Chapter 3 chronicles the legacies of the 1994 genocide, with particular reference to law’s infrastructure. It gives a sobering account of law’s collapse during the infamous hundred days of slaughter. I then turn to the legal reconstruction and development program that the RPF-led government rolled out with substantial financial, material, and logistical backing from the international community.

Foreign aid is given from a variety of motives, not as a rule rationally ordered by the donor governments. Some is, and some is not, treated as of high importance. Thus each national aid offering is likely to be a diverse collection of disparate items, hardly worthy of the name ’programme’, with its own idiosyncratic character. Australia’s aid in 1971 has the superficial appearance of being motivated to an unusual degree by geography. This geographical pattern is not accidental. Since the second world war, Australian foreign policy has been much concerned with proximity. Australian aid has also been subject to little public cricitisim, either in principle of in detail. The magnitude, achievements and failures of Australian aid are therefore very largely the resultant of the efforts of officials in the various interested departments.

This chapter is concerned to set Australia’s immigration policies in the context of her international relations in the years 1971–75. It will deal primarily with those aspects of the policies which affected, or were affected by, the outside world. Factors of substantially domestic nature will not be emphasised. Four areas of policy seemed particularly important. The first was the traditional immigration of settlers from Britain and Europe. Long founded on the “populate or perish” belief, there was now a very different emphasis. The second concerned the settlement of non-European peoples. The White Australia Policy might have been dead, but it refused to lie down. The third area encompassed the entry of visitors, students, businessmen and other temporary immigrants. The fourth was Australia’s policy on political asylum and the acceptance of political refugees. This last has been particularly emphasised because, of the four areas of policy, this was growing to be one of the most significant internationally and most in need of longterm consistency.

In the period under review, 1966–70, Australia was singularly free from the ’constant balance of payments worries’ of the 1950s and early 1960s. The problem of external balance – of finding enough foreign exchange to finance an ever-growing import bill – which, in the preceding two decades and indeed in many earlier periods of Australian economic history, had never been far from the centre of concern of Australian economic policy-makers, all but vanished, at least for the time being. On the contrary, towards the end of the period, Australia, to her own surprise, found herself embarrassed by a plethora of foreign exchange, in a small way paralleling the discomfiture of the major surplus countries, Germany and Japan,

From the very beginning of Australia’s European life, migration has been a major force. In the first place it has been vital to development and growth, quite as vital as the inflow of capital and organization. Over the period 1788–1971 and excluding the Aborigines, the Australian population grew from nil to 12 640 000, 35 per cent by net migration and 65 per cent by natural increase, much of this last being due to new immigrants having children after arrival in Australia. This immigration has not been uniformly steady or invariably popular.

Australia moves into the 1970s facing some major readjustments in her trade policies as she reacts to events overseas and seeks to improve the workings of her own domestic economy. During the period under review Australia progressed further towards full adult status with her realistic, if somewhat grudging, acceptance of British entry into the European Economic Community (EEC); her entry into the ’big league’ of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD); her start on a methodical examination of her tariff policies; and her as yet modest attempts at restructuring her primary industry to fit in better with international marketing realities. However, she has still to formulate definitive policies on problems associated with the use of her natural resources and with overseas investment; to find suitable counterweights to the effects of regional groupings on her trade; to reconcile her conflicting political and trade attitudes towards the People’s Republic of China; and to find ways of further fostering the trade of developing countries, particularly those in the Pacific region.

Chapter 10 discusses the main findings of this book concerning the politics of international criminal law practice and explores the question whether the norms and practices associated with the assessment of individual criminal responsibility are likely to continue changing in the future. This chapter presents a pluralist understanding of ‘legalism’, as a concept that entertains a range of different visions of international criminal justice. Next, this chapter highlights the importance of understanding the normative dynamics taking place inside the international criminal justice field, namely the battle of different visions of legalism over the construction of criminal responsibility rules, for analysing trial outcomes at the Court. Finally, Chapter 10 observes that it is possible that the restrained approach to criminal responsibility, displayed at the Bemba Appeals Chamber Majority and the Gbagbo and Blé Goudé Trial Chamber Majority, can create a backlash within the international criminal justice community, even if that backlash does not end up prompting reform at the ICC in the short term.

Constitution-making has changed dramatically in recent decades. Compared with constitutional processes in earlier eras, we observe the increasing role of the international community in constitution making, often as part of a broader intervention into a conflict, and increasing penetration of international norms into national contexts. There has also been a trend toward public participation in the process of constitution-making. In addition, constitution making is now iterated over time, with multiple rounds of decision making and bargaining.This chapter draws on the framework of Jon Elster to frame the seven case studies in the volume, drawing toegether themes and trends.

Kosovo declared independence from Serbia in 2008, after more than thirty years of political limbo, constitutional ambiguity and tension that culminated in the Kosovo War of 1998–1999. The following years witnessed a series of internationally sponsored peace talks, culminating in a Comprehensive Proposal for the Status Settlement in 2007, which Kosovo accepted but Serbia rejected. The Status Settlement proposal served as the basis for Kosovo’s Independence Constitution, which in terms of process, reflects a dynamic interplay between formally internationally-led negotiations on the political status and an informal internationally-supported constitution-making process. In terms of content, it reflects a combination of locally driven choices within internationally imposed guidelines. Therefore, the Kosovo case contributes to the scholarly debate on the legality and legitimacy of internationalized constituting-making processes. While criticism dominates this debate, Kosovo’s experience sheds light on the advantages of such a process in post-conflict contexts. It shows that the internationally influenced constitutional design constraints can also be “enabling” and that the role of external actors can help balance the motivational factors affecting a constitutional design. Furthermore, it reflects how an effectively coordinated partnership between local and external forces can lead to an outcome, which is compatible with the “will of the people”.

The erosion of democracy has become globally pervasive. New and old democracies around the world are now led by executives willing to undermine democratic institutions in order to achieve their policy goals. The booming literature on democratic backsliding has, for the most part, focused on the factors that drive these executives with hegemonic aspirations to power (Handlin 2017b; Norris and Inglehart 2019b) or the resources they have available to successfully undermine democratic institutions (Corrales 2018b; Levitsky and Ziblatt 2018b; Ginsburg and Huq 2019b; Weyland and Madrid 2019b). The underlying assumption of these theories is that popular and economically solvent heads of government in institutionally weak countries are almost always going to erode democracy, while their less popular and economically solvent counterparts in institutionally strong countries are almost always going to fail.

The author concludes the volume by reflecting on the interface between philosophy and law, arguing that they are both complementary and interdependent. He shows examples of the legal translation of philosophical principles and stresses the necessity to establish a system of responsibility – that is, a clear system of sanctions – so that philosophical and legal norms do not remain mere gratuitous statements. The chapter reflects on the philosophical foundations of legal responsibility, the historical movement of gradual individualization of responsibility and the shift to joint obligation to respond to collective threats and challenges. It ultimately argues that classical responsibility reduced to an essentially inter-individual relationship is technically very sophisticated, both philosophically and legally, but insufficient to face collective challenges (in particular the environmental crisis).

This chapter develops the book’s conceptual and terminological basis. It proposes to re-discover supranationality as a relative and general concept which can serve as a valuable descriptive-analytical tool for the study of international regimes and law beyond the state. Supranationality is defined by adopting a functional perspective: The chapter argues that elements usually denoted supranational seek a form of legal integration, either horizontally, through international institutions bypassing states in their ability to determine the legal position of individuals, or vertically, in that law beyond the state is entrenched in the domestic legal order in a way that allows individuals to rely on it directly. As a thin conceptual theory renouncing any broader normative vision, the proposed framework may complement and inform more fully-fledged theories such as legal pluralism, global constitutionalism or federalism. The chapter also explores the nexus between the notions of supranationality and community. Drawing on constructivist insights, it demonstrates that the constitution of a (legal) community in the sense of an intersubjective sense of belonging can be regarded both the (social) precondition and product of legal integration.

This chapter focuses on the archive’s concepts and objects. This first examines how the tribunal’s legal rules shaped the archive, setting out how the court’s statute and ever-evolving jurisprudence created the framework through which the archive’s records were produced. Beginning to get to the political nature of this imagining, the chapter also demonstrates how certain interpretations of the law ended up preventing records from being produced – such as about the international nature of the genocide from entering the archive – and cemented the use of trials as a key governance tool within the international community. The second part zeros in on arguably the two most important objects for the archive: victims and perpetrators. Exploring how these were constituted in particular ways points to how this produced distinctive visions of community and also how this resulted in a number of conflicts between the archives strategies.

Chapter 6, ‘Imagining a Community’, brings together, and builds on, the findings made throughout the book about the nature of the international community imagined within the archive. This shows that whilst the tribunal functioned as a site of liberal international governance, that underneath this liberal vision sat a distinctly illiberal understanding of community. In particular this shows that the archive divided the international community into the international, as a site of peace and order, and the local, as a site of barbarity; protected a space wherein violence was a legitimate aspect of international relations; and projected a patriarchal and colonial vision of community as the voice of the subaltern was denied.

This brings these findings together and considers what this tells us about the role of archives in international criminal justice and international politics. This reveals a complex picture where the principles and strategies that underpinned knowledge production within the ICTR’s archive shifted over time, from a form of restorative justice to a more strictly retributive model. This also meant a shift from more far-reaching records of violence produced under the witnesses’ influence to a more legalistic record of violence. Over time, the archive, then, less closely reflected the needs and priorities of those affected by the genocide and arguably also produced a more conservative vision of the international community. The chapter also examines the extent to which these dynamics are an inevitable part of international criminal justice,. as a liberal tool of international governance, in part by examining the ICC. This argues that whilst there is little to suggest international criminal justice must necessarily act with such a reductionist view of its function, that these issues continue to underpin current practices of international courts.

One of the fundamental problems with the TPNW is that the five officially recognized nuclear-weapons states – Russia, the United States, China, France and the United Kingdom, collectively the NWS – and four other states who possess nuclear weapons – India, Pakistan, Israel and North Korea – have boycotted the Treaty negotiations and refused to sign or ratify it. Despite moves toward neo-universalism, this leaves an important gap in the TPNW legal framework, because it does not directly bind the NWS and it seems unlikely that these NWS will join the Treaty or be bound under opinio juris. One way to remedy this problem and fill the legal gap is to appeal to an existing set of legal obligations found in international jurisprudence to which NWS are already bound. Specifically, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) has highlighted that states owe obligations erga omnes – toward all – that derive from other international laws, legal principles and conventions.

The Juba Peace Talks between the Lord’s Resistance Army/Movement (LRA/M) and the Government of Uganda were the most promising attempt to end one of Africa’s longest running wars, yet they ended without a peace agreement and are thus largely considered a failure. This chapter unpacks the lessons that the Juba Talks offer for contemporary peacemaking: The need to understand the importance of the developing dynamics and how individuals experienced the peace talks; the phenomenon that peace talks can entrench, rather than transform, violent conflicts; and the challenges in researching and documenting these dynamics and entrenchments. The chapter concludes that the LRA/M to a great extent maintained its reputation as an unreliable and violent negotiation partner torn apart by infighting. The Government of Uganda made few political concessions and instead relief on military intervention; international actors failed to establish themselves as principled with clear guidelines. These dynamics had been present in the conflict and continued during the Juba Talks and beyond, confirming the LRA/M’s perception of being trapped in a hostile and unchangeable system. Only with a holistic approach to managing the ebbs and flows of political conflict can interaction and systems in entrenched situations be changed over the long term.