In the 1990s, international criminal law practice exploded with the construction of ad hoc tribunals to address atrocities committed in Yugoslavia, Rwanda, and elsewhere, leading to a permanent International Criminal Court (ICC). International criminal tribunals (ICTs) are argued to provide something broken societies cannot do for themselves: an honest accounting of past events and a clear demarcation of right and wrong, delivered by rule-respecting institutional models of good governance (Cassese Reference Cassese1998; Leebaw Reference Leebaw2011). This narrative, didactic, “norm projecting” (Luban Reference Luban2010) capacity is central to the stated objectives of modern ICTs as “transitional justice” mechanisms, where “transitional justice” is a normative and theoretical set of policy objectives designed to assist societies to move from repressive to rights-respecting forms of governance (Quinn Reference Quinn2009, 3; Israël and Mouralis Reference Israël2014; Daly Reference Daly2015). That ICTs’ determinations are imagined to resonate beyond their own courtrooms derives from the belief that courts are socially constitutive (Scheingold 1964/Reference Scheingold2004), as well as the authoritative position of law (Hagan and Levi Reference Hagan2005).
Modern social scientists considering ICT impact have generally found at best only modest gains in the peace or democracy that they associate with ICT practice (Nettlefeld Reference Nettlefield2010; Nalepa Reference Nalepa2012; Clark Reference Clark2014). Others report stasis as regards the liberalizing project with which ICTs are tasked (Ivković and Hagan 2011) or critique the project as fundamentally untenable (Rabkin Reference Rabkin2007). Taken together, scholarly reports coalesce around the assertion that the complex social and political task of constructing rule of law, rights-respecting democracies is too complex to be adequately addressed by ICTs (Vinjamuri and Snyder Reference Vinjamuri2015). Most demonstrative of this turn may be the flight from broad claims for ICT capacity made by practitioners themselves. In interviews conducted at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY), respondents ranged from noncommittal to hostile when queried on the topic of the ICTY’s role in political reconciliation in the former Yugoslavia,Footnote 1 a far cry from Akhavan’s (Reference Akhavan1998, Reference Akhavan2001) classic and oft-cited claims regarding ICTs’ potential to communicate liberal values. Nonetheless, international criminal law continues to operate in “humanity’s” name (Teitel Reference Teitel2011; Hopgood Reference Hopgood2013; Krever Reference Krever2013), professing to simultaneously reflect and construct a common, global community. There is thus an ever more definitely mapped chasm between international criminal law’s assertions of universality and its practice and outcomes.
This article argues that the claims to “progress” that legitimize the practice of international criminal law simultaneously and necessarily undermine its communicative capacity, demonstrating what the article labels the “progress” and “justice” paradoxes of international criminal law. Section I describes the legitimizing role the production of “progressive” law plays for ICTs, beginning with the seminal International Military Tribunal (IMT) at Nuremberg; Section II contrasts this construct against domestic criminal justice; Section III concludes with a case study demonstrating the argument; and the conclusion (Sec. IV) calls for practices designed to address this structural failure by operationalizing international criminal law through processes of political liberalism. Through this analysis the article pushes beyond a transitional justice focus on ideology or empirics to make a novel theoretical analysis of the structural flaws inherent in ICTs as institutions that inhibit their contribution to societal peace and prosperity.
I. The “Progress” Paradox of International Criminal Law
At the close of World War II, the Allied powers famously put their defeated opponents on trial; the first of these trials was the IMT at Nuremberg. The international criminal law developed and applied following World War II heralded a resurgence in natural (nonpositive) law (Shklar 1964/Reference Shklar1986) as a means to ensure against the totalitarian excesses that led to the war (Primus Reference Primus1996). This emerged from a two-tier challenge faced by the Allied powers seeking to use law at the close of the war to define the coming peace. First, the crimes articulated by the IMT were largely novel and thus faced a deep intellectual challenge in the opprobrium nullem crimen sine lege: proscribing acts retroactively violates key tenets of rule of law systems as well as notions of justice. Second, the crimes committed by Nazi actors whom the Allies sought to prosecute emerged not from brute lawlessness but rather from a strict and terrible lawfulness: the positive law; that is, written, textual law of the Nazi regime had made many of the atrocities perpetrated before and during the war “legal” in Germany.
To circumvent these challenges, the IMT drew on natural law arguments regarding a universally recognizable “human good” (Finnis 1980/Reference Finnis2006; Sohn Reference Sohn1982; Donnelly Reference Donnelly2003) to legitimize its practice (Citron Reference Citron2006). Günther Teubner (Reference Teubner2015, 10) calls this “sociological natural law” because it “uses societal constitutions to reconstruct the rationalities of diverse subsystems within the legal system and transform them into binding principles.” So, for example, the prosecutor (US Supreme Court Justice Robert H. Jackson) promised to prosecute “acts which have been regarded as criminal since the time of Cain and have been so written in every civilized code” (Report to the President on Atrocities and War Crimes, June 7, 1945; http://avalon.law.yale.edu/imt/imt_jack01.asp). Likewise, in its judgment, the IMT argued that in “circumstances [where the defendant] must know that he is doing wrong, … so far from it being unjust to punish him, it would be unjust if his wrong were allowed to go unpunished” (September 30, 1946; http://avalon.law.yale.edu/imt/judlawch.asp). In this way, the IMT, facing a significant (and hardly baseless) positive law challenge to its practice, turned its weakness into a strength, rooting its legitimacy not in the past (via precedent or positive law) but rather in the future (via the progressive articulations of human rights it recognized). This fit nicely with the Allies’ self-posturing as lawful and moral peoples (where their law was lawful because it was moral).
The legacy of Nuremberg credits the IMT with applying progressive rule of law practice to establish the historical fact of the Holocaust and democratize Germany. The IMT’s work is understood to have produced the historical truths that assisted political reconciliation; that is, the IMT’s progressive law practice is valued partially because of its argued capacity to produce socially constitutive effects. Thus, although the IMT predated the emergence of the field of “transitional justice” by 40 years, it is recognized as a seminal transitional justice mechanism.
As courts go, the IMT at Nuremberg was deeply flawed; it applied ex post facto laws engineered to include only selected acts and enemies, which would fail to satisfy any Kantian notion of a moral law or any established index of transparency. Yet history has all but forgotten the respected legal theorists who joined the German defendants in accusing the IMT of applying “victor’s justice” (Finch Reference Finch1947; Mettraux Reference Mettraux2008). Instead the IMT has come to symbolize the triumph of the rule of law over vengeance and retribution, “one of the most significant tributes that Power has ever paid to Reason,”Footnote 2 where the victorious nations “stayed the hand of vengeance” through the imposition of the rule of law (Bass Reference Bass2000). Modern ICTs today proudly trace their lineage back to the IMT at Nuremberg and use it as a foundation for their own jurisprudence.
Following the IMT at Nuremberg, modern ICTs have not faced the same jurisdictional challenges it surmounted, thanks to the precedential, positive law value of the Nuremberg tribunal itself. Nonetheless, modern international criminal law institutions continue to rely on Teubner’s “sociological natural law” to legitimize their practice, just as the IMT did. Founding doctrinal legitimacy in natural law is continually necessary because, in spite of the positive law example offered by the IMT, ICTs are constantly faced with interpretive challenges that require them to “create” law. This law-creating work is necessary because ICTs are “very thin” with respect to the guidance they give their judges and practitioners regarding legal content (Schabas Reference Schabas2011, 206). To take the ICTY as an example, the original statute consisted of 34 articles and was 11 pages long. Thus while the crimes and the defendants over which ICTs have jurisdiction are elaborated in their statutes, the precise content of ICT jurisdiction has been necessarily, and significantly, developed by their own practice. In order to adjudicate cases, ICTs must necessarily make interpretations of international law, which is predominantly treaty and customary international law (Swart Reference Swart2010). Although ICTs are mandated to apply customary international law and not to invent or create it, in practice, distinctions between “invention” and “application” are contestable (Baker Reference Baker2010).
The “dynamism” that international criminal law has enjoyed as a result of its “openness to judicial activism” (Schabas Reference Schabas2009, 100) meets challenges in the principle of legality, that is, the prohibition on retroactive criminalization (Shahabudden Reference Shahabudden2004). Legal dynamism also plays differently across legal cultures, particularly with regard to the legitimacy of judge-made law where ICT statutes do not explicitly authorize such practice (Schabas Reference Schabas2009, 78). Following Montesquieu (1750/Reference Montesquieu1989), in the civil law tradition the legislative and the executive branches make the law that should be applied by the judicial branch. Thus in civil law systems, courts are not structurally imagined as sites to make, challenge, or change law. This is in contrast to the lawmaking power granted to judges in the common law tradition, where courts are also understood to balance the “tyranny of the majority” through the protection of minority rights (Bickel Reference Bickel1962/1986). Thus ICT invocation of the amorphous source of customary international law in building legal content is similar and familiar to the interpretive practice of common law judges (Schabas Reference Schabas2009, 100), where constitutions “pose relatively few substantive (as opposed to procedural) limits on the state’s criminalizing power” (Lacey Reference Lacey2009, 940). A similar observation is made less flatteringly by Bohlander (Reference Bohlander2014), a civil law–trained attorney, who analogizes the ideological dominance of common law culture and style of argument at international criminal law as “We are the Borg. Resistance is Futile.” It should be noted that these concerns, and their cultural situatedness across the common law/civil law divide, date back to the IMT at Nuremberg, where the French (civil law) participant in the drafting of the IMT Charter challenged the legal basis for the aggressive war charge as but “a creation of four people who are just four people” (cited in Douglas Reference Douglas2001, 52). Indeed, the challenge to sovereignty offered by international criminal law is part of its progress narrative, where the criminalization of “crimes against humanity” requires us to imagine a polity beyond the national. ICTs operationalizing these ideologies arguably assist in constructing such a global community (Duff Reference Duff2009).
“Progress” thus does double duty in international criminal law because it is at once the legitimizing force permitting international legal practice as well as the articulated end goal. International criminal law promises a better, fairer, more just world, an end to impunity, peace in the place of violence: in short, “utopia” (Cassese Reference Cassese2012).Footnote 3 By rooting its legitimacy primarily in forward-looking rights recognition rather than backward-looking positive law or precedent, international criminal law incorporates the iteration of progressive law as central to its enterprise. As ICT judges continue to “develop” law, international criminal law must continue to rely on its “progressive” nature to legitimize the creative, party-driven scope of its legal content.
II. The “Justice” Paradox in International Criminal Law
In representing ICTs as socially constitutive, proponents of the use of law as a didactic social mechanism are relying not only on the moral power claimed for natural law—the legitimizing “progress” narrative discussed above—but also on the social power claimed for criminal law (Cassese Reference Cassese1998, Reference Cassese2013). Writ large, the driving impetus of international criminal law follows a Durkheimian logic (Madsen Reference Madsen2013), wherein the recognition and punishment of violations of “humanity’s law” perform a social function, in this case creating a global rights community (Sikkink Reference Sikkink2011) and articulating a “global conscience” (Ambos Reference Ambos2013). This is how the “progressive law” claims legitimizing international criminal law are intertwined with the claims for ICTs’ didactic, narrative-generating capacity.
The IMT at Nuremberg is celebrated for its articulation of individual criminal responsibility for violations of international humanitarian law (Roht-Arriaza 1990; Bassouni Reference Bassouni2013; Cryer Reference Cryer2014). These are crimes designated as “grave” or “core” and include genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes.Footnote 4 International criminal law thus criminalizes violations of internationally recognized human rights, situating itself between international law and criminal justice (Fletcher Reference Fletcher2012; Cassese Reference Cassese2013). Lacking its own penology, international criminal law builds instead on the rationales used for applying criminal sanctions at the domestic level (Bassouni Reference Bassouni1993; Cassese Reference Cassese1998, Reference Cassese2013; Damaška 2008; Drumbl Reference Drumbl2008), borrowing the retribution, deterrence, and to some degree rehabilitation/restoration rubrics that underwrite criminal law in domestic jurisdictions.Footnote 5
Through the imposition of individual criminal sanctions, international criminal law challenges traditional notions of sovereignty because it displaces state monopoly over the legitimate application of violence (Weber 1919/Reference Weber2013). International criminal law is distinguished from other practices in international law by its “hard law” provisions, its “institutional potential to actually exert force on a rogue government, a warlord, or a perpetrator of crimes against humanity” (Clarke Reference Clarke2009, xii). Where other forms of international law are generally “soft law” constructivist practices organized around the consent of collective organizations, international criminal law assesses criminal liability on individuals. This potential deprivation of liberty is accomplished beyond the boundaries of citizenship, where any person on the planet (provided that jurisdictional obstacles related to the individual tribunal are overcome) can be liable for conduct seriously breaching international humanitarian law.
Unlike liberal sovereign states, however, international criminal law accomplishes its assertion of sovereign-like powers outside of accountability systems, that is, the legitimizing strictures of governance under the Lockean social contract. This accountability problem is deeper and more pervasive than the mere “democratic deficit” from which most courts suffer. Jan Klabbers (Reference Klabbers2015) argues that the partner/agent relationship between international organizations and their funder/directors locks international organizations in accountability-challenging conflicts of interest when the interests of third-party beneficiaries do not align with funders’ interests or priorities. Klabbers defines these accountability problems as pervasive in international organizations generally. Structural accountability deficits are arguably particularly problematic for ICTs because legitimacy before third parties is central to judicial capacity. Most ICTs answer directly to the UN Security Council, to which they make annual reports and from which they receive the bulk of their funds.Footnote 6 In this regard, ICTs face particular existential pressures that distinguish them from domestic criminal courts, where ICTs must achieve convictions in order to justify the public resources expended on international trials (Brannigan Reference Brannigan2011).Footnote 7
In this supra-sovereign landscape, ICTs mete out sanctions that deprive individuals of their liberty. Punishment can be effectuated by any powerful body by any means for any reason; one recalls Foucault’s gruesome opening to Discipline and Punish (Reference Foucault1979/1991). International criminal law claims to administer justice, however, and through this claim it places itself in a liberal, Kantian tradition (Roth Reference Roth2011). Hart’s classic Punishment and Responsibility (Reference Hart1968) defined the normative justifications of “morally tolerable” punishment within the confines of the liberal state (Lacey Reference Lacey2009, 948). In the liberal state, constructed on a social contract between governing powers and the governed, the central purpose of punishment is to communicate censure to offenders; punishment must recognize and reaffirm the citizen’s personhood as within the community (Duff Reference Duff2009, Reference Duff2013).
We thus see two challenges to ICTs’ “justice” practice. First, there are the accountability issues identified by Klabbers and the accompanying challenge they offer for the question of community. International criminal law, operating in the name of mankind, imagines part of its constructive project as the creation of a recognized common human community. Yet in his classic critique of international criminal law, Koskenniemi (Reference Koskenniemi2002, 11) effectively queries the possibility of communal existence, “beyond the elusive and self-congratulatory ‘international community.’” Resistance to ICTs within regions they are designed to assist, even among groups best poised to favor international justice (Clark Reference Clark2014), further indicates obstacles regarding the formation of such a community.
Second, there is a challenge related to legal content. Part of the “communication” inherent in what criminal law theorists such as Hart, Duff, and Lacey identify as “morally tolerable” criminal justice systems concerns their capacity to adjust or align the conduct to be criminalized. Domestically capacity resides in structural mechanisms: at the level of the state, politicians, judges, and state-appointed lawyers and at the level of the citizen, through juries or lay judges who are understood to introduce the capacity to apply shifting social expectations to doctrinal definitions (Dzur Reference Dzur2012). This feedback loop is an essential element of how domestic criminal justice systems serve to represent and create community and permits a certain flexibility, mobility, and responsiveness to criminal justice. Where law protects rights, rights are conceived as permitting derogation when confronted with other rights that may take precedence (Berlin Reference Berlin1969), and in this way sovereign polities negotiate internal conflicts of interest (Shapiro Reference Shapiro1986; Kymlicka Reference Kymlicka1989).
International criminal law, on the other hand, is constructed on “nonderogable” rights, so-called core rights that are immutable, inalienable, universal, and absolute, admitting no contingency or context. More critically, the scope and power of international humanitarian law lies precisely in this nonderogable construction, where the “nonderogable” nature of the right itself provides the legitimizing animus for the application of international criminal law. This absolute and universal status of human rights secures the legitimacy of those institutions that would try violations of these rights through processes approximating domestic criminal law trials, trumping positive law particulars that might prevent protection of nonderogable rights through law. International criminal law offers no resolution for the resulting confrontation between the nonderogation standard of human rights and the justice and fairness compromises present at domestic criminal law. The reason is that such resolution is necessarily political, not doctrinal, and international criminal law rejects political compromise as a source of legitimacy.
This is the “justice” paradox of international criminal law, and it emerges from conflating human rights, which “should be read expansively to realize their object and purpose” (Roth Reference Roth2010, 286) with law, which gains its legitimating authority through rule of law practices based on predictability and accountability. Domestic criminal justice processes demonstrate how justice is a process and not a destination (Clarke Reference Clarke2009), where political ideas and ideals are articulated, tested, and reformulated in an ongoing conversation. Drawing on natural law, international criminal law holds that there is a universal justice that all human beings (should) share. This moves away from the dialogue present in the operationalization of state power in liberal democracies, toward a monologue.
The “justice” paradox is further amplified by the absence, at international criminal law, of accommodation, acknowledgement, or theory regarding what Roth (Reference Roth2010) has termed “ruthless” behavior on the part of states. Ruthless behavior consists of acts that, though “presumptively wrongful in both moral and legal terms,” nevertheless are “substantially related to cognizable governmental (or insurgent) objectives” (239). Roth’s “ruthless” category highlights how justice itself is, at least in practical terms, largely a political formulation; for most citizens in most situations, “justice” is what the state so defines (Sa’adah 2006). As discussed above, international criminal law’s foundational impetus necessarily rejects subjective constructions of justice. Yet is also legitimizes itself through a criminal justice rubric, in which it operates on the principle that it punishes conduct that “tolerably just” (Duff Reference Duff2013, 175) states would punish if they could, and where the dissolution of the state’s sovereign capacity is arguably what makes external criminal application necessary.Footnote 8 A mirror of this conflicted stance is offered by transitional justice practice, which also simultaneously reaches to an imagined objective (i.e., universal) justice standard to legitimize its work while simultaneously founding its practice in the subjective reality of the necessity to lay down new legal practices, ideologies, and/or institutions in the wake of violent conflict or other forms of social dissolution.
Criminal law practice in Duff’s “tolerably just” states represents liberalism in action, where law is a necessary and effective space to address (if not fully redress) social injustice or imbalance. International criminal law, constructed in the shadow of this liberal outcome, has thus far neglected to engage in liberalism’s practices. Rather, international criminal legal practice, through the entirety of its existence, has engaged in subjective imbalances that violate the rule of law tenets that liberal practices are designed to effect. In the following section, the article examines the articulation, evolution, and attenuation of the ICTY’s joint criminal enterprise jurisprudence as a paradigmatic doctrinal development illustrative of both the progress and justice paradoxes present in international criminal law.
III. International Criminal Law’s Paradoxes in Action: The Emergence and Evolution of the ICTY’s Joint Criminal Enterprise Doctrine
Joint criminal enterprise (JCE) is a modern, contentious formulation of international criminal law that has attracted volumes of scholarly attention.Footnote 9 It is a theory of liability emergent from a judicial construction of the ICTY statute’s language of “commission”; that is, JCE is a means of “doing” or “performing” a crime.Footnote 10 JCE represents the resolution of a tension between international criminal law’s rejection of and simultaneous requirement for some recognition of “guilty associations.” The first attempt to codify guilty associations at international criminal law was rejected by the IMT at Nuremberg, and this legal heritage has remained intact through the ICTY statute, which specifically forbids conspiracy or guilt by association. This reflects yet another tension between the two dominant legal traditions affecting the ICTY: the common law tradition of the United States, which recognizes vicarious liability for conspirators (Pinkerton v. U.S., 328 U.S. 640 [1946]), and the civil law tradition, which generally does not (Ohlin Reference Ohlin2011).
The articulation of JCE has enabled an extraordinarily broad establishment of culpability in ICTY practice (Danner and Martinez Reference Danner2005; Hamdorf Reference Hamdorf2007; van Sliedregt Reference van Sliedregt2007; Van der Wilt 2009) and resolved an endemic evidentiary problem plaguing crimes committed in times of widespread social violence. This bonanza is widely recognized: at the ICTY, JCE is sometimes privately referred to as “just convict everybody.”Footnote 11 Other ICTs have rejected JCE, however,Footnote 12 and the ICTY’s own jurisprudence in the past 5 years suggests that it may ultimately reject its own doctrine as well. Recent JCE cases have scaled back the scope and power of the doctrine considerably. In so doing, this section argues, ICTY chambers have not resolved issues related to JCE, but rather deepened them. While early JCE doctrine did not leave room for cogent defense (thereby amounting to a form of strict liability), later JCE cases restricting the doctrine have done so through unusual, unprecedented rationalizations, thus reducing the doctrine’s predictability. Challenges to the substance and application of the JCE doctrine illustrate international criminal law’s paradoxes at work.
A. Early JCE: Tadić, Kvočka et al., and the Culpability of Knowledge
Duško Tadić, arrested in Germany in 1994 and extradited to The Hague, was the first defendant in the dock and a test case for the fledgling ICTY as it attempted to rekindle the Nuremberg legacy (Alvarez Reference Alvarez1998). Tadić was an opportunistic participant in the violent ethnic cleansing of northwest Bosnia during the spring and summer of 1992, a private citizen who took up arms and engaged in violence. In its 1997 opinion, the Tadić Trial Chamber, while finding Tadić guilty of numerous breaches of international criminal law, acquitted him of a series of murders because it could not demonstrate that Tadić himself had committed them (Judgment, The Prosecutor v. Duško Tadić, Case no. IT-94-1-T, Trial Chamber II, May 7, 1997). On July 15, 1999, the Appellate Chamber reversed, articulating the JCE theory of liability to find Tadić liable for crimes that were foreseeable from activities in which he was participating and thus finding Tadić culpable for deaths resulting from his participation in criminal activities (in this case, ethnic cleansing) even though it could not say with certainty that he personally participated in their commission.
Undoubtedly, the particularly sadistic elements of the Tadić case helped smooth the way for a doctrinal formulation that connected bad acts to defined violations of international humanitarian law; Tadić was an unsympathetic thug, and justice appeared to vouch for a doctrine that could ensnare him. Just 2 years after the Tadić appeals judgment, the ICTY decided Prosecutor vs. Miroslav Kvočka, Mlađo Radić, Zoran Žigić, Dragoljub Prcać, IT-98-30/1-T (ICTY, November 2, 2001), however, in which the doctrinal gymnastics necessary to apply JCE are laid bare through the example of a more sympathetic defendant.
The Kvočka et al. case arose from crimes committed in the Omarska prison camp, which functioned from May to August of 1992. Thousands of Bosnian Muslims and other “enemies of the state” were held in warehouses on an abandoned mining site, where they endured physical, mental, and sexual violence, and organized killings were “recreational and sadistic” (Silber and Little Reference Silber1997, 251). This violence was perpetrated by both civilian visitors randomly arriving on site (such as Duško Tadić) and guards stationed at the camp. When it was first publicized in August 1992,Footnote 13 Omarska brought the war in Bosnia into the global spotlight, commencing a wider discussion of what response Western powers would make to war in Europe. Atrocities committed in Omarska were highlighted in the 1994 Bassouni Report to the United Nations that informed the first indictments of the fledgling ICTY.Footnote 14 In a manner of speaking, Kvočka et al. is a case the ICTY was built to try.
The named defendant in the case, Miroslav Kvočka, was a Bosnian Serb policeman assigned to Omarska, and in 2001, the ICTY sentenced him to 7 years in prison for his role in Omarska’s horrors. In its judgment, the Trial Chamber determined that Kvočka worked a total of 17 days at the camp; never threatened, harmed, or ordered harm against any detainee; repeatedly reported violence or evidence of violence to his superiors; personally protected prisoners from violence, including once by putting his body between a shooting gunman and a group of prisoners; exerted a “restraining influence” because violence in the camp decreased when he was there; bore no animus toward Bosnian Muslims and was married to one; suffered a nervous breakdown while at the camp and took 1 week’s leave; and was ultimately dismissed from the camp because he was too sympathetic to Muslims. Nevertheless, applying World War II–era jurisprudence regarding liability for those who assist in criminal systems (paras. 265–306), the Trial Chamber applied JCE liability to find Kvočka’s awareness of violence in the camp to be legally commensurate with committing this violence himself.
Knowledge as the legal equivalent of intention is not novel at criminal law.Footnote 15 Doctrinal contortions arise rather in the question of how to formulate what Kvočka knew. Confirming the Trial Chamber judgments, the Kvočka et al. Appellate Chamber argued that because Kvočka knew of violence—saw the dead bodies (he wrote reports signaling them to his supervisors), the random shootings and beatings, and the conditions in which prisoners were kept—he therefore knew that the entire enterprise of the Omarska prison camp was illegitimate and illegal and thereby shared the intent (the JCE standard) to perpetuate Omarska’s illegalities (February 28, 2005).
Conflating Kvočka’s knowledge of violence in the camp (which is uncontested) with his knowledge that Omarska itself was a criminal organization is a doctrinal stunt. The Appeals Chamber accomplished this by finding Kvočka engaged in “criminal participation,” which, again relying on several WWII-era cases for support, it defined as follows: “when a detention facility is operated in a manner which makes the discriminatory and persecutory intent of the operation patently clear, anyone who knowingly participates in any significant way in the operation of the facility or assists or facilitates its activity, incurs individual criminal responsibility for participation” (para. 306).
Through its “discriminatory and persecutory” language, the Appeals Chamber asserted that the criminal nature of the Omarska enterprise, so clear to it, must have been clear to the professional policeman Miroslav Kvočka, too. The Kvočka et al. decision demonstrates a strict liability standard, where to work in the camp is to be guilty of the crimes committed there; it is guilt by association, where the association is the state, retroactively determined to be criminal. This participation then signals the intent that is central to JCE liability.
B. Reining in the Paradigm: Gotovina (2012); Perišić (2013); Stanišić and Simatović (2013, 2015); Šešelj (2016)
Kvočka et al. was decided in the midst of a JCE landslide; for more than a decade, nearly all convictions before the ICTY relied on JCE. And then, a few years ago, in anticipation of closure and allegedly under pressure from the ICTY’s leadership,Footnote 16 ICTY judgments began “walking back” the sweeping moral insistences of the type evidenced in Kvočka et al. First, there was the Appeals Chambers’ 2012 reversal of the Trial Chambers’ 27-year sentence against Croatian General Ante Gotovina, acquitting him and his codefendant, Commander of Croatian Special Police Mladen Markač. This was followed by acquittals for Serbian military and political leaders: Perišić (2013), Stanišić and Simatović (2013; retrial ordered 2015), and most recently, in March 2016, Šešelj.Footnote 17
In each of these cases, the doctrinal construction at issue was precisely the balance between the actor and the ruthless state or cause he was serving. Where early JCE cases such as Tadić and Kvočka et al. ruled against the individual actors, applying a generalized moral certitude decrying these actors’ participation in organized atrocity regardless of how such participation arose (i.e., representing “progress” through applied, nonderogable legal doctrine), later cases have sought to distinguish individual actors’ actions from the criminal goals and acts of the states they were serving through the prism of their intent (engaging in a practice that more closely approximates the work done by domestic criminal justice systems). In acquitting the Serbian General Perišić of criminal liability for his role at the top of a military hierarchy that supplied Bosnian Serbs with weaponry and manpower, for example, the Perišić Appeals Chamber distinguished the Bosnian Serb army from certain illegitimate elements of its practice. A divided Appeals Chamber found that the prosecution had not shown that Perišić’s aid had specifically assisted the criminal, illegitimate aims of the Bosnian Serb army. Likewise, the 2013 acquittal of two senior Serb generals in Stanišić and Simatović redefined JCE from Kvočka et al.’s sweeping “knowledge as the judicial equivalent of intent” to a narrower “inference of intent … to share common criminal purpose” standard (paras. 2315 et seq.). Although the Trial Chamber found that the two Serb generals directed, supplied, and organized troops who were active in violence in Croatia and throughout Bosnia, it held, in a 2–1 decision, the evidence insufficient to support the mens rea standard it had articulated.
The reader familiar with these cases may protest that each contains important, distinguishing contingencies. The Perišić case involves an aiding and abetting charge, not a JCE charge, and these disparate charges have amassed their own jurisprudence, which confounds a straight doctrinal comparison. Moreover, Perišić turned on a novel formulation of the ICTY’s “aiding and abetting” jurisprudence, which has been roundly criticized (Aksenova Reference Aksenova2015) and has been challenged by subsequent case law;Footnote 18 history may show Perišić to be an outlier. The 2013 acquittal by the Trial Chamber, under JCE, of Generals Stanišić and Simatović was repealed in 2015 by an Appellate Chamber, which ordered a retrial of the case precisely because of problematic constructions of intent and JCE.Footnote 19 The Šešelj judgment, newly minted at the time of writing, has drawn vigorous opprobrium from many quarters and may not stand: even the Economist, not a natural ally of international criminal courts, challenged the ruling as “a victory for advocates of ethnic cleansing” and critiqued the ICTY’s “confusing standards on war crimes and politicians.”Footnote 20 The rationale offered by the Šešelj Chamber to acquit the nationalist radical party leader and paramilitary recruiter—where the Trial Chamber found it “could not rule out” that Šešelj’s speeches calling on paramilitaries to “spare no one” were “meant to boost the morale of the troops of his camp,” and not to be taken literally—is so far from the rationale explored in Kvočka et al. that it beggars belief. The Office of the Prosecutor is appealing the judgment.Footnote 21
That these later cases are doctrinally distinguishable from Tadić and Kvočka et al., or that they are not final, is insufficient to deny the directional shift they signal. In Kvočka et al., international criminal law is constructed as strict liability and ensnares a demonstrably well-intentioned policeman caught up in the bitter dissolution of his state. In Perišić and again in Stanišić and Simatović and Šešelj, rather inexplicably, senior leaders with undisputed capacities to design and affect policy are granted a pass. In Perišić, this formulation is designed around the argued potential for the defendant’s action not to have been criminally intended, even where the facts demonstrate that crimes were committed and tie the defendants’ actions to those crimes. Similarly, in both the Stanišić and Simatović and Šešelj cases, the court offers the benefit of the doubt with regard to what the accused “really meant” (intended) through their actions. Although international criminal law’s theoretical basis rests on the power of holding individuals culpable for atrocities, the Perišić, Stanišić and Simatović, and Šešelj Chambers departed from established applications of international criminal law to shield senior leaders from culpability.
The question then is: how should we understand this departure from earlier doctrine? The Tadić and Kvočka et al. cases articulated bold new standards at international criminal law. If the strict liability JCE imagined seemed to push the boundaries of “justice,” there was still the possible rejoinder that “progress” always entails challenges to the dominant paradigm: consider the upheavals occasioned by the Warren Court’s work toward social justice.
In this vein, the turnaround of the JCE jurisprudence reveals the “progress” paradox in full. If JCE’s strict liability standard was to be understood as the new look of “progress,” then the high-ranking leaders that ICTY chambers went on to acquit should have been equally, if not exceedingly, culpable. In contrast to actors such as Kvočka and other intermediaries on whom international criminal legal jurisprudence is built,Footnote 22 these high-ranking leaders had the status and opportunity to affect the character of Yugoslavia’s dissolution. Perišić’s provisions supported the 3-year siege of Sarajevo, where Bosnian Serb snipers targeted civilians to increase terror and demoralize residents; paramilitaries recruited and encouraged by Šešelj executed, among others, 200 patients in a hospital in Vukovar, Croatia. Yet instead, the JCE jurisprudential legacy leaves us with an unwilling prison guard (Kvočka) found to share full culpability for the violence his peers committed under a broad “knowledge is participation standard,” but decision-making generals and politicians (Gotovina, Perišić, Stanišić, Simatović, and Šešelj) as not culpable for the violence they proselytized, envisioned, or enabled, because the participation standard narrows to “demonstrably evil intent,” where reasonable doubt is applied to the construction of intent.
The evolution of the ICTY’s JCE jurisprudence offers a window into the structural obstacles impeding international criminal law’s justice and progress mandates. As the JCE case law shows, founding institutional legitimacy in “progress” does not counsel where the boundaries of legality ought to be drawn. The structures of ICTs contain no means to address the question of content, that is, no discursive facilities to engage the question of how criminalization should be determined. Consider the Perišić appeals judgment: five seasoned international judges, drawing on two decades of jurisprudence, reached three different determinations regarding how knowledge/awareness of crime should be criminally categorized. Discord at such a basic doctrinal level regarding the elements of international crimes cannot be read, after 20 years of practice, as the growing pains of an emerging institution or jurisprudence, but rather must be understood as demonstrative of structural fault lines in the construction of ICTs. Where justice is necessarily developed “in the eye of the beholder” and when such beholder has, in the name of progress, free rein to determine what that justice looks like, we are closer to Robespierre’s Terror than to the Warren Court.
The stated rationale for prosecuting lower-level perpetrators (such as common thug Tadić and the unfortunate Kvočka) was to build an evidentiary pyramid capable of capturing the senior leadership who bore the greatest responsibility (both morally and in practice) for atrocities committed on the ground. Yet international criminal law has thus far been unable or unwilling to assess culpability to these leaders: the Gotovina, Perišić, and Stanišić and Simatović and Šešelj decisions join earlier acquittals of Croatian Assistant Minister of Defense Ivan Čermak, Commander of Kosovo Liberation Army Ramush Haradinaj, and the senior commander of Bosnian Muslim forces in municipalities in eastern Bosnia, Naser Orić.Footnote 23 Thus the Gotovina, Perišić, and Stanišić and Simatović and Šešelj decisions stand as the latest examples of a prevalent trend at the ICTY of convicting the powerless and acquitting the powerful. Of course, no legal system functions perfectly, and a critique of international criminal law as imperfect in this sense would be meaningless. Rather, this directional shift in the JCE jurisprudence demonstrates the paradoxical relationships ICTs enjoy with “progress” and “justice” where, as currently practiced, international criminal law’s foundational “progress” narrative both invites and requires an individualized application of legality that is in the eye of the beholder. The JCE jurisprudence thus suggests that the “eye of the beholder” (in this case, the international judiciary) would appear to grow more amenable to dissonance as it moves up the ranks of power.Footnote 24 This double standard, of course, violates the very fundament of the rule of law, where rules are legal and moral only when, and precisely because, they apply equally to all.
IV. Conclusions: Building the Next Generation of International Criminal Law
International criminal law begins with one deceptively simple principle: punish the guilty who might otherwise, because of circumstances partly connected to their own violence and criminality, go free. The moral and political power of this principle—to expand the reach of justice and to combat impunity—has propelled several ad hoc ICTs in the 20th century and culminated in the foundation of the permanent ICC. This famed “justice cascade” (Sikkink Reference Sikkink2011) has played a central role in the positioning of human rights as an ideology of global governance (Mazower Reference Mazower2012).
The article’s discussion of the “progress” and “justice” paradoxes is designed to stimulate discussion of how international criminal law might better address the challenges it faces regarding bright-line rules of criminality. The ICTY’s JCE jurisprudence illuminates a contemporary moral quandary: how should international criminal law determine liability for individuals acting in service to illegitimate state ends? This query in turn encompasses the infinitely more problematic question of what standard might be articulated to determine when state ends, which are frequently persecutory, cross the Rubicon to “illegitimate.” Hart (Reference Hart1958, 619–20) famously instructed that “the thing to do with a moral quandary is not to hide it. Like nettles, the occasions when life forces us to choose between the lesser of two evils must be grasped with the consciousness that they are what they are.” Instead of grasping the difficult and contentious subject of illegitimacy of state interest, however, international criminal law thus far has taken the shortcut of prosecuting individuals.
If modern international criminal law would adjudicate individual culpability for state crimes and have such punishment work as justice, such adjudication must be preceded by a rigorous, categorical consideration of illegitimacy in state practice. Before we can decide what Šešelj’s or Gotovina’s culpability for mass population transfers is (the “ethnic cleansing” charges ultimately rejected by the ICTY in both judgments), we must determine the circumstantial legality of population transfers in war; we must do the hard, nettle-grasping work of deciding where legitimate (even when persecutory) state interest gives way to criminal state aggression.
The Rubicon-drawing work of defining state criminality (i.e., legitimate vs. illegitimate state interest) will always, necessarily, be a work in progress. This article has argued that such work can best be accomplished by leaning on liberalism’s processes instead of trying to shortcut to an imagined version of liberal outcomes. Presently, ICTs operate under the claims of a universalized moral theory, taking “humanity” as a banner and institutionalizing themselves by decontextualizing and individualizing state violence. This results in imbalanced individual determinations of culpability that are rendered less socially constitutive only by being unpredictable, illegible, and/or unfair, thereby undermining the very elements of liberalism (the “progress” and “justice” narratives) that do the heavy lifting in the foundational animation and legitimization of these institutions. As proponents of institutionalized human rights dream of ushering in a more peaceful epoch of human history, they must begin this work by applying liberalism’s lessons to the international judicial institutions that would claim to model liberal practice.
