Since the breakthrough adoption in 1977 of Protocols I and II Additional to the Geneva Conventions of 1949, the major issue and biggest challenge facing international humanitarian law (IHL) has been its implementation. The two Additional Protocols addressed many, though not all, of the lacunae left in IHL after the adoption of the Geneva Conventions in 1949. As one commentator has noted: ‘There is, however, aparticularly acute contrast between humanitarian law's highly developed rules, many of which enjoy nearly universal acceptance, and the repeated violations of those rules in conflicts around the world.’

Reports of cyber operations have increased so dramatically in recent years that they have become commonplace. The reality that most attacks to date have resulted in relatively benign consequences—inconvenience and offence through defacement of government websites and/or temporary suspension of access—only serves to heighten awareness of the damage that could result from much more serious attacks on networks controlling, for example, vital public transport and emergency infrastructure, the financial system and sensitive communications networks. The threat of apocalyptic consequences has galvanized States into proactive cyber defence measures—spawning an entirely new category of bureaucracy that until recently might readily have been cynically dismissed as manipulative fear-mongering to justify yet more human and financial resources allocated to the public sector.

That governments should proactively mitigate emergent and potentially catastrophic risks is an a priori notion. Citizens of a State whose government did not take cyber defence seriously would be entitled to feel aggrieved—particularly in the aftermath of a serious cyber attack where the lack of proaction on the part of central authorities was exposed. In contrast, expectations should be significantly lower for any proactive clarification of the applicable international law. The making of new, or even the clarification of the content of existing, international law has tended to be more reactive—requiring a major catalyst to expose the need for either clarification or regulation. It has been rare in the history of international law for new development to pre-empt subsequent catastrophe.

The territory of Western Sahara has an area of about 280,000 sq. km and approximately 250,000 inhabitants, known as Sahrawis. It is situated in the north-west of the African continent, where the Sahara Desert meets the Atlantic Ocean, and has a coastline of more than 1,000 km. In the north, Western Sahara has a common border of 443 km with Morocco, and in the south and west it is bordered by Mauritania (1,561 km). The territory also has a short common border of 42 km with Algeria. The climate is predominantly that of the desert: hot and dry in summer, cold in winter, with little or no rainfall. In the coastal regions vegetation may be abundant. While the Sahrawis were originally nomads, most of the population now lives in small towns and villages. The economy is based on agriculture and fishing, primarily destined for local consumption. Rich phosphate deposits are the main export commodity. There seem to be oil deposits off the Atlantic coast.

It is generally known that one of the worst acts of mass killings and auto-genocide occurred in Cambodia between 1975–79 during the reign of terror unleashed by the Khmer Rouge (KR) regime. It is estimated that between 1–2 million Cambodians (out of a total population of around 7 million) were killed, starved, or died of malnutrition and disease during this period. The KR regime persecuted religious and ethnic minorities, abolished all religions, private property and money and put the entire population under forced labor. The KR continued such practices in the areas under its control during the 1980s, and conducted a vitriolic and violent campaign against the ethnic Vietnamese in Cambodia until its collapse last year.

What is it like to be working in the field with international humanitarian law during an armed conflict? In the article ‘International Humanitarian Law from a field perspective - case study: Nepal‘, the promotion of international humanitarian law is described through the eyes of a humanitarian aid worker. The author worked as a delegate for the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) during the civil war in Nepal. International humanitarian law forms the legal basis of the ICRC's presence in Nepal, it's humanitarian activities and confidential interventions. Nepal and its conflict are introduced, as well as the warring parties and the Red Cross in Nepal. Various humanitarian activities and dilemma's are described. Through this article the YIHL seeks to link theory and practice, and focus on international humanitarian law from an operational perspective.

The killing of Osama bin Laden in Pakistan in May 2011 and Anwar al-Aulaqi in Yemen in September 2011 both raise the question of when the killing of an identified individual posing a threat to a nation-state is lawful. Although it has not yet been forced to publicly defend either killing in any great detail, the Obama Administration has insisted on the legality of both operations by deploying an amalgam of legal and rhetorical arguments that explicitly or implicitly invoke multiple bodies of law. As an administration spokesperson stated in connection with the Bin Laden operation:

Much has been written about transitional justice in the circumstances of organised states progressing towards democracy. Another category of transitional justice demanding equal study and resolution has, however, emerged. That is the interim administration of justice in the vacuum of the disrupted state following traumatic internal conflict, usually involving war crimes and crimes against humanity. Two things are characteristic of this circumstance: first, the requirement for a deployed international military force to do ‘something’ about fundamental law and order while waiting for the civil administrative ‘cavalry’ to arrive; second, the fact that a civil administrative element will eventually have to take over from the military and will also be required to do ‘something’ about the immediate law and order problem but in a manner that leads into the long term reconstruction and ‘end state’ process. In the future, this environment may also include the operation of the International Criminal Court (ICC), where many issues of jurisdiction, investigation, prosecution and the impact on long term rehabilitation will need to be managed.

On 14 February 2002, the International Court of Justice (the Court) delivered its judgment in the case concerning the Arrest Warrant of 11 April 2000. In this case, the Court had the opportunity to take an authoritative stance on, and to contribute to the development of, two major questions in the field of immunities and jurisdiction of contemporary international law: do Ministers for Foreign Affairs enjoy immunity against prosecution by national courts of another state for crimes under international law, and how far can a state go in granting universal jurisdiction to its domestic courts?

One day shy of the tenth anniversary of the al Qaeda attacks on the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. (commonly and hereinafter referred to as “9/11”), Professor Mike Schmitt invited me to join distinguished scholars in a forum containing “reflective pieces regarding the international humanitarian law implications of 9/11 to mark the tenth anniversary of the attacks”. I accepted his invitation, honored to be included in such good company.

On December 30, 2006, Saddam Hussein was led into a dank execution chamber in Baghdad, Iraq. A heavy noose was slipped around his neck while several guards in the room began hurling sectarian taunts at him. Saddam Hussein stared ahead, mocking his guards before reciting the most sacred of Islamic prayers-"There is no God but God, and Muhammed is his prophet." The trap door beneath Saddam Hussein swung open at 6:10 a.m. Saddam Hussein never finished his prayer. This article analyzes the legal rules governing Mr. Hussein's last moments of life. In particular, this article sets forth the legal requirements that govern implementation of the death penalty in Iraq and opines that the Iraqi government did not follow these rules when carrying out Saddam Hussein's capital sentence. To accomplish this goal, the article (1) analyzes whether the Iraqi government had legal authority to execute Saddam Hussein and (2) sets forth abstractly the procedural steps that apply to implementation of a capital sentence in Iraq; and (3) applies these abstract procedural steps to the specific facts of Saddam Hussein's execution. The purpose of this exercise is to understand more broadly what went wrong in the days leading to Saddam Hussein's execution so that legal scholars and policy makers can draw broader conclusions about what this event might mean about the rule of law in Iraq.

Terrorism is said to be a substitute for conventional — or classic — warfare. And the response to terrorism is now called a ‘war on terrorism’. Acts of terrorism have always been with us and so has war. Since time immemorial, warfare has been subject to legal regulations: the laws of war. Their foundations can be retraced to age-old practices established to mitigate the effects of recourse to violence when conflicts could not be resolved by peaceful means. These rules used to belong to customs observed by belligerents as a matter of course. Today, international treaties are the main source of the rules governing humanitarian aspects of the conduct of war: the Geneva Conventions for the protection of war victims of 12 August 1949 and their two Additional Protocols of 1977. Is international humanitarian law relevant to the horrors of modern warfare and, in particular, to terrorism? And does it sufficiently take into account the interest of states in combating terrorism?

On 24–25 September 2009, the Faculty of Laws, University College London and the International Humanitarian Law Project, London School of Economics held a conference in cooperation with the International Committee of the Red Cross entitled ‘The European Convention on Human Rights and International Humanitarian Law’.

Armed conflict situations (including belligerent occupations) have increasingly become the subject of litigation before national courts and the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR). As a result, there is now a substantial body of case-law on the application of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) in armed conflict situations. The ECtHR has had to engage with questions involving situations of armed conflict and occupation since the Turkish intervention in Northern Cyprus in the 1970s. The increasing resort to the ECHR by claimants whose rights have allegedly been violated in contemporary armed conflicts and occupations, raise new and complex questions of law. To what extent does the ECHR, as a human rights legal regime, apply in such situations, especially when alleged violations have been perpetrated abroad? How does the ECHR interact with international humanitarian law (IHL)?

There have been significant developments in recent years in the efforts to reduce the death, injury and suffering caused by anti-personnel landmines. These weapons are regarded as one of the major threats to civilians once an armed conflict has ended. Anti-personnel mines have killed and injured large numbers of men, women and children and slowed the rebuilding of war-affected countries. The longterm and indiscriminate effects of these weapons led to the adoption in 1997 of the Convention on the Prohibition of the Use, Stockpiling, Production and Transfer of Anti-personnel Mines and on their Destruction.

Anti-personnel mines, however, are one part of a broader problem. Modern armed conflict leaves behind a wide array of explosive ordnance which, like antipersonnel mines, causes large numbers of civilian casualties and has severe socioeconomic consequences for years, and sometimes for decades, after the hostilities end. Until recently, international humanitarian law contained very few requirements to lessen the impact of these ‘explosive remnants of war’ (ERW).

Nineteen armed conflicts took place in 2003, but in terms of political, media, and scholarly attention there was really only one that mattered: Iraq. It dominated the headlines and aroused passions worldwide, particularly amongst members of civil society, on a scale unseen since the Vietnam War. The military campaign itself followed on some of the most emotional and divisive debates ever seen at the Security Council, which were interpreted by many as exposing not so much the cracks but the fault lines in the system of collective security, and the sharp divide between those states committed to it — and the Security Council's role as the exclusive decision-maker in matters pertaining to the use of force — and thelone rangers.

The end of the Cold War and the disappearance of bipolarity have resulted in a recrudescence of a number of armed conflicts in the world, in particular in the ex-Yugoslavia and the former Soviet Union. Such conflicts have demonstrated a blatant disregard for the law of armed conflicts and a loss of respect for human lives and cultural heritage. They have also demonstrated deficiencies in the implementation of the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict — the only comprehensive international agreement aimed specifically at protecting movable and immovable cultural heritage in the event of armed conflict.

The complex case of Erich Priebke can be analysed through two different phases. The first runs from the massacre of 335 Italian citizens at the Ardeatine Caves in Rome in 1944 to the conviction of Herbert Kappler and other Nazi officers involved in that shooting on 20 July 1948. During mis four-year period, Priebke became untraceable and escaped justice. The second phase starts when the former SS officer was detected in Argentina in May 1994 and, following extradition proceedings there, was extradited to Italy, where he underwent two criminal trials in front of the Italian military jurisdiction.

Until relatively recently, dealing with terror groups and terror activities had been viewed by most nations primarily as an act of law enforcement, regulated by domestic criminal law. Accordingly, in most instances the same codes that applied to ‘ordinary’ criminal acts were applied to acts of terrorism. Such crimes were investigated by law enforcement agencies which were also responsible for the apprehension of terrorists. An alleged terrorist would be prosecuted in a regular civilian court of law for crimes such as murder, destruction of property and assault. Specialized terrorism-related offenses were also codified but continued to be drawn from domestic criminal law. When reviewed by the courts, the legitimacy of such counter-terrorism measures was assessed by judges in light of familiar domestic criminal and constitutional legal standards.

Following the death of Rwandan President Juvénal Habyarimana in a plane crash on 6 April 1994, Hutu extremists, members of the Presidential Guard, Rwandan army troops, the Interhamwe (‘Those who work together’) militia affiliated to the ruling party, the M.R.N.D. (Mouvement Révolutionaire National pour la Démocratie) and the Impuzamugambi (‘Those with a single purpose’) militia of the extremist CDR Party (Coalition pour la Défense de la République) began the systematic and widespread killings of Tutsi civilians in the capital Kigali. Hutu moderates were also targeted. Early victims of the violence included Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana along with ten Belgian soldiers of the United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR). This incident prompted the withdrawal of UNAMIR which left the perpetrators of the genocide a free rein. Ministers and the President of the Constitutional Court were also killed within hours of the plane crash.

Canada has been very much at the centre of the establishment of the International Criminal Court (ICC) since the momentum shifted in late-1994 from the International Law Commission (ILC) to more broadly representative bodies established by the General Assembly. It was Canada that chaired the ‘like-minded’, a group of states active during the several sessions of the Preparatory Committee and during the Diplomatic Conference in Rome from 15 June to 17 July 1998. The ‘like-minded’ were committed to invigorating the ILC's draft statute by enhancing the independence of the Prosecutor and trimming the sails of the Security Council. At Rome, Canadian diplomat Philippe Kirsch was elected chair of the Committee of the Whole, and he directed the intense negotiations throughout the five-week session. Kirsch crafted the final package of compromises that was submitted to the Conference at its close, on the morning of 17 July, and that succeeded in rallying the vast majority of delegations when put to a vote later that day. Since then, Kirsch and his team have presided over the ongoing work of the Preparatory Commission.

Dragged reluctantly into the debate over Khmer Rouge accountability, the United Nations Secretariat has spent the last five years attempting to find a mutually acceptable judicial structure to try the leaders of the former government of Cambodia for international crimes committed between 1975 and 1979.

In response to a request for aid from the Cambodian government in June 1997, the UN originally came down in favour of establishing a third ad hoc International Criminal Tribunal. Taking that proposal as a starting point, this paper documents the series of events leading the Organisation towards unwilling participation in potentially unjust domestic trials after Cambodia's refusal of the UN proposal. Each time the negotiations seemed to have broken down, the UN and Cambodia came under pressure from certain Member States to return to the negotiating table. Beset with its responsibility in supporting the Khmer Rouge after the Vietnamese invasion in 1979, the UN compromised successively concerning the nature of the court (part 3) and its structure (part 4). A consensus finally seemed to have been reached in July 2000, when a UN negotiating team left Phnom Penh with a draft Memorandum of Understanding concerning ‘significant international co-operation’ in trials before ‘Extraordinary Chambers’ of the Cambodian courts (the ‘draft MOU’). However, the law finally promulgated on 10 August 2001 in order to set up these Chambers (the ‘Tribunal Law’) was not entirely consistent with the terms of the draft MOU, the exact legal status of which then became a bone of contention (part 5).