Il va sans dire que cet argument s’applique aux hommes d’État et leaders politiques. D’une part, la création de tribunaux spéciaux en ex-Yougoslavie (TPIY) et au Rwanda (TPIR) et les emprisonnements qui ont suivi ont contribué à miner la culture d’impunité qui régnait jadis chez certains hommes politiques assoiffés de pouvoir. D’autre part, comme l’ont démontré les succès électoraux de Vojislav Koštunica en Serbie et de Stjepan Mesic en Croatie lors des années 1990, il n’est désormais plus rentable sur les plans politique et économique d’être associé aux anciens leaders accusés ou condamnés pour crimes commis en temps de guerre[3]. En effet, malgré la pression de certaines franges endoctrinées souhaitant la réhabilitation d’anciens « héros » ultranationalistes, la crainte d’être isolé à l’échelle internationale suffit souvent à convaincre les leaders politiques de quitter les marges et de reconnaître la compétence des institutions judiciaires internationales telles que le TPIY et, plus récemment, la Cour pénale internationale (CPI).

Or, Akhavan ne limite pas son argument aux leaders politiques. Il prétend que même les seigneurs de guerre somaliens ou afghans ne peuvent plus être indifférents envers le lien entre l’acceptation internationale et leur survie[4]. Pourtant, l’isolation internationale et les représailles telles que la « guerre contre le terrorisme » ne semblent pas empêcher plusieurs seigneurs de guerre afghans d’agir en parfaite violation des principes les plus élémentaires du droit international. Au contraire, l’absence de justice pénale et les opérations militaires exécutées par l’OTAN semblent plutôt avoir pour effet d’exacerber les tensions et de motiver davantage les groupes terroristes et seigneurs de guerre dans leurs actions contre l’hégémonie occidentale.

Dans le même ordre d’idées, il semble également que le caractère « dissuasif » de la responsabilité criminelle individuelle soit inexorablement lié au degré de contrôle de l’État central. En effet, l’arrestation et la comparution des criminels de guerre se font beaucoup plus difficilement dans les pays où le contrôle de l’État central est affaibli, comme en Afghanistan, ou carrément inexistant, comme en Somalie. Dans ces pays, et dans plusieurs autres, de nombreux criminels de guerre pavoisent en toute impunité, à l’abri de la justice tant nationale qu’internationale. Pourtant, l’un des objectifs fixés par le Statut de Rome établissant la CPI est de suppléer les cours nationales lorsque celles-ci n’ont pas la volonté ou les ressources nécessaires pour poursuivre et juger les crimes les plus graves (art. 17)[5]. Il va donc sans dire que l’aspect « dissuasif » de la justice pénale internationale est beaucoup plus limité dans ces pays où la justice nationale est restreinte et où la justice internationale – qu’il s’agisse de tribunaux spéciaux ou de la CPI – est absente.

Finalement, une autre limite à l’argument de la « dissuasion » pourrait être soulevée : de nombreux pays refusent toujours de ratifier le Statut de Rome et d’ainsi reconnaître la compétence de la CPI. Parmi ceux-ci se trouvent des puissances internationales telles que les États-Unis, la Chine, la Russie et Israël. Malgré leur statut politico-économique, il devient plus difficile pour ces pays de se servir d’institutions judiciaires internationales pour inciter certains acteurs internationaux à respecter le droit international lorsqu’eux-mêmes refusent d’être soumis à la compétence de la plus importante cour de justice pénale internationale.

[2] Ibid., p. 12.

[3] Ibid., p. 14.

[4] Ibid., p. 12.

[5] Art. 17, Statut de Rome.

Les plaintes déposées à la CPI proviennent généralement d’États. L’avocat a ainsi présenté une plainte avec l’objectif que Luis Moreno Ocampo, le Procureur en chef de la CPI, ouvre une enquête selon son pouvoir discrétionnaire de le faire (art. 15 du Statut de Rome). Le Procureur devra donc évaluer le sérieux de la preuve, et s’il est d’avis qu’il dispose de bases raisonnables pour ouvrir l’enquête, il devra demander une autorisation de la Chambre préliminaire. Celle-ci se prononcera également sur la base raisonnable de la demande.

Les violations auxquelles il réfère sont traduites par Global Voices, un blogue francophone : « Nous réclamons que la Cour enquête sur les disparitions, le recrutement d’enfants de moins de 15 ans, sur les exécutions sommaires opérées par des soldats, sur la mutilation en tant que forme d’intimidation, sur les attaques perpétrées contre la population civile, sur les déplacements forcés, sur le viol des femmes et des filles, sur les actes de torture perpétrés et tolérés par l’Armée, sur les attaques ciblant les centres de désintoxication et sur l’enlèvement, la vente et l’asservissement des migrants par les autorités mexicaines des services de l’immigration. »

L’avocat souhaiterait que ces violations soient reconnues comme crimes de guerre ainsi que crimes contre l’humanité. La catégorisation de crimes de guerre est intéressante juridiquement, considérant que le Mexique n’apparait pas nécessairement comme un pays en proie à un conflit armé. Quoiqu’à l’heure de la « guerre internationale contre le terrorisme », pourquoi pas la guerre contre les cartels de la drogue ? C’est déjà plus limité géographiquement. Les cartels de la drogue seraient donc des groupes armés reconnus comme parties au conflit, quoiqu’ils n’aient aucune autre ambition que de poursuivre impunément leur trafic de stupéfiants? À premier abord, on pourrait penser qu’il s’agit plutôt de « law enforcement » que d’un conflit armé. Cela soulève des questions intéressantes.

La qualification de crimes contre l’humanité semble à première vue plus adéquate pour traiter de la question : les crimes doivent s’inscrire « dans le cadre d’une attaque généralisée ou systématique lancée contre toute population civile » (art 7 du Statut de Rome). Les crimes contre l’humanité semblent être plus précisément l’utilisation généralisée de torture, esclavage, disparitions forcées, meurtre, viol, esclavage sexuel et prostitution forcée; et ce dans le cadre de la lutte contre les narcotrafiquants.

La Cour suprême du Mexique a été sollicitée le 25 mai 2011 afin qu’elle use de son pouvoir d’enquête sur ces violations massives des droits de la personne, mais elle n’a encore pas pris position. Le Mexique n’a d’ailleurs pas adopté de loi pour mettre en œuvre le droit international contre les crimes de guerre et les crimes contre l’humanité. Netzai Sandoval fait également valoir que les organes judiciaires mexicains ne sont pas en mesure de juger ces violations, ceux-ci n’étant pas assez indépendants pour mener un véritable procès sur de hauts-fonctionnaires.

La plainte vise Felipe Calderón, le Président mexicain, ainsi que  Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán, l’homme le plus puissant des cartels de la drogue au Mexique, mais également le cabinet de sécurité fédéral ainsi que les cartels de la drogue eux-mêmes. Il s’agit ainsi d’un autre aspect intéressant : il s’attaque à un chef d’État au pouvoir actuellement, ce qui cause toujours beaucoup d’émoi, ainsi qu’à un des plus puissants membres du crime organisé au monde.

David contre Goliath?

To respond effectively to Austin and Henkin, it is necessary to consider not only whether international law is possessed of “teeth”, but also the extent to which these teeth operate consistently and independently of political intervention. I will focus here on what I consider to be the two most significant developments in international criminal law over the last two decades: the creation of the International Criminal Court (ICC) through the Rome Statute of 1999, and the rise and fall of the doctrine of universal jurisdiction across various national legal systems. In many respects, both appear to have been rather successful in promoting individual accountability. For the first time, there exists a permanent and independent entity at the global level capable of prosecuting individuals charged with grave violations of international humanitarian law. Similarly, at the national level, many individual states have begun asserting the authority to prosecute such violations that occurred outside their borders.

The ICC has many shortcomings, including the inability to exercise territorial jurisdiction in states which have not ratified the Rome Statute. This conceptually precludes the court from being truly “universal”, but it is a difficult obstacle to surmount due to the primacy of sovereign equality in our international legal order. Far more practical to address are the legislative measures taken by individual states with regard to universal jurisdiction, and the discrepancies between states’ pronouncements on the topic and their concrete actions.

By way of example, Canada prides itself on being the “first country to [have incorporated] the obligations of the Rome Statute into its national laws” through the Crimes Against Humanity and War Crimes Act of 2000.[3] This far-reaching piece of legislation actually goes beyond the scope of the Rome Statute in many respects, for example by incorporating elements of universal jurisdiction and retroactive applicability. Yet, despite having had numerous occasions to prosecute individuals for war crimes over the last decade – authorities just recently published the names of 30 alleged war criminals living in Canada[4] – only two prosecutions under the Act have been initiated.[5]

In a prominent ongoing case, accused Serbian war criminal Branko Rogan faces revocation of his Canadian citizenship and deportation rather than a trial,[6] even though the ostensible purpose of the Act is to enable war criminals to be brought to trial in Canada. Jillian Siskind, the president of Canadian Lawyers for International Human Rights, notes that Canada’s preference for deporting accused war criminals rather than prosecuting them means that such people will usually never face trial due to a lack of will or capacity in their home countries, and may in some cases face the risk of torture.[7] The reason war crimes cases are rarely tried domestically in Canada can be found in art. 9(3) of the Act, which requires “the personal consent in writing of the Attorney General or Deputy Attorney General” for a prosecution to commence. This requirement makes the process inherently political. War crimes trials are expensive and often politically inexpedient;[8] but should political expedience trump the pursuit of justice? Amnesty International argues that it should not. The organization is one of several to have presented credible arguments in favour of indicting George W. Bush for war crimes on his recent visit to Canada.[9] Regardless of its judicial merit, it is difficult to imagine many Canadian politicians – much less a Conservative cabinet member – signing off on such a move (and no less difficult to imagine a former US president standing trial in his own country on such charges).

Many countries which recognize the principle of universal jurisdiction impose political constraints similar to Canada’s on its invocation. During the 1990s, a number of European states implemented extremely broad legislation asserting universal jurisdiction over a wide range of crimes, while the subsequent decade saw these measures drastically scaled back.[10] The UK, which asserted universal jurisdiction over certain war crimes as early as 1988, recently amended its procedure to require applicants seeking an arrest warrant for such crimes to gain approval from the director of public prosecutions (a political appointee). This reform came in the wake of repeated attempts to indict Israeli military and political leaders in British courts, which the government deemed harmful to its foreign policy interests.[11]

Universal jurisdiction is even more politically constrained in the United States: expansive anti-terrorism statutes have allowed US courts to exercise universal jurisdiction over crimes committed by the governments of North Korea and Iran, but the same courts declined to pass judgment on alleged crimes committed by US-ally Israel in deference to the executive branch.[12]

Although the US, UK, and Israel have all invoked universal jurisdiction domestically,[13] it is perhaps a striking illustration of power politics that despite their high levels of belligerency nationals of those countries have never faced prosecution before foreign or international tribunals for war crimes. The US and Israel in particular have taken aggressive legislative and diplomatic measures to prevent the doctrine from being applied against their citizens.[14]

While recognizing that the efficient conduct of international relations likely necessitates some sort of barrier (along the lines of diplomatic immunity) to prevent citizens from spuriously enmeshing foreign officials in legal proceedings, serious reforms should be advocated to depoliticize international criminal law and thereby bolster its credibility. Legal norms for invoking universal jurisdiction should be standardized across states, and barriers to initiating proceedings should be strictly judicial in nature rather than overtly political. Measures such as these would restore faith in international law by further advancing the positive trend toward individual accountability while at the same time clearly conveying the message that the same standards apply to the powerful and weak alike.

[2] Ibid. at 3.

[3] Canada’s Crimes Against Humanity and War Crimes Act, Implementing the Rome Statute (Retrieved 24 October 2011), online: Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada <http://www.international.gc.ca/court-cour/war-crimes-guerres.aspx?lang=eng&view=d>.

[4] Paola Loriggio, “Feds Ask for Public’s Help to Catch Alleged War Criminals in Canada Illegally” 680 News Radio (22 July 2011), online: 680news.com < http://www.680news.com/news/national/article/256714–feds-ask-for-public-s-help-to-catch-alleged-war-criminals-in-canada-illegally>.

[5] Successes, War Crimes (Retrieved 24 October 2011), online: Department of Justice Canada <http://www.justice.gc.ca/warcrimes-crimesdeguerre/successes-realisations-eng.asp>.

[6] Adrian Humphreys, “The Cost of Being Stripped of Citizenship” National Post (10 October 2011), online: nationalpost.com <http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/10/10/the-cost-of-being-stripped-of-citizenship/>.

[7] Catherine Solym, “A Presumption of Guilt” Montreal Gazette (26 November 2011), p. B1.

[8] The only war crimes trial to have been successfully concluded in Canada to date, that of Desire Munyaneza, cost an estimated $4 million.

[9] Olivia Ward, “Canada Urged to Arrest George W. Bush on B.C. Visit” Toronto Star (13 October 2011), online: thestar.com <http://www.thestar.com/news/article/1069594>.

[10] See e.g. “European States Confronted with Impunity: Report on Universal Jurisdiction in Europe” (Alkarama, 2010), online: scribd.com < http://www.scribd.com/doc/30232948/Report-on-Universal-Jurisdiction-April-2010-Alkarama>. Representative of this trend, Belgium for example implemented some of the most far-reaching legislation in 1993 but effectively repealed it 10 years later.

[11] Universal Jurisdiction, Ministry of Justice Press Release (15 September 2011), online: UK Ministry of Justice <http://www.justice.gov.uk/news/press-releases/moj/pressrelease150911a.htm>.

[12] Daniel Haboucha, “Waging Lawfare” Canadian Lawyer Magazine (1 November 2011), online: canadianlawyermag.com < http://www.canadianlawyermag.com/Waging-lawfare.html>.

[13] The US and UK as discussed above, and Israel in its 1961 prosecution of Adolf Eichmann.

[14] See e.g. the American Servicemembers’ Protection Act, described by various NGOs as “anti-ICC legislation”, discussed in Sean D. Murphy, Principles of International Law (Thomson West, 2006) at 428.

A visit by former Vice President Dick Cheney in September received a similar welcome, as have other visits by Bush administration officials. Already in 2004, a group called Lawyers Against the War tried to bring torture charges against Bush by filing criminal charges.

The number of voices calling for investigation and prosecution is growing and now includes several mainstream human rights organizations, including Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch. On the political stage, federal NDP Immigration critic Don Davis urged the government to deny Cheney entry into Canada.

The evidence against Bush and Cheney also continues to mount. The Canadian Centre for International Justice teamed up with the New York based Center for Constitutional Rights to file a 70-page draft indictment against Bush ahead of his visit to Canada. The indictment was accompanied by 4000 pages of evidence that described the U.S. program of extraordinary rendition, the torture of detainees at Guantanamo Bay, and secret CIA detention sites.

Bush himself has on various occasions admitted to authorizing torture techniques, such as waterboarding. In an interview with American journalist Matt Lauer, Bush claimed the technique was legal because his lawyers told him it was. He then went on to dismiss the criticism that he got the lawyers to give him the legal opinions he wanted.

But international law and human rights experts have convincingly disagreed with Bush and his lawyers on the legality of these techniques, based on the following definition of torture set out in the Convention Against Torture:

“Any act by which severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, is intentionally inflicted on a person for such purposes as obtaining from him or a third person information or a confession, punishing him for an act he or a third person has committed or is suspected of having committed, or intimidating or coercing him or a third person, or for any reason based on discrimination of any kind, when such pain or suffering is inflicted by or at the instigation of or with the consent or acquiescence of a public official or other person acting in an official capacity…”

Despite the overwhelming evidence presented, Canadian officials failed to even reply to the draft indictment. In response, four former and current US detainees from Guantanamo Bay filed a private torture prosecution with a B.C. court. However, this attempt was quickly quashed by the Attorney General of British Columbia.

Critics have aptly described both this action by the Attorney General as well as the federal government’s disregard of the draft indictment as examples of “politics trumping law.”

Canada ratified the Convention Against Torture in 1987, which obliges the government to investigate anyone within its borders believed to have committed torture.  Canada has also incorporated anti-torture provisions into its criminal code.

Human rights advocates had hoped the Obama administration would open an investigation of Bush and his officials, arguing the American legal system was the most appropriate jurisdiction. But almost three years into his mandate, Obama has shown very little interest in pursuing any action. This failure of the United States government therefore puts the burden of investigation and prosecution on other countries that have ratified the convention.

Canada failed these obligations when it refused to consider an investigation of Bush and Cheney, despite the presence of considerable evidence.

There are however encouraging signs that even Bush may be aware of the real possibility he may one day be investigated for his role in the torture of U.S. detainees.

Bush was scheduled to speak in Switzerland last February but cancelled at the last minute. Many suspect this may be because of the real possibility of a torture investigation based on complaints filed in Switzerland by torture survivors.

If more countries seriously consider their obligations under the Convention Against Torture, Bush and his officials may find their travel destinations outside the United States to be severely limited.

There are disagreements on what the impacts of criminal prosecution of war criminals have on social reconstruction. While I think criminal prosecution can be helpful for achieving a social balance and helping the country build on that balance, I doubt that it is the case for the ICTR.

Since its creation, the ICTR has not made one indictment against the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), the “winners” of the armed conflict in Rwanda. The RPF had been actively fighting the Hutu government a long time before the 1994 events, and  have been the government ever since winning the war and putting an end to the 1994 genocide.

Still, it has been widely reported that the RPF have also committed their share of international crimes. It is not to say that the ICTR prosecutors are partial and did not want to prosecute the RPF, to the contrary. Louise Arbour (second Chief Prosecutor) had expressed fear of sending investigators to Rwanda to investigate eventual RPF members, and Carla Del Ponte (third Chief Prosecutor) actually tried to fulfill investigations on RPF members. She eventually lost her position at the ICTR, mainly because of political pressure from the Rwandan government on the UN.

The Rwandan government has collaborated with the ICTR where it served its interests, and members of the government in function were in no way interested in going to the ICTR as accused. The problem is, no matter how fair the ICTR intended to be, the obstacles that Rwanda had the power to create could not be ignored. For instance, witnesses have to travel from Rwanda to Tanzania (the ICTR location), investigators have to go in the country without the fear of being arrested, and documents have to be shared. Trials at the ICTR without Rwanda’s collaboration simply cannot happen.

So the ICTR did what it could do: prosecute the losers. But what are the impacts of this? Is justice fulfilling half of its duty if it is prosecuting half of the criminals? Does it matter that only one side gets justice? Or rather, is it justice if only one side is prosecuted?

“Victors’ justice” is not a new issue; It has been extensively discussed over the Nuremberg and Tokyo trials. The difference here is that the tribunal is not actually set up by Rwanda or its allies. It is set up by the international community, with judges and employees from all continents, who hopefully have no pre-conception of the events of 1994. This means that the ICTR gets the symbolic status of an independent and impartial judge over the events of 1994, and it is its role to determine the historical facts. But if only one side gets to present their version, then the justice process cannot be complete, the view given cannot be faithful to the events. We have learned by now that there is always another side to the story.

By condoning the victor’s version on the international scene, we recognise the status of victim to the Tutsi government. This is not to say Tutsis were not victims of a genocide, they surely were. But many victims of the events of 1994 were also Hutus, and some of them were victims of the RPF, and not the genocidaire Hutu government. But these victims have not been acknowledged, they have been categorised as part of the genocidaire ethnic group. In other words, the events of 1994 were far more complex than the ICTR indictments could lead us to believe.

Can this distorted version of reality help Rwandans rebuild their country, after going through such extreme violence? The 1994 events were no coincidence: they were the outbreak of decades of tension between Hutus and Tutsis, and probably months of planning on the part of the Hutu government. The victory of the RPF, a well organised and trained armed group hidden on the Rwandan borders before the events of 1994, reminds us that they too had been planning a war for a long time. Is it to say that now that the genocide has happened tensions have gone? The Tutsi government is holding the country in a tight grip, many activists have criticised it for systematic repression of freedom of expression and freedom of press. Tensions between Tutsis and Hutus are still strong in the region of the Great Lakes, especially in Democratic Republic of Congo (RDC). The UN, in its 2010 report on the DRC, has found that the RPF was guilty of the worst crimes in the past decade – often against Hutus, “genocidaires”.

My view is that the ICTR, rather than ensuring the region of an impartial judge and blaming each side for their wrongs, is allowing one of them a status of victim and providing it with a free pass for repressive measures. These can have no other impact than to exacerbate ethnic tensions, once again.

R : Créée en 1997, l’Association internationale des avocats de la défense est une organisation internationale non-gouvernementale, avec un statut consultatif auprès du Conseil Économique et Social (ECOSOC) des Nations unies, de l’Organisation des États américains (OÉA) et bientôt auprès de l’Organisation internationale de la Francophonie (OIF). La mission de l’AIAD est de renforcer le pilier de la défense au sein des tribunaux pénaux internationaux et elle s’est fait à ce titre la championne de la présomption d’innocence et du plein respect du droit à un procès juste et équitable. Nous travaillons d’arrache-pied depuis près de 15 ans pour assurer la garantie et le véritable exercice des droits fondamentaux de la défense devant les instances pénales internationales.

Les activités de l’AIAD sont composées de plusieurs volets. L’AIAD s’est d’abord fait connaître par ses travaux d’advocacy en participant aux commissions préparatoires (PrepCom) qui ont entouré la création de la Cour pénale internationale (CPI). L’AIAD a fait des propositions qui ont été retenues et qui font maintenant partie du Règlement de Preuve et de Procédure de la CPI. Ces propositions ont entre autres consacré la reconnaissance de l’indépendance de la profession juridique au sein du nouveau système de justice.

L’AIAD s’est aussi vue octroyer le statut d’Amicus curiae dans cinq affaires devant le Tribunal pénal international pour le Rwanda (TPIR)  au cours de l’année 2008 et notre intervention a permis d’empêcher les transferts des détenus du TPIR vers le Rwanda tel que le réclamait le Procureur du TPIR. Nous avons cherché à établir devant la Cour que le droit à un procès juste et équitable était loin d’être garanti au Rwanda, qui  n’offre pas les garanties fondamentales qui font maintenant partie du corpus établi par le droit international coutumier. Nous avons cette année encore obtenu le statut d’Amicus dans trois dossiers qui sont pendants devant le Tribunal pénal international pour le Rwanda.

L’AIAD a organisé plus d’une douzaine de formations depuis 2003, en Europe, en Afrique et en Amérique du Nord afin de familiariser les avocats aux rouages du droit pénal international et en particulier pour les sensibiliser aux enjeux liés à la protection des droits de la défense.  Ces formations incluent un volet pratique visant à préparer nos collègues provenant d’autres systèmes juridiques aux techniques de plaidoirie (dont le contre-interrogatoire propre au système de la Common Law) qui ont cours devant les juridictions internationales.

Enfin, nous contribuons aussi, dans certains pays, au développement de systèmes de justice transitionnelle dans un contexte post-conflit. Nous avons ainsi participé à la mise en place d’un système d’aide juridique en Afghanistan avec un partenaire américain (l’International Legal Foundation) depuis 2005.  Ce système a eu pour objectif d’ouvrir l’accès à la justice pour les accusés indigents en Afghanistan et aussi de sensibiliser nos collègues afghans à la culture de la défense telle que nous la connaissons dans notre système et dans les pays démocratiques en général.

L’AIAD a tout récemment participé à la réalisation d’un ouvrage unique sur les droits de la défense en droit international en collaboration avec la Revue québécoise de droit international (RQDI). Ce numéro hors-série mis en chantier il y a trois ans a été lancé le 21 avril dernier à la Cour d’appel du Québec. Il est accessible en ligne : http://www.sqdi.org/aiad2010

Q : Quels conseils donneriez-vous à un étudiant qui souhaite entreprendre une carrière en droit à l’international ?

R : Je dirais qu’il faut tout d’abord faire preuve de beaucoup de détermination et aussi de courage pour percer en droit international car la compétition est tout à fait féroce. Une grande ouverture sur le monde et de la curiosité sont également des qualités qu’il faut développer. Il est important selon moi de toujours faire preuve d’humilité et accepter de se remettre en cause lorsqu’on veut percer sur la scène internationale, où il faut faire ses preuves à partir de zéro. C’est essentiel si on veut continuer à apprendre et se pousser plus loin. En ce qui me concerne, j’ai toujours voulu savoir comment fonctionnaient les autres sociétés et apprendre à connaître de nouvelles cultures. C’est notamment ce qui m’a amenée à faire mes études supérieures à l’étranger, en France et au Royaume-Uni.

Je crois également qu’il faut être innovateur et foncer, en ne craignant pas de repousser les limites, les siennes propres et celles des systèmes en place. Si la chance a pu jouer dans le parcours de certains, j’estime, en toute humilité, avoir fait ma propre chance en créant les occasions et provoquant les choses.

Je crois qu’il est important de se familiariser avec plusieurs domaines de la pratique avant de se lancer sur la scène internationale. C’est en tant que pénaliste d’expérience que j’ai fait mes débuts dans le domaine du droit international à l’ONU, en 1997. Je crois que cette première carrière m’a donné une certaine crédibilité dans ce milieu extrêmement compétitif et marqué par la diplomatie et la politique pratiquées à un haut niveau d’expertise.

L’apprentissage de plusieurs langues représente aussi un atout important, et le bilinguisme est quant à moi tout à fait essentiel. C’est ce qui m’a fortement incitée à faire mes études de maîtrise (LL.M) à Londres, en Angleterre. Personnellement, j’ai aussi choisi de réapprendre l’espagnol dès 2003, langue que je n’avais pas pratiquée depuis plusieurs années. La capacité de m’exprimer dans cette troisième langue si importante sur le plan international me permet aujourd’hui d’intervenir en Amérique latine et en Espagne où je me suis rendue à une quinzaine de reprises pour y donner des conférences, des entrevues et participer à des formations en espagnol.

Q : Comment avez-vous fait le saut à l’international ?

R : C’est un parcours de longue date, puisque ma passion pour le droit international remonte à plusieurs années. Je dirais que mes études supérieures de maîtrise en criminologie et droit pénal comparé ont été déterminantes. Elles ont avivé mon envie de marier mes deux principaux champs d’intérêt, à savoir les relations internationales et la pratique du droit. C’est ainsi que j’ai décidé de créer l’AIAD qui m’a mise dans une position pour édifier le BPI.

Q : De quel accomplissement êtes-vous la plus fière ?

R : Je ne sais pas si on peut parler d’accomplissement, mais je constate que mon engagement profond et ma passion pour la justice ne m’ont jamais quittée depuis mes études. Je les ai conjugués de manières différentes au cours de ma carrière, mais j’ai toujours essayé de m’impliquer pleinement et de me mettre au service de la promotion de l’état de droit et de la démocratie en favorisant la participation citoyenne.

Je me réjouis d’avoir pu contribuer à ce que la profession juridique internationale se soit, ces dernières années, mobilisée autour des questions touchant aux droits de la défense et aussi à tout ce qui touche à un meilleur accès à la justice. Ce n’était pas le cas quand je me suis lancée dans le domaine du droit pénal international, alors que les avocats étaient trop souvent absents du débat  et n’avaient pas leur place à la table des négociations. Aujourd’hui, notamment grâce au travail de l’AIAD, la communauté juridique internationale y est davantage sensibilisée et tient mieux compte des droits de la défense. Il reste énormément de travail à faire, mais des experts de partout dans le monde échangent et contribuent à développer la doctrine et aussi la pratique sur ce thème.

Les tribunaux internationaux et le nouveau système de justice international prennent de plus d’essor et ils sont devenus un instrument incontournable des relations internationales sur le plan de la paix, de la stabilité et de la sécurité. Compte tenu du nombre grandissant de conflits et d’états dits fragiles ou en faillite, les juristes sont appelés à jouer un rôle de premier plan et j’invite les jeunes à repenser le rôle de l’avocat en se rappelant qu’il est d’abord défenseur des droits et des libertés fondamentales. L’avocat est en outre un pilier essentiel du système judiciaire et il est d’abord là pour donner une voix aux sans voix de ce monde qui sont malheureusement encore légion. Le nouvel ordre mondial offre une opportunité unique alors que tous les systèmes sont à repenser. Il permet aux avocats de prendre la pleine mesure de leur rôle avec fougue et passion et de s’impliquer davantage. Les avocats sont là pour appuyer les acteurs de premier plan de nos sociétés, les citoyens, en favorisant leur mobilisation et leur engagement pour veiller sur la démocratie et lutter pour la justice.

On 26 February 2011, the UN Security Council unanimously referred the situation in Libya to the Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court (ICC).[2] Just under six years ago, the Security Council referred the situation in Sudan to the ICC.[3] Both referrals were made pursuant to Chapter VII of the UN Charter, that is, in response to a threat to international peace and security.[4] Neither Libya nor Sudan are States Parties to the Rome Statute, the ICC’s foundational document, and both retain and use the death penalty as a mode of criminal punishment.[5]

Both States’ retention of the death penalty, far more remarkable today than it would have been years ago, is markedly at odds with the ICC’s relatively lenient sentencing scheme, whose most severe punishment is a term of life imprisonment,[6] to be served under conditions “consistent with widely accepted international treaty standards governing treatment of prisoners.”[7]

The ICC’s principal objective is to ensure the most serious crimes of concern to the international community as a whole do not go unpunished.[8] In the event that the ICC tries and convicts anyone in connection with either of the Security Council-referred situations, the result may challenge basic notions of fairness, especially as understood within the Sudanese and Libyan contexts.Individuals deemed most responsible for crimes widely regarded as offensive to humanity may face lesser sentences than individuals sentenced at the national level for equally serious or less serious crimes.

From the perspective of those in the target states, and the victims in particular, the dissonance in concurrently operating national and international jurisdictions’ modes of criminal punishment may be seen as corrosive of the legitimacy of prosecutions at both levels and antithetical to the project of post-conflict reconciliation.The death penalty debate which preceded the establishment of the ICTRis instructive on this point.

Perhaps the most implacably divisive issue which arose during talks on the establishment of the ICTRwas that of punishment.  Rwanda’s wish to equip the ICTR with the death penalty,[9] a punishment it was using domestically, was easily overwhelmed by the force of the emergent international human rights regime.  Referring to the Security Council’s decision to establish the ICTR as one of importance to Rwanda but of “even more fundamental importance to the international community as a whole,”[10] Ambassador Keating of New Zealand declared that his country, as a State Party to the Second Optional Protocol to the International Covenant of Civil and Political Rights could not possibly lend its support to a Tribunal empowered to take life.  To do so, Keating explained, would be to take “a dreadful step backwards.”[11]

The only other member of the Security Council to address the matter of the death penalty was the United States, whose representative, Madeleine Albright, held the presidency at the time of the meeting.  President Albright’s reference to the subject was fleeting but clear: while the United States understood a number of Rwanda’s key concerns regarding the establishment of the international tribunal, and it may even have agreed with Rwanda on the subject of the death penalty, to force the issue would have been to shatter the Council’s broad support for the tribunal.[12]

Given the political climate that prevailed in the Security Council at the time, well exampled by New Zealand’s vociferously abolitionist stance to which no serious opposition was raised by any State save Rwanda, internationally imposed capital punishment was manifestly out of the question.

The issue had been broached during the early phases of the ICTY’s construction, where no great controversy had arisen.[13] Given the second ad hoc tribunal’s heavy architectural reliance on the blue-prints of the first,[14] there may have been a widespread feeling that previous debate, or absence thereof, had rendered the issue moot.

Interestingly, all Security Council Members States, excepting the Czech Republic, France, and New Zealand had the death penalty on their books in some form or other when the ICTR was established.[15]

The absence of detailed and sophisticated debate on the issue of the death penalty during the establishment of the two ad hoc tribunals speaks to a significant sea-change in the international community’s view of the punishment.  Just as the Allied Powers had viewed the death penalty as an entirely suitable form of punishment with which to empower the post-World War Two International Military Tribunals and Control Council Courts, such punishment’s unsuitability was, for the most part, taken as read during the deliberative stages of the ad hoc tribunals’ formation.

It is in this strongly abolitionist context that the Security Council referrals must be considered.  In the event that one or both of the referrals lead to the prosecution and conviction of individuals alleged to have committed crimes within the ICC’s jurisdiction, problems of legitimacy will likely arise, and will be largely contingent upon the nature of the legal and political systems to which the people of Sudan and Libya turn once their presidents have left power.

In the event that the post-Gadhafi Libyan administration demonstrates itself willing and able to prosecute individuals the ICC has its eye on, thereby leaping the hurdle of complementarity, there should be no need for ICC intervention, whether or not Libyan courts resort to the death penalty.[16] Alternatively, the ICC could end up prosecuting individuals who would otherwise be permitted to escape justice on account of a heavily compromised Libyan judiciary.  In this scenario, the gap between punishment regimes would have to be appreciated in light of the knowledge that some punishment may be preferable to no punishment at all.

As more and more States ratify and accede to abolitionist treaties the space between the domestic and international regimes of punishment will be reduced.  However, given that none of the ICC’s six situation states have abolished the death penalty,[17] the problem is likely to persist for some time, and to be especially significant in situations involving non-States Parties who are subject to ICC jurisdiction by virtue of a Security Council referral.

Balancing the interests of affected States against those of the international community is a difficult task, necessary to the effective operation of international criminal law.  The Sudan and Libya referrals may result in concurrently operating criminal penalty regimes which are damagingly inconsistent, and viewed as exceptionally senseless by those most directly affected by the crimes.  However, it may be hoped that the damage of this inconsistency will be mitigated by a recognition of the persuasively abolitionist effect the ICC’s decision to limit punishment for the most serious crimes of concern to all of humanity might have on retentionist states.

[2]S/RES/1970 (2011).Signalling President Gadhafi’s waning support, Ibrahim Dabbashi, Libya’s Deputy Envoy to the UN, expressed vigorous support for the Resolution, calling the Tripoli regime fascist. (C/10187/Rev.1**).

[3] S/RES/1593 (2005)

[4] The value of this assertion in relation to the Libyan situation is debatable and, for lack of space, cannot be addressed here.

[5] Both states opposed the December 2010 UN General Assembly Resolution on the Moratorium on the Use of the Death Penalty.  Indeed, none of the ICC’s ‘situation’ states voted in favour of the Moratorium, Uganda voting against it, and DRC, CAR, and Kenya abstaining.

(see: http://www.un.org/News/Press/docs//2010/ga11041.doc.htm).

[6]Rome Statute, Art 77(1).

[7]Ibid, Art 106(1).

[8]Ibid, Preamble, paras.4,9, and at Arts.I, 5(1).

[9] Find Ambassador Bakuramutsa’s comments at: UN Doc S/PV/3453 (http://www.undemocracy.com/securitycouncil/meeting_3453)

[10]Ibid.

[11]Ibid.

[12]Ibid.

[13]The Report of the Secretary-General proposal that “the International Tribunal should not be empowered to impose the death penalty” (UN Doc S/25704 at para 112) was accepted unanimously by the Security Council.

[14]Payam Akhavan, “The Politics and Pragmatism of Punishment,” (1996) 90 American Journal of International Law, 501, at 501.

[15] (http://www.amnesty.org/en/death-penalty/abolitionist-and-retentionist-countries).

[16]The drafters of the Rome Statute took great pains to ensure that the Statute would operate without prejudice to the application of national penalties and laws. Though Libya is not a State Party, Article 80 of the Rome Statute, would still appear to apply.

[17]Kenya is abolitionist in practice, but retains the punishment on its books (http://www.amnesty.org/en/death-penalty/numbers).

Despite committing to the creation of a special tribunal for the post-election violence in December 2008, to date, the Kenyan government has failed to establish national trials and the special tribunal has yet to materialize.  Under pressure created by the Prosecutor’s application, Kenya is once again suggesting that it will create such a tribunal.  Even if the ICC’s Pre-Trial Chamber finds that there are reasonable grounds to believe that any or all of the suspects have committed the crimes alleged in the Prosecutor’s application and so grants the application,[2] the positions of the Kenyan administration and the AU seem sure to interfere with any further progress.

A point of particular interest in the ICC’s fraught relationship with the Kenyan government is the fierce opposition expressed by some within Kenya to the government’s alleged plan to finance the suspects’ defences, should they be called to answer charges before the ICC.  Kenya’s International Centre for Policy and Conflict, for example, has referred to the possible plan as the greatest insult to the Kenyan people, and to the victims of the post-election violence in particular.[3] Further, the Commissioner of the Kenyan National Commission for Human Rights, Hassan Omar Hassan, has said publicly that in a context where the government claims that it does not have the resources necessary to resolve the problems of internal displacement which arose in consequence of the post-election violence, and have persisted for more than three years since, it is unthinkable that the government should now be considering diverting painfully scarce resources to fund the suspects’ defences.[4] Commissioner Hassan’s position is strengthened by the fact that, in recognition of its statutorily enshrined fair trial rights, the ICC is equipped with a Registry-governed legal aid scheme, one which is attempting to earn its stripes on the proving grounds of the Court’s first three cases.[5]

However, problems of inequality of arms, whether perceived or real, which have afflicted previous and contemporary international and internationalized tribunals[6] remain relevant to the ICC.  Of particular concern are situations in which states are unwilling to provide defence teams with the level of cooperation required to produce an effective defence.[7] The Kenyan situation does not appear to be such a case.  Indeed, the government’s reticence[8] to try the suspects domestically, combined with its wish to defer the ICC investigation, suggests that in the event of a trial the Prosecutor is more likely to experience difficulties obtaining Kenyan cooperation than the ostensibly favoured defence.

The visceral opposition to the possibility of Kenya funding these defences may be understandable in light of the circumstances, but this is not to say that states should never finance the defences of their nationals before international criminal courts. In certain cases, governments may be pressed into funding the defences of citizens who have been indicted by an international criminal court for crimes alleged to have been committed in connection with actions carried out in the national interest.  Under such conditions, assuming the government is not subject to equally or more powerful pressures of dissuasion from external actors, it may prove politically imperative to foot the defendants’ legal bills.[9] Additionally, if an international criminal court’s legal aid scheme shows itself inadequate to the task of satisfying the fair trial rights of defendants a government will be able to make a forcefully credible argument that it is financing an accused’s defence in the interests of justice.[10]

Currently, it looks as though an end to the impunity which has reigned for more than three years may be drawing close.  Alternatively, this could be the continuation of another protracted dispute between an AU-supported African State and the ICC.  One hopes that the Kenyan government, if it cannot bring itself to play a constructive role in trying the suspected perpetrators, at the least begins to take more aggressive steps to address the continued suffering of the victims of the post-election violence.

[2] The Chamber will issue summonses to appear if it is satisfied that summonses are sufficient to ensure the appearance before the Court of those being summoned. If the Chamber is not satisfied that summonses are sufficient to ensure such appearance, it will issue warrants of arrest instead. See Art. 58 of the Rome Statute.

[3]http://www.icpcafrica.org/site/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=283:pulling-out-of-icc-and-funding-the-6-an-insult-to-kenyans-and-pev&catid=42:featured&Itemid=107

[4] http://www.capitalfm.co.ke/news/Kenyanews/State-plan-to-shield-ICC-suspects-faulted-11264.html

[5] Prosecutor v. Thomas Lubanga Dyilo ICC-01/04-01/06 (“Lubanga”), and Prosecutor v. Germain Katanga and Mathieu Ngudjolo Chui ICC-01/04-01/07.  Jean Pierre Bemba, the single defendant in the ICC’s third trial (Prosecutor v. Jean-Pierre Bemba Gombo ICC-01/05 -01/08) submitted a failed application for legal aid but, for various reasons, has in fact benefitted from legal aid.  For more on this, see the “Redacted Version of Decision on the Defence Application for Review of the Registrar’s Decision of 15 October 2010 on the Application for Adjustment of the Expenses and Fees of the Defence (ICC-01/05-01/08-1007-Conf)” available at: http://www.iclklamberg.com/Bemba.htm#Year_2010_TC

[6] See, for example Michael Bohlander, Roman Boed and Richard J. Wilson, Defense in International Criminal Proceedings: Cases, Materials and Commentary (Ardsley, NY: Transnational Publishers, 2006).  See also http://www.ibanet.org/Human_Rights_Institute/ICC_Outreach_Monitoring/Lubanga_case_Mr_Lubangas_requests.aspx for concerns raised by counsel for Thomas Lubanga Dyilo in Lubanga.

[7] Given that all three of the ICC’s current trials are the result of state referrals and feature defendants who are widely perceived as hostile to the governments whose cooperation is necessary to the provision of an effective defence the problem of state-defence cooperation should not be underestimated.  Naturally, in cases where the ICC attempts to try individuals who are close to or even apart of a state’s incumbent regime, the Prosecutor rather than defence counsel is likely to find it difficult to secure state cooperation.

[8] Three of those named by the Prosecutor as suspects are currently serving in government: Finance Minister Uhuru Kenyatta, Head of Public Service Francis Muthaura, and Postal Corporation of Kenya Chief Executive, Hussein Ali.

[9] Examples of this phenomenon can be seen in the cases of the Prosecutor v. Gotovina et al. IT-06-90-T, and the Prosecutor v. Haradinaj et al. IT-04-84-T, before the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia.  Though a combination of the ICC’s system of complementarity and realpolitik’s unquestionable influence make it hard to imagine, if a high ranking member of a Western state’s armed forces were tried by the Court, it seems unlikely that the defendant would be made to pay for her own defence or to rely upon the Court’s legal aid scheme.

[10] An interesting question, not addressed here, is whether or not the Kenyan government would see fit to pay the legal fees of any victim participants in the event that a confirmation of charges hearing was granted.