Showing posts with label Article 8 ECHR. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Article 8 ECHR. Show all posts

Monday, 2 June 2025

European Return Orders and the European Human Rights Convention: The Commission’s Proposal for a Return Regulation

 


 

Professor Elspeth Guild, University of Liverpool

 

Photo credit: Marcelx42, via Wikimedia Commons

 

In March 2025 the European Commission published a proposal for a re-cast return regulation. It has been met with mixed responses, a certain jubilation in some parts of Europe’s extreme right, a certain concern not least from a human rights perspective in other quarters. For an excellent analysis of this proposal see Majcher’s blog on this site. One of the innovations in the proposal is a European Return Order which any Member State may enforce without issuing its own expulsion decision (Articles 7-9). (‘Return’ is the EU term for ‘expulsion’ which is the term used in the European Convention on Human Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. I will use the term ‘expulsion’, consistent with European and international human rights law).

 

In this blog I will examine the human rights problems which Member States are likely to encounter where they seek to expel someone on the basis of a European Return Order issued by another Member State. I will focus in particular on the case law of the European Court of Human Rights regarding the human rights assessments which states must carry out before expelling a person. These requirements were recently reviewed, expanded and confirmed by the ECtHR in its 4 February 2025 judgment in A.B. and Y.W. v Malta in the context of Article 3 ECHR (the prohibition on torture, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment). I will also examine the duty on states to carry out a human rights assessment in the context of Article 8 (the duty to respect private and family life). Although this is a qualified right, states must justify on grounds of necessity and proportionality any interference with it. The facts of each situation need to be considered and weighed against the interest of the person.

 

The European Return Order

 

According to the Commission’s explanatory memorandum, the European Return Order (ERO) will not replace each Member State’s own return decisions. Instead, the ERO will extend the scope of application of Member States' return decisions in order to make them actionable across the Union by Member States other than the one which made the order. The ERO will be in a common form which includes the key elements of the national expulsion decision. It will be made available through the Schengen Information System (the EU information sharing system for security and border management). In so far as technical changes may be required for this purpose, they will be addressed in amendments to SIS rules.

 

An implementing act will make it mandatory for all Member States to recognise and enforce an expulsion (return) decision issued by another Member State in the form of the ERO (with limited derogations). Among those derogations is a provision (Article 9(4)) which allows Member States not to recognise or enforce the expulsion decision of another Member State on ground that it is manifestly contrary to public policy. In EU law public policy does not expressly include fundamental or human rights grounds, although the similarly worded public policy derogation in the Brussels Regulation on the mutual recognition of civil judgments does include manifest human rights breaches, according to the case law of the CJEU (see the judgment in Real Madrid, for example).

 

More relevant may be Article 5 of the proposed regulation, which requires that Member States implement the regulation in compliance with the principle of non-refoulement, and with fundamental rights including the Charter, with relevant international law. However, there is no indication of how a Member State is to reconcile the duty to recognise and enforce expulsion orders made by other Member States with the Article 5 duties.

 

Again, according to the Commission, the Member State that issues an expulsion decision remains responsible for its enforcement. It must use all appropriate means to ensure effective expulsion of the person named therein. The new proposal is intended to be a mechanism for recognition of expulsion decisions issued by another Member State, underpinned and facilitated by the ERO. The explanatory memorandum states that the proposal clarifies the process and relevant procedural safeguards and remedies based on the lessons learnt from the implementation of the 2023 Commission Recommendation on mutual recognition of return decisions. 

 

The objective of mutual recognition of expulsion decisions among the Member States has long been on the EU agenda. In 2001, a directive (2001/40) was adopted to achieve this end. As noted by Peers, that directive does not apply to the process or substance of the decision and permits expulsion by another Member State as an option not an obligation. Under that directive, enforcement takes place under national law which must include the Returns Directive 2008/115 (which will be repealed if the proposed regulation is adopted in the current form). Thus, the main purpose of the 2001 directive appears to be to avoid a state having to send an irregularly present migrant back to the Member State which issued the expulsion decision. A system for financial compensation was adopted in 2004. The criticisms which Peers makes of the directive include: its application to persons with rights under international agreements agreed by the EU, inappropriate extension of Schengen (and the SIS II rules) to persons already present on the territory, inadequate application of human rights standards, opacity as regards as regards costs and inconsistency with the Returns Directive.

 

As for the Commission’s recommendation on mutual recognition of expulsion decisions, the Commission claimed that this would facilitate and accelerate the return processes for the Member State responsible for return and enhance cooperation and mutual trust between Member States by further increasing convergence between Member States on managing migration. This is a rather large claim as will be explained below. In particular, the Commission claimed that obstacles to cooperation and communication among national authorities responsible for the asylum and the return procedures represent a key structural challenge for a more efficient expulsion processes. This logic underpins the current proposal for an ERO.

 

The Human Rights Obstacles to EROs

 

The key problem, however, with mutual recognition of expulsion decisions among Member States is the duty in international and European human rights law that a state seeking to expel an individual must carry out an assessment which consists of two parts which are not necessarily part of the same proceedings depending on the national law of the state. First there must be an ex nunc rigorous assessment of any risk which the person might face if returned to the proposed country, for the purposes of ensuring that the prohibition on refoulement is fully complied with (para 72 A.B. and Y.W. v Malta). This is required by Article 3 ECHR and the subject of substantial caselaw. Secondly, there must be a full assessment of the proportionality of the expulsion decision in light of the right to respect for his or her private and family life (Article 8 ECHR). It is for the state to show that the decision is proportionate and the threat sufficient to outweigh the individual’s right to respect for his or her private or family life.

 

Assessing the risk of refoulement

 

On the first ground, the prohibition on refoulement, it is for the person to make the claim. But thereafter, the risk assessment must focus on the foreseeable consequences of the applicant’s removal to the country of destination, in the light of the general situation there and of his or her personal circumstances. It must be considered whether, having regard to all the circumstances of the case, substantial grounds have been shown for believing that the person concerned, if returned, would face a real risk of being subjected to treatment contrary to Article 3 ECHR. If the existence of such a risk is established, the applicant’s removal would necessarily breach Article 3, regardless of whether the risk emanates from a general situation of violence, a personal characteristic of the applicant, or a combination of the two (para 61 A.B. and Y.W. v Malta).

 

As regards the distribution of the burden of proof, the ECtHR has clarified that there is a shared duty between the applicant and the immigration authorities to ascertain and evaluate all relevant facts in asylum proceedings. This includes a procedural obligation (part of the Article 3 duty) to assess the risk before expelling the individual. There are two main consequences of the Article 3 ECHR requirements. First, the authorities of a Member State executing an expulsion order (or an ERO) must be satisfied that the expulsion will not constitute refoulement. This will have to be on the basis of its own assessment not that of another Member State as the difference in assessment of risk in countries of origin by different Member States vary widely (as regards the same country of origin and where the risk is the same: generalised violence or civil war). Thus, an assessment of a country of origin by one Member State may result in granting protection while the assessment of the same country by another Member State may result in no protection and the issue of an expulsion order. Secondly, the assessment must be ex nunc and carried out in close temporal proximity to the proposed date of expulsion. Where there is an extended delay between adopting an expulsion order and its proposed execution, the state must carry out a new assessment to ensure that the risk remains below the threshold required by Article 3. All assessments must be rigorous.

 

Assessing the right to respect for private and family life

 

The second human rights ground which may defeat an expulsion decision is the right to respect for the person’s private and family life (Article 8 ECHR). Expulsion will always be an interference with private and family life (there is no need for expulsion where the person wishes and chooses to leave the country thus exercising his or her own choice regarding private and family life). The grounds on which a state can interfere with the right are set out in Article 8(2) and in all cases must be in accordance with the law and necessary in a democratic society. The grounds are limited to the interests of national security, public safety or the economic well-being of the country, for the prevention of disorder or crime, for the protection of health or morals, or for the protection of the rights and freedoms of others. The ECtHR has elaborated an extensive list of elements which must be considered when assessing the proportionality of the state’s claim to interfere with the right which include: in all cases, the length of the applicant’s stay in the country from which he or she is to be expelled and the solidity of his, her or their social, cultural and family ties with the host country and with the country of destination.

 

In the case of expulsion on grounds of criminal conviction, the nature and seriousness of the offence committed by the person in the expelling state and the time elapsed since the offence was committed and the person’s conduct during that period must be assessed. Where family life is at issue, the assessment must include consideration of the nationalities of the person and any family members concerned, the family situation, such as the length of marriage, and other factors expressing the effectiveness of a couple´s family life, whether or not the spouse knew about the offence at the time when he or she entered into a family relationship, whether or not there are children of the marriage and, if so, their age(s), the seriousness of the difficulties that the spouse is likely to encounter in the country to which the applicant is to be expelled, the best interests and well-being of any children involved, in particular any difficulties they would encounter if they had to follow the person to the country to which he or she is to be expelled.

 

The assessment of the person’s entitlement to respect for privacy and family life in the context of the state’s claim to the necessity and proportionality of an interference with it must take place when the actual expulsion of the individual is planned to take place. It must be up to date. Where the state knew (or ought to have known) of the existence of the person’s relevant private and/or family life in accordance with Article 8, it is under a duty to undertake a thorough assessment, subject to procedural safeguards including a right of appeal.

 

In the context of an ERO, it is difficult to see how an expelling state which is other than that where the person’s private and family life is situated will be in a position to make such an assessment. Reliance on an assessment made in another state may be insufficient depending on the temporal relationship of the assessment and the proposed expulsion.

 

Similarly, while the objective is to ensure that persons named in an expulsion order by any Member State are expelled as quickly as possible to a third country or another Member State, it is not clear that this will be rapid. Nor is it self-evident that a person will not have developed family life in the expelling Member State. Such family life could have commenced in the issuing Member State then continued in that Member State which is responsible for the expulsion. There are myriad circumstances which occur in practice which blur the lines of where family and private life have developed and been exercised. It is worth remembering that in EU law as regards the expulsion of a third country national from one Member State who is in possession of a residence permit in another Member State, the CJEU has held that the person must be permitted to return the Member State which issued the residence permit and only expelled to a third country where the person refuses to do so. This relieves the Member State where the person is present from the obligation to carry out a human rights compliant private or family life assessment.


Conclusion

 

The Commission’s proposal for an ERO to facilitate the expulsion of third country nationals from the EU by requiring a Member State other than that which has taken the decision to expel the person raises substantial issues as regards human rights. International and European human rights require states to make an up to date risk assessment before expulsion where a person has claimed a fear of persecution, of the application of the death penalty or is otherwise at risk of deprivation of life, torture, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment or arbitrary disappearance. This duty will apply to the expelling Member States in spite of the fact that the issuing state may have carried out such an assessment. This is particularly so where the original assessment is out of date or where there are substantial differences in protection rates for persons from the same country and in generally similar circumstances in the issuing state and the state which is to carry out the expulsion. The expelling state may also be required to carry out an assessment of the necessity, legality and proportionality of the expulsion decision in light of the person’s right to respect for their private and family life (Article 8 ECHR). In many cases, the elements of private and/or family life will be in the issuing state. The expelling state is likely to have difficulties as regards accessing of such elements and in the event that its assessment is that the interference is not proportionate, the fate of the person will be ambiguous. The required assessments may also be hampered by lack of access to and translation of documents. While Article 9(4) of the proposal permits a Member State to decide not to recognise another Member State’s expulsion order, this must be on the ground that to do so is manifestly contrary to public policy, and the proposal does not explicitly confirm that fundamental and human rights could be part of a public policy assessment.  

 

In sum, this proposal does not appear likely to speed up human rights’ compliant expulsions. Rather it is likely to result in lengthy procedures fraught with cross border problems for both states. A better approach to the issue of persons subject to expulsion decisions who move from one Member State to another is to facilitate their return to the first Member State. However, if the person claims a fear that the first Member State will expel them contrary to the prohibition on non-refoulement, the expelling state cannot simply disregard the claim without breaching its own human rights obligations.

 

Saturday, 20 April 2024

Podchasov v. Russia: the European Court of Human Rights emphasizes the importance of encryption

 

 


 

Mattis van ’t Schip & Frederik Zuiderveen Borgesius*

*Both authors work at the iHub and the Institute for Computing and Information Sciences, Radboud University, The Netherlands - mattis.vantschip[at]ru.nl & frederikzb[at]cs.ru.nl

Photo credit: Gzen92, on wikimedia commons 

 

In a judgment from February 2024 in the case Podchasov v. Russia, the European Court of Human Rights emphasised the role of encryption in protecting the right to privacy. The judgment comes at a time where encryption is central to many legal debates across the world. In this blog post, we summarise the main findings of the Court and add some reflections.

Summary

Podchasov, the applicant in the case, is a user of Telegram. Russia listed Telegram as an ‘internet communication organiser’ in 2017. This registration meant that Telegram, according to Russian law, had to store all its communications data for one year, and the contents of communication data for six months. The obligation concerns all electronic communications (e.g., textual, video, sound) received, transmitted, or processed by internet users. Law enforcement authorities could request access to that data, including access to the decryption key in case communications are encrypted (para 6 of the judgment).

Telegram is a messaging app that users often employ because of its end-to-end encrypted messaging. For instance, Telegram is an important communication channel for Ukrainians to receive updates about the current war. End-to-end encryption means, roughly summarised, that only the sender and the intended recipient can access the content of the encrypted data, in this case Telegram messages.

In July 2017, the Russian Federal Security Service (FSB) required Telegram to disclose data that would allow the FSB to decrypt messages of suspects of ‘terrorism-related’ activities (para 7 of the judgment). Telegram refused. Telegram said that it was impossible to allow the FSB to access encrypted messages without creating a backdoor to their encryption that malicious actors might also use. Because of Telegram’s refusal, a District Court in Moscow ordered the nation-wide blocking of Telegram in Russia. The applicants challenged the disclosure order, but their challenge was dismissed across several Moscow courts. Meanwhile, Telegram remains operational in Russia today. Finally, the applicants lodged their complaint with the European Court of Human Rights. They complained that Russia violated their right to private life in Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR).

Russia is not a member of the Council of Europe anymore. The Council of Europe stopped Russia’s membership in March 2022, in response to Russia’s invasion of parts of Ukraine. Six months later, on 16 September 2022, Russia ceased to be party to the European Convention on Human Rights. Nevertheless, the Court gives this judgment. The Court says that it has jurisdiction over this case, as the alleged violations occurred before the date that Russia ceased to be a party to the Convention.

The Court quotes several documents that are not directly related to the ECHR, including surveillance case law of the Court of Justice of the European Union, a report on the right to privacy in the digital age by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, a statement by Europol and the European Union Agency for Cybersecurity, and an Opinion of the European Data Protection Supervisor (EDPS) and the European Data Protection Board (EDPB).

The surveillance scheme before the European Court of Human Rights resembles earlier Russian surveillance schemes, which the Court held as a violation of providing adequate and sufficient safeguards to protect against indiscriminate breaches of the right to private life in Article 8 ECHR. Earlier holdings thus also apply in the underlying case. Unlike in previous judgments about surveillance in Russia, the Court discusses the role of encryption in protecting the right to private life.

On encryption, the Court holds that the underlying case only concerns the encryption scheme of ‘secret chats’. Telegram offers ‘cloud chats’ by default with ‘custom-built server-client encryption’, but users can also decide to activate ‘secret chats’ which are end-to-end encrypted (para 5 of the judgment). The Court explicitly excludes any considerations of so-called ‘cloud chats’ in the case, as the complaints only concern the ‘secret chats’. The scope of the Court’s holdings is therefore limited to only end-to-end encryption as used for secret chats.

The applicants and several privacy-related civil organisations say that decryption of end-to-end encrypted messages would concern all users of that system, in this case Telegram, as technical experts can never create an encryption backdoor for a specific instance, case, or user. The Russian government did not refute these statements. The Court therefore holds that the Russian authorities interfered with right to private life of Article 8 ECHR. The Court then investigates whether the Russian authorities can justify this violation, for instance because the violation is necessary in a democratic society. The Court analyses encryption in this light.

The Court emphases that encryption contributes to ensuring the enjoyment of the right to private life and other fundamental rights, such as freedom of expression:

[T]he Court observes that international bodies have argued that encryption provides strong technical safeguards against unlawful access to the content of communications and has therefore been widely used as a means of protecting the right to respect for private life and for the privacy of correspondence online. In the digital age, technical solutions for securing and protecting the privacy of electronic communications, including measures for encryption, contribute to ensuring the enjoyment of other fundamental rights, such as freedom of expression (…) (para 76).

The Court adds that encryption is important to secure one’s data and communications:

Encryption, moreover, appears to help citizens and businesses to defend themselves against abuses of information technologies, such as hacking, identity and personal data theft, fraud and the improper disclosure of confidential information. This should be given due consideration when assessing measures which may weaken encryption. (para 76)

The Court observes that legal decryption obligations cannot be specific or limited to certain circumstances: once a messaging provider creates a backdoor, there is a backdoor to all communications on the messaging platform:

Weakening encryption by creating backdoors would apparently make it technically possible to perform routine, general and indiscriminate surveillance of personal electronic communications. Backdoors may also be exploited by criminal networks and would seriously compromise the security of all users’ electronic communications. The Court takes note of the dangers of restricting encryption described by many experts in the field. (par 77)

Based on the above-mentioned arguments, the Court holds that the requirement to decrypt communication messages cannot be ‘regarded as necessary in a democratic society.’ (para 80 of the judgment) The Court concludes that Russia breached the right to private life, protected in article 8 ECHR.

Comments

The Podchasov case follows a long debate about the value of end-to-end encryption in democratic societies globally. As the Court mentions, end-to-end encryption is valuable for privacy as it enables people to communicate in such a way that third parties cannot access the communication. In this context, experts herald end-to-end encryption for its capacity to support, for instance, journalists in performing their work safely, or historically marginalised groups to express themselves freely.

At the same time, some law enforcement agencies consider end-to-end encryption a threat to public safety, as malicious actors can benefit from the privacy provided by secure messaging and similar methods, such as data encryption, too.

For instance, the FBI is in a long battle with Apple over the encryption of iPhones, which several suspects employed to keep their phone information and data private. On each occasion, Apple refused to offer decryption keys or software to the FBI, citing security concerns that can stem from enabling such backdoors.

The battle between security and privacy is, of course, long-standing. Encryption is now central to this debate. The EU Commission recently joined the debate with a proposal for a Child Sexual Abuse Material Regulation (CSAM proposal). Roughly summarised, the proposal would require communication providers (such as Telegram or WhatsApp) to analyse people’s communications to find, block, and report child sexual abuse materials, such as inappropriate pictures. Experts agree that communication providers can only do so if they do not encrypt communications, if they include a type of backdoor, or if they analyse communications on people’s devices before they are encrypted. Experts warn that such on-device analysis can be seen as a kind of backdoor of encrypted communications too. Many civil organisations, technical experts, and academics oppose the CSAM proposal. Opponents of the CSAM proposal can be expected to cite his judgment. 

The European Court of Human Rights is clear about the role of end-to-end encryption for the right to private life. In one paragraph, the Court states that end-to-end encryption is vital to privacy. The Court bases its reasoning partly on an opinion of the European Data Protection Supervisor (EDPS) and the European Data Protection Board (EDPB) which discusses encryption in the context of the above-mentioned CSAM proposal. The Court also refers to responses from civil society organisations, who can present their views to the Court as amici curiae. The Court follows the reasoning of the EDPS, the EDPB, and privacy organisations regarding the conclusion that once encryption is broken, the entire system is no longer secure for its users.

The Court also mentions that encryption is vital to security of users. Consider, for instance, the importance of data protection in the current privacy context. Without adequate data encryption, people cannot be sure that the data they store in, for instance, cloud storage, is accessible to only them. Encryption therefore also helps against hacking, identity fraud, and data theft (para 76 of the judgment).

The Podchasov case is straight-forward: encryption is vital to the protection of the right to privacy. The Court’s clear statements will influence ongoing encryption debates, but the end of the debate is not in sight.

Saturday, 8 June 2019

Jonathan Sumption’s view of human rights makes no sense in relation to the history of gay rights





Professor Paul Johnson, Head of the Department of Sociology at the University of York; editor, ECHR Sexual Orientation Blog

Jonathan Sumption, in his Reith Lecture “Human Rights and Wrongs”, attempts to persuade us that the European Court of Human Rights has usurped the power of democratically elected governments by way of an ever expanding interpretation and application of the European Convention on Human Rights. Sumption claims that the Court is continually adding rights, in areas that should be left to governments to legislate in, by interpreting the Convention in ways that it was never intended to do so.

This is not the first time that Sumption has made such claims. Back in 2016, Sumption argued that the Court was “the international flag-bearer for judge made fundamental law extending well beyond the text which it is charged with applying”. Sumption’s claims chime with the idea, popularized by some politicians, that Strasbourg judges routinely exceed their authority in order to impose changes on and meddle with law in the UK and, in doing so, “abuse” human rights.

If you are a gay or lesbian person reading this, you might be particularly irked by Sumption’s remarks. And if you are irked, it’s probably because you know that, whilst the Strasbourg Court has certainly played an important part in bringing about changes to UK laws that once discriminated against people on the grounds of sexual orientation, the Court has also frequently adopted a conservative interpretation of the Convention and, much to the disappointment of gay men and lesbians, rejected complaints about sexual orientation discrimination.

When it comes to sexual orientation issues, it is restraint rather than activism that has usually been a hallmark of the Strasbourg approach to interpreting the Convention. So, whilst Sumption would have us believe that the Court has invented mechanisms – like its “living instrument” doctrine – to enable it to give rights away to everyone, the reality is that the Court is usually very careful and cautious in evolving its interpretation of the Convention. And in terms of sexual orientation discrimination, the Court’s approach has often proved extremely frustrating and damaging.  

For example, take the criminalization of private same-sex sexual acts between consenting adults. Although such criminalization no longer exists in Europe, it did exist in several countries when the Convention came into force. In 1955, a man who had been imprisoned in Germany for “two cases of homosexuality” under law previously enacted by the National Socialist German Workers’ (Nazi) Party complained to Strasbourg about his treatment. Strasbourg rejected the complaint and, in relation to the right to respect for private life enshrined in Article 8 of the Convention – which Sumption claims has been stretched beyond recognition by the Court – stated that this permitted a state to make homosexuality a punishable offence. It took 26 years for Strasbourg to change its mind on this when, in the famous case brought by Jeffrey Dudgeon, it declared that the complete criminalization of same-sex sexual acts in Northern Ireland was in violation of Article 8. However, even in 1981, Strasbourg was quite comfortable to let the UK maintain a higher minimum age for male same-sex sexual acts, and it was only in response to a complaint by Euan Sutherland in the late 1990s that Strasbourg recognized that an unequal “age of consent” was in violation of the Convention.

Nearly every aspect of sexual orientation discrimination complained about in the Court has followed the same pattern. Complaints about such discrimination have been rejected time and time again, until Strasbourg has finally come around to recognizing a further aspect of “gay rights” under the Convention. And this is because the Strasbourg approach is always cautious and, as Judge Sicilianos has put it, the Court has “always sought to avoid the evolutive interpretation of the Convention from being perceived … as a sort of ‘carte blanche’ allowing for excessive liberties with the text of the Convention”. The Court has avoided such excessive liberties by developing interpretative mechanisms that pay attention to the intentions of those who wrote the Convention, and the “present-day” conditions in which the Convention operates. One such way that the Court does this is by taking into account European consensus on certain issues that come before it, so as to be guided by “present-day” conditions rather than its own view of what societal conditions should be.

The Court’s restrained approach is often a disaster for gay men and lesbians. The clearest contemporary example of this is the Court’s repeated refusal to recognize that the right to marry enshrined in the Convention places states under an obligation to grant same-sex couples access to marriage. Completely contrary to Sumption’s view of what the Court does, the Court has resolutely refused to evolve its interpretation of the right to marry in such a way that would make same-sex marriage an effective human right. As such, the Court’s current position makes the Convention inapplicable to same-sex couples who are excluded from marriage in European countries, including in one part of the UK.

So I am irked by Sumption’s claims that the Court is usurping state power and meddling in things that should be left to governments and the ballot box. Not only is this not true, some of us wish it were true. If you are a gay man or lesbian in a European country where you have very few rights, are subject to horrendous forms of discrimination, and are at the mercy of a majority who will not support legal change by parliamentary means, then you look to the Strasbourg Court for help. Unfortunately, because the Strasbourg Court often behaves in exactly the opposite way to how Sumption describes it, it is often unwilling to extend the protection of the Convention to gay men and lesbians in ways that would challenge homophobic domestic laws. To put it simply, when gay men and lesbians knock at Strasbourg’s door and ask for help, they very often have the door slammed in their faces.

The European Court of Human Rights is the conscience of Europe. It interprets a Convention that opens with the commitment to the maintenance and further realization of human rights. To further realize human rights the Court must evolve its interpretation of the Convention and, therefore, it must be encouraged to do so. We – the “everyone” that the Convention secures human rights and fundamental freedoms to – must demand, encourage and support the Court in interpreting the Convention in ways that challenge prevailing forms of inequality and discrimination in European countries. That’s why Sumption is wrong that human rights law should not, for the most part, be used to decide sensitive issues which should be decided through the ballot box. Such a view encourages Strasbourg to be cautious; on the contrary, we should encourage Strasbourg to be bold in realizing a vision in which human rights law prevails in Europe.


Listen to some of the gay men and lesbians from the UK who have taken cases to Strasbourg here: https://goingtostrasbourg.com/podcast

Barnard & Peers: chapter 9, chapter 20
Photo credit: ECHR Sexual Orientation Blog


Friday, 9 November 2018

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
Photo credit: ISHR

Sunday, 16 September 2018

Analysis of the ECtHR judgment in Big Brother Watch: part 1







Lorna Woods, Professor of Internet Law, University of Essex


This chamber judgment is the latest in a line of cases that deal with secret surveillance, a topic which seems to be appearing increasingly frequently in a post-Snowden world. This judgment is substantial (over 200 pages in length) and deals with three cases challenging the UK’s now mainly repealed Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000 (RIPA) as regards to interception of communications in bulk, the acquisition of communications data and the sharing of intercepted communications and communications data between the UK and the United States of America: Big Brother Watch (app no. 58170/13), Bureau of Investigative Journalism and Alice Ross (app no. 62322/14) and 10 Human Rights Organisations (app. no. 24960/15).  It follows in the steps of the Liberty case (app no. 58243/00) against the previous regime and, given the similarity between some aspects of RIPA and the Investigatory Powers Act 2016 (IPA), might have relevance for our understanding of that act too. In addition to questions about Article 8, the judgment also deals with the impact of surveillance on freedom of speech under Article 10 ECHR. 

This post is the first of two on the judgment. It outlines the issues and the Court’s reasoning. The second comments on the judgment. Given the size of the judgment that will be just an initial reaction to the judgment – there will, no doubt, be much more to be said.

Factual Background

The applicants in the three cases are organisations and individuals who are either journalists or are active in campaigning on civil liberties issues. Their challenges to RIPA were triggered by the information revealed by Edward Snowden which made apparent the existence of surveillance and intelligence sharing programmes operated by the intelligence services of the United States and the United Kingdom.  Specifically, they believed that the nature of their activities meant that their electronic communications and/or communications data were likely to have been intercepted or obtained by the UK intelligence services relying on the regime found in RIPA.  Three areas of problems were highlighted:

-          bulk interception of ‘external’ communications under s. 8(4), as well as connected communications data;
-          the sharing process whereby the British agencies received data collected by the US; and
-          access to communications data under Part II RIPA.

In all instances the applicants thought that the protection against abuse were insufficient and that the regimes were neither lawful nor necessary in a democratic society.

Only the applicants in the third case brought an action before the Investigatory Powers Tribunal (IPT), alleging violations of Articles 8, 10 and 14 of the Convention.  Although the IPT found two ‘technical violations’ of the Convention, in the main it regarded the challenged regime to be in accordance with the requirements of Article 8, notably the requirements set down in Weber and Saravia (app no. 54934/00).

Judgment

The first issue concerned exhaustion of domestic remedies, in particular the failure to bring a case before the IPT.  The applicants argued that in the light of the ECtHR’s own ruling in Kennedy (app no. 26839/05), the IPT would not be an effective remedy and they were therefore not obliged so to do.  The Court agreed with this assessment of its case law in general terms, but now thought that recent practice showed that the IPT now constituted a viable route for a remedy, especially given the response of the UK government to its findings. Nonetheless, the Court accepted that, at the time the applicants in the first and second of the joined cases introduced their applications, they could not be faulted for having relied on Kennedy as authority for the proposition that the IPT was not an effective remedy for a complaint about the general Convention compliance of a surveillance regime. It therefore found that there existed special circumstances absolving those applicants from the requirement that they first bring their complaints to the IPT.

The Court first considered the position under s. 8(4) RIPA and whether it met the tests of legitimate purpose, lawful and necessary in a democratic society. In doing so, it noted that there was jurisprudence in this field but that in previous jurisprudence the Court had distinguished between different types of secret surveillance, finding that there different levels of intrusion depending on the data collected, and also different rules depending on whether national security was in issue.  The Court sought to synthesise the principles, suggesting that the 6 principles established in Weber – to ensure the lawfulness of any such regime - were the starting point, though they might need to be differently applied depending on the type of surveillance. These need not be updated to take account of changes in technology.  These minima are:

-          the nature of offences which might give rise to an interception order;
-          definition of the categories of people liable to have their communications intercepted;
-          a limit on the duration of interception;
-          the procedure to be followed for examining, using and storing the data obtained;
-          the precautions to be taken when communicating the data to other parties; and
-          the circumstances in which intercepted data may or must be erased or destroyed.

In the context of national security it also recognised the gloss added by the Grand Chamber in Zakharov (app no. 47143/06) the review mechanisms and remedies should also be taken into account. The Court noted that the nature of secret surveillance was such that until an individual were to be notified about such surveillance, that individual would not be in a position to exercise their rights. In this, the safeguards against abuse assumed high importance; moreover, the role or rights to remedies was important for protection after notification.

Looking at the situation in issue, the Court started by making the general point that operating a bulk interception scheme was not in itself in violation of the Convention. Governments would have “a wide margin of appreciation” in deciding what kind of surveillance scheme was necessary to protect national security.  The operation of the system would still however need to be checked to ensure that there were sufficient safeguards against abuse.  The applicants argued that the fact that there was no requirement for prior judicial authorization was a fatal flaw in the scheme. 

The Court agreed judicial authorisation was an important safeguard, perhaps even “best practice”, but by itself it was neither necessary nor sufficient to ensure compliance with Article 8. It was unnecessary because of the ex post controls available in the British system. Looking to Zakharov, the Court recognised that a formal requirement was insufficient – the requirement there had not prevented bad practice. The Court then held that regard had to be had to the actual operation of the system of interception, including the checks and balances on the exercise of power, and the existence or absence of any evidence of actual abuse.

In assessing the scheme the Court took the law at the time of its consideration of the claims; this meant that the Court considered the matter after the impact of the Snowden leak and some of the consequent changes to practice, including revisions to relevant codes accompanying RIPA, as well as statements in Parliament (such as the clarification as to what an external communication was – it includes Google searches, tweets and Facebook posts from by users in the UK). 

The Court took the view that, as regards the first Weber requirement, the law was clear as to the circumstances in which and the conditions on which a section 8(4) warrant might be issued. There was no evidence to suggest that the Secretary of State was authorising warrants without due and proper consideration. The authorisation procedure was subject to independent oversight and the IPT had extensive jurisdiction to examine any complaint of unlawful interception. Following its analysis in Kennedy, the Court accepted that the provisions on the duration and renewal of interception warrants, the provisions relating to the storing, accessing, examining and using intercepted data, the provisions on the procedure to be followed for communicating the intercepted data to other parties and the provisions on the erasure and destruction of intercept material provided adequate safeguards against abuse.

There were some weaknesses in the system.  While in the opinion of the Court the selectors (e.g. email address) and search criteria used to narrow down the mass of information collected to that which would be read by analysts did not need to be made public or be listed in the warrant ordering interception, the choice of search criteria and selectors should be subject to independent oversight (para 387); indeed the Court expressed some concerned about the cables (‘bearers’) selected for tapping. Here the ex post review by the Interception of Communications Commissioner (now replaced under the IPA by the Investigatory Powers Commissioner) and, should an application be made to it, the IPT were held not to be ‘sufficiently robust to provide adequate guarantees against abuse’ (para 347).

The Court also expressed concern about communications data.  This is often summarised as who, where, when but this underplays the significance of the data collected.  Indeed, here the Court rejected the Government’s argument that communications data was necessarily less sensitive than the content of the communications (para 357). The Court explained the position thus:

... the content of an electronic communication might be encrypted and, even if it were decrypted, might not reveal anything of note about the sender or recipient. The related communications data, on the other hand, could reveal the identities and geographic location of the sender and recipient and the equipment through which the communication was transmitted. In bulk, the degree of intrusion is magnified, since the patterns that will emerge could be capable of painting an intimate picture of a person through the mapping of social networks, location tracking, Internet browsing tracking, mapping of communication patterns, and insight into who a person interacted with. (para 356)

In the context of s 8(4), communications data associated with the communications intercepted is also covered by the warrant but crucially some of the limitations (e.g. that the communication must be external) do not apply to this data.  The Court concluded that the unjustified lower level of protection meant that there was a violation in this regard.

The Court then considered the data sharing arrangements, the first time that the Court had been asked to consider the matter. It noted to start with the many ways in which this issue might arise.  The interference in the case had not been occasioned by the interception of communications itself but lay in the receipt of the intercepted material and subsequent storage, examination and use by the intelligence services.  It confined its judgment to the specific argument brought before it: the breach occasioned by the British services receiving American intelligence.  The applicants argued that this indirect access should be treated the same way as direct surveillance by the British services.  The Court commented that:

"[a]s with any regime which provides for the acquisition of surveillance material, the regime for the obtaining of such material from foreign Governments must be 'in accordance with the law'..., it must be proportionate to the legitimate aim pursued, and there must exist adequate and effective safeguards against abuse .… In particular, the procedures for supervising the ordering and implementation of the measures in question must be such as to keep the 'interference' to what is 'necessary in a democratic society'" (para 422).

The Court also recognised the danger of States using intelligence sharing as a means to circumvent controls (para 423).  It nonetheless accepted that the safeguards need not look identical in this context as in that of direct surveillance. Applying the principles to the facts, the Court found unanimously that there had been no violation. In particular, it accepted that the lawful requirement had been satisfied although the basis for the data sharing was an internal agreement which were disclosed only during proceedings before the IPT and subsequently incorporated into the Interception of Communications Code (para 426). The Code links the circumstances in which intelligence may be requested to the issuing of s. 8(1) or s. 8(4) warrants, thus circumscribing the circumstances in which such requests may arise and indirectly imposes supervision via sign-off by the Secretary of State and review by the ISC and the Interception of Communications Commissioner. 

The Court applied its assessment of the Code’s safeguards in relation to s. 8(4) warrants (in paras 361-363) here. Its assessment of the proportionality of information sharing was influenced by the threat of international terrorism and the global nature of terror networks necessitating information flow. In the Court’s view, ‘this “information flow” was embedded into a legislative context providing considerable safeguards against abuse’ so that ‘the resulting interference was to that which was “necessary in a democratic society”’ (para 446) and it considered that the threshold set by the Venice Commission – that the material transferred should only be able to be searched if all material requirements of a national search were fulfilled – were met (para 447). 

The next issue was the final question relating to Article 8.  It concerned Chapter II of RIPA which allows specified authorities to access communications data held by communications service providers (CSPs).  As noted, communications data is not necessarily less intrusive than content.  The Court did not however go into detail on this here, although it noted that real time surveillance is more intrusive that the transfer of records of existing data (citing Ben Faiza (app no. 31446/12)). It re-iterated that the same three criteria apply: lawfulness, legitimate aim and necessary in a democratic society.  The Court focussed on the lawfulness of the rules, referring to the position under EU law – notably Digital Rights Ireland (Case C-293/12 and C-594/12) and Watson (Case C-698/15) - which requires that any regime permitting access to data retained by CSPs was only to be for the purpose of combating “serious crime”, and that such access be subject to prior review by a court or independent administrative body. RIPA -although it provided a clear basis for action on the face of it - did not comply with this requirement and was therefore was not compliant with domestic law requirements (para 467).

A further issue arose in the Bureau of Investigative Journalism (BIJ) complaint. There, BIJ (a newsgathering organisation) and a journalist (Ross) raised the issue of interference with confidential journalistic material occasioned by the operation of both the section 8(4) and the Chapter II regimes.  While the Court has emphasised the importance of protection of journalists’ sources, its case law has distinguished between court orders for disclosure and searches carried out by the authorities to obtain this information – that latter is more intrusive. Further, the Court also distinguished between attempts to reveal sources and investigations into the commission of crimes. So the importance of source confidentiality is not an automatic trump card. The Court noted that the s. 8(4) regime was not aimed at monitoring journalists or uncovering journalistic sources.  The authorities would often only know that a journalist’s communications had been intercepted when examining the intercepted communications. Following Weber, this in itself could not be characterised as a particularly serious interference with freedom of expression. Nonetheless, where those communications were selected, the concerns would increase and safeguards would be required, especially as regards the need to protect confidentiality. In this context, concerns expressed in relation to the s. 8(4) regime ran through to Article 10 concerns. The Court emphasised that:

... there are no [public] requirements...either circumscribing the intelligence services' power to search for confidential journalistic or other material (for example, by using a journalist's email address as a selector), or requiring analysts, in selecting material for examination, to give any particular consideration to whether such material is or may be involved. (para 493)

This blanket power without any “above the water” arrangements limiting the intelligence services’ ability to search and examine such material constituted a violation of Article 10.

As regards the Chapter II regime, while there were some protections in place for journalistic sources, the Court determined that this was limited. They applied only where the purpose of the application was to determine a source. They would not apply in every case where there was a request for the communications data of a journalist, or where such collateral intrusion was likely.  Given this and the fact that access was not limited to ‘serious crime’, the Court found a violation of Article 10.

The Court rejected complaints under Article 6 as well as Article 14 combined with Articles 8 and 10 of the Convention as manifestly ill-founded.

The judgment was not unanimous. Judge Koskelo, joined by Judge Turkovic, disagreed with some points of the reasoning of the majority and particularly the appropriateness of relying on old case law in a context following a technological ‘sea change’ in which people’s lives are more thoroughly exposed to view.  Judges Pardalos and Eicke did not agree that the applicants in the first and second case should have been absolved from the requirement to exhaust domestic remedies, nor – in the light of the recent chamber judgment in Centrum For Rattvisa (app no. 35252/08) – that there had been a violation of Article 8 in relation to s. 8(4) warrants.

Barnard & Peers: chapter 9
Photo credit: Journalism, Media and Culture