How to protect the rights of UK citizens in the EU27 after Brexit? Analysis of the Shindler judgment

Professor Steve Peers, University of Essex*

Introduction

The EU General Court today gave its judgment in the case of Shindler and others, on the legality of the EU Council decision giving the EU Commission a mandate to negotiate the Brexit withdrawal agreement with the UK. In the Court’s view, the case, which was brought by a group of UK citizens living in the other EU Member States, was inadmissible. Although this necessarily meant that the Court did not rule on the merits of the legal challenge, the judgment nevertheless touched on a number of interesting issues regarding the process and consequences of the UK’s withdrawal from the EU.

Today’s judgment could still be appealed to the full Court of Justice, and indeed the applicants’ lawyer has announced an intention to appeal. However, it might be difficult for the Court to give a ruling on the appeal before Brexit day. The judgment also arguably leaves the door open to potential legal challenges against further steps in the Brexit process.

Furthermore, it should be noted that today’s judgment does not have any direct implications for other cases raising Brexit legal issues, which I summarised here, including the Wightman case on whether the UK’s notification of withdrawal from the EU can be unilaterally revoked (on the background to Wightman in the Scottish courts, see here; on the legal arguments on unilaterally revocability, see here). To add to that, a parallel case in the Dutch courts on the legal status of UK citizens in the EU (see discussion here) has been stalled until Brexit day, and the CJEU has ruled already that the UK remains fully part of EU law until that date (as discussed here).

The judgment

While the applicants presumably disagree with the UK’s decision to trigger the Brexit process, the EU General Court only has jurisdiction over acts of the EU institutions or other bodies, not acts of the Member States. The applicants therefore challenged the Council’s response to the UK’s notification of withdrawal from the EU under Article 50 TEU. (Note that the act being challenged in this case – namely the Council’s decision to give the Commission a negotiating mandate for the withdrawal agreement – is different from the European Council’s adoption of negotiating guidelines for the agreement, although a legal challenge brought against those guidelines would surely have had the same result as this case). The Commission planned to intervene in support of the Council, although ultimately its application to do so was irrelevant. No Member States intervened.

When individuals (natural or legal persons) seek the annulment of acts adopted by the EU institutions directly before the EU General Court, they are subject to restrictive conditions on standing set out in Article 263 TFEU. In order to sue, they must either be: a) addressees of the act; b) directly and individually concerned by it; or c) directly concerned by it, if it is a regulatory act which does not entail implementing measures.

 

Shindler and others are not addressees of the Council’s negotiating mandate, and they were likely covered by point c), since the EU courts have ruled (see the Inuit judgment, and the discussion here) that point c) applies whenever the EU act is not adopted by an EU legislative process, which the negotiating mandate was not. However, the General Court never really got to that stage of legal analysis, since it ruled that they lacked standing anyway, because they did not meet the requirement that ‘the binding legal effects of the measure being challenged must be capable of affecting the interests of the applicant, by bringing about a distinct change in his legal position’.

In the Court’s view, the decision on the negotiating mandate was binding. However, while, following previous CJEU case law (the cases referred to were discussed here and here), a negotiation mandate produces legal effects between the EU and Member States, and between EU institutions, it ‘does not directly affect the legal situation of the applicants’.

On that point, the decision on the negotiating mandate was legally distinct from the UK decision to withdraw from the EU (which was not defined by the Court), and from the notification of the UK’s intention to withdraw from the EU sent by the Prime Minister. The latter notification, not the former decision to withdraw, started the two-year time limit set out under Article 50, after which the Treaties cease to apply to the UK in the absence of a withdrawal agreement, unless there is an agreement to extend the period. (Today’s judgment does not address the question at issue in Wightman – ie whether the notification can be revoked).

Nor does the decision on the negotiating mandate ‘alter the legal situation of UK citizens resident in one of the European Union’s other 27 Member States’, as regards either their situation when that decision was adopted or their situation on Brexit day. The negotiating mandate ‘merely constitutes a preparatory act for any final agreement’, which would have to be approved by the Council with the consent of the European Parliament. Annulling it would not change the position of UK citizens, because the notification would still be valid and the two-year time limit would still apply. Although the UK citizens’ status, ‘particularly as regards their status as EU citizens, is likely to be affected’ from Brexit day, whether or not there is a withdrawal agreement, that change would not result from the decision to adopt the negotiating mandate.

The Court then rejected a number of counter-arguments of the applicants against this finding. First, they had argued that the Council’s decision was ‘an implicit act by which the Council accepted the notification of intention to withdraw’. In the Court’s view, although the decision produced effects within the EU and between the EU and Member States, it did not produce legal effects for the applicants: for them it ‘must be considered to be a preparatory act’ without ‘direct legal effects’.

Nor did it implicitly accept the UK’s notification to withdraw, as it was distinct from the decision to withdraw or the notification of that decision. Also, withdrawal from the EU ‘is based on a unilateral decision’ by a Member State ‘pursuant to its own constitutional requirements’. Article 50 refers twice to a decision by a Member State – and then to notifying its intention to withdraw, not to making a ‘request’ to withdraw. Article 50(3) TEU, setting out the two-year deadline and the possibility of a no deal outcome, ‘confirms that the possibility for a Member State to withdraw from the EU is not subject to authorisation from the EU institutions’.

So there is no process of accepting the notification from the EU institutions, in which they check if the UK has met its own constitutional requirements: ‘[s]uch a decision of acceptance by the Council or by any other EU institution is not needed and is not provided for by Article 50 TEU.’ Anyway, the notification was sent to the European Council, not the Council; and the Council’s reference to the Brexit process in its negotiating mandate only observed the legal situation, not created it.

Next, the applicants had argued that the Council's negotiating mandate ‘does not include an objective to ensure that UK citizens who obtained the status of EU citizen before 29 March 2019 maintain that status’, therefore failing to protect them fully or provide for legal certainty. The Court rejected this argument for several reasons: the negotiating mandate was (unsurprisingly) simply a negotiating mandate, not a final position; there would not necessarily be an agreement; the position of UK citizens will not be determined unilaterally by the EU but also depend on the UK’s position; and the final agreement will need consent of the European Parliament. So the mandate, being addressed to the Commission, did not itself determine the position of UK citizens after Brexit.

Also, the absence of any provision in the mandate on EU citizenship and voting rights ‘does not directly affect [UK citizens’] legal situation’, because the negotiating mandate ‘is merely a preparatory act which cannot prejudge the content of any final agreement, particularly as regards the personal scope of any provisions on the protection of the status and rights of UK citizens in the EU 27’. Furthermore, the mandate could not establish the rights of UK citizens in the EU27 in the absence of an agreement, and so an argument based on the Council’s failure to address this scenario was unfounded.

Thirdly, the applicants had argued that ‘the Council should have refused or stayed the opening of negotiations’, because the withdrawal process is ‘void’ due to ‘the absence of definite constitutional authorisation based on the votes of all UK citizens, who are also EU citizens’. More precisely, the applicants object to being denied the vote in the 2016 referendum and the 2017 UK general election, because UK citizens who have been living outside the UK for more than 15 years lose the right to vote. Also, they argued that the European Union (Notification of Withdrawal) Act 2017 does not require the UK to notify its withdrawal but only authorises the Prime Minister to do so, and that:

legal proceedings are currently underway before a UK court, that the Council and the United Kingdom should have sought judicial review of the constitutionality of the notification of the intention to withdraw pursuant to the principle of sincere cooperation provided for in Article 4(3) TEU, and that the Council also should have requested the opinion of the Court as to the compatibility with the Treaties of depriving expatriate UK citizens of the right to vote and their indirect representation by MPs, pursuant to Article 218(11) TFEU. They add that to dismiss the present action for inadmissibility would infringe the principle of democracy, in so far as removing EU citizenship in March 2019 will occur in circumstances that are illegal, where EU citizens have been deprived of the right to vote.

In the Court's view, these are substantive arguments that do not impact the admissibility of the case, because they do not impact the Court’s finding that the negotiating mandate ‘does not directly affect the legal situation of the applicants’. So ‘[e]ven if the Council should have refused to open the negotiations or should have verified that the decision by which the United Kingdom decided to leave the European Union had been taken in accordance with its own constitutional requirements’, the negotiating mandate only authorised the start of talks and set the negotiation objectives of the EU. Equally, even if the Council ‘was wrong’ not to check the compatibility of the withdrawal agreement with EU law (ie, the process in Article 218(11) TFEU which the applicants refer to), which the Court noted is optional, or ‘infringed the principle of sincere cooperation’, that would not alter the admissibility criteria either.

As for the alleged infringement of the principle of democracy, this did not change the criteria for admissibility either, as it would in effect amount to the tail wagging the dog: ‘tantamount to inferring the admissibility of an action for annulment under Article 263 TFEU from the possible unlawfulness of the contested decision’. Just because the EU institution allegedly seriously breached EU law or had a major adverse impact on the applicant, it does not follow that the challenge is admissible. Anyway, again the negotiating mandate ‘does not, of itself, restrict the applicants’ rights’.

Next, the Court rejected the argument that this was the applicants' only legal remedy before they lose EU citizenship. But the Court repeated that the Council decision was not the cause of the UK leaving the EU, and added that protection of EU law rights can also be secured by national courts. In this case, the Court noted that the voting franchise ‘and, indeed, the notification of intention to withdraw, were open to challenge before the UK courts, which may, where appropriate, refer questions to the Court for a preliminary ruling on the interpretation of the Treaties, pursuant to Article 267 TFEU.’ More precisely, the Court observed that the High Court had already rejected a case brought by Mr Shindler concerning the franchise, as well as the Webster challenge to ‘the alleged lack of a decision to withdraw taken in accordance with the United Kingdom’s constitutional requirements’.

Finally, the applicants argued that no such route through the UK courts would be possible after Brexit day, as the UK might not consider itself bound by an EU court decision. However, the Court ruled that it could not alter the rules on admissibility of legal actions in light of this scenario.

Comments

It’s striking that the General Court has chosen a less obvious route to find that this case is inadmissible – the lack of direct impact on the applicants – rather than the more obvious route of finding that there is no ‘direct concern’, or that the negotiating mandate calls for further implementing measures (ie negotiations with the UK). The implication of the Court’s judgment is that that the withdrawal agreement – if it is ratified in some form – would have a direct impact on the applicants, and that they could try afresh to challenge it then. But then they would have to face the hurdle of showing direct concern and the absence of implementing measures – which could be a difficult hurdle to surmount given that the withdrawal agreement will be implemented by national bodies in the EU27 and the UK.

As for alternative routes to challenge the Council’s negotiating mandate, it is hard to see exactly what could be attacked via the national courts (which can ask the CJEU whether an EU act is invalid: direct challenges like today’s case are only one means of challenging the legality of EU acts). Again, though, the Council’s decision to conclude a final withdrawal agreement could be attacked via the EU27 national courts, even if a direct action would face different standing challenges; recent case law of the CJEU (see discussion here) has confirmed that the EU’s conclusion of international treaties can indeed be challenged by this route.

Another route to challenging the validity of EU acts is by claiming damages liability of the EU, which is not subject to the same standing rules. According to the CJEU case law, the EU incurs damages liability when it acts unlawfully, its unlawful acts cause damage to individuals, and it commits a sufficient serious breach of a legal rule conferring rights on individuals. But it’s hard to see how damages liability could be incurred by the negotiating mandate, since the logic of the Shindler ruling is that the mandate could not cause damage to individuals, as it did not directly affect their legal position. On the other hand, an argument about damages liability could be made if there is a withdrawal agreement, although note that the threshold to succeed in a damages claim is quite high: see, for instance, the Ledra Advertising case on losses of Cypriot bank depositors, discussed here.

In the case of no withdrawal agreement (or replacement treaty ring-fencing rights), there would be nothing which could be the subject of legal challenge at EU level, although UK citizens could still try to argue in the national courts of the remaining Member States that there is a principle of acquired rights which EU law recognises (see again the Dutch case discussed here, which is on hold), or at least that EU legislation on the position of non-EU citizens (which has partly harmonised national law) applies to them. Equally there would be no EU act to claim resulted in damages, although UK citizens (and others) might try to argue that the EU’s conduct of the negotiations could be the subject of a damages claim.

Moving to the core of the Court’s reasoning, it is a persuasive argument that the decision to establish a negotiating mandate did not directly impact upon the applicants’ rights. The process was indeed triggered by the UK, with the negotiating mandate at most taking note of that decision; and any later impact on individual rights will flow from the final agreement (if ratified) or the absence of a deal.  While the Court seemed to assume that UK citizens lose EU citizenship as a result of Brexit, it did not expressly say as much.

The Court was also right to stress that withdrawal is the responsibility of the UK in accordance with its own constitutional requirements, meaning that the Council could not in some sense review whether the UK had met those requirements when it submitted its notification to withdraw. It’s particularly unclear how exactly the Council should have sought judicial review of the UK’s notification, or how the Article 218 process of assessing draft international treaties for their compatibility with EU law could extend to an examination of the franchise in the UK referendum and general elections. The general assertion that the circumstances are ‘illegal’ due to the limited franchise in the referendum rather overlooked the legal process in the UK, which had already (as the Court noted) rejected a claim challenging the legality of the franchise restrictions. Having said that, the Court later indicated that national court disputes over the Article 50 process in the UK could be sent to the CJEU – although it did not as such suggest that this would, after all, entail a review of those national constitutional requirements in light of EU law.

Similarly the Court rightly rejected the arguments about the negotiation mandate being insufficient because it depends upon the final agreement (if ratified) what the rights of individuals are, and applies its usual case law refusing to rethink the strict rules on standing in light of the applicants’ particular circumstances. 

It’s useful to examine briefly what the Court would have ruled on if it had examined the merits of the claim, which are summarised here. The first argument was that withdrawal from the Euratom treaty had to be a separate legal process; I have a different view, as set out here. (Note that winning on this point would not have helped with the key legal objective of preserving UK citizens’ rights).

The second argument was that the negotiating mandate wrongly claims that the EU alone was competent to conclude the withdrawal agreement, and that it should be jointly ratified with EU Member States. Leaving aside the merits of this argument, with respect it is hard to see how it helps the applicants if they had won on this point, because it would have seriously increased the risk of a no deal scenario – which would, as I recently pointed out, leave UK citizens in the EU27 in particular much worse off than under the withdrawal agreement.

The third and fifth arguments have been addressed in an indirect way by the judgment, despite the finding of inadmissibility: the limited franchise is a matter to be addressed in accordance with the UK’s own constitutional requirements, and the lack of certainty regarding the final outcome is simply unavoidable at the point when the Council adopts a negotiating mandate. Finally, the fourth argument – concerning the lack of a vote for UK citizens living in overseas countries and territories – is another form of franchise argument, which again should be left to the UK’s constitutional requirements to address.

Finally, on the overall context of the case: while in my view, protection of the rights of UK citizens in the EU27 (and the parallel rights of the EU27 in the UK) is absolutely fundamental, the focus should be on securing those rights in future – either by reversing Brexit, or failing that by at least avoiding a no deal outcome – rather than re-litigating the franchise of the referendum, by trying to induce the EU courts to rule on an issue (national constitutional requirements) which should be wholly outside their remit.  In the event of a no deal outcome, despite the apparent indifference of the Commission to the fate of UK citizens in the EU27, the focus has to be on securing a ring-fenced treaty on securing the rights of citizens on both sides; failing that, EU-wide legislation on the acquired rights of UK citizens (hopefully matching parallel action by the UK for EU27 citizens); and failing that, litigation to argue that the EU and/or its Member States have an obligation to preserve their rights as much as possible.

*Supported by an ESRC Priority Brexit Grant on 'Brexit and UK and EU Immigration Policy'

Barnard & Peers: chapter 10, chapter 27

Photo credit: European Sanctions Blog

The Marrakesh Treaty judgment: the ECJ clarifies EU external powers over copyright law

Gesa Kübek, PhD candidate at the law faculty of the University of Passau.

On 14th February 2017, the European Court of Justice (ECJ) concluded, in Opinion 3/15, that the European Union (EU) is exclusively competent to conclude the Marrakesh Treaty to Facilitate Access to Published Works for Persons Who Are Blind, Visually Impaired, or Otherwise Print Disabled (hereafter: Marrakesh Treaty). Its decision in Opinion 3/15 mirrors, at first sight, Advocate General (AG) Wahl’s Opinion, which equally argued that the EU has exclusive competence to conclude the Marrakesh Treaty. A closer look at Opinion 3/15, however, reveals that the Court opted for a much stricter interpretation of the scope of the EU’s Common Commercial Policy (CCP) – ie the EU’s international trade powers – than the AG. Moreover, the Court’s answer to the question of exclusivity does not clarify the correct choice of legal basis.

The following blog post provides an overview of the Court’s Opinion 3/15 and a short analysis thereof. The first part describes the conflict at stake and the arguments of the parties. The second part outlines the Court’s position. The final section discusses some of the implications of Opinion 3/15 for EU treaty-making.

The conflict at stake: Questions of exclusivity and the choice of legal basis

In June 2013, the World Organisation on Intellectual Property (WIPO) finalised the negotiations of the Marrakesh Treaty, which aims to facilitate access to published work for persons who are blind, visually impaired or otherwise print disabled (hereafter: “beneficiary persons”). The Marrakesh Treaty stipulates two separate, but interrelated instruments to fulfil its objectives. First, it obliges its contracting parties to provide for an exception or limitation to the rights of reproduction, distribution and making available to the public in order to make format copies more readily available for beneficiary persons. Second, it facilitates the cross-border exchange of accessible format copies.

In April 2014, the EU Council decided to sign the Marrakesh Treaty for the European Union based on Article 207 TFEU (the EU’s CCP power) in conjuncture with Article 114 TFEU (the EU’s internal market power, which is the basis for harmonising copyright law within the EU, among other things). The subsequent Commission proposal for the conclusion of the agreement was, however, rejected by the Member States as represented in the Council, which caused fierce institutional debate over the choice of legal basis. According to the Commission, Arts. 207 and 114 TFEU were correctly selected. In the alternative, the Marrakesh Treaty may be based on the CCP alone, which the Lisbon Treaty confirms as an exclusive competence (Art. 3 (1) (e) TFEU). In any event, the Commission argued that the rights and obligations comprised by the Marrakesh Treaty were largely harmonized by EU internal legislation. As a result, it asserted that exclusive EU competence can be implied (Art. 3 (2) TFEU). 

The eight intervening Member States rejected the assumption of EU exclusivity. Instead, in their view, the competences to conclude the Marrakesh Treaty ought to be shared, which may result in the conclusion of a “mixed agreement” that lists both the EU and the Member States as contracting parties. Given the persisting institutional conflicts, the Commission asked the Court to clarify whether the EU has the exclusive competence to conclude the Marrakesh Treaty.

As was stated above, AG Wahl supported the Commission’s quest for exclusive EU treaty-making powers. Somewhat surprisingly, the AG, however, determined that the Marrakesh Treaty should be concluded on the basis of Art. 207 TFEU on the CCP and – as contended by numerous Member States - Art. 19 (1) TFEU, the EU’s power to adopt many non-discrimination laws. The latter provision underlines the Marrakesh Treaty’s objective to promote non-discrimination, equal opportunity, accessibility and participation of disabled persons in the society. Despite the implication of exclusivity, the choice of Art. 19 (1) TFEU entails important procedural consequences: As the provision stipulates that the adoption of EU legislation requires unanimity in the Council, EU treaty-making under the anti-discrimination power equally grants the Member States veto powers in the Council (Art. 218 (8) TFEU).

The Court‘s position in Opinion 3/15

In order to answer the preliminary question, the Court, first, examined whether the Marrakesh Treaty, in full or in part, falls within the scope of the CCP. Thereafter, the ECJ analysed whether exclusivity can be implied within the meaning of Art. 3 (2) TFEU.

The reach of “commercial aspects of intellectual property rights”

To start with, the Court recalled that according to settled case-law, an EU act falls within the CCP “if it relates specifically to international trade in that it is essentially intended to promote, facilitate or govern trade and has direct and immediate effects on trade” (Daiichi Sankyo). Conversely, the mere fact that an EU act is liable to have implications on international trade is not enough for it to be concluded under the CCP.

In its subsequent reasoning, the Court outlined that neither one of the aforementioned instruments of the Marrakesh Treaty intends to promote, facilitate or govern international trade. The Court’s Opinion is particularly striking with regard to the import and export of format copies, as “there is no doubt that those rules relate to the international trade of such copies” (para 87). Nevertheless, the Court stated that the cross-border exchange specified by the Marrakesh Treaty cannot be equated with international trade for commercial purposes. On the one hand, the objective of the circulation and exchange of format copies is non-commercial in nature. The Marrakesh Treaty solely uses cross-border transactions as a mean to improve access of beneficiary persons to accessible format copies and not to promote, govern or facilitate trade. On the other hand, the Marrakesh Treaty’s non-commercial character results from the fact that it does generally not stipulate trade for profit.

Indeed, the Marrakesh Treaty provides that trade in format copies covers only authorised entities, which operate on a non-profit basis and provide their service to beneficiary persons alone. According to AG Wahl, the non-profit basis of trade in format copies, is, however, irrelevant for the application of the CCP. To that extent, the AG proposed a very broad definition of commercial aspects of intellectual property rights (IPR), which Article 207 (1) TFEU expressly includes within the scope of the CCP. In his view, the CCP does not exclude from its ambit transactions or activities of a non-commercial nature as the mere exchange of goods and services implies that they are being traded. Instead, Art. 207 (1) TFEU excludes non-commercial aspects of IPR, i.e. issue areas that are not strictly or directly concerned with trade in their entirety, such as moral rights.

The Court, however, rejected the claim that commercial aspects of IPR carve out only those rules relating to moral rights. Such a broad interpretation would, in the eyes of the Court, “lead to an excessive extension of the field covered by the common commercial policy by bringing within that policy rules that have no specific link with international trade.” (para 85) Consequently, the ECJ concluded that the Marrakesh Treaty falls outside the ambit of the CCP.

Implied exclusivity and the “ERTA doctrine”

Subsequently, the Court analysed whether exclusivity can nevertheless be implied via the well-known “ERTA doctrine” (referring to the Court’s ERTA judgment), which is codified in Article 3 (2) TFEU. According to this doctrine, EU obtains exclusive treaty-making powers where the conclusion of an international agreement “may affect common rules or alter their scope”.  In its ERTA line of case law, the Court has developed a two-level test for establishing external Member State pre-emption: First, it conducts a “comprehensive and detailed analysis” to determine whether the provisions of the envisaged agreement are largely covered by common EU rules (Opinion 2/91). Second, it determines whether the conclusion of the international agreement affects the “uniform and consistent application” of these common EU rules “and the proper functioning of the system which they establish.” (Opinion 1/13, discussed here).

There was little disagreement between the parties that the Marrakesh Agreement had to be implemented within the framework of Directive 2001/29 on the harmonisation of certain aspects of copyright and related rights in the information society.  The Court, however, pointed out that “it is clear (..) that the EU legislature brought about only a partial harmonisation of copyright and related rights, given that the directive is not intended to remove or to prevent differences between national laws which do not adversely affect the functioning of the internal market.” (para 115) Indeed, Directive 2001/29 provides, within its harmonized legal framework, for considerable Member State discretion as regards the implementation of exceptions and limitations to distribution for the benefit of people with disabilities. Does such a residual Member State competence mean that the Marrakesh Treaty is not largely covered by common EU rules, and therefore prevent implied exclusivity?

The Court answered this question in the negative. Directive 2001/29 subjects the Member States’ remaining competence to a number of conditions. The Member States’ discretion can therefore only be exercised within the limits enjoined by EU law, so that the Member States “are not free to determine, in an un-harmonised manner, the overall boundaries of the exception or limitation for persons with a disability.” (para 122) Moreover, the Marrakesh Treaty – unlike Directive 2001/29 – imposes an obligation on the contracting parties to provide for an exception or limitation. The Member States are therefore mandated to comply with the restraints imposed by EU law. As a result, the Court concludes that independent external Member State action would affect common EU rules. The EU is therefore exclusively competent to conclude the Marrakesh Treaty.

Opinion 3/15 and EU treaty-making: A short analysis

As stated in the introduction, the Court’s finding of (implied) exclusivity does not come as a surprise to many observers. Neither does the broad interpretation of the “largely covered” part of the ERTA-test. After all, the Court already confirmed in Opinion 1/03 and, more recently, in Green Network, that considerable Member State discretion in the implementation of EU legislation does not rule out exclusivity. Nevertheless, as was pointed out by AG Wahl, the case law “begs the question: when is an area sufficiently covered by EU rules to exclude Member State competences to act externally?” (para 130 of the opinion) By inference, to what extent does the EU have to exercise its internal competence to trigger the “ERTA effect”?

Green Network and Opinion 3/15 suggest that the Court will place much greater emphasis on the effects of international agreements on common EU rules, rather than on the extent of their material overlap. Even if the EU law in place specifies residual Member State powers, and is therefore, arguably, not largely harmonised, (adverse) affects on the EU’s internal legal framework suffice to trigger implied exclusivity within the meaning of Art. 3 (2) TFEU. However, if the Member States may be pre-empted where an agreement is only partially covered by EU internal legislation, may they be also pre-empted where the EU cannot exercise its internal competence at all, provided always that the envisaged agreement clearly affects the EU law in force? The Court is expected to answer this question in its pending Opinion 2/15 on the conclusion of the EU-Singapore Free Trade Agreement (discussed here). Here, among other things, the Court is asked to determine whether the “ERTA effect” may exceptionally be triggered by EU primary law provisions.

The Court’s clarification of the scope of Art. 207 (1) TFEU, and in particular, “commercial aspects of IPR”, might also have some impact on future EU treaty-making. Opinion 3/15 shows that the mere exchange of goods or services cross-border is not enough to equate a measure with international trade for commercial purposes. Instead, a link with trade implies that the transaction or activity aims at fulfilling a commercial objective. By inference, using trade as a mean to fulfil non-commercial objectives is not enough to bring a measure within the scope of the CCP. While the Court did not entirely exclude that “commerce” may, on a case-by-case basis, include trade on a non-profit basis, it contrasted AG Wahl’s suggestion that Art. 207 TFEU generally encompasses transaction or activities of a non-commercial nature. In view of Opinion 2/15, which also raises this issue, it may be noted that the Court did not dispute the AG’s claim that moral rights fall outside the scope of the CCP.

When returning to the Marrakesh Treaty, Opinion 3/15 leaves another pressing question unanswered: What is the correct legal basis for the agreement’s conclusion? The Court only clarifies that the Council Decision on the signature of the Marrakesh Treaty was wrongfully based on Art. 207 TFEU, but does not further elaborate on the correct choice of legal basis. It is true that the Commission’s preliminary question is confined to the exclusive nature of the agreement. The choice of legal basis, nevertheless, qualifies the modus operandi of (exclusive) EU treaty-making. In particular, the Court refrains from discussing AG Wahl’s reference to Art.  19 (1) TFEU, and, more broadly, the effects of the non-discrimination principle on EU external action. Whilst clarifying the EU’s capacity to conclude the agreement alone, the choice of legal basis – and therefore the choice of procedure – is left to the discretion of the EU institutions. Throughout the proceedings, the Commission continued to assert that the Marrakesh Treaty should be based on Art. 114 TFEU instead of Art. 19 TFEU. Conversely, the majority of the intervening Member States sided with the AG. As the use of Art. 19 (1) TFEU would trigger unanimous Council voting, and therefore Member State veto powers in the Council, institutional debate over the conclusion of the Marrakesh Treaty might continue.

Barnard & Peers: chapter 24

Photo credit: 1709 Blog

The Missing Link: Direct Effect, CETA/TTIP and Investor-State Dispute Settlement

 

 

By Daniel Thym, Chair of Public, European and International Law, University of Konstanz

International treaties have rarely received more attention than the proposed free trade deals between the EU and the US and Canada. This entails that many law students and practitioners are confronted with a theme that does not feature prominently in legal education. In debates with students, I realise that preconceptions about the functioning of domestic legal systems are regularly projected upon the international sphere. One example is a demand that companies should challenge state action before domestic courts instead of dispute settlement bodies under the planned EU/US agreement (TTIP) and the proposed EU/Canada trade agreement (CETA). These claims often assume that national courts hold the competence to enforce corresponding rules. For lawyers working on domestic issues it seems self-evident that courts can apply the law.

Against this background, this blogpost focuses on a provision in the Draft CETA with Canada (Article 14.14: see the text below), whose relevance has not been acknowledged so far, including by the stimulating contributions to the Verfassungsblog Symposium on Investment Protection. On page 470 of the roughly 1600 pages of the consolidated CETA Draft Agreement, which the Commission regards as a template for free trade negotiations with the United States, we come across a final provision of seemingly minor relevance on ‘private rights’, which rejects the applicability of the agreement en passant. This reaffirms that the implications of the free trade deals would be less dramatic than some suggest.

Background: CETA and TTIP as International EU Agreements

In order to understand the relevance of Article 14.14 on private rights, we should apprehend that most segments of the free trade agreements would be binding upon Member States as an integral part of EU law. Axel Flessner may try to argue that the arrangements would constitute an ultra-vires-act (thereby initiating more tweets than any other contribution to the said symposium), but the plain Treaty text demonstrates that the legal picture is fairly evident. Article 207 TFEU declares that the EU’s Common Commercial Policy (CCP) allows for the conclusion of trade agreements on goods and services and embraces, among others, ‘foreign direct investment’, while Article 3 TFEU maintains that the conclusion of agreements in this area shall be an exclusive Union competence.

These provisions were a deliberate policy choice after decades of wrangles about the precise scope of the CCP. The Treaty of Lisbon was meant to replace earlier and ambiguous formulations with an overarching competence for the European Union. In its Lisbon Judgment, the German Federal Constitutional Court recognised the pertinence of this change: ‘With the exclusive competence as set out above, the Union acquires the sole power of disposition over international trade agreements which may result in an essential reorganisation of the internal order of the Member States.’ Judges in Karlsruhe gave the green light to the changes nonetheless, albeit with a minor caveat that ‘much argues in favour of assuming that the term “foreign direct investment” only encompasses investment which serves to obtain a controlling interest in an enterprise’ and excluded so-called portfolio investments (ie, non-controlling interests in companies) as a result.

This reference to the limits of the CCP is relevant, since it indicates, in general terms, that there remain uncertainties about the precise delimitation of competences for corollary aspects of international trade. For that reason, most national governments maintain that CETA and TTIP should be concluded as so-called ‘mixed agreements’, with the EU and all 28 EU Member States as signatories. If that view prevailed, national parliaments would have to give their consent as well. However, this would not modify the internal allocation of powers; the EU institutions are in the driving seat in the vast field of Union competence – both during the negotiations and with regard to legal effects. It is established case law that the legal effects of mixed agreements follow the rules of Union law for all matters that are covered by the Common Commercial Policy.

Domestic Application of Agreements concluded by the EU

The predominance of Union law in legal practice can obscure our awareness of the specificities of the international legal system. Law students across Europe learn in their undergraduate courses about the direct and supreme effect of supranational rules, but are not always familiar with public international law. Domestic courts have to apply Union law in pretty much the same was as national law, but this assumption cannot be extended to public international law without modification, including in situations in which the EU concludes international agreements with third states.

It is true that the ECJ maintains that international agreements can have direct effect as an integral part of the Union legal order – and an example demonstrates that this can have critical implications: for example, judges in Luxembourg decided in July that Member States cannot automatically require the spouses of Turkish nationals to acquire basic language skills of the host country. Legally, this conclusion rests upon an interpretation of the so-called standstill provision for the self-employed in the Additional Protocol of 1970 to the Association Agreement between Turkey and today’s European Union. In the terminology of international trade law, the case concerned a so-called non-tariff barrier to the freedom of establishment. It is these non-tariff barriers that take centre stage in both CETA and TTIP negotiations (neither of the latter treaties will affect migration, though).

If the underlying legal arguments about direct effect and court jurisdiction extended to free trade deals with Canada and the United States, the implications could be dramatic indeed. Both the ECJ and domestic courts would hold the power to correct domestic or supranational legislation, whenever it falls foul of CETA or TTIP. Yet, this outcome is no foregone conclusion, since the ECJ opts for a direct applicability of international agreements ‘only where the nature and the broad logic of the latter do not preclude this.’ In deciding whether this is the case, the Court considers, among other things, the purpose of the agreement, the will of the parties and the question of reciprocity, i.e. whether the Union would be alone in recognising direct effect. Luxembourg may have largely ignored the question of reciprocity with regard to Turkey and other neighbours of the EU, but it traditionally takes centre stage in the evaluation of trade liberalisation agreements.

Article 14.14 of the CETA Draft Treaty

Once we have understood the far-reaching implications of direct applicability, we may appreciate the bearing of the clause on private rights in the final provisions of the consolidated Draft CETA Agreement, which states: ‘Nothing in this Agreement shall be construed as conferring rights or imposing obligations on persons other than those created between the Parties under public international law, nor as permitting this Agreement to be directly invoked in the domestic legal systems of the Parties.’

That is nothing less than the official denial of direct effect in the operative treaty text; neither the ECJ nor domestic courts would hold the power to apply CETA rules in domestic proceedings or to annul legislation which contradicts trade law. CETA and TTIP would get the same treatment that the ECJ accords to WTO law, which also does not have direct effect in the EU legal order and the domestic legal systems of the Member States – not even in situations, in which the appellate body of the WTO Dispute Settlement Mechanism confirmed that EU legislation falls foul of WTO standards.

Denial of direct effect is an important stumbling block for the long-term success of any free trade agreement, especially when it comes to the elimination of non-tariff barriers to trade, since corresponding rules are often formulated in an open manner. The real-life implications of such vaguely formulated provisions depends decisively upon the continued will of the parties and the availability of control and enforcement mechanisms – as the experience with non-tariff barriers to trade in the EU single market and the example of language requirements for spouses of Turkish nationals demonstrate. Without institutional control mechanism, vague treaty formulations are often ineffective.

Implications for the Debate about Investor-State-Dispute Settlement

In the light of Article 14.14 of the CETA Draft Agreement, we may have to re-consider our perspective on the proposed investor-state-dispute settlement rules in both CETA and TTIP. Critics will use the absence of direct application as an argument to decry the special treatment for investors; supporters, by contrast, will argue with the Commission that the dispute settlement bodies are a compensation for domestic legal remedies, which would not be available for the substantive rules of CETA and TTIP. I personally share the opinion of Christian Tams that the debate should focus on the desirability of special rules for investors (and not the question of procedure). The latter may be superfluous in relations with the US and Canada, but to abandon them would render it difficult to insist upon similar provisions in negotiations with China, Russia or other states we trust less.

In any case, the absence of direct effect in domestic proceedings shows that the legal implications of CETA and TIIP would be less dramatic than some commentators in the public debate suggest. Courts in Europe would not hold the power to annul domestic or supranational legislation, which violates the agreements – a power that also the dispute settlement bodies would be denied explicitly, together with the option for the state parties to force their reading of the agreements upon the arbiters by means of an authoritative interpretation. This would orientate the dispute settlement rules in CETA and TTIP towards inter-state bargaining, pretty much like in the WTO context.

The denial of direct application demonstrates that both the CETA Draft Agreement and the TTIP negotiation position are far removed from resembling anything like EU-style integration through law – and I consider this to be a good thing given that any dynamic interpretation would lack much of the democratic legitimacy and procedural constraints, which we have, notwithstanding all the deficits, in the European context. It seems to me that it is the biggest benefit of the debate about CETA and TTIP to this date that the broader public has started discussing the governance of economic globalisation. That debate will stay with us, even if an seemingly unimpressive provision on page 470 of the CETA Draft Agreement excludes the domestic enforcement of the transatlantic trade rules.

This blogpost has been published previously on ‚Verfassungsblog – On Matters Constitutional‘

 

Barnard & Peers: chapter 25

Image credit: capreform.eu

In Vino Veritas: the CJEU again strengthens the EU’s external role

Steve Peers

Only a few Member States produce good wine; but it is quaffed enthusiastically in all of them. That simple fact lies at the heart of today’s judgment in Germany v Council, in which the CJEU, consistently with a string of recent judgments, significantly strengthened the EU’s role in external relations.

Background

In particular, this case concerned the situation where Member States are ‘trustees’ of the EU’s external competence. This occurs where (as is often the case), the EU is not able to sign up to a treaty or participate in an international organisation, even though it has external competence as regards the subject-matter of that organisation or treaty. In that case, as established in prior case law, Member States must act on the EU’s behalf.

However, the Treaties don’t regulate this situation directly, and before today, there was little case law regulating the details of such ‘trusteeship’. So the exercise of the EU’s powers in such scenarios can be awkward. For instance, earlier this year the Council could not agree on a Commission proposal to coordinate Member States’ positions on behalf of the EU as regards possible new ILO measures regarding forced labour (see further my blog post on this issue).

Today’s judgment concerned the International Organisation of Vine and Wine (OIV), an international organisation which was originally set up back in 1924, but which was reconstituted with a new name in 2001. Its membership includes 21 Member States, including some (such as Finland) which are not known for their quality of wine production, although the scope of the OIV also extends to grapes and (unfortunately for small children) raisins.

In practice, the main focus of the OIV is drafting technical resolutions on wine production and quality. These resolutions don’t bind the members as such, so essentially constitute ‘soft law’. The OIV adopts these measures at a lengthy annual conference held each summer in a rather pleasant location. There are probably many opportunities for delegates to sample all the latest fine wines. In short, OIV membership appears to be a little-known – but doubtless much-loved – perk for agriculture ministers and their officials.

But after 90 years of such genteel wine-tasting, this classy organisation was dragged into the mud of an arcane EU inter-institutional dispute. This began when the EU legislation establishing a common market organisation for wine was amended in 2008, in order to make the organisation’s resolutions binding as regards EU law. The Commission promptly proposed that the EU become a member of the organisation, alongside its Member States.

There was not enough support among Member States for the Council to adopt this proposal. Instead, the individual Member States coordinated their voting in the OIV’s annual meeting. The Commission then threatened those Member States with infringement actions if they continued to vote in the OIV to adopt measures which affected the EU acquis. So as a compromise, the Council agreed to adopt a Decision which would coordinate their position on behalf of the EU as a whole.

The Council acted on the basis of Article 218(9) TFEU, which provides as follows:

The Council, on a proposal from the Commission or the High Representative of the Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, shall adopt a decision suspending application of an agreement and establishing the positions to be adopted on the Union’s behalf in a body set up by an agreement, when that body is called upon to adopt acts having legal effects, with the exception of acts supplementing or amending the institutional framework of the agreement

Germany, supported by several other Member States, then challenged this Decision on two grounds. First, it argued that Article 218(9) TFEU only permits the Council to establish the position of the EU as such, as distinct from the action of its Member States. Secondly, it argued that Article 218(9) TFEU only applies where the measures in question are binding as a matter of international law, rather than as a matter of EU law.

The judgment

The Advocate-General’s opinion agreed with Germany on both points, but the Court’s judgment rejected them both. First of all, as regards the scope of Article 218(9), the Court pointed out that the words ‘on the Union’s behalf’ did not specifically limit themselves to cases where the Union was party to the agreement in question. The Court did agree that the previous provisions of the external relations Title of the Treaty only referred to treaties signed by the EU. So did the reference to suspending a treaty, set out in Article 218(9) itself.

However, when it came to a decision adopted by a body established by an agreement, the word ‘agreement’ had a different, wider meaning, applying not only to treaties which the EU was a party to, but also to treaties which only the Member States (or some of them) were party to. The Court justified this distinction on the grounds that the Treaty rules on the negotiation, conclusion or suspension of agreements only applied to the EU itself, whereas the EU does not have to be a party to an agreement in order to control Member States’ actions as regards implementing measures.

On the second point, the Court described the soft-law decision-making process of the OIV, and then noted that due to the link with OIV measures made by EU law, those measures ‘were capable of decisively influencing the content’ of EU legislation. Therefore those measures had ‘legal effect’, and the Council could rightly adopt a Decision establishing the EU’s position on what they should be.  

Comments

The Court’s judgment means that the EU is in a strong position to coordinate its Member States’ action in international organisations, where the Member States are trustees of the Union’s external competence. In fact, as the Advocate-General’s opinion pointed out, there is now no real difference between the EU being a party to the OIV and not being a party to it.

First of all, there can now be no doubt that the EU has such a coordination power, on the basis of Article 218(9) TFEU. Secondly, since the scope of that power is linked to the existence and nature of the EU’s external competences, the Court’s recent judgment in the broadcasting rights case, giving a generous interpretation of the EU’s exclusive external powers after the Treaty of Lisbon, is relevant here.

That recent judgment is arguably also relevant by analogy to the interpretation of the condition that the planned acts must have ‘legal effects’. This condition applies, as today’s judgment makes clear, whenever EU legislation has made an express link to the measures which an international organisation might adopt. But the Court did not limit the notion of ‘legal effects’ to such cases. The concept might therefore also apply where there is merely an indirect potential impact upon EU legislation (cf the broadcasting rights case), or where the measure in question has effect only upon third parties, or within the international organisation itself.

What does this mean in practice? Where the EU has exclusive external powers, Member States can’t act to affect EU law, even if the EU is not a member of the international organisation (see the Commission v Greece judgment, as regards the IMO). The Council Decisions coordinating Member State positions have to include a substantive legal base, so the nature of the EU’s competence is clear (CITES judgment). Even where the EU and the Member States share competence, and the EU has not regulated the issue in question, the existence of an EU strategy might prevent Member States from acting alone (see by analogy Commission v Sweden, although that case concerned a treaty which both the EU and its Member States were parties to).

Of course, the obligation of Member States to act as trustees in the EU’s interest does not mean that they will necessarily agree on a proposed Council Decision to coordinate their action (for instance, see the example of the ILO forced labour measures, referred to above).

The Court’s judgment necessarily does not directly touch upon the question of the process by which the EU authorises its Member States to sign or conclude treaties (as distinct from acting within an international organisation) as trustees of EU competence. But if the judgment is read literally, it will have a significant impact on that process. For although the judgment states that Article 218(1) to (8) TFEU only applies to the negotiation and conclusion of agreements by the EU, the EU practice until now is to use these provisions also to approve the negotiation and conclusion of treaties by the Member States, acting as trustees of the EU’s interest. (See for instance, the Council Decision concerning the domestic workers convention, based on Article 218(6) and (8)).

Oddly, there was no real discussion in this litigation of the possible alternative route of using the EU’s internal legislative powers to regulate Member States’ behaviour within international organisations. The Advocate-General briefly (and bizarrely) mentioned the possible use of Article 352 TFEU, the ‘residual powers’ clause in the Treaties, but why not simply use Article 43 TFEU, the power relating to the common agricultural policy?

This would entail the adoption of a legislative act. While it might be argued that this is too cumbersome a process to use every time the OIV holds an annual meeting, it might instead be possible to adopt only one legislative measure, which sets out a general framework for coordinating Member States’ action as regards all future OIV meetings.

Adopting a legislative act in relation to an international treaty might seem odd at first sight, but it isn’t really. It was, of course, a legislative act that first gave legal effect to OIV soft law in the EU legal order in the first place. More broadly, the EU often adopts legislative acts to coordinate Member States’ treaty-making competence, in areas subject either to EU exclusive competence (cf investment agreements) or to shared competence, where there is a large EU role (cf air transport treaties).

And if the Court really meant to say that Article 218(1) to (8) can no longer be used to allow Member States to sign and ratify international treaties as trustees of EU competence, then legislative acts will have to be used in this context too. So it would have made more sense for the Court to rule that EU internal legislative powers must be used to regulate all aspects of Member States’ trusteeship.

Some final thoughts on the role of the other EU institutions, and the position of non-participating Member States, following this judgment. First, the European Parliament (EP). It didn’t participate in the proceedings, but perhaps it should have done. As the Advocate-General pointed out, the judgment is the worst-case outcome for the EP, since it did not have the opportunity to approve EU membership in the OIV, and nor can it control the Council’s adoption of measures which impact ultimately upon the interpretation of EU legislation. In future, the EP would have the opportunity to address such issues when the EU legislation making such a link to international measures is adopted. But in this case, the legislation was adopted before the Treaty of Lisbon, when the EP was only consulted upon agricultural legislation. At least, as the Advocate-General pointed out, the EP must be ‘immediately and fully informed’ of the Council Decisions relating to Member States’ trusteeship pursuant to Article 218(10) TFEU, which the CJEU has recently interpreted broadly.

As for the CJEU, it has special jurisdiction relating to envisaged international treaties pursuant to Article 218(11) TFEU. If Article 218(9) applies to Member States’ trusteeship, then surely so does Article 218(11). Indeed, as the Advocate-General pointed out, the Court has already ruled as much. In fact, it will imminently be ruling again on such a case (Opinion 1/13, on the Hague Convention on child abduction). So we will be able in a week’s time to see how the two judgments fit together.

Finally, what about the position of Member States which are not members of the OIV? Actually, the operative part of the Court’s ruling makes no reference to this issue, and the judgment is logically equally applicable whether some or all Member States are party to the international agreement in question.

But in the particular context of the OIV, the Court’s confirmation that the Council has the power to coordinate Member States’ positions in the EU’s interests makes obvious sense. Due to the link between OIV resolutions and EU law, those resolutions impact all Member States, because they affect the quality and price of wine drunk in every Member State. Furthermore, they affect the operation of the common market in wine, which is paid for by all EU taxpayers, whether they are teetotallers or exclusively drink beer or even (inexplicably) whisky.  In this light, the decision of the UK (not a member of the OIV) to intervene, with other Member States, in support of Germany, rather than the EU institutions, is simply Pavlovian.

Barnard & Peers: chapter 24