The MOTH Program & Project CETI explore how understanding whale communication can reshape the law.

CLIMATE AND ENVIRONMENT

The MOTH Program & Project CETI explore how understanding whale communication can reshape the law

New York University’s More-Than-Human Life (MOTH) Program and Project CETI (Cetacean Translation Initiative) have joined forces to explore how advances in our understanding of sperm whale communications could lead to positive legal change. Their findings are presented in a new article forthcoming in Ecology Law Quarterly and published on New York University School of Law’s pre-print site (SSRN): “What if We Understood what Animals are Saying? The Legal Impact of AI-assisted Studies of Animal Communication.” The paper explores the growing fields of artificial intelligence and bioacoustics and their potential to reshape human and nonhuman law by challenging long-held assumptions about animal communication. 

Photo of Spermwhale
Amanda Cotton (CETI)

Recent and interdisciplinary advancements in recording technology, advanced robotics, and AI have revealed that many species, from whales to honeybees, possess sophisticated communication systems. Pioneering projects like Project CETI utilize artificial intelligence and technological advances to study those communication systems and have already made groundbreaking findings, such as the sperm whale phonetic alphabet. Proving that cetaceans have a capacity for language would challenge current linguistic theories that confine language to humans and disrupt the legal landscape. From this starting point, co-authors César Rodríguez-Garavito, David F. Gruber, Ashley Otilia Nemeth, and Gašper Beguš explore two interdisciplinary questions rooted in law, linguistics, and science.

What if we could use AI to understand what animals – in particular, sperm whales – are saying? And what if we could use the law to translate that understanding into renewed protections and respect for nonhuman animal populations? 

Law and policy often lag behind the frontiers of scientific advancement, but the collaboration between NYU’s MOTH Program and Project CETI bridges that gap, bringing together two nascent and rapidly evolving fields: nonhuman animal communication technologies and more-than-human law. Together, the two organizations investigate the legal and ethical possibilities arising from new challenges to long-held assumptions about nonhuman animal communication. The joint article examines the legal implications of understanding sperm whales’ capacity for language and, taking the question even further, investigates the legal implications of understanding the contents of sperm whale communication.

Understanding the capacity and content of sperm whale language could radically reshape existing legal frameworks and supplement deeply insufficient contemporary understandings of cetacean behavior, social dynamics, needs, and experiences of suffering. These insights could strengthen enforcement of existing legislation, such as the Endangered Species Act (ESA) and the Marine Mammal Protection Act (MMPA), catalyze entirely new rights for cetaceans, or spark a fundamental transformation in cetaceans’ recognition and treatment by the law.

“At this inflection point, we must deepen our comprehension of the legal possibilities, and the risks, that arise when humans turn to AI to connect with and understand the more-than-human world,” says César Rodríguez-Garavito, founder of the MOTH Program and Professor at NYU Law. “But the potential impacts are much broader. By infusing legal thinking and practice with respect and reciprocity for other forms of life, we can reimagine what flourishing interspecies relationships look like.”

“A deeper appreciation for how nonhuman animals communicate allows us to better honor our relationship and interconnections with the natural world,” adds David Gruber, founder of Project CETI and Project Lead. “As science reveals new portals and understandings about the variety of ways in which life communicates with one another and other species, this shift in understanding should be paired by legal and policy protections.”

Left to Right: César Rodríguez-Garavito, David Gruber, Ashley Otilia-Nemeth, Gašper Beguš.

“Language is a defining trait of humanity—through language we build our relationships, societies, and even our laws. Science has already uncovered many properties of language in nonhuman animals, especially sperm whales, but we haven’t fully asked ourselves what this means for our legal frameworks. As AI-assisted research continues to bring new insights, we ask in our paper: If language underpins our humanity, our rights, and our laws, what does discovering these properties in nonhumans mean for their legal status, and how might our legal systems evolve as a result?” adds Gašper Beguš, CETI’s lead of Linguists and Associate Professor of Linguistics at the University of California, Berkeley.

“The history of nonhuman animal law demonstrates that science and public sentiment have long shaped—and will continue to shape—the way we treat other species. Unlocking nonhuman animal communication gives us yet another chance to wonder whether the boundaries of legal rights and personhood that humans have created are truly immutable,” says Ashley Otilia Nemeth, Supervising Attorney at the NYU Law MOTH Program.

The findings discussed in this article and the rapid growth of this field of research are already revealing an “immense world” of nonhuman animal perception, intelligence, and communication that humbles us into acknowledging our deep connections and similarities with the more-than-human world. With appropriate precautions and safeguards, the capabilities of today’s technology may not only draw us nearer to comprehension and “the verge of a breakthrough in interspecies technology.” They may also inspire new initiatives rooted in empathy and respect for the-more-than-human world, provide a path through current legal roadblocks, and raise fascinating challenges to fundamental legal paradigms, from entirely new rights to legal personhood.

Project CETI (Cetacean Translation Initiative) is a nonprofit scientific and conservation organization that is applying advanced machine learning and state-of-the-art robotics to listen to and translate the communication of sperm whales. Founded with catalytic funding via The Audacious Project, CETI’s science team comprises over 50 leading experts in artificial intelligence, natural language processing and complex systems, marine biology, cryptography, linguistics, robotics, engineering and underwater acoustics. This work demonstrates that today’s most cutting-edge technologies can be used to benefit not only humankind, but all species on this planet. CETI has made pioneering scientific discoveries, including characterizing a sperm whale phonetic alphabet and the discovery of sperm whale vowels. By sharing our findings with the public and collaborating with legal initiatives such as NYU’s MOTH, CETI is actively generating a greater wonder for Earth’s matrix of life as well as envisioning future legal and policy directions for the benefit of both humans and more-than-human life. 

Project CETI is a US 501c3 (EIN: 84-4630660) and a Dominican Approved Charitable Organization (No. C53).

The MOTH (More-Than-Human Life) Program, hosted by NYU School of Law, is an interdisciplinary initiative advancing the rights and well-being for humans, non-humans, and the web of life that sustains us all. The program brings together legal scholars, scientists, Indigenous leaders, journalists, artists, and other thinkers and doers from across the world.

Community-led monitoring in Guyana essential to Indigenous justice systems and access to justice

CLIMATE AND ENVIRONMENT

Community-led monitoring in Guyana essential to Indigenous justice systems and access to justice

Since 2013, the Wapichan people of the South Rupununi region of Guyana have pioneered an innovative community led territorial monitoring program to protect their rights, and advance their territorial governance and self determination. A recent submission by the South Rupununi District Council (SRDC) – the representative institution of the Wapichan people – and the Global Justice Clinic (GJC) highlights the importance of community monitoring to Indigenous justice systems and access to justice, and calls for greater government recognition and collaboration with Indigenous led community monitoring efforts. GJC has partnered with the SRDC since 2016.

Landscape of a field/land in Guayana with blue skies.

In January, the South Rupununi District Council (SRDC), the representative institution of the Wapichan people in the South Rupununi region of Guyana, along with the Global Justice Clinic (GJC), made a submission to the Special Rapporteur on the independence of judges and lawyers to inform her upcoming thematic report on Indigenous justice. The submission underscores the importance of community-led monitoring to the Wapichan people’s Indigenous justice system and access to justice more broadly, both of which are critical to the Wapichan people’s enjoyment of nationally and internationally recognized human rights.

Since 2013, the SRDC has utilized tools like drones, GIS mapping, and water quality testing to support scientifically rigorous data gathering efforts as part of its community-led monitoring program. The monitoring program builds upon the traditional monitoring practices of Wapichan community members that has accompanied customary activities such as hunting and fishing, and clearly documents “happenings” on Wapichan wiizi (territory), including deforestation, land degradation, and water contamination stemming from mining exploration and extractive activities by external actors. This documentation highlights clear violations of national and international law as well as violations of the Wapichan people’s customary law. GJC has partnered with the SRDC since 2016, providing technical and legal support to the monitoring program.

The submission highlights the centrality of the monitoring program to the Wapichan people’s territorial governance, care, and management of Wapichan wiizi, and its importance to self-determination. It argues that, as a participatory community institution that enables the regulation of lands according to custom and traditional practice, community-led monitoring serves as a mechanism for the implementation of customary Wapichan law, as well as supporting access to justice for violations of communities’ rights. This includes the Wapichan people’s right to a clean environment and to free prior and informed consent. The submission identifies government barriers
to community-led monitoring and emphasizes the powerful potential of community-led monitoring programs to address systemic injustices, advance the territorial-self governance of Indigenous communities, and strengthen environmental protection. In the Guyanese context, the submission calls for:

  • Government recognition of the Wapichan people’s land rights over the entirety of Wapichan wiizi.
  • Explicit government and other stakeholder recognition of the SRDC Monitoring Program and of the Wapichan peoples’ right to monitor their full customary territory.
  • Government collaboration with the SRDC monitoring program, for instance through Memorandums of Understanding with the Environmental Protection Agency and other relevant agencies.
  • Full transparency and timely response to requests for information from the Wapichan people that arise from the monitoring program.

Fair Pay for Public Defenders: If Mongolia Can Do It, Any Country Can

HUMAN RIGHTS MOVEMENT

Fair Pay for Public Defenders: If Mongolia can do it, any country can

On the first day of 2023, Mongolia’s public defenders received a 300% pay raise. A new law took effect on January 1st that ties the compensation of publicly funded defense attorneys to their courtroom counterparts, prosecutors. Although Mongolia ranks among the world’s poorest countries, it has achieved something that many of the world’s wealthiest states have failed to: pay equity between public defenders and public prosecutors.

Oyunchimeg Ayush (wearing blue in the photo), then the head of the Mongolian state agency responsible for public defense.

A central tenet of adversarial legal systems is that justice is best served when opposing sides are fairly matched. As the European Court of Human Rights put it, “[i]t is a fundamental aspect of the right to a fair trial that criminal proceedings…should be adversarial and that there should be equality of arms between the prosecution and defence.” Similarly, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights says that public defenders should be empowered to act “on equal terms with the prosecution.”

If the goal is a fair fight in the courtroom, it seems obvious that paying public defenders just a third of what prosecutors make would detract from that goal. Yet around the world, such pay disparities are commonplace, a phenomenon I saw firsthand as Global Policy Director for the International Legal Foundation, an NGO that builds public defender systems across the globe.

One reason for this disparity is that most domestic constitutions are silent on this issue. And even in the realm of international law, where the “equality of arms” principle is a well-established component of the bedrock international instrument on fair trial rights, courts have not interpreted this to require “material equality” between prosecution and defense. For example, this ICTR case found no fault with the fact that the prosecution’s team comprised 35 investigators deployed for several years, while the defense team had just two investigators paid to work for a few months. 

Instead, equality of arms is mainly conceived of in procedural terms, such as this HRC case where the court’s failure to allow defense counsel to cross-examine the victim was found to violate the principle. As applied to resources, equality of arms requires only that the resources available to the accused are “adequate” to present a full defense (as the Caribbean Court of Justice points out in §33).

Absent promising legal grounds, the battle for pay parity must be fought in the political arena. But there are major challenges here, too, mainly that elected officials are not usually keen on funding services for people accused of heinous crimes. Public defenders around the world have had to embrace vigorous strategies to compel political action, such as labor strikes and joining forces with prosecutors.

So how did Mongolia do it? Dedicated advocacy by a committed public official.

Oyunchimeg Ayush (wearing blue in the photo to the right), then the head of the state agency responsible for public defense, had grown tired of trying to recruit and retain qualified attorneys on salaries 70-80% lower than prosecutors and judges. She saw the unequal pay not only as unfair but as inefficient: high turnover increased recruitment and training costs and yielded a less-experienced workforce.

So, she started making her case for equal pay. She met with legislators, justice system stakeholders, and cabinet ministers, where she found a key ally in Khishgeegiin Nyambaatar, the Minister of Justice and Home Affairs. She also reached out to the ILF to ask for research on pay parity and examples of other jurisdictions who had achieved it. We pointed her to Argentina, which passed a parity law in 2015, and to the American state of Connecticut, which has had a parity law for 30 years and has been recognized for excellence. This partnership between local and international actors echoes the ongoing debate among human rights scholars like Gráinne de Búrca, Margaret Keck, Kathryn Sikkink and others about how human rights reform is actually achieved. Eventually, Mongolia’s Parliament, known as the Great Khural, amended the legal aid law to require that public defender wage rates equal those received by prosecutors. 

Mongolia’s achievement is all the more impressive in light of its economic constraints. The Mongolian government’s annual budget is roughly $6 billion. Juxtapose this with the American states of Florida and Oregon, whose failure to pass pay parity legislation in recent years was largely justified on budgetary grounds. Oregon’s annual budget? $67 billion. Florida’s? $101.5 billion

Though Mongolia’s achievement is monumental, even these reforms do not amount to true equality of arms between public defenders and prosecutors. In recent years, many commentators have argued that individual pay parity—between defense and prosecution lawyers—is insufficient to ensure an equal playing field. Instead, they argue that what is needed is institutional parity. For example, the leading international instrument on good practices for public defender systems calls for “fair and proportional distribution of funds between prosecution and legal aid agencies,” and the American Bar Association says that parity should extend beyond salaries to include workloads, technology, facilities, investigators, support staff, legal research tools, and access to forensic services and experts.

The inclusion of defense investigators is particularly important. Prosecutors aren’t the only government agents that help prosecute a criminal case. Much of the work of collecting evidence and facilitating witness testimony is done by the police. But police investigations are often subtly (or not subtly) shaped by the prosecution’s theory of the case, and police agencies have historically been less than eager to turn over exculpatory evidence. For this reason, public defender performance standards generally mandate that defense attorneys conduct their own independent investigations. A truer apples-to-apples comparison for public defense agency budgets should not only include the prosecution agency, but also some portion of the police budget, too. 

Mongolia’s revised law does not yet achieve parity on this institutional level, but individual parity is still a huge and significant step, one that is particularly remarkable in light of Mongolia’s economic constraints. Their achievement stands as an admonition to wealthier jurisdictions who claim that pay parity is too expensive. 

Congratulations to the members of the Great Khural, for passing this law; Minister Nyambaatar, for championing it; Oyunchimeg Ayush, for catalyzing this effort; and, above all, to the Mongolian public defenders whose pay finally reflects their vital role in achieving justice. 

May 19, 2023. Ben Polk, Bernstein Institute for Human Rights of NYU Law School. 

This post reflects the opinions of the author and not necessarily the views of NYU, NYU Law or the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice.

What are post-PACT Act possibilities for recognition and compensation of Iraqi victims of war toxins?

PREVENTION AND CONFLICT

What are post-PACT Act possibilities for recognition and compensation for Iraqi victims of war toxins?

The US PACT Act, enacted in 2022, offers unprecedented healthcare and compensation for 3.5 million US military veterans suffering from illnesses linked to toxic exposure. What are the possibilities for comparable recognition and support for Iraqi civilians who continue to live amidst the same war toxins, and what role can international law play in achieving justice?

With the discomfort of the first morning approaching and the heat slowly raising, the sand had picked up with the wind and started to attack us. Though if you notice, nobody stopped, people kept going on. An army personal is seen in this image, helping to guide and protect from any threats, this would be along the whole journey and into the city of Karbala itself.
Jaffer Hasan (iStock)

April 2023 marks eight months since the PACT Act (Promise to Address Comprehensive Toxics Act) went into effect in the United States in August 2022. The PACT Act is “the most significant law ever helping victims exposed to toxic burn pits,” as described in US President Joe Biden’s February 2023 State of the Union address. Indeed, the PACT Act unprecedentedly offers healthcare and disability compensation for approximately 3.5 million veterans harmed by burn pits and other toxic exposures. It not only promises long awaited compensation for veterans who served in the US wars in Iraq and Afghanistan beginning in 2003 and 2001 respectively, but also covers veterans harmed by herbicides during the Vietnam War, 1990–91 Gulf War veterans, and those who served in numerous other locations including Syria, Yemen, Lebanon, and many more. Veterans will be presumed eligible according to dates and locations of service, and no longer have to prove the direct link between their exposure and their illness, often an impossible task.

No comparable mechanism is in place, however, to recognize and assist civilians facing ongoing toxic assaults in contaminated environments, including in Iraq. Iraqi civilians suffer from disturbingly high rates of congenital anomalies (birth defects) and cancers, leading to conditions of inescapable health devastation, something I deem “toxic saturation” in my research.

Does the PACT Act offer any hope for comparable support for non-US civilians? Or does the Act represent the latest iteration of a deeply flawed approach when it comes to the US’s response to victims of war toxins? In this post, I address these questions as they impact Iraqi civilians, and examine international law’s role for addressing irreparable harm experienced by civilians forcibly exposed to war toxins.

The Scale of “Toxic Saturation”

A 2019 Environmental Pollution study documented that children living in proximity to a US military base near Nasiriyah, Iraq, had an increased likelihood of congenital anomalies including neural tube defects (such as spina bifida, anencephaly, and hydrocephalus), congenital heart diseases, and musculoskeletal malformations (including missing right hand and paralyzed clubfoot). Doctors in Fallujah have long reported a staggering post-2003 surge in birth defects.

It is important to understand the scale of war toxins that the US military and its allies introduced to Iraq. More than 780,000 rounds of depleted uranium (DU) were used in 1991, and more than 300,000 rounds in 2003, as reported by Dutch peace organization PAX. As explained by the US Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), “DU is a potential health hazard if it enters the body, such as through embedded fragments, contaminated wounds, and inhalation or ingestion.”

The US military admits to using white phosphorus as an incendiary weapon in Fallujah in 2004. Incendiary weapons, as explained by Human Rights Watch (HRW), “produce heat and fire through the chemical reaction of a flammable substance, cause excruciating burns and destroy homes and other civilian structures.” The US later used white phosphorus again in Iraq and Syria in operations targeting the Islamic State. As described by HRW’s Stephen Goose, “No matter how white phosphorus is used, it poses a high risk of horrific and long lasting harm in crowded cities like Raqqa and Mosul and any other areas with concentrations of civilians.”

Another key source of toxic exposure for veterans is burn pits. As I wrote for Al Jazeera in August 2022, burn pits are open air pits of military waste, sometimes as large as football fields, used to burn and destroy weapons, chemicals, plastics, and medical and human waste, typically using jet fuel. Joe Biden has been vocal about his son Beau’s fatal brain cancer, believed to be caused by exposure to burn pits while serving with the US military in Iraq and working in Kosovo.

International Law and Compensation for Health Destruction

Compensation is essential for providing medical care and lifetime assistance to Iraqis struggling to survive due to toxic saturation. Veterans have faced health devastation following relatively short-term exposure, while civilians have been left behind to languish amidst war toxins. As noted in my research on water access, however, international law faces significant enforceability challenges regarding reparations for victims of environmental destruction in the context of armed conflict.

The US in particular has a discouraging track record. The US government long denied illnesses linked to deadly, dioxin-containing herbicides, including Agent Orange, experienced by Vietnam War veterans. Funding dedicated to Vietnamese civilians and environmental clean-up has been a mere fraction of what is needed, especially as children continue to be born with severe congenital anomalies nearly fifty years after the Vietnam War ended in 1975.

In principle, international law clearly provides the basis for reparations for Iraqi civilians. Additional Protocol I (1977) to the Geneva Conventions addresses the illegality of environmental damage and health destruction, and reparations for harm caused. Article 55 requires that care is taken in warfare “to protect the natural environment against widespread, long-term and severe damage.” This protection prohibits methods “which are intended or may be expected to cause such damage to the natural environment and thereby to prejudice the health or survival of the population.” Article 91 states that parties that violate international humanitarian law shall “be liable to pay compensation.” The Environmental Modification Convention forbids military “environmental modification techniques having widespread, long-lasting or severe effects as the means of destruction, damage or injury.”

Furthermore, monetary compensation is not the only aspect of reparations currently being denied for Iraqis. As Christine Evans writes, “There is a common misconception that reparations are synonymous with monetary compensation” when reparations actually encompass financial and non-financial meanings: “restitution, compensation, rehabilitation, satisfaction (disclosure of the truth), and guarantees of non repetition.”

Following the significant agreement on “loss and damage” funding at COP27 in November 2022, compensation for developing countries impacted by climate disasters, long on the agenda of climate justice advocates, was brought to the center of the world stage, though much work remains to be done to ensure compensation is provided to those in need of it.

Comprehensive environmental justice requires that all victims of environmental injustice, including both victims of the climate crisis and of toxic environmental assaults during and following war, are recognized and compensated. The PACT Act is an overdue victory for veterans and sets a precedent for compensation following wartime toxic exposure. The US government cannot stop here, only recognizing veterans affected by war toxins. The US must be pressured to acknowledge the existence and suffering of Iraqi civilians and all people harmed by war toxins, and to provide the care and compensation that is owed to them.

April 21, 2023. Carly A. Krakow, Visiting Scholar (AY 2022-2023)
Carly A. Krakow is a writer, journalist, faculty member at the NYU Gallatin School, and completing her PhD in International Law at the London School of Economics as a Judge Rosalyn Higgins Scholar and Modern Law Review Scholar. 

This post reflects the opinions of the author and not necessarily the views of NYU, NYU Law or the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice.

Prevention economies in Kenya: Peace, Power & Pragmatism?

PREVENTION AND CONFLICT

Prevention economies in Kenya: Peace, Power and Pragmatism?

While international security interests continue to hijack the ‘triple nexus’, local CSOs have used Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism (P/CVE) to allocate and redirect resources to their own needs, secure their mission in the face of a shrinking civil society space, and protect themselves from direct security interventions.

Golden Brown (iStock)

The Emergence of the ‘Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism’ Agenda

“Conflict prevention” is an umbrella term for a variety of interventions in the peacebuilding field that aim at addressing factors that could lead to violent conflict. SDG 16 in the UN 2030 agenda makes an important contribution to the realm of conflict prevention with the target goal to “Promote peaceful and inclusive societies for sustainable development, provide access to justice for all and build effective, accountable and inclusive institutions at all levels.” After years of hard counter-terrorism strategies, preventive measures to address the root causes of radicalization have also gained traction in the Global War on Terror. The United States, supported by the United Nations, have played a central role in this paradigm shift and the introduction of the concept ‘Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism’ (P/CVE), which replaced the dominant notion of ‘Counter-Terrorism’ (CT) in policy spaces in 2015. P/CVE has since become the globally accepted security strategy to address violent extremism, by underscoring a whole-of-society approach, as well as the localization of the fight against terrorism. While P/CVE is very much a security strategy, the agenda is now also closely linked to SDG 16 through the emphasis on strengthening civil society and government institutions, building social cohesion and resilience, addressing local grievances and respecting human rights. At the core of this union between P/CVE as a security strategy and peacebuilding lies the concept of ‘human security’, which is defined by the UNDP as ‘freedom of want’ and ‘freedom of fear’. ‘Human security’ focuses on the individual grievances that may incite violence. Consequently, many security approaches are no longer solely based on military power, but include humanitarian, development, and peacebuilding initiatives. Within this vein, CSOs have thus become integral to the realization of the agenda. As a result, critics argue that P/CVE has securitized and co-opted the civil society space, thereby forging a dangerous liaison between security actors and CSOs.

Securitization of the Civil Society Space in Kenya

In the first years, after its global adoption in 2015, the P/CVE agenda was implemented through National Action Plans (NAPs) with great enthusiasm from the international community. Particularly, the United States supported its allies around the world in the adoption of the agenda through technical assistance and donor funding. Kenya is one of the US’s main strategic allies in the Global War on Terror in Africa and has been at the forefront of adopting the P/CVE agenda in the last 7 years. While donors decreased their funding through COVID-19 and the presidential election in 2022, P/CVE is still one of the main donor priorities in Kenya to this day. Since the introduction of P/CVE in 2016 through a National Action Plan (NAP), many CSOs have geared towards the implementation of P/CVE programs to access funding for their programs. The international donor industry, which is heavily influenced by security interests in the Horn of Africa, has thus very much impacted the civil society space in Kenya. As the Kenyan government considers violent extremism a national security issue, every organization that implements P/CVE must report to the National Center for Counterterrorism (NCTC) under the 2012 Prevention of Terrorism Act (POTA) since a 2019 amendment. CSOs therefore have to report to the authorities about P/CVE programs, which can include sensitive information about the program participants. As a consequence, local communities have accused CSOs of espionage and surveillance, thereby criticizing the alignment of aid programs with security interventions. While the securitization of the civil society space in Kenya through the integration of security strategies into aid programs in the name of prevention has certainly led to many trust issues between CSOs and local communities, the question of agency and resistance of CSOs is central in understanding P/CVE in Kenya. CSOs are subject to complex negotiations between international security agendas, funding scarcity, and local agency. I will briefly discuss the entanglement of the security-oriented P/CVE agenda in three key areas in the aid architecture: human rights (1), humanitarian and development aid (2), and peacebuilding (3).

The Entanglement of P/CVE with the Aid Architecture

In the aftermath of heavy security crackdowns against Muslim communities after the Westgate mall attack in 2013 and counter-terrorism operations along the coast, Kenyan human rights organizations were very vocal about the human rights violations including forced disappearances and extrajudicial killings committed by Kenyan security forces and brought international attention onto the situation. As a response, the government listed two leading human rights organizations as terrorist entities which resulted in the freezing of their bank accounts. After a legal battle the court finally ruled the accusation as unjust and commanded the unfreezing of assets. Nevertheless, the incident sent a clear message to human rights organizations nation-wide. It is therefore, perhaps, surprising how many human rights organizations are currently actively implementing P/CVE programs despite of the previously mentioned issues. While the P/CVE agenda commits to a human rights-based approach to preventing violent extremism, the often-times close involvement of security forces in the implementation of P/CVE also endangers the integrity of CSOs. I would argue, however, that P/CVE can and should also be understood as part of a pragmatic response by human rights organizations that engage in a difficult balancing act between shining light onto human rights violations and their own security. The close relationship with the government and security forces in the implementation of P/CVE seems to allow human rights organizations to expose certain incidents without feeling immediate repercussions. Additionally, at the coast, CSOs established a consortium to protect each other from similar accusations. Human rights organizations and other CSOs also contest the 2019 amendment of POTA that obliges all organizations that implement P/CVE to report information to the NCTC. They are thus forced to find a pragmatic path between dialogue with the security forces and protection of their own work.

Humanitarian and development programs are frequently also part of P/CVE responses in Kenya. Especially in the North-Eastern region of Kenya, humanitarian and development interventions converge with security strategies to tackle violent extremism. The climate crisis has led to the worst droughts and food emergency situation in forty years. The redirection of funding channels to European countries through the Ukraine war and global wheat price crisis also partly contribute to the lack of funding to address humanitarian needs in the region. Additionally, foreign actors often prioritize other countries as they consider Kenya as a middle-income country. Since P/CVE continues to be a funding priority for many donors in the North-Eastern region of Kenya, many local CSOs apply for P/CVE funding to allocate resources and later redirect them to humanitarian assistance programs. Local CSOs, in asserting their agency, therefore also take advantage of the P/CVE industry to access funding that they would otherwise not receive in a situation of humanitarian emergency.

Finally, peacebuilding CSOs in particular have shifted their focus to the implementation of P/CVE as a consequence of the huge donor funding supply for these programs, oftentimes using the labels of “P/CVE” and “peacebuilding” interchangeably. While both P/CVE and peacebuilding are very broadly defined terms, the label P/CVE raises a lot of suspicion in local communities and creates security risks for local aid workers who implement these programs. Nevertheless, P/CVE is also an instrument for local communities to keep security forces at arm’s length. Many P/CVE programs contain community policing as an integral element which redirects security governance to the local community. It appears that local communities are able to contain direct police engagement in the community, which decreases incidents of police brutality against youth. While many local peacebuilders explain how violent extremism actually is not a main concern in their communities, P/CVE seems to be an important tool to not only gain funding but again paradoxically help secure the community against government crackdowns.

Ultimately, local CSOs in Kenya demonstrate great pragmatism in the implementation of P/CVE by balancing security concerns and local needs within an increasingly competitive donor market. At the beginning, P/CVE might have been a top-down approach to tackle local insecurities that are of concern for international actors and global stability. While international security interests continue to hijack the ‘triple nexus’, local CSOs have used P/CVE to allocate and redirect resources to their own needs, secure their mission in the face of a shrinking civil society space, and protect themselves from direct security interventions.

April 11, 2023. Nora Naji, Visiting Scholar (AY 2022-2023)
Nora Naji is a PhD candidate at the University of Basel, and an associated researcher at swisspeace. Her dissertation ‘Commodifying peace: Intimate warfare and prevention economies in Kenya’ builds on the securitization premise and sets out to situate the agenda of “Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism” (P/CVE) in Kenya within a larger discussion of prevention economies.

This post reflects the opinions of the author and not necessarily the views of NYU, NYU Law or the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice.

Can human rights provide a hopeful vision of a more equal future?

INEQUALITIES

Can human rights provide a hopeful vision of a more equal future?

Rampant inequality around the world has forced the international human rights community to confront a basic yet controversial question – what to do about it?

Two trees floating on water contrasting two different seasons alluding to prosperity and poverty.
Lightspring (shutterstock)

International human rights have struggled to provide satisfactory answers to poverty and inequality since their inception. From debates around the use of political means to address social issues in the aftermath of World War II, to more recent discussions on the false dichotomy between social justice and human rights, much has happened within the human rights field in terms of its engagement with socio-economic issues. Yet answers to the question of what a rights-based vision to end poverty and inequality could look like continue to prove elusive.

For much of the 20th century, progressive leaders and thinkers focused their message on the hopeful possibility of a better future. Workers rallied for better working conditions and women demonstrated for more freedoms and rights. Human rights provided a positive narrative on which to build these demands. Today, however, hopeful narratives about a brighter future no longer have the galvanizing effect they once had. Climate change is irreversible and political leadership is clearly not up to the task. Promised technological advancements have brought exclusion and precariousness in the gig economy. Undue privileging of pharma interests in political decisions has meant that COVID-19 vaccine distribution remains deeply unequal. The list keeps going, and yet the human rights community struggles to provide a positive, proactive vision of the future.

The pandemic has prompted many to call for a redesign of the economic system, and this has provided an opening for actors in the human rights field. The World Economic Forum, for example, argued for a “Great Reset,” an opportunity to “reimagine” the economy towards “stakeholder capitalism.” In this apolitical, conflict-less vision of the world, economic problems exist out there, in a vacuum, waiting for someone to solve them. Conflict can be resolved through a “social contract” and “agreement on shared values” between governments, businesses, and individuals. But can there be a social contract and an agreement on shared values while Jeff Bezos had “the best day ever” as he flew into space for $28 million, and the equivalent of 125 million people have lost their jobs since the start of the pandemic? Can there be “shared values” when the poorest half owns 2% of total wealth and the richest 10% own 76%?

Although there is now growing consensus that inequality is problematic in more ways than one, the question is whether human rights provide a positive, hopeful vision to end it. But, for this to happen, the human rights community must first face a prior, very basic question – what to do about it? Should human rights aim at eradicating inequalities or simply at “reducing” them? Even if we agree on what the goal is, how do we accomplish it? Do we reduce the number of poor or the number of billionaires?

These seemingly basic questions point at broader, generalized misunderstandings of the relationship between poverty and inequality that the human rights field has not fully solved yet.

Those with an interest in maintaining the status quo continue to spread damaging ideas that further entrench inequality based on the concepts of “meritocracy” and “trickle-down” economics. At their most basic, these fallacies argue that when those at the top are rewarded for their ability and effort, their high earnings will continue to incentivize them and will also benefit those at the bottom, notably in the form of jobs, higher wages, and better products. Following this, government policies should support the wealthy, including through tax breaks at the top, because they will somehow “trickle down” to the poor.

As it turns out, these beliefs are particularly present in countries where income inequality is highest. They are typically held by those who already see high inequality levels as legitimate, which is in turn typically stronger in individuals with higher incomes. The perceived gap between the poor and the rich in terms of their “merit” also happens to grow in more unequal societies, leading people to assume that inequality of income correlates strongly with inequality of merit. In other words, higher inequality levels lead those with higher incomes to perceive the poor as less “meritorious” and more deserving of their socioeconomic situation, and therefore to justify inequality on the basis of unequal merit.

Moreover, while higher inequality damages societies in their entirety, it harms some more than others. People in poverty and those on low incomes are particularly impacted by inequality. With higher inequality, their incomes decrease, their educational attainment drops, and their health worsens. In contrast, individuals on high incomes and wealth remain largely undisturbed by inequality. Their personal connections, used to access high-paying jobs, good quality schools, and top healthcare, endure.

And yet addressing inequality as a precondition for poverty eradication remains taboo. Charity towards the poor is perceived as a generally accepted response to poverty, whereas questioning inequality, which necessarily leads to questioning the legitimacy or appropriateness of top incomes and wealth accumulation, is still a political anathema.

The international human rights community can and should question these beliefs and provide a renewed hopeful vision of a more equal future. For that, looking at poverty from a human rights perspective must necessarily entail examining income and wealth concentration at both the bottom and the top – beginning with claiming tax justice, making social protection universal, demanding adequate funding for public services, and redefining what long-term public investments look like. The future of human rights largely depends on our ability, as human rights advocates, to develop an expertise in these topics, dispel damaging myths, and strategically infuse the language of rights and obligations within them.

May 25, 2022. Paula Fernandez-Wulff, Visiting Scholar (AY 2021-2022).
Paula Fernandez-Wulff is the Senior Advisor to the UN Special Rapporteur on extreme poverty and human rights and Scholar in Residence, Center for Human Rights and Global Justice, New York University School of Law. 

This post reflects the opinions of the author and not necessarily the views of NYU, NYU Law or the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice. The views presented here should also not be attributed to the United Nations or any of its agencies.

GJC Issues Statement Calling for End to Mass Deportations to Haiti

HUMAN RIGHTS MOVEMENT

GJC Issues Statement Calling for End to Mass Deportations to Haiti

The Global Justice Clinic and immigrant justice and human rights organizations—many of which are Haitian-led—release a statement denouncing the Biden administration’s launch of one of the largest mass deportation campaigns in U.S. history. These deportations target Haitian people and violate migrants’ rights to seek asylum. The U.S. government is sending Haitian people, including many children and babies, to a country that is reeling from political and humanitarian crises. The decision is infected with anti-Black and anti-Haitian discrimination. The Global Justice Clinic and fellow signatories call for an immediate halt to deportations to Haiti and an end to unlawful Title 42 expulsions.

This post was originally released as a press release on September 21, 2021.

The Climate Fight Needs Imagination—Using the Tariff Act of 1930 to Fight Climate Change

CLIMATE AND ENVIRONMENT

The Climate Fight Needs Imagination-Using the Tariff Act of 1930 to Fight Climate Change 

The Human Rights and Climate Change movement should make use of less conspicuous tools, like the administrative agency, and forms of exploitation as a way of targeting corporations in the climate change fight.

Flags of various countries including U.S., Lebanon among others.
Vladislav Kapin (unsplash)

It is well-known that a handful of corporations are responsible for most of the world’s greenhouse gas emissions. And yet the private sector marches forward flaunting an insignia of impunity, due to slow adaptability by legal frameworks coupled with its diligent resistance. Practitioners and advocates across the world are therefore hard at work concocting creative ways to bring a scintilla of accountability to such actors. One of the most powerful results of such efforts has been the rights turn that climate litigation has taken, in which claimants use human rights arguments to hold governments and corporations accountable for their egregious climate change actions.

This emerging human rights & climate change (HRCC) field is transcending traditional means of targeting corporations (like tort law, liability, and criminal law) and is sure to expand its reach to corporate actors with breakthrough decisions like Milieudefensie et al v Royal Dutch Shell. For the first time, a corporation was held responsible for lowering its greenhouse gas emissions. Despite this, corporations continue to be secondary duty-bearers under international law and human rights obligations. They, in other words, continue to be fugitive.

This means that the HRCC movement must keep using its imagination. It should recognize the power of seemingly minor legal interventions and the use of less-shiny tools like the administrative agency. It should also be attentive to other forms of exploitation that are inherently—but not so obviously—linked to climate change, as targeting these can provide another avenue for climate change action. And we need all the help we can get.

What is 19 U.S.C. § 1307?

Section 307 of the Tariff Act of 1930 (19 U.S.C. § 1307) prohibits the importation into the US of any goods made “wholly or in part” using forced, indentured, or convict labor in any part of the world. Once a petition is filed, the US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) conducts an investigation to determine whether to issue a Withhold Release Order (WRO) to prevent imports from entering the country.

What does 19 U.S.C. § 1307 have to do with climate change?

The business model of outsourcing lower-value activities throughout “supply chains” spanning countries with wide-ranging (think: weak) legal systems and human rights practices is at the core of value creation for multinational corporations. Indeed, the agriculture, food, garment, mining and extraction industries, to name a few, get more bang for the buck when using the labor of more than 24 million modern slaves. 19 U.S.C. § 1307 is designed to target this problem by closing the door on forced-labor products.

The lack of transparency that allows corporations to exploit and perpetuate modern slavery has also given them a green light to indulge in environmental attacks. Indeed, those individuals who perform forced labor often work for industries with the most egregious climate change impacts. Yet the inexistent recognition of 19 U.S.C. § 1307 as a tool for climate accountability points to a conceptual gap in advocacy—a lack of consideration for the nexus between modern slavery, environmental degradation, and climate change.

Let’s take the Brazilian beef industry as an example. As the world’s principal beef exporting country, Brazil exported a total of US$7.3 billion in beef in 2019 alone—equivalent to 21% of global beef exports. Brazilian civil society, the ILO, the UN Special Rapporteur on Contemporary Forms of Slavery, the US Department of State and the Congressional Research Service, among other institutions, have evidence that the industry is sustained by rampant forced labor. Indeed, over half of all rescues of forced labor victims between 1995 and 2020 took place in the livestock sector. The crime is often accompanied by environmental offences, as the cattle ranch workers are themselves hired to clear native forests for pasture.

Uncoincidentally, the region with the highest incidence of slave labor in Brazil is the northern “deforestation arch,” including the Amazon Forest which is plagued by weak regulation. Between 2003 and 2014, over 21,000 workers were rescued from forced labor in the Amazon region alone, about 70% in the cattle raising sector. It is no secret that deforestation obliterates the Amazon’s ability to save humanity.

So, who is behind the monstrous Brazilian beef industry? JBS, Marfrig, and Minerva. Together, they are responsible for two-thirds of all Brazilian beef exports and account for over 40% of the Amazon rainforest’s slaughter capacity. The US is the fifth largest importer of Brazilian beef, importing 2.84% of all Brazilian exports, importing 56% of all Brazilian unprocessed beef exports between February and July 2020 alone. And it doesn’t stop there. Cattle raising in the Amazon has increased more than tenfold over the last 40 years. The US Department of Agriculture projects that Brazil’s export market share will reach 23% of global beef exports by 2028. With this impending storm, using the readily available 19 U.S.C. § 1307 as one of multiple tools to deter and bring awareness to both the human and climate grievances taking place in the Amazon Forest should be a no-brainer.

Why else use 19 U.S.C. § 1307?

There are many other reasons why advocates should take advantage of 19 U.S.C. § 1307:

  1. Its reawakening: The statute laid dormant since its inception in 1930 due to its “consumptive demand exception” that largely swallowed the rule. After the Obama administration eliminated the exception in 2015, there has been a considerable uptick in the issuance of WROs. Between March 2016 and June 2021, the CBP issued almost 30 WROs, standing in stark contrast to the 33 WROs total issued from 1930 to 2015. This is part of a broader willingness by the current administration to use trade enforcement to tackle forced labor—an issue that has generally garnished wide bipartisan support. With this political momentum, now is the right time to act.
  2. A Low Evidentiary Standard: If the CBP Commissioner finds at any time that information available reasonably, but not conclusively, indicates that merchandise violating 19 U.S.C. § 1307 is being, or is likely to be, imported into the US, then a WRO may be issued. This evidentiary threshold is much lower than that applicable to criminal statutes, like the TVPA, and makes this remedy quite accessible. Thus, even if courts deny a finding of forced labor in a specific case, there is hope that the CBP issues a WRO.
  3. A Heavy Burden Shift to the Corporation: Once a WRO is put in place, the burden of proof shifts to the company in question to provide evidence, in ninety days, that the goods in question were not produced with forced labor or that it has remediated all of the 11 ILO indicators of forced labor. It is rare—has only happened twice—for a company to meet this high burden. So once a WRO is put in place, it is likely to stay in place.
  4. Modeled After a Progressive Definition: The definition of forced labor used by 19 U.S.C. § 1307 was modeled after the ILO Convention’s definition. ILO instruments have therefore informed US approaches to forced labor, with the CBP explicitly referencing ILO standards in each WRO press statement issued in 2019. This is good news for practitioners, as ILO standards are progressive and recognize a wide range of behaviors as forced labor. US governmental bodies have recently called for the CBP to further promote alignment with ILO standards.
  5. Accessible: While collecting evidence of forced labor may be daunting, the WRO petition submission process is straightforward and free of cost. This saves petitioners from resource drainage and the painfully slow timeframe of taking corporations to court. In addition, it allows petitioners to surpass the litigation tactics of corporate giants, including filing for bankruptcy, demanding stays, and launching sanctions motions against plaintiffs’ counsel.

Even if not explicitly tied to climate, WROs have already been successfully issued against corporations, like those in the palm oil and mining industries. Using our imagination to take advantage of readily available tools, like 19 U.S.C. § 1307, to build a holistic climate movement that covers all its bases is the least we can do for our planet.

August 17, 2021. Melina De Bona, The Earth Rights Research & Action (TERRA Law).

Enough Symbolism, We Need Real Climate Action: Why We Shouldn’t Let Governments Hide Behind Symbolic Climate Emergency Declarations

CLIMATE AND ENVIRONMENT

Enough Symbolism, We Need Real Climate Action: Why We Shouldn’t Let Governments Hide Behind Symbolic Climate Emergency Declarations

Though symbolic climate emergency declarations can helpfully shape the narrative around climate change, advocates shouldn’t let them be used to mask government failures to take material action to combat the climate crisis.

Duncan Shaffer (unsplash)

The dawn of a new administration raises hopes among climate activists that the U.S. government may finally take the urgent action needed to avert climate catastrophe. High-profile climate advocates have recently called on Joe Biden to be the “climate president.” As part of this effort to push Biden on climate change, some–including Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer–have argued that the president should treat climate change like an emergency by declaring a climate emergency and, potentially, using the emergency powers afforded the executive to take bold actions on climate change.

What would that look like? Would it materially advance climate action? Experiences around the world on climate emergency declarations offer an answer: it depends.

A handful of countries and hundreds of municipalities, cities, and towns worldwide have declared a climate emergency, and those numbers continue to increase. Countries that have issued climate emergency declarations include: New Zealand, the United Kingdom, Canada, Bangladesh, and Argentina. Municipalities and cities likewise include: Sydney, Australia; New York City; Bogotá, Colombia; and South Chungcheong, South Korea. For some observers, this is an outstanding trend. The picture, however, is complicated upon further inspection and assessment of what these climate emergency declarations actually do.

While some of these climate emergency declarations are paired with material policy commitments and programs, overwhelmingly, these declarations are only symbolic. Although it’s important to shift the discourse on climate change so that its urgency garners more mainstream recognition, with less than ten years left to put humanity on track to avoid climate disaster, it just isn’t enough.

Below, we take a look at the climate emergency declaration trend and what it means for the new U.S. president.

What Is a Climate Emergency?

A climate emergency declaration is a resolution or piece of legislation passed by a governing body that recognizes climate change as an emergency and, generally, voices support for action commensurate with treating climate change as an emergency. The first climate emergency declaration was passed in 2016 in Darebin, Australia and hundreds of emergency declarations have been issued since.

Generally, climate emergency declarations tend to be non-binding resolutions. They may also be imbedded in larger climate legislation. If they are stand-alone resolutions, then they may be followed by additional climate legislation or policy commitments aimed at further reducing greenhouse gas emissions.

The content of the declarations varies, but they all label climate change as an “emergency.” They generally include expressions of support for mobilizations of resources, particularly on a massive scale. Indeed, one of the goals of Climate Mobilization, an organization leading the climate movement push for emergency declarations, is to build political will using emergency declarations for WWII-level resource mobilization in the fight against climate change. Many declarations also support efforts to reach carbon neutrality by 2030 or some other year in the near- to medium-term future. 

So, What Have Climate Emergency Declarations Actually Achieved?

Undeniably, climate emergency declarations have helped shift the discourse around climate change to better reflect the gravity and the urgency of the situation. This shift in the framing of climate change–from a problem that could be gradually addressed to one that requires immediate and profound action–is a goal of the climate advocates working to advance these declarations. Advocates argue that declaring climate emergencies can help trigger a “fundamental departure from [the] ‘normal’ mode of functioning” by waking people up to the existential threat posed by climate change. In other words, declaring a climate emergency can help shift people from functioning in a “business as usual” mode to a “climate emergency” mode by “telling the truth” about the nature of the climate threat.

Climate emergency declarations overwhelmingly, however, fall short of advancing material action on climate change. The climate emergency declarations issued by the United Kingdom, Canada, the European Union, Japan, Spain, and  Argentina, for example, are non-binding insofar as they do not require the government to take any particular action on climate change. Moreover, the vast majority of these declarations have been issued by local governments, which typically don’t have the emergency powers that federal governments do. Even in places where climate emergency declarations are paired with substantive policies, like in  New Zealand, the policy itself may not be sufficient nor actually reflect, in material terms, the characterization of climate change as an emergency. In other words, though political leaders are employing “emergency” rhetoric, they are failing to match that rhetoric with the substantive action that we would expect to see governments take in emergency situations. Though these political leaders are “declaring” climate change as an “emergency,” they are not invoking the emergency procedures and powers permitted under law that are used in other emergency situations, such as natural disasters and war.

Why It Matters that These Declarations Are Generally Non-Binding and Symbolic in Nature

Though climate emergency declarations clearly help communicate the dangers of climate change, they also provide cover for political leaders who want to play the role of a “climate leader” without taking the tangible action necessary to actually lead on climate change.

Take Canada, for example. In 2019, the Canadian House of Commons passed a non-binding resolution expressing the legislative chamber’s view that climate change is indeed an emergency and requires a response requisite with its characterization as such. However, the very next day, the Trudeau administration approved a controversial pipeline expansion. The fact that the Canadian government can pay lip service to climate action through a non-binding resolution while at the same time advancing policies that undermine climate mitigation highlights the core limitations of climate emergency declarations as they have been designed thus far. Not all governments demonstrate inconsistency on climate change as extreme as this, but the effect is similar. Climate emergency declarations, which are overwhelmingly symbolic, allow political leaders to paint themselves as being serious on climate change without making actual commitments or taking any concrete actions to stem the climate crisis.  

What Does All of This Mean for the United States?

The point is: we must not settle for symbolic performances in lieu of the ambitious material climate action that is so desperately needed.

Instead, let’s continue to push President Biden to be the climate president and treat climate change like the emergency it is. After all, this is one of the last presidencies that can still undertake ambitious actions to avoid locking in climate wreckage in the coming decades. But, given the stakes, let’s not give this administration–nor any government–the opportunity to hide behind symbolic performances. That means pushing Biden to make hard, substantive commitments on climate change, including the use of the constitutional and legal powers afforded the president during emergencies, so that climate action doesn’t continue to languish in a Congress, still home to far too many climate deniers and climate minimizers.

July 6, 2021. Jacqueline Gallant, The Earth Rights Research & Action (TERRA Law).

Fauna, Flora…and Funga: The Case for the Protection of Fungi Under National and International Law

CLIMATE AND ENVIRONMENT

Fauna, Flora…and Funga: The Case for the Protection of Fungi Under National and International Law

Fungi are the Earth’s connective tissue and are crucial for human health and well-being. Yet, they have largely been ignored in international and national environmental law and policy. International negotiations this year provide an opportunity to fix this.

Fauna Flora Funga

After a year of postponed meetings and conferences, the international community is back on track and poised to meet several times this year to tackle urgent environmental threats. In May, states will negotiate the Post-2020 Global Framework on Biodiversity, which will guide state biodiversity efforts for years to come. In September, the global community will consider means to strengthen the global food system at the UN Food Systems Summit. And in November, the climate crisis will again be the subject of global consideration at COP26 in Glasgow.

Problem-solving strategies – including those deployed to address environmental threats – aren’t fully effective unless they cover all of the key components of the given issue. This much is obvious. And yet, in the past, these types of international governance convenings – international and national environmental law generally – have ignored a crucial player: fungi.

Life on Earth depends on fungi. The vast majority of plants, for example, depend on symbiotic fungi to obtain the nutrients they need and ward off disease; indeed, plants never would have migrated onto land if not for their partnership with fungi. Fungi are also essential for fixing carbon and vital nutrients into the soil, thus providing a service that entire ecosystems depend upon to function. Humans rely on fungi for food, medicines, and spiritual practices. Indeed, many of the transformational advances in healthcare achieved in the past two centuries relied on fungi: penicillin, for example, comes from fungi. Many future advances in medicine – for treating cancers, viruses, and mental illnesses – are similarly likely to come from fungi. Yet despite their utmost importance, fungi are usually ignored in both international and national environmental protections.

It’s an ignorance we can’t afford to sustain. If international and national environmental law and policy continue to discount the interests of fungi and the threats they face, then these laws and policies will be – at best – ineffective.

The Status of Fungi in International and Domestic Law

There are a number of international environmental treaties that explicitly aim to mitigate threats to flora (plants) and fauna (animals). This includes the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) and the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wilde Flora and Fauna (CITES), both are seminal pieces of international environmental law. The texts of CBD and CITES, as well as other international environmental treaties, explicitly reference flora and fauna as the subject of the protections that the treaties offer. The third F – funga, representing the diversity of fungi species – is conspicuously absent.

This is not an inconsequential oversight. Not only does it mean that fungi species don’t benefit from the legal and policy protections offered by these treaties, but it also suggests that fungi are somehow less important than plants or animals. This could not be further from the truth, as fungi’s essential role in ecosystems demonstrates.

This misleading message is reflected not only in the absence of fungi in international treaty texts but also in the work of important conservation institutions. Take the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), for example. It is an international organization that, among other things, gathers and analyzes data and conducts research on the conservation and sustainable use of natural resources. As part of this work, IUCN compiles the Red List, which tracks the extinction risk status of plant, animal, and fungi species. However, while the Red List includes 43,556 plant species and 76,457 animal species, it only covers 343 fungi species. This is likely due both to a lack of attention paid to fungi species and the fact that, generally speaking, less effort has been made to identify fungi species relative to plant and animal species. Because there is a gap in IUCN’s work on fungi species and because IUCN’s data and analysis are critical in facilitating conservation work, it is more challenging to advance fungi conservation than plant and animal conservation.

In general, domestic law mirrors international law in its failure to explicitly recognize fungi as a distinct form of life with distinct needs. The major exception to this is Chile, where the concerted efforts of fungi activists to secure policy protections for fungi led to their explicit inclusion in a major environmental law passed in 2010. As a result of this, Chile’s main conservation law – which establishes procedures for protecting at-risk species – now includes fungi. 

What Can Be Done and Why It Matters

The aforementioned gap in international and national law needs to be filled by explicitly incorporating fungi. This begins with expanding discussions of flora and fauna to include funga – thereby making it the “3 Fs.” Policymakers and environmental advocates should work to ensure that fungi are clearly included in conservation frameworks. That may mean changing the text of a given national conservation law to include fungi or it may mean working at the agency-level to ensure regulations incorporate fungi.

Recognizing fungi in international and national law has important practical and symbolic consequences. Practically, it will unlock funding for fungi research, obligate governments to take certain steps to protect fungi, and limit certain activities harmful to vulnerable species of fungi. Symbolically, it signals the importance of fungi and their role in ecosystems. This is why we at the Climate Litigation Accelerator – in collaboration with fungi experts Giuliana Furci and Merlin Sheldrake – launched an initiative (FaunaFloraFungi) to fill this regulatory gap. The programmatic statement of the initiative is open to signatures and has already been endorsed by Jane Goodall, Michael Pollan, Donna Haraway, Andrew Weil, Andrea Wulf, Paul Stamets, Robert Macfarlane, Wade Davis, David Boyd and a number of other prominent scientists, naturalists, environmental advocates, and citizens from around the world.

Fungi are equal members of Earth’s web of life and fundamental to the health of humans and the planet. This year provides exceptional opportunities to update international and national law and policy to finally reflect this truth. Let’s make sure to use them.

April 27, 2021. César Rodríguez-Garavito and Jacqueline Gallant, The Earth Rights Research & Action (TERRA Law).