We use cookies to distinguish you from other users and to provide you with a better experience on our websites. Close this message to accept cookies or find out how to manage your cookie settings.
To save content items to your account,
please confirm that you agree to abide by our usage policies.
If this is the first time you use this feature, you will be asked to authorise Cambridge Core to connect with your account.
Find out more about saving content to .
To save content items to your Kindle, first ensure coreplatform@cambridge.org
is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings
on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part
of your Kindle email address below.
Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations.
‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi.
‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply.
The modern state of New Zealand was founded on the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi between the British Crown and indigenous Maori tribes. New Zealand’s partly uncodified, partly unwritten constitution is thus structured around questions of indigenous rights and the treaty relationship between the Maori and the Crown. This chapter examines how and why the Treaty and indigenous rights play a fundamental role in New Zealand’s constitutional system, and it uses the example of New Zealand to challenge conventional understandings as to what counts as a “constitution.”
This chapter underscores the role of liberation theology in promoting social rights. The Second Vatican Council (1962–5) and the Catholic Church’s concern with social inequality and development inspired the liberation theology movement, which took these concerns still further. From the mid-1960s until the end of the century, a small but active and progressive sector of the Mexican Catholic Church engaged with liberation theology and played a significant role in advancing the cause of social, cultural and indigenous rights. Empowering communities at the grassroots level, they helped found lay Catholic organisations and collaborated with networks and institutions to establish new NGOs and social movements that began to assert their social, cultural and indigenous rights. This was the first time that Catholic Church leaders took a radical approach to social inequality and opposed the state. By the 1990s, the influence of liberation theologians in the Church hierarchy was on the wane, but their legacy has persisted in social movements throughout Mexico ever since.
This paper considers the degree to which the concept of ‘internal colonialism’ accurately describes the political economy of Nunavut’s commercial fisheries. Offshore fisheries adjacent to Nunavut were initially dominated by institutions based in southern Canada, and most economic benefits were captured by southern jurisdictions. Decades of political struggle have resulted in Nunavut establishing a role for itself in both the management of offshore resources and the operation of the offshore fishing industry. However, key decisions about fishery management are made by the federal government, and many benefits from Nunavut’s offshore fisheries continue to accrue to southern jurisdictions. The concept of internal colonialism is therefore a useful concept for understanding the historical development and contemporary conflicts over offshore fisheries. By contrast, Nunavut’s inshore fisheries were established as community development initiatives intended to promote economic well-being and stability. While inshore fisheries primarily benefit Inuit community economies, the growth of inshore fisheries has been hampered by small profit margins, inadequate marine infrastructure, and a dearth of baseline data. The federal government’s failure to support the expansion of inshore fisheries is a manifestation of internal colonialism, insofar as it reflects an unequal distribution of public infrastructure and research.
This article is about Indigenous territorial title and land rights, and specifically those of the Algonquin Anishinaabeg Nation. In 1983, the Algonquins of Pikwàkanagàn, residing in the province of Ontario, petitioned the Crown to recognize Algonquin territorial title and rights to 36,000 square kilometres of their natal homelands in the Ottawa River watershed. With negotiations beginning in the early 1990s, an Agreement-in-Principle was developed and ratified in 2016, the penultimate step to the largest modern treaty in Ontario's history. In this article, we examine the argument for moral rights to territory, not in terms of the Canadian or international legal order, nor even through examining the documents and voice of the Algonquin Anishinaabeg, but through the lens of an argument that has been advanced as the basis of the international territorial rights of states. We argue that the justifications for state rights territory—grounded in the considerations that ensue from an analysis of occupancy groups—provides a stronger claim to territorial jurisdiction and title in the case of the Algonquin Anishinaabeg Nation than the competing claim by the Canadian state.
On February 6, 2020, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights (Court) declared in Lhaka Honhat Association v. Argentina that Argentina violated Indigenous groups’ rights to communal property, a healthy environment, cultural identity, food, and water. For the first time in a contentious case, the Court analyzed these rights autonomously based on Article 26 of the American Convention on Human Rights (ACHR) and ordered specific restitution measures, including actions to provide access to adequate food and water, and the recovery of forest resources and Indigenous culture. The decision marks a significant milestone for protecting Indigenous peoples’ rights and expanding the autonomous rights to a healthy environment, water, and food, which are now directly justiciable under the Inter-American human rights system.
This chapter provides a background to and analysis of REDD+ from multiple angles and across a number of different registers. Firstly, it traces the history of REDD+ as a legal agreement that provides the framework through which activities to address deforestation and forest degradation can be measured, reported and verified as ‘result-based action’ and made legible in the rubric of one tonne of carbon dioxide equivalent. Secondly, this chapter examines REDD+ as constituted through experimental practices, preparatory and market-construction activities. Thirdly, it analyses REDD+ as a concept or idea arising from the field of environmental economics, namely, that forest protection can be ‘incentivised’ through the financial valuation of nature and payment for environmental services schemes, including potentially the inclusion of forests in international carbon markets. Fourthly, it provides an overview of the activities that are promoted through REDD+ and interrogates the history of both conservation and sustainable forest management. Finally, it outlines how the scope of REDD+ programmes and projects has extended beyond its initial environmental focus, so that REDD+ has now also become a social project concerned with ‘co-benefits’ such as poverty alleviation, tenure reform and rights for people living in and around forested areas.
This article maps the legally varied sovereignty claims in the contemporary South Pacific; whether secessionist, self-determination based, or consisting of territorial disputes or lesser disagreements. The analysis reveals that Pacific practice in this domain is consistent with general international law; that despite any fractures at the domestic level, relations between the states and territories of the region is peaceful, that their shared values have instead given rise to innovative solutions to legal problems concerning territory, either through the leveraging of regional institutions – so vital to the region’s identity – to pursue claims against metropolitan powers, or through innovative arrangements to alleviate territorial problems left by colonial powers. Indeed, the region is replete with innovative legal solutions based on shared values and peaceful international relations. As such, Pacific practice and engagement with international law can provide a blueprint for others around the globe.
The intersection between indigenous rights and international economic agreements is paradigmatic of the ways in which globalization accommodates issues of social and economic justice. This intersection provides insight into the fate of the marginalized communities in a system that privileges certain values and goals often incompatible with some indigenous values and goals. The prior chapters make evident that, to address social and economic justice, international economic agreements can start by addressing indigenous interests in a systemic and more encompassing way and lead the way to frameworks for better social and economic inclusion. This is the key litmus test for the very legitimacy of international economic law after crises derived from a nationalistic turn and exacerbated by a global pandemic. This chapter offers some basic recommendations.
This chapter provides the assessment of the intersection – that between international economic law and indigenous rights – coined in this book as international indigenous economic law. The author asserts that there is an important place for indigenous rights within the field of international economic law. Indeed, an international indigenous economic law, one that focuses on the vulnerable and marginalized, can provide a limited yet important pathway for improving the unequal distribution of the benefits of globalization and for moving beyond the standard conversations among mainstream and classical economists and policymakers that the redistribution of wealth and power should be purely domestic policy responses. This claim has implication for international economic law and indigenous rights scholars alike.
In Reconsidering REDD+: Authority, Power and Law in the Green Economy, Julia Dehm provides a critical analysis of how the Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation (REDD+) scheme operates to reorganise social relations and to establish new forms of global authority over forests in the Global South, in ways that benefit the interests of some actors while further marginalising others. In accessible prose that draws on interdisciplinary insights, Dehm demonstrates how, through the creation of new legal relations, including property rights and contractual obligations, new forms of transnational authority over forested areas in the Global South are being constituted. This important work should be read by anyone interested in a critical analysis of international climate law and policy that offers insights into questions of political economy, power, and unequal authority.
The intersection between indigenous rights and international economic law serves as an instructive lens of the complex interactions between human and economic-focused areas of international law. Specifically, it uncovers how two fields with distinct goals, rules and structures are implicated in the way globalization both affects and tries to protect marginalized communities. Since both fields can also complement each other to improve the situation of almost one billion marginalized indigenous peoples, international economic law can incorporate the struggle for social inclusion espoused by human rights law as it relates to indigenous peoples, as argued in Chapter 6. This final chapter briefly provides first, a reflection on how to rethink the failure of globalization with indigenous peoples in mind. It further outlines the normative underpinnings of an inclusive globalization that can provide more hope for those marginalized by the current structure created by international economic law.
La relativisation de la souveraineté est à la fois au cœur de la critique du pluralisme juridique et le résultat concret de la globalisation néolibérale. Cet article propose ainsi la notion d’écosystème normatif comme milieu pour la structuration des communautés politiques. Il énonce trois hypothèses concernant la configuration de l’écosystème normatif extractif canadien : 1) des enjeux constitutionnels y sont traités par le biais de relations contractuelles entre entreprises et communautés autochtones; 2) la responsabilité sociale des entreprises y fait office de régime de véridiction; et 3) l’impératif d’efficacité y prend préséance sur les visées téléologiques en présence. Ces hypothèses configurent une gouvernementalité moralisante peu amène aux communautés politiques. Cet article propose donc de renouveler la charge critique du pluralisme juridique en insistant sur l’hétéronomie de la norme comme condition de possibilité de la liberté politique.
Traditional custodians of the Martuwarra (Fitzroy River) derive their identity and existence from this globally significant river. The First Laws of the Martuwarra are shared by Martuwarra Nations through a common songline, which sets out community and individual rights and duties. First Law recognizes the River as the Rainbow Serpent: a living ancestral being from source to sea. On 3 November 2016, the Fitzroy River Declaration was concluded between Martuwarra Nations. This marked the first time in Australia when both First Law and the rights of nature were recognized explicitly in a negotiated instrument. This article argues for legal recognition within colonial state laws of the Martuwarra as a living ancestral being by close analogy with the case concerning the Whanganui River. We seek to advance the scope of native title water rights in Australia and contend that implementation of First Law is fundamental for the protection of the right to life of the Martuwarra.
Taking a transnational and comparative approach, this chapter examines how a distinctive discourse of indigenous rights in Anglo settler states (the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand) threaded claims at the level of the state – about collective identity, treaty promises, land rights, and sovereign peoplehood – together with an international language of human rights. Indigenous claims to rights of identity and sovereignty were not considered human rights in the way that international institutions and civil society was employing the concept in the 1970s. That is, to protect individuals from violence and suffering at the hands of the state. Yet indigenous peoples in the Anglo settler states argued that their claims to collective rights were matters of concern to humanity. This chapter argues for an alternative genealogy of the 1970s – distinct from the earlier anti-colonial claims of leaders in the Third World and from the increasingly individualist emphases in other human rights campaigns – in which indigenous peoples in the heart of “the West” claimed collective, quasi-sovereign, and substate rights in part by deploying, and expanding, the language of human rights.
Finally, in Chapter 12, Caroline Dommen concludes our discussion by addressing how human rights impact assessments can contribute to ensuring that Indigenous rights are upheld in international trade agreements. She considers how explicit reference to the rights of Indigenous peoples, including the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, may improve human rights impact assessments as well as trade agreements, from both legal and policy perspectives. There is now a substantial body of impact assessments of actual or likely impacts of trade and investment agreements on human rights, including on the rights of Indigenous peoples. Her chapter describes the role and the objectives of impact assessment, explaining the particular advantages of human rights-based impact assessment. It draws on recommendations of UN human rights mechanisms and analysis of completed impact assessments of trade agreements to present some of the main principles of human rights law that are relevant in the trade policy context, and how these impose legal obligations on states to carry out human rights impact assessments prior to adopting new trade agreements.
In the aftermath of this political upheaval, Guatemalans embarked on a tenuous democratic experiment across the 1920s. A group of radicalized Q’eqchi’s formed a branch of the Unionist Party and demanded that the state end forced wage labor, abolish debt contracts, and grant citizenship to all Mayas. For the next decade, Q’eqchi’s engaged in labor strikes and land invasions, which articulated another history of time and space based on memories of prior possession and land alienation. At the same time, urban reformers and intellectuals, including Miguel Angel Asturias, increasingly sought to move beyond the failed ladino nation-state that had taken power in 1871. To do so, they looked to Alta Verapaz to imagine a new nation based on modernization through prosperous coffee plantations and European immigration, which had yielded an alternative mestizaje project based on interracial mixing between German immigrants and Mayas. Guatemala’s decade-long democratic experiment came to an end with the Great Depression and Central America’s 1932 Red Scare.
In Chapter 6, William David looks at the inter-linkages between trade and environment in various FTAs and provides a thorough examination of new provisions in the environment chapters of regional trade agreements and how they may impact Indigenous peoples. Particular emphasis is placed on an exploration of the North American Agreement on Environmental Cooperation (NAAEC), a side agreement of the NAFTA, as well as the CPTPP and the intersection between Indigenous rights, environmental law and ISDS under the NAFTA.
This article examines the concept of granting legal rights to nature as a strategy for more effective environmental protection in the era of the Anthropocene. Following decades of debate over the possibility and consequences of natural objects becoming legal rights holders, a number of countries have recently implemented rights of nature laws in their national legal systems. Comparing two of these examples – a constitutional amendment in Ecuador and recently transposed legislation in New Zealand – will help in understanding the potential for and challenges in the implementation of this concept. On the basis of the findings of this comparison the article further analyzes the possibility of legal reform in a European country, using Germany by way of example. This analysis demonstrates that the realization of rights of nature in Europe is faced with many obstacles as it contests institutional and legal frameworks that are deeply rooted in Western individual rights doctrines and neoliberal economic models. Nevertheless, the holistic approach of expanding the number of rights-bearing subjects beyond an anthropocentric framework can allow for more serious consideration of environmental interests, something that aligns with the German narrative of recognizing nature's intrinsic value in law and the need for effective environmental protection measures.
In Jessup’s 1956 Storrs Lecture he defined transnational law as “all law which regulates actions or events that transcend national frontiers,” which includes public international law, private international law, and “other rules which do not wholly fit into such standard categories.” Considerable recent scholarship on transnational law has focused on that residual category of “other rules” and their “private” character. There has, however, been a revolution in international law itself since 1956, reflected in a proliferation of international institutions, international courts, treaties, and so-called “soft law” technologies of governance. This chapter assesses the role of international law in the creation of what can be viewed as “transnational legal orders” that penetrate and imbue state law, shape social identity, and inform public and private legal practice. International law, this chapter contends, is even a more important shaper of the transnational than in Jessup’s time, and, in turn is shaped by it.