You can teach a new court Mangold tricks – the horizontal effect of the Charter right to paid annual leave

Filippo Fontanelli, Senior Lecturer in International Economic Law, University of Edinburgh

On 6 November 2018, the Court of Justice of the European Union (the Court) delivered three judgments relating to paid annual leave. Some of its remarks transcend the specific topic, and touch on constitutional matters: the impact of the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights on private parties, the allocation of competences between the EU and the Member States, and the application of EU secondary law.

These cases teach a couple of lessons, and raise a wider point. The lessons are useful: first, alongside the right to non-discrimination and effective judicial protection, the right to annual paid leave in the Charter has direct effect not only in vertical disputes (ie disputes between the individual and the State), but also in horizontal disputes (ie disputes between individuals), even though EU Directives dealing with the same issue still do not in themselves have such horizontal direct effect.  Second, the Charter sometimes binds State acts in a decisive manner. This occurs rarely and, curiously, so far exclusively in disputes between individuals, when the domestic law transposing a directive is not in good order.

The wider point concerns the Charter’s application to domestic measures. In these cases, EU secondary law could not displace domestic measures, because Germany had not transposed a directive correctly. The directive’s mere existence, however, warranted the Charter’s application, and in turn enabled domestic courts to disregard German law and enforce the right to annual paid leave.

The now familiar combo “unimplemented directive plus Charter right” seems a Munchhausen trick. To justify the practice, one should go back to the Mangold case (in which the CJEU ruled that, prior to the Charter having binding force, the general principles of EU law meant that the right to non-discrimination could apply between private parties even if a Member State had not implemented a Directive), and perhaps look deeper into the difference between direct applicability and direct effect, or between a norm’s application and its scope of application. After looking back and looking in-depth, it is still difficult to see precisely how the Charter applied.

The judgments

In cases C-619/16 and C-684/16 Kreuziger and Max Planck, the facts were comparable. Messrs Kreuziger and Shimizu, respectively employed by the Land of Berlin and the Max Planck Institute, had failed to take the entire period of paid annual leave to which they were entitled. After their employment ended, the former employers denied their request to receive payment in lieu of leave. German law appeared to authorise the employers’ position that a failure to request paid annual leave automatically entailed its lapse upon termination.

The Court disposed of the Kreuziger case quickly, due to the dispute’s vertical nature (the employer was a German Land). Article 7 of Directive 2003/88 (the working time Directive) clearly confers the right to paid annual leave and, accordingly, payment in lieu for the leave not taken; the Court recently ruled on this issue in Bollacke. The Court dusted off the direct effect spiel. Since “provisions of a directive that are unconditional and sufficiently precise may be relied upon by individuals, in particular against a Member State and all the organs of its administration” [21], individuals can invoke the Directive and the judges must set aside domestic law if need be. The automatic lapse of this right upon termination of employment, without any safeguard to make sure that the employee could exercise it beforehand, violated EU law.

The reasoning of the Max Planck ruling extended further, since the main proceedings concerned a dispute between private parties. The reasoning of Kreuziger was copy-pasted: Article 7 of the Directive precludes an automatic lapse of the right to paid leave triggered by a mere failure to exercise it [40]. National courts must arrive, to the extent possible, at an interpretation of domestic law consistent with the Directive.

Failing all attempts at consistent interpretation, Mr Shimizu could not rely on the Directive alone, since “Max Planck had to be considered an individual” [65], and directives normally lack horizontal direct effect [68]. The Court thus turned to Article 31(2) of the Charter on the right to annual paid leave, noting that it entailed a clear, enforceable right, withstanding only derogations in compliance with Article 52(1) of the Charter [73]. Article 31(2) of the Charter needing no implementing act to operate, it could warrant disapplication of contrary domestic law:

74           The right to a period of paid annual leave, affirmed for every worker by Article 31(2) of the Charter, is thus, as regards its very existence, both mandatory and unconditional in nature, the unconditional nature not needing to be given concrete expression by the provisions of EU or national law, which are only required to specify the exact duration of annual leave and, where appropriate, certain conditions for the exercise of that right. It follows that that provision is sufficient in itself to confer on workers a right that they may actually rely on in disputes between them and their employer in a field covered by EU law and therefore falling within the scope of the Charter.

75           Article 31(2) of the Charter therefore entails, in particular, as regards the situations falling within the scope thereof, that the national court must disapply national legislation negating the principle [that the right to paid leave and/or payment in lieu cannot lapse automatically].

The last hurdle for the direct invocability of Article 31(2) of the Charter in German courts was the dispute’s horizontal nature. The Court recycled from its own case-law the bold suggestion that Article 51(1) of the Charter, which sets out who is bound by the Charter, is ambiguous in this respect and does not preclude individuals from relying on the Charter against each other:

76           … although Article 51(1) of the Charter states that the provisions thereof are addressed to the institutions, bodies, offices and agencies of the European Union … and to the Member States only when they are implementing EU law, Article 51(1) does not, however, address the question whether those individuals may, where appropriate, be directly required to comply with certain provisions of the Charter and cannot, accordingly, be interpreted as meaning that it would systematically preclude such a possibility.

Notably, the Court distinguishes Article 27 of the Charter on workers’ consultation (at issue in AMS) from Article 31(2) on annual leave, because the former Charter Article refers to national and EU law limits and the latter Charter Article does not. If this is the test for whether Charter provisions can have horizontal direct effect, it should be noted that most of the Charter provisions on social rights refer to national and EU limits – but most of the other provisions of the Charter do not.

73      By providing, in mandatory terms, that ‘every worker’ has ‘the right’ ‘to an annual period of paid leave’ — like, for example, Article 27 of the Charter which led to the judgment of 15 January 2014, Association de médiation sociale (C‑176/12, EU:C:2014:2) — without referring in particular in that regard to the ‘cases’ and ‘conditions provided for by Union law and national laws and practices’, Article 31(2) of the Charter, reflects the essential principle of EU social law from which there may be derogations only in compliance with the strict conditions laid down in Article 52(1) of the Charter and, in particular, the fundamental right to paid annual leave.

The Joined Cases C-596/16 and C-570/16 (Wuppertal v Bauer; Willmeroth v Broßonn) largely replicated the reasoning of the Max Planck and Kreuziger cases. Only, in the underlying disputes, it was rather the employees’ heirs seeking payment in lieu, on behalf of the deceased workers. According to the referring judge, German law provided that the right to unpaid annual leave, necessarily turned into payment in lieu upon the workers’ death, would not become part of their estates.

Building on prior case law (discussed here), the Court, besides noting the importance of the right under Article 7 of the Directive, stated that it should accrue, after the death, to the worker’s estate:

48      … from a financial perspective, the right to paid annual leave acquired by a worker is purely pecuniary in nature and, as such, is therefore intended to become part of the relevant person’s assets, as a result of which the latter’s death cannot retrospectively deprive his estate and, accordingly, those to whom it is to be transferred by way of inheritance, from the effective enjoyment of the financial aspect of the right to paid annual leave.

With respect to horizontal disputes (like the Willmeroth v Broßonn controversy, whereas Bauer was a public employee), the reasoning of the Court was identical to that used in the Max Planck case [87-91]. Article 31(2) of the Charter can be invoked in disputes between individuals, possibly leading to the setting aside of domestic norms like those at issue in the main proceedings.

The Charter’s effect on domestic measures

The Charter has many functions. It guides the interpretation of EU law and serves as standard of legality of EU acts. It does not enlarge the competences of the EU at the expense of the member states, but binds their action when they act as agents of the EU. In this residual scenario, delimited by the sibylline “implement[ation of] EU law” notion of Article 51(1) of the Charter, the Charter should serve as standard of EU-legality of national measures. In other words, the Charter can preclude some national measures.

The Charter applying to state measures falling “within the scope of EU law,” (a formula sanctified in Fransson [21], and unsurpassably frustrating), the following circumstances can arise:

a)      EU law does not apply to the matter, so neither does the Charter;

b)      EU law applies to the matter, and precludes the domestic measure. The Charter applies too: it might also preclude the domestic measure (“double preclusion”) or not;

c)       EU law applies to the domestic measure, but does not preclude it. The Charter applies too, and likewise does not preclude it;

d)      EU law applies to the domestic measure, without precluding it. The Charter, which also applies, precludes the domestic measure.

In the scenarios a), b) and c), the Charter is irrelevant to the ultimate determination of EU-legality.

Only in scenario d) does the Charter show its teeth, doing its standard of review job fully. Exclusively in this scenario, an otherwise EU law-compliant measure can breach the Charter and, accordingly, might be set aside by domestic judges. To this day, scenario d) has never occurred in its garden variety. Never has been the case that, for instance, a national measure that justifiably restricts one fundamental freedom (and falls therefore under the scope of Treaty law, without being precluded thereby) was found to breach the Charter. This unlikely coincidence warrants a deeper analysis (but not here), because it suggests that the Court is discreetly keeping the Charter in a locked drawer, lest member states react like the German Constitutional Court reacted after Fransson. A low-profile use of the Charter – one that essentially emptied it of its post-Lisbon potential – is what the Court’s record shows in the last 9 full years.

However, there is a hybrid category of cases, halfway between scenarios b) (double preclusion) and d) above. The paid annual leave rulings of 6 November 2018 belong in this atypical group, insofar as they relate to horizontal disputes. As far as their bearing on vertical disputes, they are squarely b)-type rulings: the measures are precluded by the Directive, and the breach of the Charter is just redundant.

The discussion below, instead, focuses only on the horizontal dimension of these rulings.

Did the Directive apply?

That the Directive applied must be assumed – otherwise the Charter would not have applied at all. Yet, the Directive could not apply to determine the outcome of the underlying dispute, for lack of horizontal direct effect. Can it be said that the Directive applied, and precluded the national measures, but was ineffective? The (ineffective) application of the Directive to the underlying scenario would then warrant the (very effective) application of the Charter. The Charter alone would warrant the disapplication of the German norms that breached both the ineffective Directive and the effective Charter.

The easier construction – that the Directive, lacking horizontal direct effect, could not apply – is untenable. Admitting that the Directive did not apply contradicts the notion that the German law fell within the “scope” of EU law, and would rule out the relevance of the Charter tout court. Some finer reasoning must support the Court’s decision. I suggest a couple of unnoticed distinctions that might help.

Direct application is not the same as direct effect: This is an all-time favourite for mid-term exams, so why not give this distinction a day in Court? Perhaps, the Directive did apply somehow (direct applicability), but could not be relied upon in domestic proceedings (lack of horizontal direct effect). This would explain the triggering of Article 51(1) of the Charter, but also the impossibility to use the Directive to solve the disputes between Mr Shimizu and Mrs Broßonn and their employers. Certainly the Directive applied, somehow. As soon as the transposition period expired, it deployed its legal obligatory effects and, even regarding horizontal disputes, triggered immediately Germany’s responsibility for failure to transpose correctly, which individuals can invoke to seek compensation without recourse to any implementing measure.

On the lack of direct effect, there is no real mystery: Article 7 of the Directive creates a precise and unconditional right, capable of invocation in domestic proceedings, so the direct effect checklist is in order. However, it can only work in vertical disputes. This distinction between direct applicability and direct effect could justify the Court’s truncated use of the Directive (sort-of applying to bring the Charter in under Article 51(1) of the Charter; not-really applying in its own right).

Scope of application is not the same as application: This is a contrived distinction, but it might operate in the background of these rulings. The Directive effectively cannot apply in domestic proceedings. However, the German law falls under the “scope” of the Directive, in a somewhat more abstract sense, as if applicable and applied were distinguishable. To accept that EU law reaches further than the circumstances to which it can actually apply is a head-scratcher. Yet, that is what the Court prescribed: domestic law must be set aside for intruding in an area that the Directive could not operate (the direct regulation of duties between private parties) but it nevertheless occupied – somehow. In the wake of Kücükdeveci (an earlier judgment on discrimination in employment), I noted the risk:

… it is necessary to evaluate the implications of Kücükdeveci: if the general principle of non-discrimination has a wider scope than the measures codifying it (the Directive), it follows that it can be invoked in a series of disputes that, despite concerning EU-regulated matters, fall outside the scope of the Directive.

Putting lipstick on Mangold

The distinctions above are nowhere mentioned in the rulings. So, if the Directive could not operate in domestic proceedings, how did the Court justify German law falling under the scope of EU law? This week’s rulings proffer only minimal reasons, but summon precedents to convey the idea that this apparent misalignment is nothing to worry about. From Bauer:

53           Since the national legislation at issue in the main proceedings is an implementation of Directive 2003/88, it follows that Article 31(2) of the Charter is intended to apply to the cases in the main proceedings (see, by analogy, judgment of 15 January 2014, Association de médiation sociale, C‑176/12, EU:C:2014:2, paragraph 43).

If one goes down the rabbit hole of cross-citations, however, Mangold awaits on the bottom. In terms of legal reasoning, it does not get any more controversial than Mangold. The judgment exasperated the former president of the German Constitutional Court and drafter of the Charter, who penned an op-ed wishing the Court of Justice to “Stop.” Ultimately, Mangold was criticised for encroaching into the Member States’ competence.

There are, in fact, a series of cases in which the Court prescribed the horizontal direct effect of a fundamental right, using a directive as a trampoline. Mangold was the first case, and Kücükdeveci followed. Dansk Industri (discussed here), also on discrimination on grounds of age, pulled the same trick, this time using the Charter rather than a general principle of law. AMS (discussed here) replicated the reasoning with respect to the workers’ right to consultation and information in the Charter, accepted its applicability but concluded that the Charter’s norm was not self-executing and stopped short of confirming its horizontal direct effect.

Egenberger (discussed here), very recently, asserted the horizontal effect of the right to non-discrimination on grounds of religion and the right of effective access to justice. In IR (discussed here), the Court consolidated Egenberger, and wisely recalled that non-discrimination is essentially a general principle: if the AMS explanation why the Charter applies to individuals were not compelling, the unwritten source might apply more liberally and come to the rescue just like in the good Mangold days:

69           Before the entry into force of the Treaty of Lisbon, which conferred on the Charter the same legal status as the treaties, that principle derived from the common constitutional traditions of the Member States. The prohibition of all discrimination on grounds of religion or belief, now enshrined in Article 21 of the Charter, is therefore a mandatory general principle of EU law and is sufficient in itself to confer on individuals a right that they may actually rely on in disputes between them in a field covered by EU law.

Conclusion

In all the cases mentioned, individuals could not rely on the directives in domestic proceedings. Yet, each directive somewhat marked the “scope” or “cover[age]” of EU law and let the fundamental right finish the work (unless some ingrained deficiency made it non self-executing, as in AMS). The simple annotation that the German law “is an implementation of [the] Directive” sanded over the uncomfortable truth: if the Directive was insufficient to set aside the norms of German law, perhaps these norms of German law lay outside the scope of EU law, and the Charter should not have found its way in the proceedings.

A sceptical reader might wonder what “a field covered by EU law” means, and wonder whether the Charter spilled over from the EU-law scope comfort zone. An optimist one can celebrate the expansive force of social rights. Horizontal application of fundamental rights translates into the creation of EU-based fundamental duties, and lets us catch a glimpse of solidarity in the making.

Barnard & Peers: chapter 9, chapter 20, chapter 6

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Harassment of Human Rights Defenders: Measuring Democracy, Bad Faith and Hidden Agendas - What Role for the European Court of Human Rights?

Dr Marco Antonio Simonelli, PhD, University of Siena, and Alast Najafi, LLM candidate, University of Leiden

A. Introduction

In its recent judgment of Aliyev v. Azerbaijan, the European Court of Human Rights (hereafter the Court) activated anew the long dormant Article 18 ECHR (which provides that States shall not abuse the possible limitations on human rights which the Convention allows)  to unanimously find a violation thereof. The judgment is the third case this year where the Court found an Article 18 violation in Azerbaijan, but still remains unprecedented, since it allowed the Court for the first time to find a violation of that provision in conjunction with Article 8 ECHR (the right to private and family life). The judgment also indicates the measures to be adopted by the Azeri Government to execute the judgement, while drawing at the same time a dramatic picture of the political situation in Azerbaijan.

The present piece briefly illustrates the facts of the case, to subsequently consider the application of Article 18 in the light of the test elaborated by the Grand Chamber in Merabishvili v. Georgia (1). It is claimed that whilst, on paper, the “predominant purpose” test may be flawed, its application in Aliyev unveils Article 18’s promising potential in countering rule of law backsliding (2). In a third step, the significance of the recommendations given by the Court under Article 46 ECHR will be examined, that prove themselves as being a useful tool for enhancing the European supervision of “rebel” States, while leaving the more political aspects of the Convention’s enforcement mechanisms to the Committee of Ministers (3). In the conclusions, it will be sketched out which role Strasbourg could play in safeguarding democracy across Europe (4). 

1. The facts

Similar to the facts in Rasul Jafarov v. Azerbaijan, the case concerned criminal proceedings brought against a civil-society activist, well-known human rights defender and chairman of a non-governmental organisation. Charged for illegal entrepreneurship, large-scale tax evasion and aggravated abuse of power, the applicant was detained, and several documents and objects were seized during the search of his association’s office and home. While still in detention, new charges were brought against the applicant that lead to a five-year suspended sentence and his release in March 2016. The Court held that there had been, inter alia, a violation of Article 18 taken in conjunction with Articles 5(1)(c) (concerning pre-trial detention) and 8(2) ECHR, since both his detention and the search of his office and home pursued the illegitimate aim to silence and punish the applicant for his activities in the field of human rights.

2. The considerations under Article 18

Article 18 ECHR states that restrictions on Convention rights shall not be applied for any purpose other than those for which they have been prescribed. For a long time, this Article has not been of any practical importance in the Court’s jurisprudence. Yet, a slow but steady rise can be observed since 2004, when the Court for the first time found a violation of that provision in Gusinskiy v. Russia, leading to eleven violations to the present day. This judicial chain culminated, at the end of 2017, in the Grand Chamber ruling in Merabishvili, which set out general principles with regards to the interpretation and application of Article 18. (See the Court’s guide to the application of Article 18).

Reiterating its findings in Merabishvili, the Court reaffirms the much criticized “predominant purpose” test. Indeed, this test faced criticism since the very moment of its genesis: the two concurring opinions attached to the judgment in Merabishvili attack the test for being vaguely defined and not providing objective criteria, and also scholars considered the test to be too narrowly constructed. Be that as it may, the test prescribes that a restriction of one of the substantive rights of the ECHR engages the responsibility of a State under Article 18 when a purpose which is prescribed by the Convention only serves to mask an illegitimate predominant and ulterior purpose. Contrary to what the Government tried to argue, the Court also confirms the main novelty of the Merasbishvili judgment, namely that States no longer enjoy a general presumption of good faith.

Applying these principles to the present case, the Court points out that the “combination of the relevant case-specific facts in the applicant’s case [were] similar to that of Rasul Jafarov (…) where proof of ulterior purpose derived from a juxtaposition of the lack of suspicion with contextual factors”. Unlike in Khodorkovskiy v. Russia, no “healthy core” was to be found in the charges against the applicant. Therefore, the Court, after delivering a comprehensive and alarming analysis of the political situation in Azerbaijan - the Court points out restrictive legislation towards non-governmental organisations and the fact that “[s]everal notable human-rights activists have been similarly arrested and charged with serious criminal offences” (Aliyev, §208-214) - has no problem in finding a violation of Article 18 in conjunction with Article 5 and 8 ECHR.

The manner in which the Court reached the conclusion that there has been a violation of Article 18 sheds a new light on the relevance of the “predominant purpose” test. In Merabishvili, the Court considered as non-decisive the evidence submitted by the applicant in an attempt to demonstrate that his detention had been politically motivated. By contrast, in the present case, the political situation appears to have played a decisive role in the Court’s assessment.

A paradigmatic example is provided by the different weight attached to the statements from government officials. While considering in Merabishvili that “[s]uch statements can only be seen as proof of ulterior purpose (…) if there is evidence that the courts were not sufficiently independent” (§ 324); the Court’s finding in Aliyev that “the applicant’s arrest was accompanied by stigmatising statements made by public officials” (§ 210) amounts to an element of proof to conclude that the proceedings brought against the applicant were politically motivated. This new approach to the application of Article 18 ECHR aligns better with what Judges Yudkivska, Tsotsoria and Vehabović had in mind when writing their separate opinion in Merabishvili: “when there is evident misuse of State machinery for improper political ends, the Court should treat it by default as the predominant purpose and thus find a violation of Article 18” (Joint Concurring Opinion of Judges Yudkivska, Tsotsoria and Vehabovic, § 38).

3. The “recommendations” under Article 46: a new instrument of European supervision?

After having decided the case on the merits, the Court moves on to consider the application of Article 46 ECHR (§ 220-228), which concerns the legal force of Court judgments. Considering its earlier case-law, where the Court had already found Article 18 violations in Azerbaijan, the Court finds that the events “cannot be considered as isolated events” but reveal a “troubling pattern” of arbitrary arrest and detention of government critics and human rights activists and a “misuse of criminal law in defiance of the rule of law” (Aliyev, §223). Furthermore, the Court notices that applications raising similar issues have been communicated to the Azerbaijani Government or are pending before the Court.

It has to be underlined that the Court was not only faced with a practice incompatible with the Convention but with a State which openly disregards the rule of law, as the Court worryingly stressed itself. Indeed, the measures to be adopted when domestic courts limit themselves to an “automatic endorsement of the prosecution’s application” (Aliyev, §223) can hardly be identified.

Nonetheless, the Court decided to indicate general measures to be taken by Azerbaijan to comply with the judgment, i.e. the eradication of politically motivated prosecution against human rights activists. The practice to indicate measures of general application - without going the whole way of a pilot- judgment procedure – is becoming ever common in Strasbourg case-law (Sicilianos, 2017). However, notwithstanding their frequent use by the Court, the assessment of their legal value proves to be complex.

A prompt answer can be given by restricting the analysis to the operative part of the judgment: if the Court’s indications are not echoed in the operative part, they can be considered by the respondent State as no more than obiter dicta.

Such a conclusion proves unsatisfactory in the present case. On the one hand the judgment fails to address concrete measures towards Azerbaijan in its operative part. Yet, on the other hand, the formulations chosen by the Court – “the respondent State must focus on the protection of critics of the government”, “[t]he measures to be taken must ensure the eradication of retaliatory prosecutions”, “The individual measures to be taken by the respondent State [..] must be determined in the light of the terms of the Court’s judgment” (Aliyev, §226-227) – are of a strong prescriptive nature and cannot be classified as mere recommendations.

The most satisfying answer, at least in the present case, is to view these indications rather as a message directed at the Committee of Ministers (which has the task of following up the implementation of the Court’s judgments under Article 46 ECHR) than at the Azeri Government; in fact, there are two good reasons to think so.

First, according to Article 46(2) ECHR, the primary responsibility for the supervision of the execution of judgments lies with the Committee of Ministers; thus these “recommendations” can be considered as the backdrop against which the Committee of Ministers has to evaluate the implementation of the judgement by the Respondent State. (See Villiger, in Seibert and Villiger, eds). Second, the precise nature of the indications may be interpreted as an attempt by the Court to prevent an action of the Committee of Ministers under Article 46(4) ECHR, which allows the Committee of Ministers to refer to the Court the question whether a respondent state has faithfully executed a judgement. The procedure has been harshly criticized by scholars as being a game in which the Court has nothing to win but much to lose, i.e. its legitimacy (see De Londras and Dzethtsiarou, 2017).

The Committee of Ministers triggered Article 46(4) for the first time in December 2017 to inquire whether Azerbaijan had properly executed the Court’s Judgment in Ilgar Mammadov. Since the execution of the judgment only required the release of the applicant, who was still detained at the time the Committee of Ministers launched the proceeding, the question was purely rhetorical. This impasse, which put the Court in a “impossible position” (De Londras and Dzethtsiarou), was resolved by the eventual release of Mammadov in August 2018. It is very likely that the Court, seeking to avoid being again called upon to sanction the lack of effectiveness of its own judgments, issued precise instructions to address the problem of non-execution, a problem which is, indeed, political.

However, the relevance of these measures goes beyond a mere assistance to the Committee of Ministers in supervising the implementation of the judgments.

A closer look at the last judgments in which the Court indicated measures of general application under Article 46, reveals that, in the last four years, this practice only concerned States with compliance problems with the requirements of the rule of law, in particular Azerbaijan, Hungary, Poland, Russia, Turkey and Ukraine. This pattern suggests that Aliyev may very well be part of a judicial strategy of the Court aimed at enhancing the persuasive force of its rulings. In this reading, the issuing of general recommendations can be seen as a compromise between a judgment in which the Court only orders the State to pay just satisfaction under Article 41 ECHR, and a pilot or quasi-pilot judgment in which the Court prescribes specific measures to adopted by the Respondent State in its operative part. This strategy allows the Court to continue exerting its beneficial influence over countries characterized by a rule of law backsliding, without causing a direct clash with non-abiding States, as this may prove fatal for the very existence of the Council of Europe.

4. Conclusions

Witnessing the possible emergence of new legal approaches is an exciting thing but only the test of time and subsequent judgements will show whether the Court is actually developing a new test under Article 18. In this regard, the Navalny case, currently pending before the Grand Chamber, offers a good opportunity for the Court to further consolidate its case-law, and to revisit its predominant purpose test.

What is sure is that this provision is “the only measuring instrument for democracy” the Convention regime offers. Backing this provision up by taking on a more proactive stance under Article 46 in situations where similar violations recur, leaves the Court better equipped to challenge State practices that repeatedly violate the rule of law and close spaces for civil society. The rule of law backsliding is not intrinsic to the Convention system but emerged very prominently in the European Union, where the so-called Copenhagen dilemma – i.e. the question of how to find effective means to ensure continuous respect of the organisation’s values and sanction violations thereof, once a State has successfully acceded but fails to comply – remains unsolved.

However, the recent line of case-law from Strasbourg, of which Aliyev is the last piece, hints which role could be reserved for the European Court of Human Rights in cases where States abusively undermine democracy by targeting individuals.

Barnard & Peers: chapter 9

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The Case of the Administrative Arrangement on Asylum-Seekers between Greece and Germany: A tale of “paraDublin activity”?

Stathis Poularakis, Legal advisor - Advocacy Officer Médecins du Monde – Greece*

* Reblogged from the EDAL blog. An earlier version of this article was published in Greek on immigration.gr blog. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Médecins du Monde – Greece. Special thanks go to Evangelia Tzironi, PhD Candidate at the Law School of the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens for proofreading the article.

In mid-August 2018, Germany, Greece and Spain agreed on the sketchy details of the initial migration compromise deal that was reached on the sidelines of the EU Summit in Brussels in late June 2018. In this context, the Ministers on Migration of Germany and Greece reaffirmed their commitment by exchange of letters, to work towards common European solutions and to avoid any unilateral measure with respect to migration and asylum.  

In particular, both countries underlined their support for concluding the revision of the Common European Asylum System by end of 2018 “with the aim of achieving the goal of fair sharing of responsibility and solidarity”. In the event of a crisis – defined as a situation where asylum applications have surpassed a certain percentage e.g. 140% of a State’s fair share of asylum applications based on objective criteria (total population and GDP) – Germany committed to support Greece in the Council (of the European Union), especially on the adoption of additional support measures at European Union level. Germany agrees also that further supportive and development measures need to be adopted on the five Greek islands of Eastern Aegean, where the hotspot approach is implemented, in order to assist local communities. Finally, Germany affirms its commitment to increase the human resource capacity in Greece, through the EU Asylum Support Office (EASO), with the aim to strengthen the asylum system.

The final operational details of the aforementioned political agreement were annexed to the letters, under the Title “Administrative Arrangement”. This blog post aims to outline the key points of this “Arrangement”, to examine its legal nature arguing that argue that this document is a bilateral treaty whose scope extends beyond the Dublin Regulation, and to critically assess its impact on the EU asylum policy.

The content of the Administrative Arrangement

The Administrative Agreement is comprised of 15 articles and divided into three sections. The first part includes arrangements for the readmission to Greece of persons identified in the context of temporary checks at the German-Austrian border, having previously applied for asylum in Greece. The second part includes provisions for concluding pending Dublin cases of family reunification from Greece to Germany, and finally, the third section includes provisions on the review of the implementation of the "agreement", the mutual dispute settlement and beginning and ending of the aforementioned cooperation between the two countries.

In particular, under the "Administrative Arrangement", the following are agreed:

Germany will return to Greece, any adult third-country national who has been identified during a check at the German-Austrian border and wishes to apply for international protection if he/she has already applied for asylum in Greece i.e. when an entry in Eurodac (the EU system of exchanging fingerprints of asylum-seekers) indicates that the person has already requested protection in Greece, and such entry is dated from July 1st, 2017 onwards. Unaccompanied children (under the age of 18) at the time of the identification are excluded from readmission to Greece.

The German Authorities will provide notification of the refusal of entry to the Greek responsible authority using the form annexed to the Agreement via fax or email. The return should be initiated no more than 48 hours after the person has been apprehended, unless the Greek side objects to the return within six hours from the automatic confirmation of the receipt of the notification of the refusal of entry, demonstrating why the conditions of the administrative agreement have not been met. Within 7 days of the readmission, if the Greek authorities demonstrate that the above conditions had not been met (refusal of entry in error), Germany will readmit the person concerned without delay.

Germany commits to swiftly concluding family reunifications from Greece in the framework of the Dublin III Regulation by the end of 2018, with respect to “take charge” requests already accepted by the German Dublin Unit before 1 August 2018. It should be noted that due to the high number of Dublin transfers from Greece to Germany over the last year, asylum seekers entitled to be transferred to Germany under the relevant provisions of the Dublin III Regulation, were “blocked” in Greece for periods exceeding the six-month deadline provided by art. 29 of the Regulation. Germany also undertakes to examine all pending “take charge” requests that have been submitted before 1 August 2018 that have not been examined yet within two months of the beginning of the cooperation between the two parties based on this Administrative Agreement. The number of people to be transferred from Greece to Germany is capped at 600 people per month and family reunifications should be completed by December 2018.

At the same time, the German authorities will examine and reply "without undue delay" to all requests for re-examination submitted before 1 August 2018. To this end, the Greek authorities will provide a relevant sortable list with case numbers and submission dates. Passports and ID cards, marriage and birth certificates, family booklets, as well as the transcript of the interview with the person concerned, will be considered as evidence, when submitted in relation to a currently pending request for re-examination. These documents will be submitted in their original language. A translation in English will be also submitted, if available. It is explicitly envisaged that the submission of documentation in its original language (without translation) may not be used as a justification for rejecting the request for re-examination.

The cooperation between the two countries based on the Administrative Arrangement starts from the day of its acceptance by the Greek Minister on Migration Policy (dated 18.8.2018). The two parties will review the implementation of the agreement on a three-month basis. Each Party may withdraw from the Agreement by notifying the other Party in writing at least three weeks in advance. Lastly, it is explicitly envisaged that the agreement will discontinue upon entry into force of the revised Common European Asylum System.

"Administrative Arrangement" or international treaty?

The first issue raised by this so-called "Administrative Arrangement" concerns its actual legal nature.

Based on the public statements made so far and the title given to the document, it could be argued that the latter could be understood to be an informal non-treaty instrument - an arrangement on operational issues and actions in line with EU law. According to this argument this text seems to be in conformity with Article 36 of the Dublin III Regulation, which stipulates that Member States may, on a bilateral basis, establish administrative arrangements between themselves concerning the practical details of the implementation of this Regulation, in order to facilitate its application and increase its effectiveness. Such arrangements may relate to exchanges of liaison officers and the simplification of the procedures and shortening of the time limits relating to transmission and the examination of requests to take charge or take back applicants.

However, taking as a point of departure that negotiating States have the autonomy to choose between complex or simplified forms of express consent to be bound by a treaty (in the present case by exchange of instruments under Article 13 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT), and given its content, it could also be argued that the “Agreement” could be perceived as an international treaty concluded in simplified form. This agreement in fact sets forth the “technical” modalities of the earlier political agreement between Chancellor Merkel and Prime Minister Tsipras in Brussels last June, in the sidelines of the EU Summit. International treaties in simplified form are concluded without the need for ratification by the State, nor the consent of the parliament. They are usually signed by Ministers or any other body authorized under national law and are related to technical or administrative issues of cooperation, military pacts concluded on a battlefield or arrangements for the application of a binding (“typical”) international treaty.

 

In order to draw a safe conclusion on the nature of the “administrative arrangement”, all the circumstances around the exchange of letters should be meticulously examined. “Treaty” means an international agreement concluded between States in written form and governed by international law, whether embodied in a single instrument or in two or more related instruments and whatever its particular designation (Article 2(1)(a) of the VCLT). Whatever its designation (convention, accord, protocol, exchange of letters, agreed memorandum, memorandum of understanding), the intention of negotiating parties to create binding legal obligations marks the difference between treaties and informal instruments. To wit, even an exchange of letters could be considered as an international treaty.

A closer look on the actual content of the "Arrangement" suggests that this is not just an informal international non-binding agreement or arrangement on technical details of cooperation between the two Parties for the implementation of the Dublin Regulation, but rather a legal instrument setting forth “new” binding rules whose scope moves beyond the obligations established under the Dublin III Regulation.

In fact, the first part of the “Arrangement” contains clauses that are usually included in readmission agreements. No such an agreement has been ever signed between Germany and Greece. In particular, the clauses of the Arrangement lay down, among others, the specific conditions for readmission, the competent authorities of each State, the procedure to be followed, the responsible State in terms of costs etc. A standard template form is also included so as to facilitate the return. In reality, the “Arrangement” does not establish simplified and streamlined procedure for “Dublin transfers” (the wording “transfer” in not used in the text) but rather a fast-track readmission procedure for persons refused entry at the German-Austrian borders, likewise in any other case of an irregular migrant refused an entry in Germany. 

Another crucial element regarding the legal nature of this “Arrangement” lies with the specific clauses on family reunification that undoubtedly enumerate commitments to which the Parties have consented and their intention to create legal rights and obligations that go beyond those already provided for in the "Dublin III” Regulation. Namely, assuming the obligation to accept a transfer of an asylum seeker from Greece to Germany upon expiry of the 6 months’ time-limit under Article 29 of the Regulation – where the respondent MS is relieved of its obligations to take charge or to take back the person concerned – is a “new” obligation for Germany enshrined in the "Administrative Arrangement".

The same also applies for the obligation to re-examine all rejected requests for “take charge”. To avoid any confusion, one should make a clear distinction between the potential responsibility of Germany for the infringement of the time-limits and conditions laid down in the Dublin III Regulation, e.g. for breaching EU law, and the legal obligation of Germany to actually accept transfers for which its responsibility has already ceased under “Dublin”. These obligations are now explicitly assumed by the aforementioned "Administrative Arrangement".

It is worth mentioning that last year the competent Ministers of Greece and Germany had reached to a similar informal arrangement by which Dublin transfers to Germany were capped at 70 persons per month for a certain period of time. This informal agreement, however, was rather a "gentleman's agreement" between the two states without creating clear binding obligations for both parties. In any case, the conformity of this agreement to the Dublin Regulation is open to discussion, since the Dublin Regulation does not foresee such caps on relevant transfers for administrative convenience reasons.

Finally, one could hardly argue that during Merkel and Tsipras΄ meeting in Brussels, where a common political agreement was reached on migration, the two leaders concluded a formal treaty under international law with the subsequent "administrative arrangement” serving as a treaty in a simplified form, laying down modalities for the application of the treaty concluded by the two heads of state.

For all these reasons, the "administrative arrangement" should not be considered as a "gentlemen's agreement", nor as an administrative arrangement under Article 36 Dublin III Regulation but rather as a binding bilateral treaty whose provisions establish obligations that go beyond the scope of obligations established under the Dublin III Regulation. The agreement thus is governed by international law; an international treaty between Greece and Germany. This contravenes EU law which does not allow legislation at national level or bi/multilateral inter-se agreements in policy areas of shared competence, to the extent that the EU has exercised its competence, as it did through the adoption of the Dublin III Regulation (see TFEU Art 2(2); TEU Art. 4(3), third indent, and Protocol 25 to the TFEU). 

Dublin revisited or further violation of EU law?  A glimpse into the future of EU asylum policy

Another key point of concern is the impact of this bilateral agreement on EU’s asylum policy.

Could this “Administrative Arrangement” be seen as a new, enhanced and adapted to current developments, version of the Dublin rules, that is to say a bilateral agreement between two Member States that aims at strengthening the Dublin rules and principles or just another agreement beyond the scope of Dublin Regulation governed by international law?

One could argue that such bilateral agreements are rather symbolic in nature. They indicate that compromises at European Union level are feasible. As talks on the revision of the Dublin III Regulation stall, the establishment of interim measures among those Member States willing to move ahead collectively at European Union level (“enhanced cooperation”) seems indeed to be the only possible way to actually make progress in this area. However, that enhanced cooperation should to be done under the framework of EU law, i.e. following the procedures of EU law and not bilaterally as an inter-se agreement.

But is this "administrative arrangement" actually such a measure of European Union cooperation? Although the responsible Ministers expressly commit to continue working towards common European Union solutions and avoiding unilateral measures in relation to asylum and migration, this agreement is in fact just another – deeper – derogation from/violation of the European Union acquis. In fact, through such agreements, Germany cooperates with Member States serving as a key point of entry in EU by creating a “Quasi-Dublin” system / a Dublin-like system creating obligations that go beyond the scope of the Dublin III Regulation (i.e. extension beyond the 12 month period for the responsibility for irregular entry) and limitations that are not foreseen in the Regulation (such as caps on the numbers of transfers under the family reunion clauses). A system which, on the one hand, follows the general philosophy of the Dublin Regulation (application of the first country of entry criterion), but, on the other hand, is "free" from all “obstacles” that could jeopardize swift returns – namely clauses and safeguards provided for asylum seekers by the Dublin Regulation, such as family unity criteria, right to appeal against the application of Dublin criteria and deadline to appeal against the transfer decision etc.

Undoubtedly, Southern Member States serving as the main gateways to Europe for third country nationals are in absolute need of European Union solutions on the basis of solidarity and fair responsibility sharing. In this context, the revision of the Dublin III Regulation and the introduction of a permanent allocation mechanism among European Union states is a key issue for Greece. One can hardly wonder why Germany would then be interested in reforming the Dublin Regulation if a more flexible "Quasi-Dublin" system- tailored to its needs- has already being established. Bilateral agreements, such as this, with one of the most prestigious EU countries, could draw away any possibility of a positive revision of the Dublin Regulation for Southern Member States in the near future.

In any case, this "administrative arrangement" marks an alarming development in the context of Greece’s migration policy. To date, Greece has signed and ratified a number of agreements on the readmission of persons irregularly entering or staying in its territory. For all these agreements, the usual process of concluding international treaties was followed: Signing of an agreement, protocol, or treaty and its ratification by the Parliament, according to Article 36 of the Greek Constitution. On the contrary, in the present case, it is the first time that a readmission agreement is concluded by Greece through an exchange of letters between Ministers. Though such an agreement is totally valid and binding under international law, the fact that it not only deals with international relations and migration policy but ultimately with human rights, is concluded away from parliamentary scrutiny and procedures – without even being published in the Government Gazette – raises important concerns on transparency and the rule of law.

Barnard & Peers: chapter 26

JHA4: chapter I:5

Photo credit: Fortune

Freedom to insult? Balancing freedom of expression with religious tolerance in ECHR case law

Professor Steve Peers, University of Essex

A recent judgment of the European Court of Human Rights has raised again the question of whether there should be limits on free speech when someone might be offended by it – in this case, concerning the Muslim faith. It’s a good opportunity to explain the context of the case and assess what – if any – limits should be acceptable on free speech in such cases.

Judgment

The saga of ES v Austria began at a public seminar on “Basic Information on Islam” organised by the institute of a right-wing Austrian political party. An undercover journalist complained to the police about some of the comments made at the seminar (in particular about Mohamed as inclined to pedophilia), and the speaker was prosecuted. She was ultimately convicted and ordered to pay a small fine as a penalty, for breach of Article 188 of the Austrian Criminal Code:

 “Whoever, in circumstances where his or her behaviour is likely to arouse justified indignation, publicly disparages or insults a person who, or an object which, is an object of veneration of a church or religious community established within the country, or a dogma, a lawful custom or a lawful institution of such a church or religious community, shall be liable to up to six months’ imprisonment or a day-fine for a period of up to 360 days.”

 The conviction was upheld on appeal throughout the national courts, and the applicant then complained to the European Court of Human Rights (ECtHR) that her right to freedom of expression under Article 10 of the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) had been infringed. Since her free expression had obviously been penalised, the crucial issue in the case was whether the interference with that right was justified under Article 10(2) ECHR, which provides:

2. The exercise of these freedoms, since it carries with it duties and responsibilities, may be subject to such formalities, conditions, restrictions or penalties as are prescribed by law and are necessary in a democratic society, in the interests of national security, territorial integrity or public safety, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals, for the protection of the reputation or rights of others, for preventing the disclosure of information received in confidence, or for maintaining the authority and impartiality of the judiciary.”

The restriction in this case was “prescribed by law” (as can be seen above), and so the issue is whether the restriction was “necessary in a democratic society”. The Court began its assessment by reiterating (from its prior case law) that freedom of speech is “one of the essential foundations of a democratic society” and applies not just to statements that are “regarded as inoffensive or as a matter of indifference, but also to those that offend, shock or disturb”. Article 10(2) provides “little scope…for restrictions on political speech or on debate on questions of public interest”. In particular, believers in a religion, “irrespective of whether they do so as members of a religious majority or a minority, therefore cannot expect to be exempt from criticism. They must tolerate and accept the denial by others of their religious beliefs and even the propagation by others of doctrines hostile to their faith.”

Having said that, though, the “duties and responsibilities” referred to in Article 10 include (referring again to case law):

“the general requirement to ensure the peaceful enjoyment of the rights guaranteed under Article 9 [freedom of religion] to the holders of such beliefs including a duty to avoid as far as possible an expression that is, in regard to objects of veneration, gratuitously offensive to others and profane….Where such expressions go beyond the limits of a critical denial of other people’s religious beliefs and are likely to incite religious intolerance, for example in the event of an improper or even abusive attack on an object of religious veneration, a State may legitimately consider them to be incompatible with respect for the freedom of thought, conscience and religion and take proportionate restrictive measures….In addition, expressions that seek to spread, incite or justify hatred based on intolerance, including religious intolerance, do not enjoy the protection afforded by Article 10 of the Convention.”

In this context, prior case law had concluded that ECHR Contracting States “enjoy a certain margin of appreciation” in this field – meaning that the ECtHR does not intensively review how they strike the balance between freedom of speech and the protection of religious sensibilities, in particular as there is no “uniform European conception” of how to strike this balance. Moreover, ECHR States also “have the positive obligation under Article 9 of the Convention of ensuring the peaceful co‑existence of all religions and those not belonging to a religious group by ensuring mutual tolerance”. (A “positive obligation” is a legal requirement for the State to take action to protect individual rights, not just to refrain from action such as banning speech or prosecuting people for their comments). A State “may therefore legitimately consider it necessary” to limit the free speech of some which is “judged incompatible with respect for the freedom of thought, conscience and religion of others”, although ultimately the ECtHR exercises some review over how a State strikes that balance in each particular case.

Prior case law has turned on whether a value judgment has sufficient factual proof to support it, and the ECtHR’s role is not “to take the place of the national authorities”, but to review if their decisions are based “on an acceptable assessment of the relevant facts…and whether the interference corresponded to a “pressing social need” and was “proportionate to the legitimate aim pursued””, in light of the “content of the statements” and “the context in which they were made”. Also, “the nature and severity of the penalty imposed are also factors to be taken into account”. If the national authorities have already applied such a balancing exercise in line with these criteria, “the Court would require strong reasons to substitute its view for that of the domestic courts”.

Applying those principles to this case, the subject matter was “particularly sensitive”, and so “the domestic authorities had a wide margin of appreciation” because “they were in a better position to evaluate which statements were likely to disturb the religious peace in their country”. The seminars in question were public, and Austrian law did not simply “incriminate all behaviour that is likely to hurt religious feelings or amounts to blasphemy, but additionally requires that the circumstances of such behaviour were able to arouse justified indignation, therefore aiming at the protection of religious peace and tolerance.” The national courts “extensively explained why they considered that the applicant’s statements had been capable of arousing justified indignation”, and the ECtHR agreed with the lower court “that presenting objects of religious worship in a provocative way capable of hurting the feelings of the followers of that religion could be conceived as a malicious violation of the spirit of tolerance, which was one of the bases of a democratic society”.

The Court went on to agree with the national courts that in this case, value judgments did not have “sufficient factual basis”, and rejected the argument that “a few individual statements had to be tolerated during a lively discussion”. In the judges’ view, “it is not compatible with Article 10 of the Convention to pack incriminating statements into the wrapping of an otherwise acceptable expression of opinion and deduce that this would render the statements exceeding the permissible limits of freedom of expression passable.” Finally, the Court took into account the very modest sanctions applied to the speaker.

Comments

Context

As noted at the outset, it’s necessary to explain the context of this case – given that it seems to be widely misunderstood. First of all, the ECtHR is not an “EU court” applying EU law, but the court of 47 European countries applying the ECHR, an international treaty separate from EU law. EU law touches on religious issues when it comes to religious discrimination in employment (see the case law discussed here), animal welfare issues, or persecution of refugees on grounds of religion – but has nothing to do with the issue of prosecution for offending religious sensibilities.

Secondly, the ECtHR is in no sense applying “Sharia law” here. The complaint was not made by a Muslim organisation, but by an undercover journalist. The Austrian law was not enacted solely to protect the Islamic faith, but other faiths too; and it was not motivated by Islamic doctrine. The ECtHR distinguishes the Austrian law from a ban on “blasphemy”, considering that it requires an additional element. Nothing in the judges’ reasoning refers to “defaming” Mohamed (although the Austrian Supreme Court is quoted as using that term).  Nor does the Court require other countries to follow Austria’s lead: although it refers to positive obligations to protect freedom of religion, it does not spell out what they are, for the obvious reason that the applicant was not arguing a failure by Austria of any positive obligations in this case.

Thirdly, as my summary of the judgment sets out, there’s nothing unusual or exceptional about the underlying legal reasoning in the Court’s approach here. It’s applying its long-standing doctrine related to the balance between freedom of expression and freedom of religion. This is indeed an area where the “margin of appreciation”, giving considerable deference to States’ choices, has long been applied widely, although States do not always win. (Have a look at the cases linked to in the judgment, or the summary in this fact sheet, for more details: note that there are judgments arguably deferential to Christianity, not just Islam).

Finally, on the same point, it should be noted that the Court, sometimes criticised for being activist, is in this case conversely criticised for being deferential to States. The judges leave the remedy for those who criticise the law in Austria (or similar laws elsewhere) as the political process in Austria, rather than the remote court in Strasbourg. But those who usually criticise foreign judges’ interference now seem disappointed that those foreign judges didn’t interfere to effectively endorse their own criticism of Islam.

Assessment of the judgment

Although some of the Court’s critics seem to have misunderstood the context of the judgment, I would agree that there is a lot in the judgment to criticise. What I would question here is both the Court’s application of its “margin of appreciation” doctrine to the facts of this case, and its failure to reconsider that doctrine in general. On the first point, while I agree that the small fine is relevant, it’s odd that the Court however fails to consider the absence of any complaint by a Muslim organisation as such, given that its reasoning turns on the importance of the objective of ensuring religious peace. Its distinction between marrying one child and a preference for children in general comes across as sophistry. And its concern that anyone could have attended the political seminar overlooks the broader context of an Internet full of critics of Islam: if the problem is a forest, does it make sense to prosecute an individual tree?

On the Court’s failure to reconsider its doctrine in general, there’s a procedural point here: the judgment was delivered by a small Chamber of few judges, not a Grand Chamber with many more; and only the Grand Chamber has the authority to reconsider long-standing jurisprudence. (The applicant can request the Grand Chamber to review this Chamber judgment). But I would hope that the Grand Chamber has the opportunity to do so, and uses it. Here’s why.

As a confirmed agnostic who attends Catholic mass, I can see the conflict of rights here in personal terms. Faith is at the core of many people’s personal identity. It inspires the spiritual, explains the inexplicable, and consoles the inconsolable; it provides a community to celebrate the breaking of fasts, the liberation from slavery or the miracle of resurrection. It celebrates birth, codifies life, and commemorates death – yet offers hope of immortality.

Yet I can see why some wish to condemn one faith, or all faiths. There’s no shortage of abuse, discrimination, persecution, hatred or violence based on religion. And some generally believe that all religions are nonsense: that in a scientific age, with lots of suffering before death that we should be concerned about, it’s long past time to go cold turkey on the opiate of the masses.

My answer to the potential conflict of rights is to respect others’ right to believe what they want to believe (or not believe). But others have a different view. And freedom of speech is not just the freedom to calm people down: it’s also the freedom to wind people up, turn people on, or piss people off.

The flaw with the Court’s traditional case law is that it places too much priority on the right not to be offended, and not enough on the right to offend. Indeed, the Court quotes – but does not explicitly follow – a report from the Venice Commission, which recommends that States should abolish the offence of blasphemy or religious insult (the latter, with added elements, seems to be the basis of its recent judgment) and rely solely instead on incitement to hatred. I would go further still, and criminalise only incitement to hatred which advocates violence or other criminality.

So “Muslims are vile; let’s attack them” should be criminal; as should the attack itself, or the criminal damage entailed by a swastika drawn on a synagogue. I take the point that swastikas don’t draw themselves, and that if someone merely says “Muslims are vile”, his listeners may well add “let’s attack them” in their own minds and act on it. But there needs to be a line drawn somewhere; a whole range of statements could trigger a potentially violent listener, so we have to exercise some judgement as to which statements should reasonably be criminalised.

Moreover, incriminating many critics of Islam (or others considered intolerant) who don’t directly advocate violence doesn’t solve the problem of intolerance; it fuels it, allowing those critics to parade themselves as free speech advocates, or even martyrs.  Prosecuting them for non-violent statements simply attracts more attention to their views. (This is also an answer to the valid “it’s easy to advocate freedom of speech when you’re not the target” arguments).

Two important qualifications, though. First of all, the freedom of expression is not a right to a platform: there’s no legal obligation for the mainstream media or social networks, for instance, to give any particular view uncritical attention, or any attention at all. Secondly, freedom of expression works both ways (that’s rather the point): it’s equally applicable to those who want to mock or react to Islamophobes or their ilk, and criticising someone’s views is not the same as “silencing” them. There’s nothing quite as pathetic as (for instance) the sight of the supporters of Trump’s crassness and intolerance crying crocodile tears in reaction to a comedian making a joke about his press secretary’s eye-shadow.

Ultimately, though, the problem with banning non-violent criticism of religion isn’t just about tactics; it’s about the paradox of intolerance. It’s logically impossible to preach tolerance while saying that dissenting views should be banned – even if those views are not very tolerant themselves. Fundamentally, a good idea – whether religious or secular – should speak for itself, not shut its critics up.  

Barnard & Peers: chapter 9

Photo: Islamic Centre, Vienna; photo credit: Wien.info

Interim Revolutions: the CJEU gives its first interim measures ruling on the rule of law in Poland

Daniel Sarmiento,  Professor of EU Law at the University Complutense of Madrid*

The decision of 19 October of the Vice-President of the Court of Justice, ordering the Republic of Poland to suspend the effects of the Judiciary Reform Act and, in particular, to ensure that no sitting judge is removed as a result of the new retirement age, is revolutionary to say the least. The Court has entered a terra incognita, a place where no previous European court had ever entered into, forcing a sovereign Member State to choose between its membership to the club of European integration, or to walk away and follow the path of authoritarian illiberalism. To do this in an Order of interim measures, without hearing the defendant Member State, and two days before a crucial regional and local election in Poland, is quite a gamble on the part of the Luxembourg court.

However, the stakes are so high that the Court was left with hardly any other choices. Unfortunately the Polish government has triggered a process and a style of governance that has eventually cornered it into an untenable position, a no-prisoners approach in which EU Institutions have now no other choice but to stand firm and keep calm. In contrast with other illiberal governments within the Union, notably Hungary, the Polish crisis is acutely visceral and radical.

Looking at the Order from a strictly legal angle, the decision is quite an event and a ground-breaking precedent. Interim measures are exceptional means to ensure the effectiveness of a procedure, but they are mostly used to suspend the effects of EU acts. Challenges before the Court will usually involve private applicants questioning the legality of, for example, Commission decisions. The scenario in which a Member State acts as a defendant to which an interim measure can be imposed, is basically limited to infringement procedures brought by the Commission or by another Member State on the grounds of Article 258 TFEU. These kinds of interim measures are hardly ever requested, for the Commission is well aware of the reluctance of the Court to order Member States to act or refrain from acting in provisional terms. Such interim relief is granted on the grounds of Article 279 TFEU, a provision that gives the Court ample discretion to be creative about the kind of interim measure that the case deserves, but in practice they are scarcely requested and, as a result, hardly ever granted.

In Friday’s Order, the Vice-President has not granted ordinary interim relief on the grounds of Article 279 TFEU, but a particularly urgent kind of relief. The Order relies on Article 160(7) of the Rules of Procedure, which allows the Court to rule prior to hearing the defendant Member State. These interim measures are used when the urgency is such, that the order must be granted immediately and therefore with no time to hear the defendant party. Therefore, there will be another decision on the interim measures soon, once Poland has been heard in writing and, most probably, in the course of an oral hearing.

Furthermore, the Order is retroactive. The Judiciary Reform Act introduced a new retirement age for judges set at 65 years of age, and since its entry into force it has already served as a legal cover for the retirement of several sitting judges. Despite the fact that the Act had been suspended by the Supreme Court as a result of a preliminary reference sent to Luxembourg this summer, some of its provisions have already produced effects. Therefore, the Order imposes on Poland a retroactive suspension of effects that deploys the rulings’ effects from the moment of entry into force of the Act.

And finally, the Order steps into a terrain which has traditionally been handled with the utmost care by the Court, but which is now an arena in which the Court seems comfortable to rule in far-reaching ways. When a similar action was brought by the Commission against Hungary’s reform of the judiciary in 2012, the grounds of review were linked to Directive 2000/78 and discrimination on the grounds of age. A rather low-profile approach for a case that involved very special “workers”, as is the case of national judges. However, this time around the Commission has brought the case against Poland on the grounds of Article 19 TEU, which states that the EU’s judiciary is composed of both EU and national courts, acting in conformity with fundamental rights and in full independence. This independence is now being questioned by the Polish reforms. There is hardly any other provision of EU law at stake, but this has been deemed to be sufficient by the Commission to bring such a case, and the Court appears willing to play ball. There are good arguments about competence that could be used against the Commission, but it seems that one thing is to reform a national judiciary, and quite another to launch a full-blown attack on the independence of all the high courts of the land. The Commission appears to be committed to fight the latter, but Poland will certainly argue that the competence of the Union is shaky to say the least.

Nevertheless, last week’s Order has been slowly and carefully brewed in the Luxembourg futuristic anneau. In the landmark case of the Portuguese judges, rendered in early 2018, the Court set the tone for this new ground of review, and stated that Article 19 TEU, including its reference to independence, is a relevant parameter of review of national measures. Shortly before, in the case of the Polish forest of Białowieża, the Court ruled that in case of breach of an interim measure addressed to a Member State, penalty payments and pecuniary sanctions can be imposed by the Court at the request of the Commission, on a careful but daring interpretation by analogy with Article 260 TFEU (which provides for the Court to impose monetary penalties in certain circumstances). Before the 2018 summer holiday, in the LM case, the Court sent yet another powerful message by stating that judicial cooperation with Poland in the field of criminal law could come to an end In Poland if the European Council finally triggers Article 7 TEU proceedings against the Member State. Last week’s Order seems to be another piece in this terribly complex jigsaw puzzle that the Polish challenge is proving to be.

But the stakes are high and the Polish government knows it. It is no coincidence that the Polish Prosecutor’s Office has recently brought an action before the Constitutional Court arguing that the suspension of effects enacted by the Supreme Court is unconstitutional. If the Constitutional Court sides with the Prosecutor (and the new composition of the Court inclines me to think that it will), the argument could be well extended to Friday’s Order. With that ruling from the Constitutional Court, the Polish argument will probably argue that proceedings in Luxembourg are ultra vires and not applicable in Poland.

At that stage, the showdown will be inevitable and the Commission will have no other choice but to request the enforcement of the Order through Article 260 TFEU. Penalty payments will be imposed and Poland will refuse to pay following the ultra vires rationale. The Financial Regulation will have to be interpreted creatively so that the amounts receivable are offset by forthcoming payments to Poland. After all, Poland is a net beneficiary of the EU budget and it will not be difficult to ensure that the penalty payments effectively end in the coffers of the EU budget and not in the pockets of the Polish government. At that point, the Polish government will have to explain to its citizens why the generous contributions coming from Europe start to decline. The blame game might work for a time, but at some point the Polish people will realize that their government is not only risking their benefits, but even their European Union membership.

Whatever the result might be, the Court seems committed to playing the role that it has been anticipating for several months now. Nothing appears to be stopping the Court from playing hardball in this new chapter of European integration, in which “integration through law” has now turned, to the surprise and concern of us all, into “integration through the rule of law”. A nice but worrying twist that puts Europe on the eve of a new chapter, in its always bumpy road towards peace and prosperity in the continent.

*Reblogged with permission from the Despite our Differences blog

Barnard & Peers: chapter 10

Photo credit: New York Times