This latest crisis in Sino-Google relations has taken on international significance beyond just the opening of another front in the ongoing trade disputes between China and the United States, and it represents more than just the latest development in the long-lasting ideological clash between the Chinese government and western internet service providers Google, Yahoo, and Microsoft. And while this isn’t the first time an American corporation has sought to impose its will on a foreign government, this may be the first such standoff that has an ideological or public international law dimension to it. Among other things, it prompted US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton to declare last week that the United States intends to advance “internet freedom” at the United Nations.

One interesting question that comes out of this is whether corporations of Google’s stature will be able to shape the policies of state actors in much the same manner as they can those of industry players. For example, Apple and then Google transformed the wireless industry when they required cellular providers to significantly alter their practices which restricted free access to information as a condition to carrying their newly-developed cell phones; will Google similarly be able to compel the Chinese government to alter its policies concerning access to information by threatening to leave the country? It is a threat the Chinese government must take seriously; aside from the direct economic benefits that China gains from having Google offices in the country, China to some extent relies on services like Google’s to connect its citizens with the rest of the world in areas like business, science, and art – and thereby fuel China’s cultural and economic growth.

Of course, the flip side of this is the vast amount of profits Google stands to forego by removing itself from the Chinese market. China is by far the world’s largest online community, with close to 400 million internet users. Notwithstanding its corporate motto of “don’t be evil,” it seems unlikely that Google would threaten to turn its back on such a large market over a silly ideological dispute over free speech unless 1) the move is nothing more than a negotiating tactic, or 2) it considered its operations in China to lack growth potential. If the move is just a negotiating tactic vis-à-vis the Chinese government, it can be seen as evidence of Google’s footprint in international affairs, even if the bid is ultimately unsuccessful. And if Google doesn’t foresee long-term growth potential in China, one must ask to what extent a free-flowing marketplace of ideas is central to what Google does.

If Google proves incapable of bending China to its will through the sheer force of its economic clout, there are a number of international forums through which Google could further exert pressure on Beijing. The most likely, perhaps, is the WTO. Indeed, a number of American business interests have already begun lobbying for the US Trade Representative to invoke WTO treaties to compel China to relax its internet censorship. These groups allege that China has violated its commitment to allow unlimited and equal access to foreign internet services by essentially requiring such services to either self-censor, in compliance with government guidelines, or relocate outside of China’s borders where they would be subject to limited accessibility behind the “Great Firewall of China” or potentially banned altogether.

Access to information is an area that is currently woefully under-regulated, with norms varying enormously from one place to another based on cultural and market factors. It could be argued that in an information-based and globally-linked society like ours, this is an impediment to trade that the WTO is well-placed to address.

Most countries censor or control information on the basis of moral or political grounds; from a positivist standpoint, it is no less legal for the Chinese government to intercept dissidents’ emails or block news pertaining to certain political events than it is for the US government to monitor the conversations of suspected terrorists or block access to child pornography. However, the ethical question of who should lawfully be able to restrict the flow of information, and on what basis, is still very much open, as evidenced by the ongoing net-neutrality debate in the US and the expanded debate on legitimate limits of free speech. If the present matter is brought before the WTO for mediation, it would first prompt a much-needed general discussion on the question of whether there is a need to regulate access to information on a global level in today’s technological climate, and second go a long way toward determining the principles by which it might be regulated (for example, appealing to UN declarations such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights).

The UN General Assembly has passed a number of non-binding declarations affirming freedom of religion as a universal right, notably the Declaration on the Elimination of All Forms of Intolerance and of Discrimination Based on Religion or Belief and the Declaration on the Rights of Persons Belonging to National or Ethnic, Religious and Linguistic Minorities.

Many countries guarantee religious freedoms through constitutional or legislative means. Canada in particular is known for its juridical emphasis, through liberal interpretation and strict enforcement, of the freedom of religion provided under s. 2(a) of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

So it would seem that freedom of religion has come a long way in recent decades. However, despite broad acknowledgement that freedom of religion is a fundamental right, there are glaring discrepancies between the way in which international law protects the rights of religious groups and the way in which it protects those of women, children, ethnic groups, and others. As Chon and Arzt point out, no credible international mechanisms exist to address violations of religious freedom, while many address violations of other human rights. There is no “Convention on the Elimination of Religious Discrimination” analogous to the Convention on the Elimination of all forms of Racial Discrimination. No international body, not even one “as toothless as a United Nations standing committee,” exists for the sole purpose of upholding religious freedom.

This is problematic for a number of reasons. For one, it demonstrates a lack of seriousness on the part of the international community. It suggests that the human rights of religious minorities are somehow less important or at least less worthy of protection than those of racial minorities or other disenfranchised groups. Another problem, which is both a cause and a result of the lack of international emphasis on protecting religious freedom, is that no clear legal definition of “religion” currently exists. As T.J. Gunn addresses in depth in an article in the Harvard Human Rights Journal, this presents a number of difficulties. How can countries fulfil their international commitments to uphold freedom of religion when there is no consensus on how the term should be understood? In the absence of a universal definition, how can we expect any consistency between or even within countries’ domestic law in this regard?

Not only do these issues play out in day-to-day decision making (for example, by the adjudicator who must decide if a particular asylum-seeker meets the criteria for persecution on the basis of religion) but they also raise questions as to scope of applicability and relationship with other norms. For example, can freedom of religion override contractual undertakings? Can it be exempted from prohibitions on racial discrimination? What limits exist on the sorts of practices that are protected? These sorts of questions arise frequently and lack clear consensus, their outcomes vary enormously from one jurisdiction to another. The definition of religious freedom laid out in the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights does not even begin to adequately address any of these issues, and the lack of shared principles is surprising given that the international community has affirmed freedom of religion as a fundamental human right.

In an attempt to address some of the holes in international law with regard to the universality and the enforcement of religious freedom, the 56-state Organization of the Islamic Conference (OIC) has recently renewed a push for the adoption of international measures to prevent the defamation of religions. This is seen as an effort to address the drastic drop in Islam’s standing in Western eyes following September 11^th, 2001, and perceived widespread attacks on the Muslim faith, such as the 2006 publication in Denmark of cartoons mocking the prophet Muhammed. The idea is that since religion is recognized as a fundamental human attribute in the same way as race, why shouldn’t denigration of Islam be accepted as a violation of Muslims’ human rights in the same way that denigrating black people is a violation of their human rights?

This move by the OIC to expand freedom of religion to preclude blasphemy is strongly opposed by most other countries. One reason for the widespread opposition is the emphasis liberal societies place on freedom of speech. However, most countries recognize that this freedom has limits, particularly when it comes to inciting violence. Moreover, many countries without strong traditions of free speech also oppose the OIC’s move. Another objection is that human rights law exists to protect people, not ideas. There is here an attempt to differentiate between insulting Islam and insulting Muslims. Due especially to the historic role of religion in governing societies and the global trend toward secularism in recent centuries, the right to express opposition to religious tenets is seen as an important political freedom. It is still commonplace for states to define themselves on the basis of religion (by adopting an official state religion), thereby tying religious pluralism to political dissent.

In some ways, then, religion is distinct among the fundamental attributes that are protected under s. 15(1) of the Canadian Charter, which also include race, national or ethnic origin, colour, sex, age, and disability. It can be argued that international law treats religion differently than these other factors because, though religion is inherent to many people’s identities, it is thought of as a set of ideas, constituted by individuals – in contrast with race and sex, for example, which are thought of as attributes, constituting individuals.

It is perhaps ironic that the countries in the OIC that are calling for an expansion of the right to freedom of religion are among those who rank lowest in the world in upholding conventional religious freedoms domestically. This suggests the possibility that their move may not be driven by a desire to uphold the rule of law, but rather by more narrow political interests. However, regardless of its motivation, the move underscores the importance of establishing and enforcing broadly agreed-upon norms pertaining to such an important right as freedom of religion.

Canada has long been a leader in human rights legislation, especially with respect to freedom of religion. Federal and provincial human rights acts in Canada, particularly those defining and punishing hate speech, go beyond the legal instruments of most other countries (though many argue that the Canadian approach goes too far). Clearly, what is needed is for the international community to adopt a more unified approach to protecting what it recognizes to be an important human right. The first step to doing so is to define just what it is that we are trying to protect.