In other words, I acknowledge that without amendment, the ICC Statute commits us to a two-step analysis, I just wonder whether this makes sense theoretically. Third, how specific do the two mental elements for accomplice liability have to be? There is interesting caselaw on these questions in England, France and Germany, which remains to be debated within international criminal justice. Fourth, what of attempted complicity in the ICC Statute? How does this change matters relative to customary international law? Fifth, is “shared intent” really the appropriate phrase to describe issues of complicity, given that there is no necessary solidarity between perpetrator and accomplice—there need be no agreement between them vis-à-vis the completed crime. These, and a host of other questions, are of utmost importance, not just for our understanding of international criminal justice in an interconnected world, but also for the scholarly disciplines that draw so heavily on it. In the end, I believe that this symposium broke new ground in displacing an old and ushering in a new interpretation of “purpose” in the ICC Statute. My kind thanks to all those experts who lent their knowledge, time and insight to the discussion.

 

 

 

 

How to Interpret Complicity in the ICC Statute

Thomas Weigend is a Professor of International, Comparative and German Criminal Law at the University of Cologne. At the risk of embarrassing him slightly, this is among the most insightful commentaries on complicity I have read in over four years of researching the topic.


My comment on the enigmatic words “for the purpose of facilitating the commission of such a crime” in Article 25 (3) (c) of the ICC Statute comes in two parts: First, is it good criminal policy for international criminal law (ICL) to require a higher degree of mens rea for convicting an assistant than for convicting a perpetrator of the same crime? Second, does Article 25 (3) (c) demand such a distinction by using the words “for the purpose”?

(1) As a general principle, it makes little sense to require a “thick” intention – however it is defined – for holding an assistant criminally responsible where a lesser degree of mens rea is sufficient for convicting the perpetrator of the same crime. The definition and sentence for any particular crime are devised with the perpetrator in mind. The allocation of responsibility to other persons, who have not “controlled” the commission of the offense or are otherwise further removed from the center of the criminal activity, is in some way accessorial to the perpetrator’s act. As the moon receives its light from the sun, an accomplice’s responsibility depends on an extension from the “natural”, primary responsibility of the perpetrator. Art. 25 (3) (c) clearly is based on this concept since this provision makes the commission or attempted commission of a crime by a perpetrator a prerequisite for convicting an assistant.  If that is so, it is counter-intuitive – and would require special justification – to add a specific mental requirement for convicting an assistant where the perpetrator will be held responsible on a less demanding standard.

This consideration is independent of whether one sees in Article 25 (3) (a) through (d) a “hierarchy” of modes of responsibility. Even if there is no such gradated system inherent in Art. 25 (3) and assisting is (or can be) of equal seriousness as perpetration, there is no good reason why an especially high degree of mens rea should need to be proved in order to convict an assistant. Some writers have proposed a “balancing” theory to justify this result: since the assistant does not singlehandedly complete the actus reus of the offense, they claim, her liability can be equal to that of the perpetrator only if the assistant’s mens rea is of a higher degree. But this calculus, to me, makes little sense.  If the assistant’s objective contribution is of lesser importance, then her sentence should reflect that fact. But the question whether the assistant desires the perpetration of the crime should have no influence on her punishment, because her “volition” does not increase the harm she causes or supports.

In ICL especially there is no good reason to require an “extra” degree of mens rea for convicting assistants. It makes little sense to exempt from responsibility those who know very well that the person whom they assist will make use of their contribution for committing a core crime but who have no direct personal interest in the perpetration of that crime. The commission of ICL crimes – contrary to many “ordinary” offenses – typically  requires the cooperation of many persons, who may all have different motives and goals. If ICL wishes to prevent such crimes it should not limit criminal liability to those who pursue a limited “purpose” and thus refrain from punishing all persons who consciously join their efforts to commit the offense.

(2) Does the wording of Art. 25 (3) (c) of the ICC Statute compel a different result? I don’t think so.

(a) Let us start with semantics. The “purpose” a person pursues describes his objective but not his motive. Therefore, an assistant under Art. 25 (3) (c) does not have to lend help because he wishes to bring about the offense. Nor does the commission of the offense have to be his sole purpose: Even if his main goal is to make money by selling arms, he may well act with the (secondary) purpose of facilitating the crime committed with those very weapons.

I also doubt that “purpose” necessarily coincides with a desire or with positive feelings about the (known) objective of one’s acts. For example, if a robber threatens to kill me unless I give him my wallet, and I comply with his demand, one can certainly say that I act with the purpose of satisfying his demand (so that he leaves me alone). But I certainly do not desire or even approve of his making off with my wallet. In sum, “purpose” describes one of the objectives of one’s act but does not say much about one’s attitude (of approval or disapproval) about that objective.

(b) This consideration leads to the general question about the role of “volition” in intent (or purpose). Some of the contributors to this blog seem to assume that – as James Stewart has put it – “the reference to purpose requires a volitional commitment to the consummated offense”. But what is the exact meaning of “volitional”, and why should it matter? If D shoots at V from close range, killing him, can D deny that he “willed” to kill V? Even if intention contains a “volitional” element, the actor’s volition will necessarily follow from his knowledge of the result that he is going to bring about. D may claim that he really did not like killing V (as in the robbery example above), and that he is sorry that he did – but still he “willed” V’s death, otherwise he would not have shot at him from close range. Contrary to  Flavio Noto, I would not say that it is a “fiction” that “certain knowledge about an undesired but anticipated side-effect is tantamount to a volitional commitment to that side-effect”. If the assailant in Flavio Noto’s airplane example knows that his rocket will kill all passengers, then it is his will to kill them all – although his motive for firing the rocket may have been his hate of one particular passenger. As in most other cases, the actor’s motive is irrelevant for his liability. His will flows from his act – if he had not willed the foreseen result he would not have acted.

This, by the way, is the hidden wisdom in the convoluted definition of intent and knowledge in Art. 30 of the ICC Statute: Normally, mens rea requires no more than a person’s awareness that a result will occur in the ordinary course of events. A further “volitional” element is necessary only where an offense definition requires that the perpetrator “intend” results beyond those brought about by the actus reus. If larceny is defined as taking someone else’s chattel with the intent of possessing it (as is the definition in § 242 German Penal Code), then it must be proved that the defendant “wished” to keep the chattel for himself – because that future development is not part of the actus reus of larceny. But assisting as defined in Art. 25 (3) (c) does not have this structure. The purpose of the assistant relates exactly to what she does: facilitate someone else’s (criminal) conduct. Therefore, the assistant’s volition is a necessary and undeniable consequence of her cognition.

(c) After having clarified what “purpose” may mean, we can turn to the question to what the assistant’s “purpose” must relate under Art. 25 (3) (c). The Statute speaks of “the purpose of facilitating the commission of such a crime”; the assistant’s purpose thus is not the crime but the facilitation. This means that the assistant’s objective must be to facilitate the act of the main perpetrator; but her will need not encompass the result of the perpetrator’s conduct. For example, if an arms trader sells weapons to a dictator, he will be punishable only if he does so with the purpose of facilitating the dictator’s use of armed force; but the fact that the armed force will be used against unarmed civilians and will therefore constitute a crime against humanity need not be the arms dealer’s “purpose” (although he needs to know about that particular use in order to be liable as an assistant under Art. 30 of the ICC Statute).

(d) In what I said so far, I assumed as true the widely shared assumption that the words “for the purpose” describe a special mental element of assisting under Art. 25 (3) (c). But there is a plausible alternative reading of these words, which has been spelled out by Antje Heyer in her excellent and extensive analysis of liability for aiding and abetting in ICL (published in 2013 in German under the title Grund und Grenze der Beihilfestrafbarkeit im Völkerstrafrecht, pp. 500-501; for a similar interpretation, see Katherine Gallagher, ‘Civil Litigation and Transnational Business’, 8 JICJ 745 at 765 (2008)). “For the purpose of facilitating the commission” can also be interpreted as an element of the actus reus of assisting: the assistant’s conduct must be specifically shaped in a way as to be of use to the perpetrator. Under this interpretation, conduct that is part of a person’s normal business would not qualify as assistance, because that conduct would not have the objective purpose of facilitating someone’s crime. If, for example, an arms trader sells weapons to a dictator at their regular price and under regular conditions, he would not be an assistant to crimes against humanity even if he is aware that such crimes will be committed using these weapons. But if the trader sells the weapons at a higher price because of an existing embargo, or if he sells weapons that have been specifically designed for killing civilians, he would be liable because this particular deal has been accommodated to serve the specific “purpose” of committing the crime. Under that interpretation, the regular mens rea requirements (as described in Art. 30) would apply – the arms dealer would only have to be aware of the specific elements that give the arms deal its “purpose”.

 

 

The Role and Weight of Desert

Sasha Greenawalt, Professor of Law, Pace Law School. He is the author of the excellent new article International Criminal Law for Retributivists.


I am grateful to Adil for his insightful comments.  Adil was quite generous to serve as a discussant when I presented an early draft of my article at the 2013 Law and Society Association Annual Meeting and so am I especially thankful that he has taken the time to participate in yet another exchange.

Adil agrees that retributivism is an incomplete theory of punishment and that non-retributive considerations can outweigh retributive reasons to punish.  Adil’s takes issue, however, with the particular role and weight that I assign to retributive considerations.  In so doing, Adil raises several important points, some of which involve nuances that my article does not expressly address. Nevertheless, I believe that his points are consistent with my argument, and that my analysis can, or already does, incorporate them.

At the outset, it’s important to emphasize an important difference in focus between Adil’s comments and my article.  Unlike Adil, I am not interested in defending the best view of retributivism.  Instead, I am primarily focused on exploring how different understandings of retributivism could approach international criminal law. In particular, what I describe as a “good reason retributivism,” is my attempt to identify how retributivism can operate in the real world as a plausible, affirmative rationale for punishment.  As I explain in my response to Mark Drumbl, the label reflects my attempt to distill something that is already present in retributive theory rather than to propose a novel approach to punishment.   In other words, retributivists might disagree about whether there is a moral obligation to punish the deserving, or about whether deserved punishment is a good, while nevertheless agreeing that, practically speaking, retributive reasons operate along the lines that I have described.

Adil’s principal critique is that “I view moral responsibility for past wrongdoing [as] merely one good reason to punish among others, a reason that competes on equal terms with good reasons not to punish.”   On Adil’s account, by contrast, desert is the only reason to punish.  Utilitarian considerations favoring punishment play a more limited role:  they can defeat utilitarian considerations disfavoring punishment (thereby defeating the defeaters), but they cannot provide an affirmative reason to punish.

This is an elegant and interesting way to put it, but am I having trouble identifying the difference between Adil’s “only reason retributivism” and what he describes as my “one good reason retributivism.”  On my account, desert is both necessary to punishment and provides an affirmative, prima facie reason to punish.  (Hence, I am not sure why Adil believes that I embrace a purely “negative retributivism” that lacks this affirmative function.)  My good reason retributivism does not contemplate that utilitarian considerations could justify punishment all by themselves without support from retributive considerations.  As with Adil’s approach, “retributive reasons . . . serve a unique and indispensible function in the justification of punishment.”

How then does Adil’s account differ from my own?  Perhaps the difference lies in the fact that I, unlike Adil, do not specify that utilitarian considerations favoring punishment can only act as “defeaters of defeaters,” rather than as affirmative reasons to punish.  I’m not sure how much this distinction matters, however.  If desert provides a necessary, prima facie reason to punish, then what role could these other considerations play except to help defeat arguments opposing punishment?  If there is a conceptual difference, I’m not sure it has any practical impact.

Another question concerns the relative weight of retributive reasons.  Adil contrasts his “strong retributivism” with my “weak retributivism.”  My own view is there is room for disagreement regarding how much weight retributive arguments should carry in the face of countervailing non-retributive reasons.  I’m not sure how Adil’s framework provides any greater clarity on this point.  Take, for example, Douglas Husak’s observation that the value of punishing the deserving is arguably, from the start, outweighed by the “inevitab[ility] that the practice of punishment will suffer from (at least) each of the following three deficiencies: It will be tremendously expensive, subject to grave error, and susceptible to enormous abuse.”  This argument would seem to be entirely compatible with Adil’s approach:  In Adil’s terms, it could well be that retributive reasons are never enough to overcome these three defeaters, and that the practice of punishment will always require additional non-retributive defeaters of defeaters to support the retributive reason to punish.

My idea that desert might merely play a tie-breaking role in justifying punishment was inspired by Husak’s example.  My point is that even if one thinks that retributive arguments are, by themselves, readily defeated by the negative consequences of punishment, they can play still a powerful role in situations where the balance of non-retributive considerations both favoring and disfavoring punishment yields no clear answer.  It strikes me that international criminal law often involves uncertainties of this nature.  Of course, Adil is correct that if the retributive reasons to punish are too weak, then they cannot play even this tie-breaking role.

Otherwise, I very much appreciate Adil’s reflections on both consequential retributivism and the distributive component of retributive justice.  These will require further reflection, but I do find them compelling.

The Point of International Criminal Justice

Adil Ahmad Haque, Professor of Law and Judge Jon O. Newman Scholar, Rutgers School of Law, Newark


Alexander Greenawalt (“Sasha” to those lucky enough to know him) begins his article, International Criminal Law for Retributivists, with Mirjan Damaska’s famous question: “What is the point of international criminal justice?”  This general question conceals a number of more specific questions:

  • What is the point of international crimes?  Why not rely on domestic criminal law to prohibit serious violence?
  • What is the point of international criminal tribunals?  Why not leave the prosecution of international crimes to national courts?
  • What is the point of international criminal prosecution?  Why prosecute international crimes committed in some conflicts but not others, some international crimes committed in a given conflict but not others, and some of those responsible for a given international crime but not others?
  • What is the point of international criminal punishment?  Why not deal with international criminals through lustration, compensation, or the exchange of apology and forgiveness?
  • What is the point of international criminal sentencing?  Why punish some international criminals more severely than others?

In principle, these questions might have different answers.  The point of international crimes might be expressive, the point of international tribunals preventive, the point of international sentencing retributive, and so on.

As I read him, Sasha believes that all such questions rest on a false premise.  There is no aspect of international criminal justice that has a single point; all serve multiple purposes and are subject to multiple constraints.  In each domain, the relevant actors must simply weigh the various relevant considerations—retributive, expressive, or consequentialist—on both sides of a given policy issue.

On Sasha’s view, the fact that most international criminals deserve punishment is simply one good reason among others to create new international crimes; establish new tribunals; prosecute particular conflicts, crimes, or defendants; punish particular defendants; or set particular sentences.  In each domain, there may be opposing, non-retributive reasons not to proceed—to conserve resources, to permit conflict resolution, to facilitate post-conflict reconciliation, and so on.  The right course of action therefore depends on the overall balance of competing reasons.  Since the balance of reasons is a contingent matter, Sasha concludes that retributivists are not committed to any particular position on any of the pressing policy questions facing the ICL regime.  Retributivists might even support general amnesty for international crimes if that is what the balance of reasons supports.

******

In one way, Sasha is clearly right.  The retributive duty to punish wrongdoers is not absolute.  To that extent, the right answer to any ICL policy question indeed depends on the relative strength of relevant non-retributive considerations.

Nevertheless, I reject the view that moral responsibility for past wrongdoing is merely one good reason to punish among others, a reason that competes on equal terms with good reasons not to punish.  On my view, only retributive reasons affirmatively justify punishment.  The expressive value and consequential benefits of punishment contribute to the justification of punishment only indirectly, by offsetting the expressive disvalue and consequential costs of punishment.  The expressive value and consequential benefits of punishment are not reasons to punish (“favorers”) but merely reasons to discount certain reasons not to punish (“defeaters of defeaters”).  Retributive reasons to punish then compete with the remaining, undefeated expressive and consequentialist reasons not to punish.  Put another way, retributive reasons compete, not with the “gross” costs of punishment, but only with the “net” costs of punishment.  On my view, retributive reasons can still be outweighed, but they serve a unique and indispensible function in the justification of punishment.

Why do only retributive reasons directly count in favor of punishment?  Ordinarily, it is morally wrong to intentionally harm other people.  However, people can make themselves morally liable to suffer certain harms for certain purposes.  Importantly, the reasons that make it permissible to harm someone also limit the amount of harm that may be inflicted as well as the purpose for which it may be inflicted.

For example, those who are morally responsible for an unjust threat to others (i) forfeit their right not to be (ii) defensively harmed as a causal means of averting that very unjust threat (iii) so long as the harm they suffer is not substantially greater than the harm they threaten.  Notice that forfeiture, purpose, and proportionality share a common foundation.   Similarly, on my view, those who are morally responsible for an unjust harm (i) forfeit their right not to be (ii) punitively harmed as a constitutive means of punishing that very unjust harm (iii) so long as the harm they suffer is not substantially greater than the harm they inflicted (discounted by their degree of fault).

In contrast, Sasha embraces “negative retributivism”, the view that those who are morally responsible for an unjust harm (i) forfeit their right not to be (ii) instrumentally harmed as a causal means of producing various intrinsic goods (iii) so long as the harm they suffer is not substantially greater than the harm they inflicted discounted by their degree of fault.  This account of moral liability to punishment has always struck me as incoherent.  We should instead accept that moral responsibility for past wrongdoing is the basis, purpose, and limit of moral liability to punishment.

******

Sasha at times suggests, not only that past wrongdoing is merely one good reason to punish among others, but also that past wrongdoing is not a particularly strong reason to punish.  At one point, Sasha considers the possibility that retributive reasons may play only a “tie-breaking” role.  In this passage, Sasha refers not to (imaginary) situations in which we know that the future costs and benefits of punishment will be on a par, but rather to (common) situations in which we cannot reliably predict the future costs and benefits of punishment.  However, if we cannot reliably predict that the benefits of punishment will outweigh the costs, then we probably also cannot predict that the benefits of punishment plus the (apparently minor) retributive value of punishment will outweigh the costs.  So even this tie-breaking role seems illusory.

ICL detractors like to point out that the Special Court for Sierra Leone (SCSL) cost over $200,000,000 and punished only 9 defendants of international crimes.  Surely, the argument goes, we should not spend over $20,000,000 simply to give one wrongdoer the punishment he or she deserves—not when we could use that money to give many children the education they deserve, many patients the treatment they deserve, and so on.

Such arguments are particularly effective when they take on board the “consequentialist retributivism” with which Sasha sometimes flirts.  On this view, deserved punishment is an intrinsic good that we should try to maximize.  The retributive value of the SCSL is just the amount of deserved punishment it produced.  Since the SCSL only produced around 350 years of deserved incarceration (at a cost of over $500,000 per year), it can seem like a waste of money.

Fortunately, consequentialist retributivism is false. I have argued elsewhere that deserved punishment is not an intrinsic good.  Certainly, it should not be maximized.  Consider the widely accepted principle that international tribunals should prosecute those “most responsible” for international crimes.  Evidently, following this principle will not maximize deserved punishment.  Since the “most responsible” are mortal, there is a physical limit to how many units of deserved punishment we can inflict upon them.  Indeed, generally we can produce more units of deserved punishment by punishing a handful of minor participants than by punishing the mastermind they served.  Yet such a distribution of deserved punishment would be unjust.

The distributive component of retributive justice remains largely unexplored.  I suspect that retributivists generally should first seek to vindicate the rights of as many victims as possible and only then seek to vindicate these rights as fully as possible.  Forced to choose, generally we ought to punish fewer of those responsible for more wrongs rather than punish more of those responsible for fewer wrongs.  In general, it is more just to (partially) vindicate the rights of more victims rather than (more fully) vindicate the rights of fewer victims.  There may be extreme cases in which full vindication of fewer victims can take precedence over partial vindication of more victims.  But it is the vindication of rights, not deserved punishment, that retributivists should seek, not to maximize, but to justly distribute.

It follows that ICL ought to prioritize those “most responsible” for international crimes because generally this will vindicate the most victims of the most serious wrongdoing.  Since the SCSL vindicated the rights of tens of thousands of victims of extreme wrongdoing, it was more than worth the cost.  At a few thousand dollars per victim vindicated, this was justice at a bargain.

*****

Sasha calls his view “good reason retributivism”.  We could instead call it “one good reason retributivism” or “weak reason retributivism”.  We could call my view “only reason retributivism” or “strong reason retributivism.”  On my view, the point of international criminal justice is to ensure just retribution for serious wrongdoing.  Non-retributive considerations will inevitably intrude but they will always remain, in an important sense, beside the point.

 

Vive La Rétributivisme Timide!

Sasha Greenawalt, Professor of Law, Pace Law School. He is the author of the excellent new article International Criminal Law for Retributivists.


I am grateful to Mark Drumbl for taking the time to provide his generous and insightful comments on my article, and also to James Stewart, both for his kind words and for organizing this discussion.  I’m quite honored that James has selected my article to inaugurate this important and exciting new blog.

In this post, I respond to Mark’s critiques, which have pushed me to think hard and harder, and even to consult Google Translate.  As I understand it, Mark is disappointed by my fainthearted retributivism, which he deems anemic, indeterminate, overly intellectual, and woefully lacking in hot-blooded passions.  He objects that “retributive theory cannot simply become all things to all persons.”

For the most part, I am happy to plead guilty as charged.  After all, the idea that retributive commitments are compatible with a wide range of policy positions about international criminal law is one of the main points of my article.  In defense of this view, I will say the following.  First, I believe that I am speaking the truth about retributivism.  Accordingly, it is not my fault if the theory turns out to be less muscular than one might hope.  Second, I don’t think it’s quite as bad as all that.  There are many things that retributivism cannot do, but some quite important things that it can do.

The central point (which I am hardly the first to make) is that retributivism, by its nature, is an incomplete theory of punishment.  In contrast to utilitarian approaches that appeal to a single overarching vision of human well-being, the retributive claim that punishment is justified intrinsically by the desert of the offender simply cannot provide a comprehensive metric around which to establish, order, and administer a system of criminal justice.  The point is just as true at the domestic level as it is at the international level.  The most obvious example is resource allocation:  a commitment to deserved punishment cannot, by itself, tell a legislature how to distribute funds between health care and the criminal justice system.  Nor can it tell the international community whether, and to what extent, to fund the establishment of an international criminal tribunal.

Instead, I believe that retributivism does two things.  First, by specifying that justified punishment must be deserved, it imposes an important negative constraint:  a prohibition against knowingly punishing the innocent.  This negative constraint is not especially controversial, but even here retributive theory raises an important and problematic question:  how do we know that the guilty actually deserve punishment?  Mark suggests that the retributive appeal to just deserts is at root an emotional response, and I think he may be right.  Does this reliance on bare, moral intuitions—ones that may well be “ignorant, biblical, and simple,”—expose a deep vulnerability in retributive theory?  Quite possibly, but if I may attempt to paraphrase Douglas Husak, the alternative is even more problematic:  How can we ever justify the cruelty of criminal punishment if we do not at some root level believe it is deserved?  Perhaps, the very existence of criminal justice is inevitably grounded on these innate retributive emotions, whether we acknowledge them or not.

The second thing that retributivism does is to supply an affirmative reason to punish the guilty, one that appeals to the culpability of the wrongdoer alone rather than to the expected social benefits of punishment.  But because retributivism is an incomplete theory of punishment, the retributive impulse must coexist with other rationales either favoring or disfavoring punishment.  As a consequence, the retributive impulse to punish a particular offender will sometimes be trumped or compromised.  Possible reasons include, among others, a legislative desire to fund priorities other than criminal justice; a prosecutorial judgment that limited resources are better focused on other, more culpable offenders; the ability to obtain the accused’s cooperation in the prosecution of other, more culpable offenders; an unacceptable risk of wrongful conviction in light of evidentiary shortcomings; a disinclination to reward prosecutorial misconduct that has comprised the accused’s due process rights; or, as sometimes happens in the wake of mass atrocities, a desire to support an amnesty agreement or alternative justice mechanism that may itself be justified by a variety of imperatives including the need to conserve limited resources,  to end bloodshed, and to promote social reconciliation.

This second function of retributivism—as a good, but incomplete reason to punish—is what I describe as “good reason retributivism.”  Although the label is my own, it reflects my attempt to distill something that is already present in retributive theory rather than to propose a novel approach to punishment.  And I will venture to suggest that something of this approach appears in Mark’s own post when he maintains that he “remain[s] unconvinced that retribution can overcome the curse of selectivity in international criminal law.”  In other words (and acknowledging apologetically that I may be doing horrible violence to Mark’s actual views), even if there are powerful retributive reasons to prosecute someone before an international criminal tribunal, Mark maintains that those reasons are inadequate to overcome the more powerful, overriding interest in avoiding a system of highly selective, unequal justice.  (And as Mark sets forth in a terrific book, alternative mechanisms may provide a better way to reconcile these two interests).

As far as I am aware, Mark does not propose a metric for determining how much selectivity is too much selectivity.  By contrast, I might argue on retributive grounds that Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir’s alleged role in Darfur atrocities involves culpability of such great severity that it is worth demanding his prosecution before the International Criminal Court (“ICC”) notwithstanding the highly selective focus of that institution.  Both Mark and I may be confident in our judgments, but I doubt we can prove each other wrong.  Yet these are precisely the kinds of moral judgments that people can and do routinely make based on an indeterminate but non-arbitrary balancing of competing considerations.  And I don’t think that the existence of such indeterminacy is tantamount to an “endless buffet line” (however appetizing that analogy may be!).

As I explain in the article, I believe that the retributive rationale plays a powerful role in driving international criminal prosecutions, one that has repercussions throughout the system.  And I believe that the retributive impulse works pretty much as Mark describes: as an intuitive and outraged call for justice.  But I do not believe that embracing this impulse requires one to turn a blind eye to non-retributive values, or to what Mark aptly terms “the explosive paradoxes and dizzying quandaries of international crimes.”

There is much that I am glossing over, including the differences between various understandings of retributivism, the nuances of the international criminal justice system, and important differences among different types of institutional questions (legislative, prosecutorial, judicial etc.).  I must, however, register my disagreement with Mark’s claim that “[e]ye for an eye is central to [retributivism’s] DNA.”  As far as I am aware, lex talionis has no modern defenders among retributivist scholars, although Jeremy Waldron has brilliantly argued that the idea “is (fortunately) not as silly as it sounds.”  The concept of proportionate sentencing is more widely embraced, but, for reasons I explore in the article, I fear it may fail to provide the degree of practical guidance that Mark desires.

Otherwise, I, for one, am not convinced that Mark and I are divided by any deep disagreement.  Perhaps he will prove me wrong, but until then . . . Vive La Rétributivisme Timide!

 

 

Adjectival Retributivism: A Tale of Theory as Empath

Mark A. Drumbl, Class of 1975 Alumni Professor of Law & Director, Transnational Law Institute, Washington & Lee School of Law.


Sasha Greenawalt rehabilitates retribution as a justification for punishing people who violate international criminal law. I say “rehabilitate” because Sasha begins with the observation that an “anti-retributivist strain” has seeped into conversations about how to deal with perpetrators of genocide, crimes against humanity, and systematic war crimes. Sasha wants to stanch this strain by cleansing retribution of its undeserved stain.

Sasha hopes to make retributivism relevant in a context where conversations about the normative basis of punishment for extraordinary crimes are vividly diversifying. Penological rationales such as expressivism, positive general prevention, and restoration have entered the discursive frame. The international tribunals tout their deterrent potential, as well as other utilitarian goals (which border on the utopian) such as reconciliation, peace, and ending impunity.

Retribution has its skeptics. I am one of them. Sasha’s excellent work has pushed me to think twice, think differently, and think better, about things. Fundamentally, however, I remain unconvinced that retribution can overcome the curse of selectivity in international criminal law; I am unsure how it squares with the extraordinary nature of jus cogens violations and the cauldron of collective violence; I am unsettled by analogizing too closely from the regulation of ordinary crime at national levels. But all this is beside the point. These debates will not be resolved here. They may not be resolvable. People have been quarrelling about the purposes of punishment and the role of mercy since time immemorial. These quibbles pop up in all places, whether intellectual, vulgar, aesthetic, popular, or political.

I am more interested here in the dialectics. How does retributive theory, which Sasha enlivens, approach and contribute to the conversation about the normative basis of international punishment? How does it seek to call the question, presumably in its favor? What arguments does it marshal?

Sasha responds to “anti-retributivism” by demonstrating that retributive theory is heterogeneous and supple. He rightly resists those who essentialize retribution as primitive or instinctual or crude. He chafes at the bad rap retribution gets in certain quarters. For Sasha, there’s a lot more to retribution than harshness. He shows how retributive theory is nimble, flexible, erudite, and sophisticated. It is so versatile, in fact, that it can accommodate many of the concerns central to utilitarian, and other, justifications for punishment. Here, Sasha takes the reader on a journey through an alphabet soup of adjectives. We learn of consequential retributivism, minimalist retributivism, political retributivism, threshold retributivism, maximal retributivism, and contractarian retributivism. Sasha delivers good reason retributivism. We learn that retributive theory is so capacious that it can justify general amnesties. It can even justify complete impunity!

It is invigorating to peel back the layers, and embrace the hybridized possibilities, of retributive theory. I’ve toyed with this myself in terms of agentic retributivism. By this I mean measuring the culpability of an accused not by the harm caused or malevolence exercised in absolute terms but, rather, by how much harm the perpetrator caused or how much malevolence the perpetrator exercised in light of the social spaces that he or she occupied at the time of the commission of the offense. Interest in this question stems from my concern about how international criminal law should approach compromised perpetrators: rank-and-file soldiers, low-level militia members, militarized youth, and persons who may not have killed directly but told the killers where the oppressed were hiding.

But retributive theory cannot simply become all things to all persons. At some point, all these clever variants of retribution become more about the prefix adjective than the noun. Consequentialist retribution in particular strikes me as a poignant example. The end-game of these concatenations is that retribution risks becoming gutted, or so abstracted, that its raw value as normative justification evaporates. What is gained by becoming an endless buffet line? An account for all seasons?

Also hobbled is the ability of retribution to serve as a practical principle to apply in establishing the quantum of sentence for an individual defendant. This latter point is very important. We should welcome conversations about the normative basis of a punishing institution. But once that institution exists, and it begins to punish individuals, a need arises for principled, clear, and consistent sentencing. Accessibility matters. When retributive theory has so many competing compounds, what is a judge to do and what is a convict to expect?

If retributive theory becomes an empath that absorbs and accommodates everyone’s wishes and needs – even those that contradict its central ethos – then retributivists allow themselves to be defined by others. General debates about the justification for punishment simply morph into feuds within retributive theory about the justification for punishment.

Over-intellectualizing retribution reminds me of the fate of modes of liability at the international tribunals. James Stewart and Leila Sadat have chided the staggering confusion. Modes of liability – rendered both fulsome and bare by relentlessly inordinate determinations – remain clumsy and incoherent, thereby baffling the laity and frustrating survivors in post-conflict transitions.

Call me ignorant, biblical, and simple. Or homely. But for me, retribution is about the emotions.  It is about just deserts and resetting the moral balance following an act that tears the communal fabric. Retributivism is about voicing outrage; determining the culpability of the perpetrator and responding in kind.  Eye for an eye is central to its DNA.  Retributivism means anger, pain, and rectification channeled through a dignified legal process. It’s about expiation. It’s visceral. Why run from this? Staying the hand of vengeance does not require becoming the Tin Man.

When rules become defined by their exceptions, when principles become overrun by a cacophony of qualifiers, then the core fades. Retributivists might be better off sticking with their core. If their cri de coeur doesn’t fit with the explosive paradoxes and dizzying quandaries of international crimes, then tant pis – so be it.

Symposium: Greenawalt’s International Criminal Law for Retributivists

I’m thrilled to host Sasha Greenawalt’s excellent new article International Criminal Law for Retributivists as the inaugural point of discussion for this blog.

In the early years of international criminal justice, Mark Drumbl and Rob Sloane argued, very eloquently, that retribution was not a viable basis for punishment in international criminal law.

Sasha takes issue with their approach, drawing heavily on a rich literature in the theory of criminal law. His article is brilliantly written, profound in scope, and has important real world implications.

At the same time, it will certainly not convince everyone. For that reason, I have cajoled Mark Drumbl, Adil Haque, Rob Sloane and Meg deGuzman to write blogs criticizing Greenawalt’s great piece. Of course, I’ll also invite Greenawalt to reply.

In terms of timing, I’ll post Drumbl and Haque’s responses in the coming days, then ask Greenawalt to respond to them later this week.

Rob Sloane and Meg deGuzman have agreed to reopen the debate in late December this year, so the discussion will take place in two split tranches. We’ll then give Greenawalt the final word.

So, welcome to all my friends and colleagues! It’s a real privilege to have you launching what I hope will become a central platform for these sorts of scholarly debates.