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?

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

Breaking Through the Climate Gridlock with Citizen Power

CLIMATE & ENVIRONMENT

Breaking Through the Climate Gridlock with Citizen Power

Why climate advocates are increasingly turning to citizens’ assemblies to remedy governments’ sluggishness on climate change.

Nearly thirty years ago, the international community formally recognized the urgency of the threat posed by climate change through the adoption of the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC). Yet, based on the current trajectory of global greenhouse gas emissions, we are barreling towards an increase in temperature that far exceeds the 1.5 to two degrees Celsius after which dangerous destabilization of the climate system is possible.

This decades-long gridlock on ambitious climate action has led climate advocates and concerned citizens to search for alternative methods to jumpstart action on climate change. Increasingly, climate activists – including Extinction Rebellion – have been turning to one method in particular: citizens’ assemblies. In this explainer, the Climate Litigation Accelerator (CLX) provides an introduction to this emerging trend.

What Is a Citizens’ Assembly?

Drawing inspiration from examples of participatory democracy in Ancient Greece, citizens’ assemblies are a form of “deliberative mini-publics.” They are usually convened to consider major public policy issues, like electoral reform. Though citizens’ assemblies vary in the details of their institutional design, they tend to share certain core features.

For example, citizens are generally chosen to participate through a random selection process. Citizens’ assemblies work because they’re assumed to be representative of the public at large and not systematically biased towards a particular viewpoint or segment of society. That’s why this step is critical in the assembly design process. 

Once in session, a citizens’ assembly typically begins with a series of activities intended to educate the participants on the issue – or issues – for which the assembly was convened. The educational component is followed by activities intended to provide a space for discussion with fellow citizen participants and deliberation of the issue. This can take place in a variety of forms, including small group discussions and plenary sessions.

The educational efforts and deliberation activities culminate in a final decision rendered by the citizens’ assembly. The nature of that decision depends on the issue under review, but generally the citizens’ assembly will adopt a series of policy proposals or positions on the issue and on sub-topics of the issue.

Citizens Assemblies: Pros and Cons

Advocates of citizens’ assemblies offer a number of justifications for using citizens’ assemblies to shape public policy. One of the most significant is that these assemblies are thought to help break persistent gridlock on major issues within the political system. Advocates for citizens’ assemblies also argue that they enhance the democratic legitimacy of policy choices that involve significant trade-offs and facilitate buy-in for those tough policy choices.

Over the past several decades, there has also been a movement towards incorporating greater public participation in democratic governance. Citizens’ assemblies are one mechanism to do just that, and the evidence demonstrates that citizens’ assemblies are effective tools to increase public engagement. Citizens’ assemblies can also help combat distrust in political institutions, which can endanger the conditions necessary for democracy to thrive.

Skeptics have urged more caution when considering whether to advance citizens’ assemblies. In particular, some observers have argued that citizens’ assemblies may incentivize elected policymakers to “outsource” tough decision-making to these assemblies. There is also no guarantee of a good or appropriate outcome, which is a source of concern for some skeptics. Indeed, given the rising tide of populism and polarization, the assemblies may be unable to reach a consensus or may advance suboptimal policies. 

Can Citizen Assemblies Jumpstart More Ambitious Action on Climate Change?

For many climate advocates, citizens’ assemblies are seen as a key tool in the fight to secure more ambitious action on climate change. For them, the issue is ripe for deliberation by a citizens’ assembly because of the longstanding gridlock that has stymied progress on the issue and because a citizens’ assembly adds legitimacy to the major trade-offs associated with policymaking on climate change.

Some have also argued that citizens’ assemblies are well-positioned to consider long-term problems – which climate change undoubtedly is – “because citizens need not worry about the short-term incentives of electoral cycles, giving them more freedom than elected politicians.”

Climate Citizen Assemblies: A Growing Trend

In spring 2020, British citizens met over six weekends for the U.K. Climate Assembly, where they considered what the United Kingdom should do to reach net zero greenhouse gas emissions by 2050. Ultimately, assembly members adopted a set of recommendations which were released in their final report. It remains to be seen how the government will respond to the Assembly’s findings and whether they will be incorporated into the U.K.’s climate policies.

In 2019 and 2020, French citizens had the opportunity to participate in Convention Citoyenne Pour le Climat, a national citizens’ assembly on climate change. The assembly was tasked with coming up with a series of policy measures, consistent with social justice, that would allow a forty percent reduction in global greenhouse gas emissions by 2030. The assembly’s report was released in 2020; though the ultimate impact of the assembly’s recommendations will become more apparent in the future, French president Emmanuel Macron has indicated that at least some of the assembly’s proposals will be incorporated into French policy.

What’s Next?

Climate advocates are taking citizens’ assemblies, which have historically operated within national boundaries, to the next level. In the fall of 2021, a global citizens’ assembly on climate change will be held in the lead up to COP26, aiming to jumpstart the COP process that has thus far failed to secure the emission reduction commitments necessary to limit global warming to well below two degrees Celsius. CLX will be closely documenting these developments. If citizens at the global assembly can find a path to ambitious climate action, so can global leaders.

March 2, 2021. César Rodríguez-Garavito and Jackie Gallant, The Earth Rights Research & Action program (TERRA Law).

In Markets We Cannot Trust: What the Texas Storm Reveals about Privatized Services

INEQUALITIES

In Markets We Cannot Trust: What the Texas Storm Reveals about Privatized Services

Millions of people in Texas went without power and heat during a brutal winter storm. This avoidable catastrophe was the result of trusting the market and private interests to deliver the public good.

“I’m cold and huddled under blankets,” my mom texted me last week, on her second day without power. She is one of millions in Texas, the largest energy-producer in the United States, who went days without electricity or heat during the recent winter storm that killed 30 people. While local politicians moved quickly to falsely pin the blame on renewable energy, the breakdown in Texas demonstrates the folly of relying on private actors and markets to prepare for climate change, to look after the public good, and to guarantee basic rights.

The Texas power system is built on a “total trust in markets” and the suffering last week is a consequence of that misplaced faith. In 1999, the state deregulated its electricity system to a patchwork of private companies, and it now relies on “nearly unaccountable and toothless” regulatory agencies and voluntary guidelines.

The deregulated private companies predictably chose to prioritize short-term profit over investments in the system. They did not winterize the power grid—ignoring the advice of federal authorities and the lessons of a similar 2011 storm—and neglected to maintain a reserve margin for demand surges, unlike every other power system in North America.

The fallout has been unimaginable. More than 4.2 million households lost power in temperatures as low as 4 degrees Fahrenheit. Although the full death toll won’t be known for weeks, at least 30 people died in Texas, including six experiencing homelessness. Hundreds more were poisoned by their efforts to keep warm, such as running generators indoors. People slept in their cars. Clinics shuttered. People of color and low-income individuals were disproportionately affected, with predominantly Black and Latinx neighborhoods among the first to lose power.

Meanwhile, the deregulated market means some companies will receive an appalling windfall from the storm. Sky-high demand for energy during the cold weather drove prices through the roof, and now people who did not lose power face outrageous energy bills. “My savings is gone,” remarked one Dallas resident who now faces a nearly $17,000 bill. In the city of Denton, the rate per megawatt hour jumped from less than $24 to $2,400. The city will pay over $207 million for four days of power which is more than it spends in a typical year.

However, despite its obvious failures, ideological commitment to the market remains on full display. Before the lights were even back on, politicians were lying about the cause of the outages and exploring how further deregulation could “help.”

This anemic vision of government, which is hardly shared by all Texans but too often dominates policymaking at the state level, can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sensible policies that guarantee basic rights but might diminish profit—such as regulation, planning, taxation, and public provision—are routinely written off as extreme because the government has successfully been recast as primarily a facilitator of markets. Capital-friendly decisions are conveniently, if erroneously, peddled as “win-win” and protective of individual freedoms. Neoliberalism has been internalized by the body politic.

Unfortunately, the market alone will never deliver equitable and reliable access to essential services. It cannot, on its own, guarantee the fulfillment of basic rights. Instead, running public services as an investment risks marginalizing their non-commercial purposes. This is why human rights activists, experts, and monitoring bodies routinely raise concerns about the risks of relying on the private sector to provide critical services. Running public services for a profit without robust regulation can lead to inequitable access, high costs, exclusion, and poor maintenance, while wasting taxpayer money and thwarting accountability.

As others have written, this crisis should serve as a “profound warning” in the context of climate change, which will lead to more frequent extreme weather events. Roads, water systems, power grids, housing, and other essential infrastructure desperately need upgrades. Texas shows us that continuing to rely on profit-focused companies to make those changes will leave many stranded. However, it doesn’t have to be this way. Around the world, energy systems are increasingly brought back under public control through a process called remunicipalization, in part due to private actors’ repeated failures to transition to renewable energy.

As people in Texas stood for hours in lines to enter bare grocery stores for the second time in less than a year, my sister wrote to me: “I now feel acutely aware of the fact that I will not be taken care of in a disaster. People will not turn on your lights, people will not give you heat when it’s freezing, people will not make sure you have good drinking water, and people will not make sure you don’t die of a horrible illness.” If markets continue to be allowed to stand in for government, she will be right.

February 23, 2021. Rebecca Riddell, Human Rights and Privatization Project at the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice at NYU School of Law.