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VERFASSUNG UND RECHT IN ÜBERSEE LAW AND POLITICS IN AFRICA, ASIA AND LATIN AMERICA

(Zitierweise: VRÜ)

Rothenbaumchaussee 21-23, 20148 Hamburg, Germany Fax (Berlin): (0049) 30 / 838 530 11

E-mails: [email protected] · [email protected]

_________________________________________________________________

Herausgegeben von Prof. Dr. Brun-Otto Bryde, Justus-Liebig-Universität Gießen

Prof. Dr. Philip Kunig, Freie Universität Berlin Dr. Karl-Andreas Hernekamp, Verwaltungsgericht Hamburg

durch die Hamburger Gesellschaft für Völkerrecht und Auswärtige Politik e.V.

Redaktion: Dr. Karl-Andreas Hernekamp, Hamburg

(für den Inhalt verantwortlich) Carola Hausotter, Gießen · Dr. Palamagamba John Kabudi, Dar es Salaam

Wolfgang Kessler, Berlin · Ulf Marzik, Berlin

35. Jahrgang 2. Quartal 2002

ABSTRACTS ...................................................................................................... 179 ANALYSEN UND BERICHTE

Fons Coomans

The Role of the UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in Strengthening Implementation and Supervision of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights....................................... 182 Kaniye S.A. Ebeku Oil and the Niger Delta People: The Injustice of the Land Use Act............... 201 Mirko Wittneben The Role of the National Council of Provinces within the Framework of Co-operative Government in South Africa – A legal analysis with special regard to the role of the Bundesrat in Germany.................................. 232

AUS POLITIK UND WISSENSCHAFT

Norbert Eschborn / Jochen Zenthöfer Thailands Rechtssystem: Zwischenbilanz eines asiatischen Reformmodells.. 290

BUCHBESPRECHUNGEN Andreas L. Paulus Die Internationale Gemeinschaft im Völkerrecht (M. List) ............................ 307 Gerhart Niemeyer The Function of Politics in International Law (M. List) ................................. 309 Markus Krajewski Verfassungsperspektiven und Legitimation des Rechts der Welthandelsorganisation (WTO) (L. Gramlich)............................................. 312 Daniel Kaboth Das Schlichtungs- und Schiedsgerichtsverfahren der Weltorganisation für geistiges Eigentum (WIPO) (J. Chr. Wichard) ......................................... 315 Michael Bothe (ed.) Towards a Better Implementation of International Humanitarian Law (D. Reimmann) ............................................................................................... 317 Patrick Hönig Der Kaschmirkonflikt und das Recht der Völker auf Selbstbestimmung (Chr. Simmler)................................................................................................ 320 Iván Jaksić Andrés Bello. Scholarship and Nation-Building in Nineteenth-Century Latin America (A. Timmermann).................................................................... 323 Nathan Brown Constitutions in a Nonconstitutional World. Arab Basic Laws and the Prospects for Accountable Government (K. Bälz) .......................................... 325 Jörg Fedtke Die Rezeption von Verfassungsrecht. Südafrika 1993-1996 (E. Schmidt-Jortzig) ....................................................................................... 327 Sabine Mengelkoch The right to work in SADC countries (E. Schmidt-Jortzig)............................ 330

Obasi Okafor-Obasi Völkerrechtlicher Schutz der Frauen und Kinder unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Rechtslage in Afrika südlich der Sahara (M. Wittinger) ................................................................................................. 333 Albert Hung-yee Chen An Introduction to the Legal System of the People’s Republic of China (I. v. Münch) ................................................................................................... 335 Achim Güssgen / Reimund Seidelmann / Ting Was (eds.) Hong Kong after reunification

Christian Starck (Hrsg.) Staat und Individuum im Kultur- und Rechtsvergleich Chen-Shan Li (ed.) Recht und Gerechtigkeit. Festschrift für Heinrich Scholler zum 70. Geburtstag

Alice Tay (ed.) East Asia – Human Rights, Nation-Building, Trade (W. Kessler) .................. 338 Sinclair Dinnen Law and Order in a Weak State. Crime and Politics in Papua New Guinea (R. Seib).......................................................................................................... 342

BIBLIOGRAPHIE............................................................................................... 345 Die Autoren dieses Heftes / The Authors............................................................. 351

179

ABSTRACTS The Role of the UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in

Strengthening Implementation and Supervision of the International Covenant

on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights

By Fons Coomans, Maastricht This contribution discusses and evaluates the supervisory work of the UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights regarding the implementation of the Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights by States Parties. It deals with the examination of state reports by the Committee, the participation of NGO’s in the work of the Committee, the clarification of the normative content of Covenant rights through General Comments, the definition of state obligations and the identification of violations. The article then argues that a further strengthening of the supervisory role of the Committee should be realised by the adoption of a complaints procedure. Such a procedure would give the Committee the power to examine complaints lodged by individuals and groups about alleged violations of economic, social or cultural rights by a State Party. The contribution discusses the arguments in favour of such a procedure and concludes that the opinions of the Committee about complaints would have an important value in addition to the rather weak reporting procedure, because it allows the Committee to test and apply its General Comments in concrete “real cases” dealing with the situation people face in day-to-day life about alleged violations of their economic, social and cultural rights. In such a way, an international case law on the protection of economic, social and cultural rights could be developed. Oil and the Niger Delta People: The Injustice of the Land Use Act

By Kaniye S.A. Ebeku, Port Harcourt, Nigeria / Canterbury, UK It is now common knowledge that Nigerian economy runs on oil, and this valuable natural resource is only found and exploited in the Niger Delta region of the country. This region, populated by ethnic minorities, is located in the southern part of the country. As is the case with some oil-producing countries, various Nigerian statutory (and constitutional) provi-

Verfassung und Recht in Übersee (VRÜ) 35 (2002) 180

sions vest all the natural resources of the country in the State. The implication of this is that the State has the sole right to receive oil revenue (rents, taxes, and royalties). Prior to 1978, the land tenure system of the southern part of Nigeria (as distinct from the system in the northern part) was based on various systems of customary laws; essentially, families and communities mostly owned land. The result was that while oil is vested in the State, the land from which it was exploited was vested in various families/communities. As a result of this, oil multinational companies, which had obtained appropriate mining license were obliged to approach the owners of the lands involved, in order to gain access into the land. In this way, the customary landowners participated somehow in the exploitation of oil resource as they are usually paid compensation (annual rent) for granting access. Addition-ally, they received compensation for any damage occasioned to the land as a result of the activities of the oil companies, and this included damage to any crops or other property and also to the land itself. However, in 1978 a Military Government promulgated a real property law, called the Land Use Act (the law was made, and is still part of the Nigerian constitution). This law (extending the existing position in the northern part of the country) vests 'all land' in the country in the State, thereby divesting the customary owners of their original title. In consequence of this, oil companies no longer approach the families/communities for a right of access to land (which they now get through the State). Moreover, the LUA has been interpreted to deny the families/communities the right to compensation (as indicated above), notwithstanding the amount of damage, which the activities of the oil MNLs cause to them. This article analyses the relevant provisions of the LUA and concludes that its overall impact on the Niger Delta people borders on gross injustice. The role of the National Council of Provinces within the framework of co-operative

government in South Africa

A legal analysis with special regard to the role of the Bundesrat in Germany

By Mirko Wittneben, Hamburg Chapter 3 of the 1996 South African Final Constitution deals with the principle of co-operative government. Section 40 (1) of the South African Constitution (FC) states governments at the national, provincial and local spheres of government are distinctive, interdependent and interrelated. The principle of co-operative government enjoins the different spheres, be they national, provincial or local, to co-operate with each other as well as across spheres. In addition to co-operation, the relationship among the spheres is characterised by consultation, co-ordination and mutual support. On a national level, the role of the National Council of Provinces (NCOP), like second

181

chambers of parliament in other constitutional systems, is to review national legislation with a view to bringing to bear upon it regional interests and concerns. This is achieved by ‘participating in the national legislative process and by providing a national forum for public consideration of issues affecting the provinces’. As a constitutional body, the NCOP has no direct precedent in the world though it is closely modelled on the Bundesrat, that is the German ‘Federal Council of provinces‘. This article provides an outline of the multi-level system in South Africa. It examines some of the provisions relating to federal governance articulated in the 1996 Constitution and compares them with similar features found in the German Constitution. The main focus is on the role of the NCOP within the framework of co-operative government. The article evaluates the composition and voting procedures of the NCOP, its special functions and its role in the legislative process. It attempts to ascertain whether the NCOP fulfils its func-tions in a manner consistent with the principle of co-operative government provided in Chapter 3 of the constitution and question whether a change in the provisions relating the NCOP would enhance the principle of co-operative government. As a basis for comparison, attention will be paid to the model provided for in German federalism and the Bundesrat. The German federal experience is valuable not only because of its uniqueness, but also because of the immense influence that it had on the drafting of the South African Constitution. The article further explores why the drafters of the South African Constitution relied so heavily on the German federal experience and illuminates the reasons for the NCOP’s deviation from the model provided for by the Bundesrat.


ANALYSEN UND BERICHTE

The Role of the UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in Strengthening Implementation and Supervision of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights1 By Fons Coomans, Maastricht I. Introduction

In 2002, it will be fifteen years since the UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (hereafter the CESCR or the Committee) started its supervisory role in the field of economic, social and cultural rights. Central to the work of the Committee is the key obligation of Article 2(1) of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (hereafter the Covenant): the obligation for State Parties to take steps aimed at the progressive realisation, to the maximum of its available resources, of the rights listed in the Covenant.

2 Supervision of the realisation of economic, social and cultural rights is both a

complex and challenging issue. There are a number of reasons for this. First, there is a lack of a common and agreed understanding of the meaning of these rights and of obligations of states. Secondly, it is being recognised that there is a big variety and diversity of means and measures to make these rights operational. Thirdly, there is a complex relationship between the rights listed in the treaty and the availability and allocation of resources, taking into account the ability and/or inability of states and the presence or lack of political will to implement the rights. Finally, there is the fact that other actors than the state play a role in the process of realisation of economic, social and cultural rights. These other actors include international financial institutions (IMF, World Bank), multinational corporations and other states. The question is whether these other actors are also bound by the provisions of the

1 A revised version of a paper prepared for the Expert Seminar on an Optional Protocol to the

International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, Leuven (Belgium), 30 Novem-ber 2001. See for an early contribution on the work of the Committee, B. Simma, Der Schutz wirtschaftlicher und sozialer Rechte durch die Vereinten Nationen, VRÚ 25 (1992), pp. 382-393.

2 Adopted in 1966; in force since 1976. Presently 145 States Parties.

183

Covenant. Consequently, from this perspective, the text of the Covenant does not reflect present-day developments towards globalisation and privatisation. When the Covenant was drafted in the 1950’s and 1960’s, the state was still the principal actor to rely upon for the realisation of economic, social and cultural rights, and there was optimism about world-wide economic growth and rising levels of welfare also for the developing countries. The Covenant reflects this spirit. All the factors just listed complicate implementation and supervision of the Covenant. In this paper, I will discuss some basic characteristics of the Committee and make some observations on the state reporting procedure as developed by the Committee over the years. I will also deal with the work of the Committee relating to the clarification of treaty standards. Finally, I will discuss a number of arguments in favour of a complaints procedure in the form of an Optional Protocol to the Covenant as a future instrument to strengthen international supervision. II. The Examination of State Reports by the CESCR

1. The Committee

The United Nations Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights was established in 1985 by a decision of the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC) of the UN.

3 Therefore,

the Committee is not a body established by treaty, as the Human Rights Committee is4, but

it is a subsidiary body of ECOSOC. The CESCR held its first session in 1987. Due to the fact that the Committee is a subsidiary body of ECOSOC, it has not been hampered by the constraints of a treaty text which would have limited its possibilities to deal with state reports and grant access to non-governmental organisations. As a result, it has been able to develop its working methods quickly and flexibly.

5 The Committee is composed of 18

experts in the field of economic, social and cultural rights who serve in their personal capacity and have an independent status which means that they are under no instruction of the governments which nominated them. Members are elected by ECOSOC from the States Parties. There is a geographical diversity of Committee members, coming from all parts of the world. The Committee meets twice a year in Geneva for a three week session. Its mandate is to examine state reports which governments are under an obligation to submit periodically to ECOSOC.

6

3 ECOSOC Decision 1985/17.

4 The body which supervises the observance of the International Covenant on Civil and Political

Rights by States Parties. See Article 28 ICCPR. 5 For an overview of the present working methods of the Committee see the latest annual report, UN

Doc. E/2002/22. 6 See Articles 16 and 17 of the Covenant.


2. The dialogue between the Committee and the State Party

When considering a state report, the Committee is entering in a dialogue with representa-tives of a government. On the basis of the state report, which has already been submitted earlier, the Committee poses questions to the governmental representatives about the level of implementation of the treaty standards in the country concerned, the progress made and the factors and difficulties encountered. Government officials which are present at the session are supposed to answer these questions in a way which gives insight about the implementation of economic, social and cultural rights in that country. This dialogue has been characterized as ”constructive”

7, because of its supposed mutually beneficial nature:

on the one hand it helps the Committee to understand better the nature of problems which negatively influence the implementation of treaty standards in a large group of states, on the other hand, the comments made by the Committee may help governments to implement better the treaty standards. The discussions between a treaty supervisory body and a government have also been characterized as a ”direct dialogue”.

8 This qualification reflects

more the fact that the consideration of a state report is part of a process of a government’s international accountability for the realization of human rights before an international supervisory body which presents a judgment about the performance of the government concerned. In the past, members of the Committee have stressed that the Committee is not a court and does not condemn states for not complying with their treaty obligations. However, the practice of the Committee over the last ten years has changed to a certain extent. The Committee has developed its mandate in ways that point more towards the taking up of a quasi-judicial role. It has stressed its authority as the central supervisory body to interpret the Covenant provisions. In addition, it has begun to receive information from non-governmental organisations prior to the consideration of state reports. Finally, it has adopted the practice of making ”concluding observations” based on the consideration of a specific state report. These concluding observations contain a part on positive aspects with respect to the implementation of economic, social and cultural rights in the state concerned, a part on issues of concern, and a final part on suggestions and recommenda-tions which aim at a better implementation on treaty standards. In a number of cases, the CESCR has made comments, as part of the concluding observations, as to whether or not the state concerned had acted in accordance with its treaty obligations. By doing so, the Committee has actually characterized specific situations as ”violations” of state obligations, although avoiding this term in the concluding observations.

9

7 Ph. Alston, The International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, in: Manual on

Human Rights Reporting, United Nations, Geneva, 2nd ed., 1997, pp. 65-170, at p. 160. 8 This qualification has been used by Fausto Pocar, former Chairperson of the Human Rights Com-

mittee. 9 See, for example, UN Doc. E/C.12/1994/15 on the Dominican Republic and UN Doc. E/C.12/1/

Add.23 on Nigeria.

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3. Non-reporting States and overdue reports

The obligation to report is a legal obligation which rests upon states. There is a number of states, however, which have not so far submitted a single state report since becoming a Party to the Covenant. Other states are significantly overdue in submitting their report. This is a very unsatisfactory situation which has been unacceptable for the Committee, because it bears the risk of undermining the whole idea of international accountability for human rights implementation. Therefore, the Committee began the practice of discussing the situa-tion of economic, social and cultural rights in such countries without having a report at its disposal. It will then base its examination and observations on alternative sources of infor-mation drawn from NGO’s, the press and from other UN (specialised) agencies.

10

4. Follow-up procedure

The Committee has also adopted a procedure to follow up the way in which governments give effect to the concluding observations.

11 States should provide additional, detailed

information about specific issues identified in the concluding observations, in particular if there is a pressing reason to do so, for example, in case of future forced evictions, or a dangerous health situation due to pollution by industrial plants. In this manner the Committee keeps a finger to the pulse and the country under a kind of permanent super-vision. In exceptional cases, the Committee may even ask the government concerned to accept a mission composed of Committee members to study a situation on site.

12 The

success of the follow-up procedure depends, of course, on the willingness of the govern-ment concerned to co-operate with the Committee, which means, the willingness to provide additional information before a specific dead-line set by the Committee, or to receive a mission of Committee members.

13

10

See CESCR, Report on the twenty-second, twenty-third and twenty-fourth sessions (2000), UN. Doc. E/2001/22, paras. 47-49.

11 See UN Doc. E/2001/22, paras. 43-46.

12 Missions of the Committee have been conducted to the Dominican Republic, Panama and The

Philippines. 13

See on this follow-up procedure, F. Coomans, Follow-Up Action to State Reporting on Human Rights: Procedure and Practice of the Committee on the Rights of the Child and the Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, in: F. Coomans et al. (eds.), Rendering Justice to the Vulnerable, Kluwer Law International, The Hague, 2000, pp. 83-98.


III. NGO Participation in the Work of the Committee

There are several ways in which NGO’s may participate in the work of the Committee. Usually, their role is linked to the state reporting process. They may be involved during three stages: before, during and after the examination of a state report by the Committee. 1. Preparatory stage

Once the report of a state has been submitted to ECOSOC, there are ample opportunities for NGO’s to submit alternative information to the Committee. NGO’s may produce so-called ‘parallel’ or ‘shadow’ reports to the official governmental report as a means to complement, correct, comment and criticize the official position and information provided by the state. There is a growing practice in a number of states, especially developing countries, to establish a coalition of NGO’s that work together to compile relevant information and draft a joint shadow report which covers a number of thematic issues about the implementation of the rights listed in the Covenant.

14 A state report on the implementa-

tion of the Covenant deals with issues which may be approached from a human rights perspective, but also from a development perspective. Therefore, there is good reason to bring together human rights NGO’s and development NGO’s and try to integrate informa-tion in a shadow report from ‘a human rights approach to development’ perspective.

15

Shadow reports may cover the whole range of Covenant rights or just one or two articles/issues depending on the expertise and experience of the NGO’s involved and the amount of reliable, alternative information available. It may be useful for national NGO’s to ask for the support from the international offices of International Non-governmental Organisations to help scrutinise governmental policies and write the report.

16

This NGO information may be presented orally to the Committee during a meeting of the pre-sessional working group of the Committee which meets six months before the consid-

14

Information on the situation of economic, social and cultural rights in Mexico, prepared by a coalition of NGO’s, see UN Doc. E/C.12/1999/NGO/3.

15 See M. Brouwer, Making ESCR meaningful to people, paper presented at the SIM Conference

Following Up the Good Work, Utrecht, 28-29 September 2001. In her paper, Brouwer discusses interesting examples of NGO cooperation and rights based approaches to development issues from Mexico and Colombia.

16 See for examples concerning children’s rights C. Price Cohen, The United Nations Convention on

the Rights of the Child: Involvement of NGO’s, in: Th. Van Boven et al. (eds.), The Legitimacy of the United Nations: Towards an Enhanced Legal Status of Non-State Actors, Netherlands Institute of Human Rights, Utrecht, SIM Special no. 19, pp. 169-184, at p. 182. See also the 1999 Parallel Report on Violations of the Human Right to Education in Cameroon, prepared with the help of World University Service-International (on file with the author).

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eration of the state report by the plenary Committee. The purpose of this pre-sessional meeting is to prepare the consideration of the state report and for that purpose there is a country rapporteur who is in charge of drafting a list of questions or issues to be sent to the government which should be addressed by the governmental representatives during the examination of the state report. Written NGO information may also be sent to the secre-tariat of the Committee or to the country rapporteur before the meeting of the pre-sessional working or at a later stage, prior to the consideration of the state report. The alternative information submitted by NGO’s in their shadow reports and explained orally may be very useful for the Committee to complement the governmental information which usually gives a rather rosy and often selective picture of the situation of economic, social and cultural rights. 2. Committee stage

It is also possible for NGO’s to present oral information to the Committee on the first day of each session. This oral statement may deal with questions such as the opinion of the NGO about the government report, indicate whether or not there has been any domestic government/NGO consultation or cooperation through the reporting process, discuss the main critical points of the parallel report or propose solutions to the problems encountered in the implementation of the Covenant.

17 Sessions of the Committee where government

reports are being discussed are public, so NGO’s may observe the dialogue between the Committee members and the government representatives, but they are not allowed to inter-vene. 3. Follow-up stage

The final stage of NGO participation concerns the period after the examination of the state report and the adoption of concluding observations by the Committee. This stage is crucial, because it deals with the follow-up given to the Committee’s suggestions and recommen-dations by the government. This stage is important for a NGO, because it may act as a kind of watch-dog to monitor the government’s performance in implementing the Committee’s recommendations. NGO’s may ask the government to publish the concluding observations of the Committee in order to inform the public at large and raise awareness, and/or

17

Detailed guidelines for the involvement of NGO’s in the work of the Committee have been published in the report of the Committee on its 2000 sessions, reproduced in U.N. Doc. E/2001/22, Annex V. See para. 23 of this Annex. For a detailed checklist for NGO participation in the work of the CESCR, see A. McChesney, Promoting and Defending Economic, Social & Cul-tural Rights – A Handbook, American Association for the Advancement of Science, Washington, D.C., 2000, pp. 167-177.


disseminate the concluding observations themselves. They may translate the concluding observations into local languages and into more concrete terms and policy goals which can be monitored by the NGO’s. Another strategy for NGO’s is to organise a follow-up meeting with representatives of the government, members of parliament and NGO’s to discuss the implications of the concluding observations. It may even be useful to invite the Commit-tee’s Country Rapporteur to attend this follow-up meeting at the national level and to explain the meaning of the concluding observations. NGO’s may lobby with members of parliament for a discussion of the concluding observations in parliament. NGO’s may also report back to the Committee on a regular basis about the accomplishments of a govern-ment in the field of implementation.

18 This information may accordingly be useful in the

process of the preparation of the consideration of the next periodic state report. Rounding up, it may be said that the Committee has created several ways to involve civil society in the reporting process in order to prevent the process from becoming too much diplomatic and government-oriented without a link to the situation and experiences of ordinary people and all-day reality. Therefore, access for NGO’s to the Committee is relatively easy and the threshold is rather low. Whether NGO’s use this procedure depends on their knowledge about the Covenant reporting procedure, the level of awareness of the Covenant rights with NGO’s at the domestic level and their ability to collect and present alternative information working from a ”rights-based approach”. IV. Clarification of Treaty Standards

1. General Comments

Since its establishment in 1987, the Committee has tried to shed more light on the meaning of the standards listed in the Covenant in terms of rights for individuals and obligations for states. This is important, because clarification is essential for assessing state performance in the field of economic, social and cultural rights. For that purpose, the Committee has begun to draft and adopt so-called ‘General Comments’. These are authoritative interpretations by the Committee of Covenant provisions based on the experience gained from the examina-tion of state reports, Days of General Discussion on thematic issues and developments on economic, social and cultural rights in the framework of the United Nations. So far, the Committee has adopted 14 General Comments. The majority of them deal with the norma-tive content of rights, the specification of state obligations and present examples of viola-tions of rights. It is interesting to note that General Comments often reflect developments in academic debates about human rights, as well as involvement and contributions of NGO’s in the field of specific rights, such as the right to adequate housing and the right to food. 18

U.N. Doc. E/2001/22, Annex V, para. 27.

189

For example, the general comment on the right to adequate housing and the one on forced evictions

19 were inspired by contributions from NGO’s such as the Centre for Housing

Rights and Evictions (COHRE), while the comment on the right to food reflects much input from FoodFirst International Action Network (FIAN).

20 These Comments are also impor-

tant, because the may serve as a semi-legal sources to deal with individual complaints by the Committee, once this procedure has been adopted. By way of illustration, I will deal hereafter briefly with two crucial General Comments, one on the nature of State’s Parties obligations under the Covenant (Article 2(1)) and the other one on the right to adequate food (Article 11(1)). 2. General Comment No. 3 on the Nature of States Parties Obligations

This comment gives an interpretation of Article 2(1) of the Covenant, the treaty’s key provision. Article 2(1) reads as follows:

‘Each State Party to the present Covenant undertakes to take steps, individually and through international assistance and cooperation, especially economic and technical, to

the maximum of its available resources, with a view to achieving progressively the full

realisation of the rights recognised in the present Covenant by all appropriate means, including particularly the adoption of legislative measures.’

21

General Comment no. 3, on the nature of States Parties obligations, was adopted in 1990.22

The drafting of this comment was inspired by the so-called ”Limburg Principles on the Implementation of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights”, adopted during an expert seminar held in Maastricht (The Netherlands) in 1986.

23 These

Principles already give an authoritative interpretation of the key issues of Article 2(1), suggested by experts in the field of international law and human rights law. In General Comment no. 3, the Committee explains that, although the full realisation of the treaty rights may be achieved progressively, states have a legal obligation to take steps towards realisation within a reasonably short time after the Covenant’s entry into force for the states concerned. In addition, Article 2(1) imposes an obligation on states to move as expedi-tiously and effectively as possible towards full realisation of the rights. From the perspec-

19

General Comments no. 4 (1991) on the right to adequate housing and no. 7 (1997) on forced evictions.

20 General Comment no. 12 (1999) on the right to adequate food.

21 I have emphasised the key clauses of this provision.

22 General comments of the Committee can be found at the UN Treaty Bodies Database,

http://www.unhchr.ch/tbs/ 23

The Limburg Principles have been published in UN Doc. E/CN.4/1987/17, Annex and in the Human Rights Quarterly, Vol. 9 (1987), p. 122-135.


tive of progressive realisation, deliberately retrogressive measures are problematic and, in the opinion of the Committee, would require a very careful consideration and a complete justification in light of the total package of rights provided for and the requirement to use the maximum available resources.

24 In the view of the Committee, states have certain

minimum core obligations to ensure, at the very least, minimum essential levels of each of the rights. If that would not be the case, the Covenant would lose its meaning as an instru-ment for the protection of human rights. The Committee is rather strict in this respect: if in a state a significant number of people is deprived of essential foodstuffs, essential primary health care, or of basic shelter or the most basic forms of education, such a state is failing to discharge is obligations under the Covenant. This is diplomatic or veiled language to indicate that a violation of rights has occurred. In case a state has to cope with inadequate resources, the obligation remains for the state to ensure, as a matter of priority, those mini-mum core obligations. In times of economic recession or during a process of financial adjustment, the government must do everything it can to protect the most vulnerable members of society from the negative consequences of this situation on the enjoyment of their social and economic rights.

25 This General Comment is important, because it gives

guidance to states about the nature, scope and object of their obligations under the Cove-nant. It should be used by governments as a kind of touch-stone for legislation an policy in the field of economic, social and cultural rights. 3. Progressive realisation and violations

Still, measuring and monitoring the progressive realisation of economic, social and cultural rights is a complicated issue. For example, with respect to the clause ”the maximum of available resources”, it has been argued by one commentator that ”[I]t is a difficult phrase – two warring adjectives describing an undefined noun. ‘Maximum’ stands for idealism; ‘available’ stands for reality. ‘Maximum’ is the sword of human rights rhetoric; ‘available’ is the wiggle room for the state”.

26 So far, it has been impossible to develop a comprehen-

sive method for analyzing and assessing resource availability and usage. In response, it has been suggested by Audrey Chapman to change the approach for evaluating compliance with the standards of the Covenant.

27 In addition to measuring progressive realisation, she

has proposed to identify violations of economic, social and cultural rights as a comple-

24

General Comment no. 3, para. 9. 25

General Comment no. 3, para. 10-12. 26

R.E. Robertson, Measuring State Compliance with the Obligation to Devote the ‘Maximum Available Resources’ to Realizing Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, in: Human Rights Quarterly, Vol. 16 (1994) at p. 694.

27 A.R. Chapman, A ”Violations Approach” for Monitoring the International Covenant on Eco-

nomic, Social and Cultural Rights, in: Human Rights Quarterly, Vol. 18 (1996), pp. 23-66.

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mentary approach. Linking up with the Limburg Principles, which already contain a section on violations

28, and General Comment no. 3, she suggests to distinguish between three

types of violations: violations resulting from actions and policies on the part of govern-ments; violations related to patterns of discrimination; and violations related to a state’s failure to fulfil the minimum core obligations resulting from specific rights.

29 This idea was

taken up by the Centre for Human Rights of Maastricht University, which hosted an expert meeting in January 1997 to explore this proposal. The result of this seminar was the adop-tion of the so-called Maastricht Guidelines on Violations of Economic, Social and Cultural Rights.

30 These Guidelines depart from the acquis of the Limburg Principles and General

Comment no. 3 and distinguish between violations through acts of commission and viola-tions through acts of omission. In other words, violations can either occur through the direct action of states or other entities insufficiently regulated by the state, or through the omission or failure of states to take the necessary measures stemming from legal obliga-tions. The Guidelines present a number of examples of both categories.

31 Both the Limburg

Principles and the Maastricht Guidelines were meant to support the work of the Committee and to strengthen implementation and supervision of the Covenant. 4. General Comment no. 12 on the right to adequate food

The General Comments on the right to food, education and health, adopted by the Committee in 1999 and 2000, reflect to a certain extent the conceptual developments discussed above, plus some other ideas which originated in academic thinking and NGO contributions about economic, social and cultural rights. This can be seen from General Comment no. 12 on the right to adequate food.

32 This lengthy comment deals with several

aspects of Article 11 of the Covenant, such as its normative content, obligations and viola-tions, implementation at the national level and international obligations of States Parties and international organisations. As far as the normative content of the right is concerned, the Committee is of the view that the right to adequate food is realized when every man, woman and child, alone or in community with others, has physical and economic access at all times to adequate food or means for its procurement. This broad interpretation not only refers to the nutritional aspect of food as a means to stay alive, but also to the economic activity of food production for subsistence and make a living.

28

Limburg Principles, Part I D (paras. 70-73). 29

Chapman, at p. 43. 30

Published in the Human Rights Quarterly, Vol. 20 (1998), pp. 691-705. 31

See Guidelines no. 14 and 15. 32

Adopted in May 1999, UN Doc. E/C.12/1999/5.


5. Core content

Next, the Committee identifies the so-called ‘core content’ of the right to adequate food. This concept needs some explanation. As has been outlined above, General Comment no. 3 uses the notion of ”minimum core obligations to ensure the satisfaction of, at the very least, minimum essential levels of each of the [Covenant] rights”. One may argue that core obligations emerge from the core content (or minimum essential level) of each separate right. In other words, the core content of a right is its essence, that is, those essential elements without which a right loses its substantive significance as a human right.

33 This

concept is useful for two reasons. The first reason is the need to clarify the normative content of economic, social and cultural rights: what does a specific right really embody? The second reason is the need to make the concept of violations of economic, social and cultural rights more concrete. Non-observance of the core content of a right would then amount to a violation of the right concerned. The Committee in its General Comment on the right to adequate food then defines the core content of this right. It implies ”the avail-ability of food in a quantity and quality sufficient to satisfy the dietary needs of individuals, free from adverse substances, and acceptable within a given culture; the accessibility of such food in ways that are sustainable and that do not interfere with the enjoyment of other human rights.”

34

6. Identifying obligations and violations

Departing from Article 2(1) of the Covenant and General Comment no. 3, the Committee then defines the nature of state obligations emanating from the right to adequate food. For that purpose, the Committee uses another concept developed in academic thinking. This is the so-called typology of obligations, or three types of obligations on States Parties meant to specify obligations of states and better identify violations of rights. This typology has been constructed by the former Special Rapporteur on the Right to Food of the UN Com-mission on Human Rights, Mr. Asbjørn Eide.

35 In its General Comment, the Committee

distinguishes between state obligations to respect, to protect, and to fulfil. In addition, the obligation to fulfil incorporates both an obligation to facilitate and an obligation to provide.

33

Compare Limburg Principles, para. 56. See for a discussion of this concept, F. Coomans, The right to education as a human right: an analysis of key aspects, UN Doc. E/C.12/1998/16, paras. 9-16.

34 General Comment no. 12, para. 8. The Committee further specifies the meaning of the concepts

‘dietary needs’, ‘free from adverse substances’, ‘cultural or consumer acceptability’, ‘availability’ and ‘accessibility’. See paras. 9-13.

35 See his Final Report, The Right to Adequate Food as a Human Right, UN. Doc. E/CN.4/1987/23.

For the application of the typology of obligations to the right to education, see F. Coomans, supra note 33, paras. 25-28 and p. 21.

193

A few examples may explain how this typology works with respect to the right to food. The obligation to respect existing access to adequate food requires states not to take any measures that result in preventing such access, for example, evicting people from their land. The obligation to protect requires measures by the state to ensure that corporations or individuals do not deprive individuals of their access to adequate food, for example, big landowners chasing small farmers away from their land or large scale plantations occupying land held by small farmers. The obligation to fulfil (facilitate) implies that the state must pro-actively engage in activities intended to strengthen people’s access to and utilization of resources and means to ensure their livelihood, for example, starting a policy and programme on land reform meant to facilitate access to agricultural land for small farmer families. The obligation to fulfil (provide) means that states have an obligation to ensure that right directly, for example by providing food directly whenever an individual or group is unable, for reasons beyond their control, to enjoy the right to adequate food by the means at their own disposal. This obligation is applicable, for example, in cases people die of starvation due to natural disasters or are being displaced due to armed conflict.

36

In determining what are violations of the right to adequate food, the Committee links up with the language of General Comment no. 3 by saying that a violation occurs when a state fails to ensure the satisfaction of, at the very least, the minimum essential level required to be free from hunger. Violations may occur through the direct action of the state itself or other entities insufficiently regulated by the state. Examples include the discriminatory denial of access to food to particular individuals or groups, or the prevention of access to humanitarian food aid in internal conflicts or other emergency situations.

37

7. Benchmarks

The Committee not only uses the concept of a core content to identify violations, but also asks states to set verifiable benchmarks for national and international monitoring state performance. Benchmarks are targets established by governments themselves in relation to the implementation of each of the economic, social and cultural rights. These benchmarks may be quantitative (for example, a specific number of hospital beds per 10.000 inhabitants to be realised within a specific time frame) or qualitative (for example the development of a curriculum for intercultural education for primary schools within a period of three years). Therefore, benchmarks will differ from one state to another, reflecting both the availability of resources and the policy choices and priorities made by governments. In its General Comment on the right to food, the Committee observes that implementation at the national

36


General Comment no. 12, paras. 17-19.


level ”will require the adoption of a national strategy to ensure food and nutrition security for all, based on human rights principles that define the objectives, and the formulation of policies and corresponding benchmarks”.

38

In my view, these General Comments are of major importance in shedding more light on the content of treaty standards in terms of rights and obligations. They give important guidelines and clues for governments for national policy and legislation with a view to implementation of the rights. They also provide the Committee with criteria for better monitoring and assessing state performance in the field of economic, social and cultural rights. Finally, the general comments are useful for NGO’s in holding states accountable for treaty compliance and analysing and monitoring governmental policy in terms of human rights obligations. V. The human rights dimensions of poverty

Recently, the Committee has taken up the issue of the human rights dimensions of poverty eradication policies. It has published a statement on that subject, the purpose of which is to encourage the integration of human rights into poverty eradication policies by outlining how human rights can empower the poor and enhance anti-poverty strategies.

39 The Com-

mittee is of the view that poverty constitutes a denial of human rights. From the perspective of human rights, poverty may be defined ”as a human condition characterized by sustained or chronic deprivation of the resources, capabilities, choices, security and power necessary for the enjoyment of an adequate standard of living and other civil, cultural, economic, political and social rights”.

40 The Committee then lists a number of essential characteristics

of the international human rights framework which should be part of anti-poverty policies and strategies. These include the relevance and interdependence of all human rights for anti-poverty strategies, the application of the principles of non-discrimination and equality in anti-poverty policies, the principle of active and informed participation of those affected by anti-poverty policies, in particularly vulnerable groups, and finally, the principle of accountability for compliance with (core) obligations by the state and other duty-holders, such as international organisations.

41 It is a good example of a human rights approach to

38


Poverty and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, UN Doc. E/C.12/2001/10, adopted on 4 May 2001, para. 3.

40 Idem, para. 8.

41 Idem, paras. 9-18.

195

development related issues. This statement of the Committee links up with the strategy initiated by UNDP to integrate human development and human rights.

42

In May 2001, the Committee organized a day of general discussion on the issue of ”Eco-nomic, Social and Cultural Rights in the Development Activities of International Institu-tions”. Part of the discussion dealt with the tension between obligations of developing states on the basis of financial agreements with the International Monetary Fund and World Bank to cut social spending in order to reorganise governmental expenses and the state budget on the one hand, and obligations of states under the Covenant to realise progres-sively social rights on the other hand. Members of the Committee emphasised the need to integrate the human rights dimension into strategies and policies to reorganise the state budget and to make sure that the enjoyment of basic rights of the vulnerable part of the population are being guaranteed. In other words, governments should give priority to their obligations in the Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights.

43

VI. An Optional Complaints Procedure

Presently, the Covenant lacks a procedure which offers individuals and groups the possi-bility to lodge a complaint with the Committee about an alleged violation of a right listed in the Covenant. The Committee has extensively discussed the pro’s and con’s of such a procedure and has made a proposal for a draft treaty text which is the subject of discussion within the framework of the UN Commission on Human Rights.

44 Such a complaints

procedure would greatly strengthen the supervisory role and impact of the Committee. It would give the Committee the opportunity to give its views about such complaints, com-parable to the already existing complaints procedure under the Optional Protocol to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. Without going too much into detail,

42

See UNDP’s Human Development Report 2000, Human Rights and Human Development, New York/Oxford, 2000, notably chapter 4.

43 The report of this discussion is contained in UN Doc. E/C.12/2001/SR.21 and SR.22.

44 See UN Doc. A/CONF.157/PC62/Add.5, Annex II and UN Doc. E/CN.4/1997/105. See generally,

F. Coomans / F. van Hoof (eds.), The Right to Complain about Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, Netherlands Institute of Human Rights, Utrecht, SIM Special No. 18, and K. Arambulo, Strengthening the Supervision of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights – Theoretical and Procedural Aspects, Intersentia-Hart, Antwerp, 1999. See also UN Commission on Human Rights Resolution 2001/30. In this resolution the Commission decided to appoint an independent expert to examine the question of a draft Optional Protocol. Next, Mr. Kotrane (Tunesia) was appointed independent expert. He will submit a preliminary report to the 58th session of the Commission in April 2002. This report will be published as UN document E/CN.4/2002/57 (not yet available at the time of writing this contribution).


this section will discuss the arguments in favour of the establishment of such a complaints procedure in the form of an optional protocol to the Covenant.

45

1. Effects of scrutiny at the international level for the application of standards at the

national level

As long as the majority of the provisions of the Covenant are not the subject of any detailed scrutiny at the international level by the Committee, it is not very likely that they will be subject to such scrutiny at the national level by a judicial body either. The main reason is for this is that treaty provisions which are stated in very general terms are not very likely to be applied directly or indirectly by judicial or administrative bodies, because of the lack of clarity about their implications for the domestic legal order. The complaints procedure could fill that gap, because the Committee could give authoritative interpretations of treaty standards. From this perspective, a complaints procedure would help to tackle and rebut arguments about the alleged non-justiciable nature of economic, social and cultural rights.

46

2. Limitations of the reporting procedure

The reporting procedure is not the right mechanism to deal with specific cases and the application of pieces of national legislation in concrete cases. The reporting procedure is suitable to deal with the general situation of the level of realisation of economic, social and cultural rights in a given country. In addition, the success of the reporting system depends on the willingness of the government to submit a report and to take part in the dialogue with the Committee. Even alternative information coming from NGO’s usually lacks the detailed and precise nature necessary for an in-depth case analysis. Therefore, the Commit-tee presently does not have an instrument to deal with alleged violations of the Covenant provisions in individual cases. A complaints procedure brings concrete and tangible issues of alleged violations of rights into play for which individuals seek relief. This cannot be done in the framework of the reporting procedure. A particular case would require the complainant to submit detailed and precise information in writing and the government to respond in the same manner. The procedure would force the complainant to draft his or her complaint in precise formulations, framed in terms of rights and obligations under the

45

This overview is partly based on the analytical paper on an Optional Protocol prepared by the Committee in December 1992, see UN Do. A/CONF.157/PC/62/Add.5, Annex II.

46 See the report on the UN workshop on the justiciability of economic, social and cultural rights,

UN Doc. E/CN.4/2001/62/Add.2.

197

Covenant. This information would concern the practical significance of a treaty standard in a concrete case, which is impossible under the reporting procedure.


3. Added value of the Committee’s views

The collected views of the Committee in individual cases based on the complaints proce-dure would be of a much greater value in shedding light on the meaning of the various Covenant rights than either the Committee’s general comments or concluding observations. The collected views would constitute a kind of case law. In addition, they would provide authoritative interpretations of key issues, such as: the meaning of progressive realisation versus retrogressive measures; the meaning of availability of resources in a concrete case; the attitude of the government: inability versus lack of political will. A small number of cases would already be sufficient to develop case law about the content, scope and applica-tion of the Covenant rights. Although views or findings of the Committee in a concrete case would not be binding upon a State Party, they are powerful legal opinions which cannot be easily neglected by a state. A view of the Committee in a case produces a concrete result in a matter of concern for a person, which is likely also to generate more general interest in society, because of the effects it may have for other, comparable cases. 4. Stimulus for governments

The mere possibility that complaints might be brought before an international forum may or even should stimulate governments to ensure that effective remedies are available at the national level. A complaints procedure at the international level would also strengthen the recognition of economic, social and cultural rights. It would also stimulate governments to adopt and implement legislative and policy measures to comply with obligations under the Covenant, because in case it does not, there will be a risk of facing one or more complaints. 5. Acknowledgement of the indivisibility of all human rights

If the principle of the indivisibility, interdependence and interrelatedness of civil and political rights and economic, social and cultural rights, confirmed in the Vienna Declara-tion and Programme of Action adopted by the Second World Conference on Human Rights in 1993,

47 is to be taken seriously in the work of the UN, it is essential that a complaints

procedure be established under the Covenant, thereby redressing the imbalance which presently exists. There already is a complaints procedure under the Covenant on Civil and Political Rights which is open for alleged victims of violations of rights under that treaty.

47

UN. Doc. A/CONF.157/23, para. 5. Paragraph 5 adds: ”The international community must treat human rights globally in a fair and equal manner, on the same footing, and with the same empha-sis.”

199

6. Clarification of third party responsibility

Although a state bears the responsibility for realisation or lack of realisation, observance or violation of the ICESCR provisions, a complaints procedure could also help to determine the nature of third party involvement in and responsibility for the violation of economic, social and cultural rights in concrete cases, such as employers, big landowners, trans-national corporations, international financial organisations (IMF, World Bank). An example is the conflicting obligations of states through, on the one hand, international human rights obligations and, on the other hand, international financial agreements pressed for by international donors.

48

7. Stimulus for NGO’s

An Optional Protocol to the Covenant would be of enormous support and stimulus for NGO’s working in the field of economic, social and cultural rights. It could strengthen their work for the implementation of economic, social and cultural rights at the domestic level, because lodging a complaint with the Committee then becomes a realistic option for enforcing these rights, and can be used as a tool to exert pressure on governments to observe their treaty obligations that they have taken up voluntarily. 8. Other international complaints procedures already exist

In the field of economic, social and cultural rights, there are already complaints procedures at the international level which deal with alleged violations of these rights, These include the International Labour Organisation special procedure with respect to the freedom of association in the field of trade union rights and representations under Article 24 of the ILO Constitution submitted by national or international employers’ or workers organisations; the UNESCO Complaints Procedure in the field of any of the rights which fall within UNESCO’s field of competence, that is education, science and culture;

49 the Collective

Complaints Procedure adopted as a Protocol to the European Social Charter in 1995;50

the Optional Protocol to the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women adopted in 1999.

51 So states have already accepted voluntarily the possibi-

lity to denounce alleged violations of economic, social and cultural rights before an inter- 48

See for an example the situation in Uganda described in the report of the UN Special Rapporteur on the Right to Education, UN. Doc. E/CN.4/2000/6/Add.1, paras. 29-38.

49 UNESCO Doc. 104 EX/Decision 3.3, adopted in 1978 by the Executive Board of UNESCO.

50 Entered into force on 1 July 1998.

51 Not yet in force.


national body of experts. This means that they have also accepted the competence of such an international body to give its views about a complaint. 9. Strengthening international accountability

A complaints procedure at the international level would strengthen the accountability of governments before an international body for the manner in which these governments have complied with their obligations under the treaty. These governments will then be under a strong pressure to justify their policies, their acts or their failure to act. Often an individual case reflects a more general pattern of non-observance of treaty obligations in the country concerned. The possibility of international accountability may also raise the pressure upon the government coming from NGO’s, commentators and other states to observe the standards which it has voluntarily adopted. An international complaint promotes awareness among the public at large about the way the government is complying with its obligations. 10. An international complaints procedure as an instrument of last resort

Usually, a complaint will only reach the international level once domestic legal remedies have been exhausted. So there will be ample opportunity for the state concerned to rectify a situation which is the subject of a complaint. In addition, the complaints procedure envisaged is optional which means that states are free to adhere to it or not. Moreover, the complaints procedure is not directed towards confrontation with the state, but its aim is to solve a case in accordance with the human rights obligations of the state. Part of the proce-dure is also the possibility to reach a settlement between the parties, facilitated by the Committee. 11. Remedy for victims

Finally, and most important, in some cases a complaint at the international level, and the views or findings adopted by the Committee, will lead to a remedy for the victim. This could mean: the stop of the violation; compensation for the harm incurred; a commitment by the government to observe its treaty obligations, for example to take specific policy measures or to amend legislation; the actual enjoyment of a right by the individual(s) who lodged the complaint. The possible outcomes would depend on the willingness of the government concerned to implement the views of the Committee, which are non-binding in legal terms.

201

VII. Concluding Remarks

It may be concluded that since 1987 the Covenant has gained importance and status, thanks to the combined efforts of the Committee, NGO’s and academics. They all contributed to give teeth to the Covenant and to strengthen implementation of rights at the national level and supervision at the international level. The Committee has developed the reporting procedure by holding states accountable through the dialogue, giving access to NGO’s and drafting concluding observations which assess the performance of states and contain concrete suggestions for a better implementation. The Committee has also made good progress in clarifying the meaning of the rights listed in the Covenant in terms of their content and state obligations in the General Comments. It has also taken up new issues, such as the human rights dimensions over poverty reduction. This shows that the Commit-tee is willing to deepen its mandate and interpret it in a dynamic way, reflecting changing approaches and views about human rights implementation. It may be said that the Com-mittee has made an important contribution to tackling the problems regarding implementa-tion and supervision mentioned in the introduction of this paper, although it has no authority over other actors than states, such as international financial institutions and corporations. It should be emphasised, however, that the reporting procedure is a rather weak form of international supervision, depending on the willingness of the state to coope-rate, usually framed in diplomatic language and manners, and excluding individuals. Also NGO’s are not directly involved in the dialogue with the state representatives. Therefore, it is crucial that a complaints procedure be adopted as an optional protocol to the Covenant. Such a procedure would give direct access to individuals and would deal with very specific and detailed claims of non-observance of Covenant obligations by states. Such a procedure would also provide an opportunity for the Committee to test its General Comments in ‘real’ cases dealing with the situation which individuals face in day-to-day life about alleged violations of their economic, social and cultural rights. Collectively, the views of the Com-mittee would constitute ground-breaking case law which will have its impact far beyond the parties in a case, influencing also the conduct of governments of other states.

201

Oil and the Niger Delta People: The Injustice of the Land Use Act By Kaniye S.A. Ebeku, Port Harcourt, Nigeria / Canterbury, UK *

“All lands and natural resources (including mineral resources) within the Ijaw territory belong to the Ijaw communities and are the basis of our survival…We cease to recognise all undemocratic decrees that rob our peoples/communities of the right to ownership and control of our lives and resources, which were enacted without our participation and consent. These include the Land Use Decree and the Petroleum Decree…”

(Kaiama Declaration, 11 December 1998) Introduction

Oil exploitation in the Niger Delta region of Nigeria began in 1956, after a long search for oil which began in 1906. By 1956 production has reached 5,100 barrels per day (p/d) and the first export to Europe was made that year. At independence in 1960 Nigeria had become self sufficient in crude oil, producing 20,000 barrels p/d.

1 In 1961 production was

46,000 p/d; and with the construction of trans-Niger pipeline in 1965 and the exploitation of off-shore fields, production leaped to 275,000 p/d, and to 420,000 prior to the Nigerian civil war which started in 1967. Although the civil war lasted up to 1970, it does not seem that the difficulties of the war time significantly affected oil production as the million barrel daily mark was passed in 1970 and by 1973 had doubled to 2.06 million p/d.

2

* I acknowledge the contributions of my supervisors, Wade Mansell and Prof. S.R. Harrop at Kent

Law School, University of Kent at Canterbury, UK, who read through the earlier draft of this article and made useful comments. However, all errors in this article are solely mine.

1 Pearson, Petroleum and the Nigerian Economy, Stanford University Press, Stanford, California,

1970, quoted in Watts, Silent violence: Food, Famine & Peasantry in Northern Nigeria, University of California Press, Berkeley, California, 1983, p. 471.

2 Watts, supra n. 1, at 473.


Before the discovery and exploitation of oil, Nigeria had an agrarian economy.3 But as the

above figures indicate, since its discovery and exploitation oil has been rapidly growing in importance in the Nigerian economy. Available evidence shows that by 1972 oil constituted 83% of Nigerian exports. With regards to revenue, the share of oil in federal government revenue rose from 17% in 1971 to 71% in 1973, and to 86% in 1975.

4 Sources also

indicate that this trend has remained ever since. So that by early 1990s, oil revenue accounted for over 90% of Nigeria’s foreign exchange receipts. Oil revenue within this period also provided for 70% of budgetary revenues and 25% GDP.

5 In 1998, the minister

of finance indicated that the federal government income from sales of its ‘equity in crude oil’

6 was US$ 7,706 million and from royalty and Petroleum Profits Tax,

7 US$ 4,288

million; “together they made up 88% of the government’s foreign exchange earnings for the year 1997”.

8 Presently oil is still the mainstay of the Nigerian economy. In its yearly Report

and Statement of Account recently published for the year 2000, the Central Bank of Nigeria stated that “oil accounted for N1.59 trillion or 83.5% of the total gross revenue” for the year.

9

As is the case with other oil-producing countries, the exploitation of oil in Nigeria is carried out under some legislation.

10 The most important oil-related legislation in Nigeria

3 For a comparative information on the contributions of agriculture and crude oil to the Nigerian

economy, see Iwaloye / Ibeanu, The peoples of Nigeria, in: Okafor (ed.), New Strategies For Curbing Ethnic & Religious Conflicts in Nigeria, Enugu: Fourth Dimension Publishing Co., Ltd, 1997, pp. 62-64.

4 Watts, supra n.1, at p. 473.

5 Khan, Nigeria: The Political Economy of Oil, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1994, p. 183;

Frynas, Is political Instability Harmful to Business? The case of Shell in Nigeria, University of Leipzig Papers on Africa (Politics and Economics, No.14), 1998.

6 Through the Nigerian National Petroleum Company (NNPC) the federal government “currently

holds about 57% participating interest in the various joint ventures it has with the major oil com-panies in Nigeria”. See generally, Olisa, Nigerian Petroleum Law and Practice, 2nd ed., Jonia Ventures Ltd., Lagos, 1997, pp. 67-71.

7 1958 (Cap 354, Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition).

8 1998 Budget Briefing by the Minister of Finance, 7.

9 See “Nigeria earns N 1.59 trillion from Oil” (The Guardian, 5 July 2001, 1). This can be regarded

as an official confirmation of the findings of an inter-governmental body based in Sweden, which had reported that “oil resources of the Niger Delta still provides over 80 percent of government revenue”. International IDEA, Democracy in Nigeria: Continuing Dialogue(s) For Nation-Build-ing, series No. 10, Stockholm, 2000, p. 142.

10 Virtually all the oil-related legislation, including the Land Use Act and the Petroleum Act, were

made by successive military governments in Nigeria (since independence in 1960 Nigeria has been ruled most of the time by military dictators). The Military Decrees (as the legislation were called) were later re-designated as Acts in 1980 by virtue of the Adaptation of Laws (Re-designa-tion of Decrees, Etc.) Order 1980. In this article, the words ‘Decree’ and ‘Act’ shall be used inter-changeably.

203

include: the Petroleum Act 1969,11

Oil pipelines Act 1956,12

Oil in Navigable Waters Act 1968,

13 Federal Environmental Protection Agency Act 1988,

14 and the Land Use Act

1978.15

By the Petroleum Act (continuing a colonial policy) the entire property in petroleum (mineral oils) is vested in the state.

16 The result is that the federal government

has absolute right and control over oil resources in the country, which is found only in the Niger Delta region of the country. It farms out oil mining rights to oil companies and receives rents and royalties from them.

17 As has been seen above, oil has realised so much

money for the Nigerian state over the years. One unique aspect of Nigerian law can be found in its law of property. Under the laws of most common law countries ‘land’ includes mineral oils entrapped in the land.

18 But this is

not the case with Nigeria. Section 16 of the Interpretation Act 196419

explicitly excludes mineral oils from the meaning of land. And while oil is vested in the state ownership of land supporting oil remained vested in communities and families until 1978 when the Land Use Act (hereafter LUA) was made. The Act (promulgated as a Decree by a military government) vests all the lands comprised in the territory of a state of the federation in the governor of the state in ‘trust’

20 for all Nigerians. It is significant to note that before the

11

Cap 350, Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition. 12





Section 1. 17

Ajomo, Ownership of Oil and the Land Use Act (1982), Nigerian Current Law Review 330. 18

See, for example, Section 206(1) of the English Law of Property Act, 1925. 19

Cap 192 of the Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition. 20

The word ‘trust’ is used here in a loose sense; the governor is not a trustee in the strict English sense. In the words of a learned author, “considering the provisions of the Act as a whole, it would appear that the word ‘trust’ is used under section 1 in a loose sense… It is obvious that the gover-nor is under no duty or obligation to give account to the beneficiaries in the management of the trust property as is the case under English law. Nigerians who are even sui juris cannot put an end to the land vested in the state. Similarly, they do not have the right to appoint any other person, as in the case of trusteeship… [Whatever] may be [the governor’s] shortcomings in the administra-tion of the land, the beneficiaries cannot sue for redress.” Tobi, Handbook on the Land Use Act, Ahmadu Bello University Press, Zaria, 1989, pp. 47-8. However it is difficult to understand what the author means by the statement: “The governor of a state cannot be designated as a trustee neither in the strict English sense nor in the loose customary sense of the word” (Ibid., at 47). The author did not say in what ‘special’ loose sense, then, a governor is designated as a trustee. It is submitted, with respect, that the governor under the Land Use Act 1978 is a trustee in the loose customary sense of it as stated in Amodu Tijani v. Secretary, Southern Nigeria (1923), 4 N.L.R. 18, and a host of other cases. See generally Adigun, The Genesis of the concept of trust in Nige-rian law, in: Omotola (ed.), Essays in Honour of Judge T.O. Elias, University of Lagos Press,


promulgation of the Act oil companies that had obtained mining rights from the federal government approached oil-bearing/land-owning communities for a right of access to the land for its operations. This was a way by which the communities had some sense of participation in oil operations, as they received some compensation for granting access and for any damage to land and any surface rights thereon. It would appear that this sense of participation has been lost since the unity of land rights with oil rights in 1978. Most scholarly works on oil exploitation activities in the Niger Delta have concentrated on the environmental impact of oil exploitation and the under-development of the region despite the huge revenue oil exploitation has yielded to the Nigerian state.

21 There has not been

any systematic scholarly analysis of the impact of the LUA on the Niger Delta people.22

This is the lacunae which this paper attempts to fill. It will be shown that the impact of the LUA on the Niger Delta people raises questions of injustice which themselves could exacerbate an unstable position in the region. But before embarking on the examination of the relevant sections of the Act and its impact on the Niger Delta people, it is useful to briefly consider the issues of ownership of oil and ownership of land supporting oil before the enactment of the LUA. This is the first task we shall undertake here and it will serve as our framework for analysis. From this we shall move to the impact of the LUA on the Niger Delta people. The paper will end with some concluding remarks. 1. Background and Context

1.1. Ownership of oil in Nigeria

Lagos, 1987, pp. 74-94; Jegede, The Position of Head of Family: Is he a trustee in the strict English sense?, (1966) Nigerian Bar Journal 164.

21 See, for example Naanen, Oil-producing Minorities and the Restructuring of Nigerian Federalism:

The case of the Ogoni People, (1995) Journal of Commonwealth & Comparative Politics, 46; Okonmah, Right to a Clean Environment: The case for the People of Oil-Producing Communities in the Nigerian Delta, (1997) Journal of African Law, 43; Hutchful, Oil Companies and Environ-mental Pollution in Nigeria, in: Ake, Political Economy of Nigeria, Longman Publishers, New York, 1985, p. 113.

22 Compare Etikerentse, The impact of the 1978 Land Use Act on Land Acquisition Compensation

by Oil Companies, [1984/85] OGLTR 72; Kassim-Momodu, Impact of the Land Use Act on Petroleum Operations in Nigeria, [1990] 4 JERL 291; Omotola, Interpreting the Land Use Act, [1992] 1 Journal of Nigerian Law 108.

205

The search for and exploitation of oil in Nigeria started in the colonial era.23

The British colonial authorities regulated these activities through a number of laws. The major oil-related colonial statute was the 1914 Mineral Oils Ordinance

24 which was promulgated to

“regulate the right to search for, win and work mineral oils”. This law did not make any provision for the ownership of oil. The ownership of oil was later provided for in the Minerals Ordinance 1916; and also in the 1945 Minerals Act which replaced it. Section 3 of this Act (the Act came into force on 25 February 1946) specifically vested mineral oils in the crown, thus:

“The entire property in and control of all mineral oils in, under or upon any lands in Nigeria, or of all rivers, streams and water courses throughout Nigeria is and shall be vested in the crown [state], save in so far as such rights may in any case have been limited by any express grant made before the commencement of this Act.”

25

Some important amendments of the 1914 Ordinance were made in 1925, 1950, and 1959. Under section 2 of the 1925 amendment “mineral oil” was defined as including “bitumen, asphalt and all other bituminous substances” with the exception of coal (which was covered by the 1945 Minerals Act). The 1950 amendment added a new section

26 whereby the

submarine areas of Nigeria’s territorial waters were brought under the ambit of the Ordinance. The 1959 amendment extended the legislative competence of Nigeria’s federal legislature (under the 1959 colonial constitution Nigeria was a federation with a centre and three Regions) to cover the submarine areas of other waters on which the federal legislature may make legislation in future, in matters relating to mines and minerals. This later amendment might have been made in exercise of the right recognised under Art.2 of the Geneva Convention on the Continental Shelf.

27

23

For historical accounts of the Nigerian oil industry, see Ajomo, Oil in Nigeria, in: Elias (ed.), Law and Social Change in Nigeria, Lagos: Evans Brothers, 1972, Chapter 8; Ajomo, Law and Changing Policy in Nigeria’s Oil Industry, in: Omotola / Adeogun (eds.), Law and Development, Lagos University Press, Lagos, 1987, p. 84; Etikerentse, Nigerian Petroleum Law, Macmillan Publishers, London, 1985, Chapter 1; Kassim-Momodu, Gas Re-injection and the Nigerian Oil industry, (1986/87) Journal of Private and Property Law, 69; Omoregbe, The Legal Framework for the Production of Petroleum in Nigeria, (1987) Journal of Energy and Natural Resources Law, 273; Schatzal, Petroleum in Nigeria, Ibadan: Oxford University Press, 1969, esp. pp.1-4.

24 No.17 of 1914.

25 This provision is similar to section 1(1) of the Petroleum (Production) Act, 1934 of Great Britain.

26 Section 10.

27 This article did not create a new right, rather it recognises and effectively codifies existing

customary international law. In North Sea Continental Shelf cases, 1969 ICJ Reports, 3, the Inter-national Court of Justice made this point clear when commenting on the nature of state rights over continental shelf resources. The court said it – “…entertains no doubt that the most fundamental of all the rules relating to the continental shelf is that enshrined in Article 2 of the 1958 Geneva Convention, though quite independent of it – namely that the rights of the coastal state in respect of the area of continental shelf that constitutes a natural prolongation of its land territory into and


The result of all these laws was to vest in the Crown/State the absolute right and control over the colonial state’s oil resources, both onshore and offshore. Given the revenue potentials of oil it is hardly surprising that Nigerian nationalists resented these laws.

28 In

fact, one of Nigeria’s leading nationalist described these laws as “obnoxious”.29

The implication of this, of course, was that it was unjust because it deprived the colonised peoples of the benefit of their “natural property”. It is therefore paradoxical that the same persons who had so resented colonial statutes on mineral oils moved to retain the essence of these laws after independence. This was done by a constitutional provision drafted by themselves in 1963 (three years after independence). Section 158(1) of this constitution provided:

“…all property which, immediately before the date of the commencement of this constitution, was held by the crown or by some other body or person (not being an authority of trust for the crown) shall on that date, by virtue of this subsection and without further assurance, vest in the president and be held by him on behalf of or, as the case may be, on the like trust for the benefit of the government of the federation; and all property which immediately before the date aforesaid, was held by an authority of the federation on behalf of or in trust for the crown shall be held by that authority on behalf of, or as the case may be, on the like trusts for the benefit of the government of the federation…”

There is a belief in some quarters that the Nigerian nationalist (Nnamdi Azikiwe30

) who had denounced colonial statutes on mineral oils made a volte-face on such legislation after independence because he found himself as the ‘inheritor’ of the property secured by the statutes.

31 Critics have also suggested that the Nigerian civil war of 1967-70 was a cynical

under the sea exist ipso facto and ab initio, by virtue of its sovereignty over the land, and as an extension of it in exercise of sovereign rights for the purpose of exploring the seabed and exploit-ing its natural resources. In short, there is here an inherent right. In order to exercise it, no special legal process has to be gone through, nor have any special acts to be performed. Its existence can be declared (and many states have done this) but does not need to be constituted. Furthermore, the right does not depend on its being exercised. To echo the language of the Geneva Convention, it is ‘exclusive’ in the sense that if the coastal state does not choose to explore or exploit the areas of shelf appertaining to it, that is its own affair, but no one else may do so without its express con-sent…” The 1982 Geneva Convention on the Law of the Sea retains the operative wording of Art. 2 of the 1958 convention on the Continental Shelf.

28 See Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism, University of California Press, Berkeley,

1958, p. 228. In contrast with Nigeria, in the case of the Ghanaian diamond industry landowners were paid royalties, which were a proportion of the net profits accruing from the mining conces-sions. See Greenhalgh, West African Diamonds, 1919-1983: An Economic History, Manchester University Press, Manchester, 1985, pp. 86-113.

29 See http://nigeriaworld.com/feature/publication/omoruyi/oil.html, 23 Mar 2001.

30 Nigeria’s first indigenous ceremonial president (Head of State).

31 See footnote 29 above.

207

war for the control of oil resources in the Niger Delta32

(located in the Eastern Region of Nigeria); the war was caused by the attempt of the Eastern Region to secede from Nigeria. Before the war there had been a military coup in 1966 which had ousted elected officers from office; a military/dictatorial government had been established and the 1963 constitution had been suspended. In 1969, in the course of the war, the Federal Military Government (as the usurper regime was styled) promulgated a decree called the Petroleum Decree, by which it re-asserted state ownership of oil resources. Section 1 of this Decree provides as follows:

“(1) The entire ownership and control of all petroleum33

in, under or upon any lands to which this section applies shall be vested in the state. (2) This section applies to all lands (including land covered by water) which- is in Nigeria; or is under the territorial waters of Nigeria; or forms part of the continental shelf.”

The petroleum Decree was followed in 1978 by the Exclusive Economic Zone Decree34

. This Decree vests in the federal Republic of Nigeria sovereign and exclusive rights with respect to the exploitation of natural resources (including oil) of the seabed, the subsoil and superjacent waters of the Exclusive Economic Zone (EEZ). The combined effect of this Decree and the Petroleum Decree is enormous. As one scholar has argued, “the provisions

32

One critic argues that “the control of the oil resources was of obvious strategic importance to both conflicting parties [Nigeria and Biafra]. At the beginning of the war, the Biafran government insisted that Shell pay the royalties due July 1967 since they controlled the oil fields and Bonny oil terminal at that time. They were confident that the revenues from oil would enable them to purchase the needed arms for the war. Likewise, one of the purposes of the creation of 12 states in 1967 by Gowon was to isolate the heart of Igboland from the oil-rich areas and the Bonny termi-nal.” Robinson, Ogoni – The Struggle continues, 2nd ed. 1996, 28 – A Publication of the World Council of Churches, Geneva, Switzerland. Making a similar argument, another critic has said: “The capture of Bonny by the federal troops was fortunate in more ways than one, for Bonny was a real prize. Not only did it control the sea passage from the Atlantic ocean into Port Harcourt, so-called Biafra’s main port, it was also the main oil terminal for Nigeria’s main oil company, Shell-BP. It was the port of export for most of Nigeria’s oil. Its capture also came at an opportune moment: at a time when there was a tussle over oil royalty payments. If Ojukwu got paid the royalties for the half year ended June, 1967 his exchequer would not only have swollen, he would also have had considerable foreign exchange at his disposal to enable him to pursue his war aims with greater vigour. One retains a niggling suspicion that Lagos might have been informed that if she did have some presence in the oil areas of Eastern Nigeria, there might be justification for paying the royalties, whereas if Ojukwu continued to control the entire oil region, he would have a right to the royalties, since possession is nine parts of the law.” Saro-Wiwa, On a Darkling Plain, Saros International Publishers, Port Harcourt, 1989, p. 98.

33 ‘Petroleum’ means “mineral oil (or any related hydrocarbon) or natural gas as it exists in its

natural state in strata, and does not include coal or bituminous shales or other stratified deposits from which oil can be extracted by distillation.” (Section 15). Cf. the definition of petroleum under the Zambian Petroleum Act, Cap 435 of the Laws of Zambia 1995 Edition.

34 No.28 of 1978 (Cap 116, Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition).


of the Petroleum Act [the Decrees were later re-designated as Acts by a civilian government to bring them into conformity with the terminology of a civilian system of government

35]

combined with those of the EEZ Act36

invest in the federal government a ‘complete’ right of ownership over oil resources”.

37 This ‘complete’ right is ‘securely guaranteed’ by

section 44(3) of the present constitution of Nigeria,38

thus:

“Notwithstanding the foregoing provisions of this section [providing against compulsory acquisition of property without the payment of adequate compensation] the entire property in and control of all minerals, mineral oils and natural gas in, under or upon any land in Nigeria or in, under or upon the territorial waters and Exclusive Economic Zone of Nigeria shall vest in the government of the federation and shall be managed in such manner as may be prescribed by the national assembly.”

39

It might have been observed that the above provisions are silent on the issue of ownership of land; yet oil is entrapped in land and cannot be exploited without access to (or acquisition of) land. This leads us to an inquiry into the ownership of land before the enactment of the LUA and how this affected oil exploitation. 1.2. Land tenure before 1978

Before 1978 Nigeria did not have a uniform land tenure system. In the southern states of the federation, there was a dual system of land tenure, namely: customary

40 land tenure

system and land tenure under the received English law (sometimes called statutory land tenure system). The customary land tenure system varied from one community to the other,

35

See Adaptation of Laws (Re-designation of Decrees, Etc.) Order No. 13 of 1980. 36

See also the Territorial Waters Act (Cap 428) and the Sea Fisheries Act (Cap 404) of the Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition.

37 Ajomo, supra n. 17, at 334.

38 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999. Amendment of any aspect of the constitu-

tion involves some rigorous procedures and requires approval by special majorities in the legisla-tive houses (sometimes at both the centre and 2/3 of the states of the federation). Often, this will be difficult, if not impossible, to achieve on politically divisive issues such as the ownership of oil resources. See section 9 of the constitution.

39 This provision was also contained in previous constitutional documents of Nigeria: 1979 constitu-

tion, Section 40(3); 1989 constitution, Section 42(3) (this constitution never came into force because of the ambitions of military dictators); 1995 Draft constitution, Section 47(3).

40 For authoritative discussions of the customary land tenure of the various peoples of Southern

Nigeria, see: A.K. Ajisafe, The Laws and Customs of Yoruba People, George Routledge and sons Ltd, London, 1924; Lloyd, Yoruba Land Law, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1962; Coker, Family Property Among the Yorubas, Sweet & Maxwell, London, 1966; Green, Land Tenure in an Igbo Village (n.d.); Chubb, Ibo Land Tenure, 2nd ed., Ibadan University Press, Ibadan, 1961; Meek, Land Tenure and Administration in Nigeria and Cameroons, H.M.S.O., London, 1957.

209

although some common legal principles are identifiable. In the case of the northern states of Nigeria, there was a system of ‘public ownership’ of land under a colonial statute

41 which

was retained and re-enacted after independence.42

The result is that before 1978 Nigeria had a plural land tenure system. A discussion of the ‘statutory’ land tenure system and the northern Nigeria ‘public’ land ownership system are not relevant to us here;

43 we are here

concerned only with the indigenous land tenure system of the people of southern Nigeria where the Niger Delta people are located. It is beyond dispute that customary land tenure system is based on the native laws and customs of the various peoples of southern Nigeria. Although customs varied from place to place,

44 studies have shown that some common legal principles are discernible. In the locus

classicus of Amodu Tijani v. Secretary, Southern Nigeria45

, the Privy Council stated the basic legal principle of customary land tenure in the following words:

46

“The next fact which it is important to bear in mind in order to understand the native land law is that the notion of individual ownership is quite foreign to native ideas. Land belongs to the community, the village or the family, never to the individual. All the members of the community, the village or family have an equal right to the land, but in every case the Chief or Headman of the community or village, or head of the family, has charge of the land, and in a loose mode of speech is sometimes called the owner. He is to some extent in the position of a trustee, and as such holds the land for the use of the community or family. He has control of it, and any member who wants a piece of it to cultivate or build upon, goes to him for it. But the land still remains the property of the community or family. He cannot make any important disposition of the land without

41

Land and Native Rights Ordinance 1910. This law made all the rights exercisable in respect of native lands subject to the control and disposition of the colonial governor. The lands were held and administered for the use and common benefit of all the natives (defined as people of Northern Nigeria only), and no valid title could be created without the consent of the governor.

42 As Land Tenure Law 1962.

43 There is a voluminous literature on Nigerian Land Law. For authoritative discussions, see the

following standard works: Elias, Nigerian Land Law, 4th ed., Sweet & Maxwell, London, 1971; Olawoye, Title to Land in Nigeria, Evans Brothers Limited, London, 1974; James, Modern Land Law of Nigeria, University of Ife Press, Ife, 1973; Okany, Nigerian Law of Property, Fourth Dimension Publishers, Enugu, 1986; Smith, Practical Approach to Law of Real Property in Nige-ria, Ecowatch Publications (Nigeria) Limited, Lagos, 1999.

44 See Otogbolu v. Okeluwa (1981) 6-7 S.C. 99, at 115-6; Dilibe v. Nwakozor [1986] 5 N.W.L.R.

(part 41) 315, at 331. 45

(1921) A.C.339. 46

This was a judicial approval of a statement made by Rayner, C.J. in the Report of Land Tenure in West Africa, 1898. Before the West African Lands Committee a witness (Gboteyi, the Elesi

(chief) of Odogbolu) had testified: “I conceive land belongs to a vast family of which many are dead, few are living and countless members are still unborn.” See the Committee’s Report.


consulting the elders of the community or family, and their consent must in all cases be given before a grant can be made to a stranger.”

47

Although the accuracy of the above statement has been severally challenged by different scholars,

48 it would appear that there is an agreement that the traditional basis of customary

land tenure is “common ownership” (in fee simple/absolute title), whether it is within a family or a community.

49 This is one of the distinctive features of indigenous land tenure

system. Another distinctive feature lies in the role of management and control entrusted with the Headman of the community or village;

50 nobody, not even a member of the

community or family, can make use of any portion of the community/family land in any way whatsoever without the consent of the Headman of the community. Some scholars claim that before the enactment of the LUA this position was well-respected by everybody, including officers of government, right from the colonial era.

51 So that, with

respect to oil operations, although oil resources were vested in the state and the oil-bearing/land-owning communities/families did not participate in farming out the resources to the oil companies, yet the oil prospecting and production companies entered upon the affected lands only after reaching an agreement with the land-owning communities/families on the amount of compensation (for any damage to surface rights- e.g. farm crops or building) and compensation (annual rent for the use of the land in its intrinsic state or other corporeal hereditaments) to be paid to the communities or families.

52 According to one

observer, any money received by the Headman on behalf of a community land must be shared within the community.

53 In this way, oil-bearing communities had some form of

participation in the exploitation of oil deposits in their lands.

47

At 404. 48

Elias, supra n. 43, at p. 74; Coker, supra n. 40, at p. 29; Utuama, Nigerian Law of Real Property: An Introduction, Shaneson Limited, Ibadan, 1989, p. 6. In Balogun v. Oshodi (1931) 10 N.L.R. 36 (decided 10 years after Amodu Tijani case) Webber, J. pointed out that the notion that indi-vidual ownership is quite foreign to native ideas has disappeared with the process of time, due to the spread of English ideas.

49 Omotola, The Land Use Act and Customary Land Tenure, (1982) Nigerian Current Law Review

55, at 56. 50

Ibid. 51

Ajomo, supra n. 17, at p. 339; Frynas, Oil in Nigeria: Conflict and Litigation between Oil Compa-nies and Village Communities, Transaction Publishers, New Brunswick/London, 2000, at p. 75.

52 Ajomo, supra n. 17 , at p. 339.

53 Frynas, supra n. 51, at p. 73.

211

It is significant to note that the native conception of land, unlike the statutory position of Nigerian law, includes mineral oils as part of the land.

54 As one authority puts it, “the

exclusive use and enjoyment of the land usually carried with it full rights to minerals, subject of course to the requirements of the prevailing custom and the relation of the particular occupier to the land; land usually included minerals”.

55 Perhaps this explains

why the Ogoni people of the Niger Delta boycotted a presidential election in 1993; they had argued that “Ogoni should not give legitimacy to a president who would swear to uphold a constitution that dispossessed Ogoni people of their natural rights”.

56

2. Land tenure and the Land Use Act

The LUA was enacted in 1978 by a military government. It replaced the pre-existing plural land tenure system in Nigeria, thus bringing uniformity into the Nigerian land tenure system. Its target was the reform of the customary land tenure system which was considered a clog to development efforts.

57 According to a government statement, “at present it is not

only the individual who wants to build his or her house that is facing difficulties in finding a suitable land; the local, state and federal governments are also inhibited by problems placed in their way in acquiring land for development.”

58 However, being a law issued by a

dictatorship it did not enjoy the benefit of robust debate in the legislature. Moreover, although the Federal Military Government had set up a Land Use Panel to study the customary system of land tenure and make appropriate recommendations for reform,

54

Although there is no agreement on the question whether the English principle quicquid plantatur

solo solo cedit is part of customary. For the conflicting views, see Onwuamaegbu, Nigerian Indigenous Land Law, in: Elias et al. (eds.), African Indigenous Law,Government Printer, Enugu, 1975, p.340, at pp. 352-4. See also Coker, supra n. 40, at p. 40.

55 Elias, supra n. 43, at p. 34. See also Price, Land Tenure in the Yoruba Provinces, para. 29.

56 Quoted in Naanen, supra n. 21, at p. 70.

57 See Adebgoye, The need for Land Reform in Nigeria, (1967) 9 Nigerian Journal of Economic and

Social Reform, 339-350. Also making a case for land reform, Famoriyo has argued that “the problems may be considered as institutional barriers to development and stem largely from the failure to intervene in order to direct and streamline the customary tenure system so that it could become more conducive to economic development. If there has been objective intervention the result could conceivably have been the existence today of a powerful, dynamic and flexible land tenure system making a positive contribution to Nigeria’s agricultural development… The com-plexity of the land tenure system in Nigeria shows that it is a single aspect of Nigeria’s agrarian structure. It clearly requires intervention at both state and local levels…” Famoriyo, Some Prob-lems of Customary Land Tenure, (1973) Land Reform, Land Settlement and Co-operatives, 2, 1-11. See also the Second and Third National Development Plans, 1970-74 and 1975-80, respec-tively (Federal Ministry of Economic Development, Lagos, 1970 and 1975 respectively).

58 See Report of the Land Use Panel, 1977, 5.


available evidence shows that it acted against the recommendations of the majority members of the Panel;

59 the Panel could not agree on one Report and so the Report

contains a ‘majority position’ and a ‘minority position’. The ‘Majority Report’, endorsed by the Panel’s Chairman,

60 was against either the nationalization of land or the extension

of the prevailing land tenure system of the northern states to the country as a whole. On the contrary, the ‘Minority Report’ (which the Federal Military Government accepted) canvassed land nationalization in the manner of the prevailing system in the northern states.

61

As has been seen above, the mischief of the customary land tenure system which was sought to be reformed lies in the difficulties in land acquisition for developmental purposes. But available evidence indicates that “the government had often compulsorily acquired land for oil companies before 1978 under the so-called power of ‘eminent domain’, which gave it power to seize private property for public use.”

62 Right from time,

the federal government of Nigeria had considered oil operations as serving the public ‘interest’. Hence, as Frynas points out, the power of ‘eminent domain’ is specifically provided for in the Oil Pipelines Act and in the Petroleum Regulations 1969 (made pursuant to the Petroleum Act 1969).

63 Consistent with justice, these laws provide for the

payment of adequate compensation to the person or community whose land is acquired.64

Any dispute over the issue of compensation was determined by the courts. For example, in Nzekwu v. Attorney-General, East-Central State

65, the plaintiffs sued the government for

compulsory acquisition of their land; they had demanded higher compensation than they were actually offered.

66 It will later be seen how the LUA has affected this position.

59

Francis, For the Use and Common Benefit of all Nigerians: Consequences of the 1978 Land Nationalization, Africa 54(3) 1984, 5-27, at p. 7. This article analyses the provisions of the LUA, with particular reference to its effects on a peasant community in Yoruba-land; it was not con-cerned with issues relating to oil resources.

60 Hon. Justice C. Idigbe of the Supreme Court of Nigeria.

61 See Report of the Land Use Panel, 1977.


63 Idem.

64 Petroleun Regulations 1969, section 17(1) (c); Oil Pipelines Act, 1956 (Cap 338, LFN 1990)

section 11(5). 65

(1972) All NLR 543. 66

See also, Aghenghen v. Waghoreghor (1974) All NLR 74; Okwuosa v. Adizua (1977) 1 IMSLR 217. It is important to note that in most of these cases the communities were not challenging the compulsory acquisition of their lands for oil operations, but were concerned with the quantum of compensation owed to them. However, the case of Ereku v. Military Governor of Mid-Western

State (1974) 10 S.C. 59, exemplifies a challenge to a purported acquisition for public purpose; the plaintiffs succeeded at the Supreme Court as the court found that the purported acquisition was for the purpose of a private company (an oil-company sub-contractor) and not for a ‘public pur-

213

Since its enactment

67 the LUA has remained controversial and the subject of constant

debate.68

Studies indicate that it is a complex piece of legislation with far-reaching consequences on different aspects of the pre-existing customary land tenure systems. Most of the impacts of this ‘reformative law’

69 have received scholarly consideration; but the

impact of the Act on the oil-bearing communities of the Niger Delta has not received any systematic academic consideration. As stated earlier, the object of this paper is to fill this gap. For our purposes, the critical question relates to the issue of ownership of land under the Act. The most relevant place to start on this issue is section 1 of the LUA, which provides as follows:

“Subject to the provisions of this Decree, all the land comprised in the territory of each state of the federation are hereby vested in the military governor of the state and such land shall be held in trust and administered for the use and common benefit of all Nigerians in accordance with the provisions of this Decree.”

pose’ as defined in the Public Lands Acquisition Law of Western Nigeria 1959. It has been argued that the precedent established by this case no longer applies since the enactment of the Land Use Act in 1978. Frynas, supra n. 51, at p. 77. Cf. Ajomo, supra n. 17, at p. 338.

67 On the occasion of the Decree’s announcement the Head of State articulated its purpose thus:

“The main purpose of this Decree is to make land for development available to all including indi-viduals, corporate bodies, institutions and governments. When taken in conjunction with other measures we have adopted and other measures to be adopted, it will be evident that fast economic and social development at all levels and in all parts of the country is our main consideration.” Reform in Nigerian Land Tenure Structure (Address to the Nation on 29 March 1978, by His Excellency Lt. General Olusegun Obasanjo, Head of the Federal Military Government, Com-mander-in-Chief Of the Armed Forces), Federal Ministry of Information, Lagos, 1978, p. 5.

68 There is a voluminous literature on the Land Use Act. See, for example: Omotola, Essays on the

Land Use Act, Lagos University Press, Lagos, 1980; Omotola (ed.), The Land Use Act: Report of a National Workshop, Lagos University Press, Lagos, 1982; Adigun (ed.), The Land Use Act: Administration and Policy Implication, Lagos University Press, Lagos, 1991; James, Nigerian Land Use Act: Policy and Principles, University of Ife Press, Ile-Ife, 1987; Osipitan, Public Law and the Land Use Act, in: Omotola (ed.), Issues in Nigerian Law, The Caxton Press, Lagos, 1991, pp. 84-104.

69 The Land Use Act has been variously described as ‘revolutionary’, ‘controversial’, and ‘impact-

ful’. In L.S.D.P.C. v. Foreign Finance Corporation (1987) 1 N.W.L.R. (part 50) 413, at 460, Kolawole, J.C.A. observed: “The Land Use Act 1978 has revolutionalized the land tenure system in the southern states of this country…” The same description of the Act was made by Obaseki, J.S.C. in Savannah Bank (Nig.) Ltd. v. Ajilo (1989) 1 N.W.L.R. (Part 97) 305, at 315; Adeoye sees the LUA as ‘controversial’. Adeoye, Some Aspects of the Land Use Act, (1982) Nigerian Current Law Review 312, at 314. See also Ajomo, Ownership of Mineral Oils, at 330; and Irikefe, J.S.C. believes “the Land Use Decree is indisputably the most impactful of all legislation touching upon the land tenurial systems of Nigeria before and after full nationhood”. See Nkwocha v.

Governor of Anambra State (1984) 6 S.C. 362, at 363. All these indicate the active debate scholars and jurists are engaged in over the provisions of the LUA, and demonstrate the contro-versial nature of the Act – promulgated by a military dictatorship, and against the majority opinion of a Panel set up by itself to study and make recommendations on land reform.


There is no agreement on the interpretation of this provision. Some of the views considered here are only representative of the diversity of views on its meaning. One view is that by the tenor of this provision individuals and communities have been divested of their ownership rights over land without transferring it to anyone, save that the governor is made trustee of it; “one now finds it difficult to know where ownership of land lies or whether there is now any kind of ownership of land still existing.”

70 This may be contrasted with

another view which sees the governor of a state as the new owner of all lands comprised in the territory of the state: “Section 1 of the Act takes away absolute ownership of land from the citizens and vests it in the governor”.

71 Notwithstanding their difference, both views

agree that customary landowners have lost their pre-existing rights under customary land tenure system. There is some measure of support for both views, even in judicial decisions, particularly for the second one. Nevertheless the second view has been obliquely attacked. It has been contended that the “vesting provision” (section 1) is ineffective without first divesting existing owners of their absolute title.

72 This argument relies on the authority of the

decision in Sir Adetokunbo Ademola v. John Ammo,73

where the court held that no certificate of occupancy can be validly issued in respect of a land which is in the possession of another without first revoking the title of the original occupier. The implication of this argument is that customary owners are still holding land under customary land tenure system, as section 1 of the LUA did not first divest them of their original title. This argument was judicially approved in the case of Aina Co. Ltd. v. Commissioner for Lands

and Housing, Oyo State.74

After rejecting the contention of a state counsel that the land in dispute had become vested in the state by virtue of the provisions of the LUA, the learned judge observed:

“The fact that the defendants [Oyo state Government] are now showing an intention to acquire plaintiff/company’s land by means of [Notice of Acquisition] shows beyond reasonable doubt that the property in dispute was not vested in the governor…since 1st October 1979 we had returned to the land tenures that obtained in Oyo state prior to the enactment of the Land Use Act; only we were slow to realize that fact.”

75

70

Ajomo, supra n. 17, at p. 340. 71

Omotola, supra n. 49, at p. 57. 72

Emiola, Land Use Act 1978: The Unanswered Questions, (1984) Nigerian Current Law Review 169, at p. 169.

73 (1982) Suit No. AB/8/81 of 2 August 1982 (unreported).

74 7, University of Ife Law Reports 337.

75 At p. 346.

215

There is a line of judicial decisions which contradicts the above pronouncement, and supports the view that state governors are now the new owners of land. Two cases may be used to illustrate this fact. The first case is Akinloye v. Oyejide,

76 where the judge expressed

the following view:

“In my humble opinion…the use of the word ‘vested’ in section 1 of the Land Use Act 1978 has the effect of transferring to the governor of a state the ownership of all land in that state…On the literal reading of the Land Use Act 1978, I am of the view, and I so hold, that the intelligible result is to deprive citizens of this country of their ownership in land and vest same in the respective governors. The presumption that the law maker does not desire to confiscate the property, or to encroach upon the rights of persons is, in my view, rebutted on the clear and unambiguous provision of the Act.”

77

The other case,78

which was a decision of the Court of Appeal,79

appears even more direct on the effect of the LUA on customary land tenure system. Speaking on this issue, their Lordships said:

“The ownership and title to lands in Nigeria is now vested in the governors of the various states of the federation for the benefit of all Nigerians as a whole. Communal and individual title ownership (sic) to land is now a thing of the past. The conception of land being in the family for the past, present and future members of it is no longer valid…The freedom of alienation and dealing with the land which was vested in the heads of the family or traditional authorities is now vested in the government…”

80

The confusion engendered by these conflicting views, particularly in judicial decisions, is apparent. It was under this situation that the Supreme Court (the highest court of the country) moved in the case of Abioye v. Yakubu

81 to reconcile the conflicting views. The

central question in that case was “whether, having regard to the provisions of the Land Use Act 1978, customary owners are entitled to be granted declaration of title to a parcel of land

76

Suit No. HCJ/9A/81 of 17/7/81 (reported in Omotola, Cases on the Land Use Act, Lagos, 1983, p. 146.

77 At pp. 149-150.

78 L.S.D.P.C. v. Foreign Finance Corporation (1987) 1 N.W.L.R. (Part 50) 413.

79 In the Nigerian judicial hierarchy, the Court of Appeal is the intermediate court between the High

Courts (States and federal) and the Supreme Court (which is the highest court of the country). Together these courts constitute the superior courts of records of Nigeria. Unlike other federal states, the Court of Appeal and the Nigerian Supreme Court have country-wide appellate jurisdic-tion on all issues.

80 At p. 444. Adeoye disagrees with this statement and urges the “need to be cautious in awarding

the Land Use Act a sweeping effect”. Adeoye, The nature of the right of occupancy under the Land Use Act, 1978, in: Omotola (ed.), Issues in Nigerian Law, supra n. 68, p. 105, at p. 114.

81 (1991) 5 N.W.L.R. (Part 190) 130.


against their customary tenants.”82

After elaborate proceedings in which the court had sought the assistance of senior lawyers as amici curie, the court held, inter alia, as follows:

– that the Land Use Act has removed the radical title in land from individual Nigerians, families, and communities and vested the same in the governor of each state of the federation in the federation in trust for the use and benefit of all Nigerians (leaving individuals, etc., with ‘rights of occupancy’); and

– that the Act has also removed the control and management of lands from family and community heads/chiefs and vested the same in the governors of each state of the federation (in the case of urban lands) and in the appropriate local government (in the case of rural lands). It should be observed that this decision accords with the Court of Appeal decision in the case stated above. It also accords with an earlier decision of the Supreme Court where the court had pointedly said:

“This appeal deals with the interpretation of some of the provisions of the Land Use Act 1978. Since the promulgation of the Act by the military administration of General Obasanjo in 1978, the vast majority of Nigerians have been unaware that the Act swept away all the unlimited rights and interests they had in their lands and substituted them with very limited rights and rigid control of the use of their limited rights by the … governors … This appeal … will bring the revolutionary effect of the act to the deep and painful awareness of many … Section 1 of the Act has made no secret of the intention and purpose of the law. It declared land in each state of the federation shall be vested in the … governor of each state.”

83

Now, what is the “revolutionary effect of the LUA” which has been brought to the “deep and painful awareness” of the Niger Delta people? This is the subject of the next section.

82

Per Bello, C.J.N., at 184. A ‘customary tenant’ is a tenant from year to year liable under custom-ary law to pay rents or tribute to the landlord for the use of the land and barred from alienating the land without consent or disputing the title of the landlord. (Ibid, at 225). Although oil companies recognised oil-bearing communities as their landlords and paid an agreed ‘annual rent’, the rela-tionship was never that of landlord and customary tenant, although they share many features; it was more of that of English tenancy.

83 Savannah Bank (Nig.) Ltd. v. Ajilo, supra n. 69, at 214 per Obaseki, J.S.C. Cf. Ojemen v.

Momodu II (1983) 3 S.C. 173, at 214, where Obaseki, J.S.C. after rejecting the appellants coun-sel’s submission that since the Land Use Act vested all lands in the state in the governor of the state from 29 March 1978, the Irrua community (respondents) from that date ceased to have inter-est in the land in dispute, said: “As the Irrua community is entitled to own property [land], there is nothing in the [Land Use Act] to prevent the community from applying for the issue of a certifi-cate of occupancy by the appropriate authority….” (Italics mine).

217

3. Impact of the Land Use Act on the Niger Delta People

It has been observed that: “It is…beyond the direct powers of the legislators to determine the impact of their laws, for the effects of legislation are conditioned by a multitude of agencies and processes only some of which fall within the purview of the state. The distinction between legislative intention and legislation’s effects is an impact of the disjunction between the national and the local; between the state’s pretensions and the community’s impermeability; or, in their normative aspects, between ‘law’ and ‘custom’.”

84

In any case, where a legislation produces an unintended effect or works hardship, an occasion arises for the repeal or amendment of the legislation in order to end the unintended result or injustice. As we shall see presently, it seems the occasion has arisen for the repeal of the LUA. For convenience, the impact of the LUA on the Niger Delta people will be discussed under two sub-heads, viz: (1) Loss of power by traditional authorities; and (2) Loss of right to compensation. These will be considered in turn. 3.1. Loss of power by traditional authorities

As has been pointed out above, one of the most important features of customary land tenure system is the power (and right) of management and control entrusted with the community’s Headman or chief (usually the oldest surviving male member of the community). As manager, it is he who allocates portions of the land to members of the community and to non-members/strangers

85 for their personal use, usually for farming purposes or for

building residential houses; he protects the land against all intruders and receives any compensation or other money on behalf of the land. In allocating portions of the land to members of the family, he is usually guided by the requirements of fairness and justice; he ensures that nobody is cheated. As it relates to oil operations, prior to 1978, oil companies sought and obtained the consent of the Head of a community upon terms to pay adequate compensation for any damage to surface rights and compensation (annual rents) for the use of their land. It is important to note that if any member had any complaint against another member or a stranger, particularly as it relates to farmland (the people are traditionally subsistence farmers and fishermen) he brought it before the Headman who looked into the matter and settled it. It appears sometimes the complaint related to damage arising from oil spill

84

Francis, supra n. 59, at p. 5. 85

Sometimes as ‘customary tenants’.


(which is a common phenomenon in the Niger Delta). Available information shows that the local people invariably gave power of attorney to their Headman to pursue their claims

86

(which usually included damage to surface rights and to the land in its intrinsic state). Before 1978 successful ‘individual claims’ were paid to the beneficiary while ‘common claims’ were shared amongst members of the community in a way that ensures justice for all.

87 This way, the traditional authorities helped to maintain social cohesion.

Now, as Abioye’s case indicates, the traditional authorities (Chiefs/Headmen) have lost their traditional rights and powers of management and control of land. This is the direct result of section 2(1) of the LUA which provides that

“as from the commencement of this Act”- (a) all land in urban areas shall be under the control and management of the military governor [now interpreted to include civilian governors] of each state; (b) all other land shall, subject to this Decree [Act], be under the control and management of the local government within the area of jurisdiction of which the land is situated.”

Having regard to the important role of traditional authorities as earlier stated, it is hardly surprising that at a very early stage the traditional authorities saw the Act as “an attempt to bring chaos into the country”.

88 The implication of this statement is that the LUA has the

potential of causing social disruption and disorder in community life. This is true because available evidence indicates that among the native people of southern Nigeria the subject of land is a sensitive.

89 For instance, with respect to the Yoruba people of South-western

Nigeria, it has been observed long ago that “there is no subject in which the Yoruba is more sensitive than that of land. These normally quiet and submissive people can be roused into violent action of desperation if once they perceive that it is intended to deprive them of their land.”

90 This observation is equally true of the Niger Delta people.

91 In fact, only

recently, the representatives of four Ijaw communities of the Nigeria Delta indicated in a signed statement that they are ready to defend their ‘God-given right’ to their land “with our blood”.

92

86

Records in the office of Ebeku & Ebeku (Legal Practitioners and Consultants), Port Harcourt, Nigeria.

87 Personal interview with some traditional authorities in Ekpeye-land, Rivers State (February,

2000). 88

Daily Times, 8 April 1978. 89

Green, Land Tenure in an Ibo Village, 1941, p. 2. 90

Johnson, The History of the Yorubas, 1921, p. 96. 91

See Kaiama Declaration, 1978. 92

See Annual Report of the Civil Liberties Organisation, Lagos, 1997, 205-6.

219

Today, as the traditional authorities have lost their rights and powers, and therefore unable to effectively manage complaints,

93 violent actions and social disharmony have become

endemic in the Niger Delta.94

From all indications, this is the direct result of the loss of their land rights and is directly related to the injustice of loss of right to compensation which is the subject of the next section. 3.2. Loss of right to compensation

Compensation may be said to be a suitable payment in return for loss or damage. This can be achieved by way of negotiation, arbitration or litigation.

95 Perhaps it is in recognition of

the need for recompense that the Petroleum Act96

(under which compulsory acquisitions of land for oil operations - by the power of eminent domain - was made prior to the enactment of the LUA) made provisions for the payment of adequate compensation to owners of land

93

Some members of the communities suspect the incapacitated traditional authorities of collaborat-ing with the government and the oil companies to oppress and cheat them or being too passive. See Tempo Newsmagazine, June 1999.

94 Violent actions have never been associated with the Niger Delta people; they had been a peaceful,

organised and friendly people. Before the imposition of colonialism in late 19th century, they had engaged in friendly relations and trade with Europeans for centuries, especially between the 15th and 18th centuries. It was their trade in palm oil that earned them their colonial name ‘Oil Rivers’. See Dike, Trade and Politics in the Niger Delta, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1956.

95 Negotiation and arbitration are peaceful ways of settling compensation claims. But often the oil

multi-national giants refuse or fail to settle claims by either of these means, even when they do not dispute that some damage has been done to the property of the claimants. In nine out of ten cases, the victims are too poor to pursue their claims in court, and so remain without compensation. Even in the rare cases when the victims go to the court their resources to fight their cause cannot match those of the oil multi-nationals and often they lose their case on technical grounds. The recent case of The Shell Petroleum Development Company (Nig.) Ltd. v. Ambah [1993] 3 N.W.L.R. (Part 593) 1, exemplifies this point. The oil company had refused to negotiate compen-sation with a family whose property had been damaged by the activities of their agents. The victims went to the court to seek justice, but their case tethered at the Supreme court on proce-dural obstacles – the Supreme Court overturned their victory at both the trial court and the Court of Appeal, purely on technical grounds (insufficiency of pleadings by their counsel). In his judgement, the trial court had observed: “I shall not conclude this judgement without saying that the defendant ought not to allow this case to go to court. It is a matter they ought to have negoti-ated and settled out of court as it appears to me that they have no defence whatsoever to this action.” (Ibid, at p. 9). Under the Land Use Act, any dispute over compensation for land compul-sorily acquired for the activities of oil companies is to be settled by an administrative body and not by the court. See sections 30 and 47(2).

96 See Petroleum Regulations, 1969, section 17(1)(c). This Regulation was made under the Petro-

leum Act 1969 (Cap 350, LFN 1990).


compulsorily acquired for the purposes of oil operations.97

Besides, as earlier noted, prior to 1978 where land was not compulsorily acquired by the government and an oil company had to negotiate with community land owners for access to land for oil operations, it settled the amount of compensation (annual rent) it had to pay to the community for the use of the land in its intrinsic nature (oil operations may result to a total loss of use of the affected portion of land by the land owners). Additionally the oil company had to pay compensation for any damage to surface rights (e.g. farm crops or building). In this case, compensation must be fair and adequate

98 and its payment is consistent with fairness and justice.

99

To put it metaphorically, payment of compensation is a soothing balm to oil-bearing/land-owning communities. Significantly, any dispute over the issue of compensation was decided by a court of law.

100 On the whole, oil-bearing communities had some sense of

relief when compensation is paid to them. With regard to payment of compensation in the sense of annual rent, they additionally felt some sense of participation in the exploitation of oil resources located in their lands (it should be remembered that by statutory provisions they are not entitled to any rent or royalty for the exploitation of oil). Moreover oil companies recognised oil-bearing communities as their landlords and this carried with it some minimal ‘privileges’: employment of some community members as security-men for oil installations and the award of small contracts (mostly the maintenance of oil pipelines by keeping them free from weeds).

101

Since the enactment of the LUA in 1978, acquisition of land is now done under the Act.

102

The Act provides for the revocation of a right of occupancy by the governor of a state for “overriding public interest”, in that it is required for mining purposes or oil pipelines or for

97

See also section 11(5) of the Oil Pipelines Act 1956 (Cap 338 of the Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition).

98 See paragraph 36 of schedule 1 to the Petroleum Act. See further, Shell Petroleum Development

Co. v. Farah [1995] 3 NWLR (Part 382) 148, at 198. Also, Adewale, Oil Spill Compensation Claims in Nigeria: Principles, Guidelines and Criteria, (1989) J.A.L. 91, at p. 93.

99 See generally Horn v. Sunderland (1941) 1 All E.R.166; (1941) 1 All E.R. 480 (Appeal).

100 Ekemike, Understanding the Nigerian Land Use Decree: Its Uses and abuses, Kems, Benin-city, 1978. See also, Aghenghen v. Wahgoreghor (1974) All NLR 74; Okwusa v. Adizua (1977) 1 IMSLR 217; Nzekwu v. Attorney-General, East-Central State (1972) NLR 543.

101 Ironically some of these ‘favours’ were used by the oil companies to divide and rule the people. Even so, today, contractors are known to have been brought outside the oil-bearing communities to do these menial jobs.

102 Section 31 of the Land Use Act provides: “The provisions of the Public Lands Acquisition (Mis-cellaneous Provisions) Act shall not apply in respect of any land vested in , or taken over by, the Governor or any Local Government pursuant to this Act or the right of occupancy to which is revoked under the provisions of this Act but shall continue to apply in respect of land compulso-rily acquired before the commencement of this Act.” See also section 48; Governor of Kaduna

State v. Dada [1986] 4 N.W.L.R. (part 38) 687.

221

any purpose connected therewith.103

When this is done, the law provides for the payment of compensation to the ‘holder’ and ‘occupier’ “under the appropriate provisions of the Minerals Act

104 or the Petroleum Act

105 or any legislation replacing the same”.

106 Under

section 77 of the Minerals Act, any person prospecting or mining shall pay to the ‘owner or occupier’

107 of private land “such sums as may be a fair and reasonable compensation for

any disturbance of the surface rights of such owner or occupier and for any damage done to the surface of the land upon which his prospecting or mining is being or has been carried on and shall in addition pay to the owner of any crops, economic trees, buildings or works damaged, removed or destroyed by him or by any agent or servant of his compensation for such damage, removal or destruction”.

108 The appropriate provision of the Petroleum Act is

similar to this.109

Even so section 29(3) of the Act gives a discretion to the governor of a state to decide who receives the money (and possibly how it may be utilised). It would be recalled that under the prevailing customary land tenure system before 1978, any such compensation would be paid to the traditional authority of the community concerned for the benefit of the community. Quoted in extenso, section 29(3) provides:

“If the holder entitled to compensation under this section is a community the governor may direct that any compensation payable to it shall be paid- to the community; or to the chief or leader of the community to be disposed of by him for the benefit of the community in accordance with the applicable customary law; or

103

Sections 28 (1) and (2)(c). There are other grounds for revocation set out in the Act. See sections 28 and 29.

104 1946 (Cap 226 of the Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition).

105 1969 (Cap 350 of the Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition).

106 Section 29(2). Where revocation was done on any other ground, the ‘holder’ and ‘occupier’ shall be entitled to compensation “for the value at the date of revocation of their unexhausted improve-ments.”

107 This expression conflicts with ‘holder’ and ‘occupier’ which is used in the Land Use Act. Unlike the Minerals Act, it would appear that the Land Use Act envisages the payment of compensation to two classes of persons. To this extent, this may be considered as a modification of the former. For the view that the compensation provision of the Minerals Act does not apply to oil operations, see Adewale, “oil spill compensation Claims in Nigeria: Principles, Guidelines and Criteria” [1989] J.A.L. 91, at 92. With respect, the view was misconceived.

108 From the tenor of section 28 of the Land Use Act – “If a right of occupancy is revoked for mining purposes or oil pipelines or for any purpose connected therewith” – it would appear that this pro-vision is inapplicable to damage caused by oil operations; for then the land has already been acquired for such purposes.

109 See paragraph 36 of schedule 1 to the Petroleum Act.


into some fund specified by the governor for the purpose of being utilized or applied for the benefit of the community.”

110

It would appear that this provision is a confirmation of the view held in some quarters that the governor of a state is the new owner of all the land comprised in the territory of the state.

111 As could be observed, the provision speaks of holder and not owner (of a right of

occupancy – new interest in land created by the LUA). The result is that, like oil rights, land rights are now vested in the state. This situation has been described by an observer as nationalization of land. In his words, “the meaning and effect of vesting all lands in the government is that private ownership is hereby abolished and the title of the former private owners transferred to the government.”

112 Available evidence indicates that compensation

for land compulsorily acquired under the Act are now paid to the governor of the state concerned and not to the community Headman as before.

113 In the result, the communities

hardly receive any portion of the money paid or have any useful thing done for them out of the compensation. A source claims that state governors now feel communities are no longer entitled to compensation as of right since they no longer own any land.

114 Maybe this is an

aspect of the ‘revolutionary effect of the LUA’ on the oil-bearing, peasant communities of the Niger Delta which the Supreme Court alluded to in one of its decisions mentioned above. Apart from compensation for land compulsorily acquired, the issue of compensation can also arise in the course of oil operations. For example, damage arising out of oil pollution.

110

Compare section 21 of the Oil Pipelines Act which provides: “Where the interests injuriously affected are those of a local community, the court may order the compensation to be paid to any chief, headman or member of that community on behalf of such community or that it be paid in accordance with a scheme of distribution approved by the court or that it be paid into a fund to be administered by a person approved by the court on trust for application to the general, social or educational benefit and advancement of that community or any section thereof.”

111 See the section on Land Tenure and the Land Use Act, above.

112 Nwabueze, Nationalization of Land in Nigeria – Paper delivered at the annual Bar Dinner of the Nigerian Bar Association, Onitsha Branch, on 8 December 1984. In an earlier dictum in Nkwocha v. Governor of Anambra State, supra, Eso, J.S.C. had said “the tenor of the Land Use Act as a single piece of legislation is the nationalization of all lands in the country by the vesting of its ownership in the state, leaving the private individuals with an interest in land which is a mere right of occupancy” (at 404).


114 Ajomo, supra n. 17, at p. 338: “Compensation, sometimes called rent by the recipients, had from time belonged to individuals or communities, owners of land on which petroleum operations were being carried out. But because the LUA has vested the management and control of land in the governor, he now feels that is to him that the compensation should be paid rather than the com-munity or the families who owned the land before the Act came into force…Recently some gover-nors have cited the LUA as justifying this right being claimed by them”. See also Frynas, supra n. 51, at p. 78.

223

It is a notorious fact that oil operations (activities of the oil industry) involve the risk of oil pollution. As has been pointed out, “the threats of pollution are real. Their economic consequences are real. Their health consequences are real. There are sufficient data to make strong cases based on facts.”

115 In fact, studies suggest that the Niger Delta is a case study

in pollution; there are all conceivable types of pollution in the Niger Delta.116

Of all, gas flare and oil pollution (arising from oil spill) appear to be the most serious. According to a recent World Bank report on the Niger Delta, “oil development can degrade the environment, impair human health and precipitate social disruptions.”

117

When pollution occurs it is only fair and just that ‘adequate compensation’

118 should be

paid to the victims.119

However, notwithstanding the great nuisance and health risks involved in constant gas flare

120 (which is an aspect of oil pollution), there is no evidence

that oil companies in Nigeria had ever paid compensation to the victims. The phenomenon and the evil of gas flare in the Niger Delta were admirably stated in a recent study

121, thus:

“Gas flaring has been the most constant environmental damage because in many places it has been going on 24 hours a day for over 35 years. There are hundreds of gas flares throughout the Niger Delta. It affects plant life, pollutes the air, pollutes the surface water and as it burns, it changes to other gases which are not very safe. It also results in acid rain. With the pullout of Shell from Ogoniland, gas flaring has stopped in 4 of the 5 flow-stations. Where the gas flaring has stopped, people were able to see a difference

115

Josephs, Environ. Sci. Tech. 1: 525 (1967) – quoted in Hodges, Environmental Pollution, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, Inc., New York, 1973, vii.

116 Hutchful, supra n. 21, at pp. 113-140.

117 World Bank, Defining An Environmental Strategy For the Niger Delta, 1995, Vol. 1, 81.

118 The expression ‘Adequate compensation’ means “just value of property taken under power of eminent domain payable in money. Market value of property when taken. It may include interest and may include the cost or value of the property in the owner for the purposes for which he designed it. Such only as puts injured party in as good a condition as he would have been if injury had not been inflicted”. (Italics mine). See Shell Petroleum Development Co. v. Farah [1995] 3 NWLR (Part 382) 148, at 199.

119 See Paragraph 36 of schedule 1 to the Petroleum Act; section 11(5) of the Oil Pipelines Act 1956 (Cap 338 of the Laws of the Federation of Nigeria 1990 Edition). See also paragraph 23 of the Petroleum (Drilling and Production) Regulations 1969 (made under section 9 of the Petroleum Act 1969, Cap 350 LFN 1990 Edition).

120 “As a byproduct of oil production, Nigeria flares more gas than any other country in the would; most of it from the Niger Delta. About 88% of the associated gas is flared…Considering the low combustion efficiency of Nigerian flares (80%) a large portion of the gas is vented mainly as methane…Based on the much higher global warming potential of methane…the significance of the Nigerian gas flares is considerable.” Mofatt / Linden, Perception and Reality: Assessing Priorities for Sustainable Development in the Niger Delta, (1995) 24, Ambio 527, at p. 533. (Ambio is the Magazine of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences).

121 Robinson, supra n. 32, at p. 28.


in their vegetation; farm yields are better than before. The people did not know what it was like to live without Shell. It is only now that the people in these areas can see what type of environmental devastation the gas flaring had been causing for the past 35 years…”

122

In the case of oil pollution (arising from crude oil spill) scientific evidence has shown that it can cause long-lasting or permanent damage to the land itself (e.g. loss of fertility

123).

124

In which case it may represent a permanent or great loss of use to those who depend on it for their livelihood.

125 Yet, according to sources, since the enactment of the LUA whenever

the oil companies accept liability for oil spill,126

they only pay ‘compensation’ for any surface rights (like farm crops) and not for the land itself.

127 “Meanwhile, the people would

have suffered huge and untold losses. Apart from the health risks to which they are exposed by pollution, they suffer losses of economic activities. Fishing activity suffers as fish die

122

At p. 28. See also Hutchful, supra n. 21, at p. 118. 123

According to one observer, “oil-spill contamination of the top soil may render the soil unsuitable for plant growth by reducing the availability of nutrients (for example, nitrogen), or by increasing toxic contents in the soil; heavily contaminated soil may remain unusable for months or years until the oil has degraded to tolerable levels.” Odu, Degradation and Weathering of Crude Oil under Tropical conditions, 1981 (cited in Hutchful, supra n. 21, at p. 118).

124 See generally, Gundlach / Hayes / Getter, Sensitivity of Coastal Environments to Oil Spill, 1981 (cited in Hutchful, above, at p. 116). See also, Hutchful, above, at p. 118.

125 Studies following the 1972 oil spill at Shell’s Bomu-11 field, which affected 242.8 hectares of farming land close to settlements, indicated that “whereas the less highly polluted soils were returned to production in less than one and half years, the heavily contaminated soils took several years to recover.” Hutchful, above, at p. 118.

126 Almost invariably oil companies deny responsibility for oil pollution, alleging sabotage by mem-bers of the community. They hardly agree that equipment failure could have been responsible for oil spills. But available evidence indicates that equipment failure is a major cause of oil spills in Nigeria. For instance, in a study in 1981 it was found that between 1976 and 1980, Nigeria recorded a total of 784 spills involving 1 336 875 barrels of crude oil, out of which equipment failure accounted for 50% of the spills. Awobajo, An analysis of Oil Spill incidents in Nigeria: 1976-1980 – Paper presented at the seminar on the Petroleum Industry and the Nigerian Environ-ment, organised by the NNPC at the Petroleum Training Institute, Warri, 9-12 November 1981. A recent statement by Shell Petroleum Development Company of Nigeria (SPDC) indicates that there is no basis for denying the great role of equipment failure in frequent oil spills in the Niger Delta: “The challenge that SPDC faces is that a major part of its infrastructure for many of its largest fields were built in the 1960s and 1970s, using the best oil industry practices available at the time. Many of them were due for refurbishment and upgrade in the mid 1980s to meet current standards. However, this coincided with the period of collapse in oil prices and revenues (…) although some maintenance programmes slipped then, the gap between previous standards and those of the present day are fully recognised. SPDC is addressing this through an upgrade pro-gramme of facilities-flowlines, flowstations and terminals.” See http://www.shellnigeria.com/ shell/devastation_rhs.asp.

127 Constitutional Rights Projects: Land, Oil and Human Rights in Nigeria’s Delta Region, 1999, 16. See further Adewale, supra n. 107, at p. 95 (footnote 31).

225

from pollution or migrate elsewhere. Farmers are dislodged from the soil they have been using for so many years and all of these losses are not adequately addressed by either the compensation paid or the system of paying compensation.”

128

Their contention is that “the communities own neither the surface of the land nor what is beneath”.

129 This attitude is typified by a recent statement by Shell oil company: “As a

responsible Nigerian company SPDC [Shell Petroleum Development Company] obeys the laws of the country, one of which is the Land Use Decree of 1978 which vests ownership of all land with the government (sic)…Today we give compensation for the surface rights of all land acquired for our use and for damage…from subsequent activity, including oil spills…”

130 The implication of this statement is that the present attitude of the oil

companies is informed by the provisions of the LUA. A source indicates that even the so-called ‘compensation’ for surface rights does not meet the requirements of fairness and justice – it is not fair and adequate.

131

It appears the impact of the LUA on the Niger Delta people ranges beyond the two ‘broad’ issues considered above. Perhaps the full amplitude of injustice which the LUA is visiting on the Niger Delta people would be better appreciated if the following facts are considered:

132

Disputes over quantum of compensation payable for land compulsorily acquired under the Act or other issues connected therewith are to be settled administratively

133 (and not by the

courts as before134

) by a statutory body called Land Use and Allocation Committee,135

128

Constitutional Rights Projects, above, at 16. 129

Ibid. 130

Quoted in Robinson, supra n. 32, at p. 37. 131

“If the claim is in respect of farmland…each crop is given a value. Although the value given to each crop is approved by the government, this value also depends on a number of factors. This includes the age of the crop, the size of the crop, i.e. whether it is young, medium or mature…It means that the value given to these crops is not fixed. There is the need to review the mode of assessing these crops. What should be given to the claimant is the amount he would have obtained from the crops if it had matured and not been damaged by the oil spill”. (Italics mine). Adewale, supra n. 107, at p. 96. See also Okigbo, Report of the Presidential Commission on Revenue Allo-cation, Vol.111, Federal Government Printer, Apapa, Lagos, 1980.

132 Although some of the factual situation stated here may not be the direct result of the enactment of the LUA, it is arguable that the LUA presents additional burden to the people.

133 See Sections 2(2)(c ) and 30. It appears these provisions were borrowed from or influenced by section 78 of the Minerals Act (Cap 226 LFN 1990).

134 Section 11(5) of the Oil Pipelines Act provides that if the amount of compensation to be paid to a land owner is not agreed between him and an oil company, “it shall be fixed by a court in accor-dance with Part IV of this Act”. See also Ekemike, Understanding the Nigerian Land Use Decree: Its uses and abuses, Kems, Benin-city, 1978.


members of which are appointed by the appropriate state governors (who are known to be in alliance with the multi-national oil companies and against the communities

136). There is

no statutory provision to ensure the independence and impartiality of these bodies. In fact, a provision indicates that they are under the control and direction of the governors: “The Land Use and Allocation Committee shall,…subject to such directions as may be given in that regard by the governor…have power to regulate its proceedings”.

137 Perhaps ex

abundanti cautela section 47(2) of the Act expressly ousts the jurisdiction of the courts: “No court shall have jurisdiction to inquire into any question concerning or pertaining to the amount or adequacy of any compensation paid or to be paid under this act.” Oil-bearing communities of the Niger Delta are traditionally fishermen and farmers and depend on the land for their livelihood. Oil pollution (which occurs frequently

138) can

cause serious or permanent damage to the land itself. There is evidence that farm yields are now poor in the region because of the effect of pollution on the land. As has been stated, one commentator has noted, “gas flaring has been associated with reduced crop yield and plant growth on nearby farms, as well as disruption of wildlife in the immediate vicinity.”

139

Several years of unsustainable exploitation of oil has devastated the local environment, thereby depriving the people of the optimum use of their lands and waters. This point is captured by this observation: “Environmental pollution from the oil industry has had far-reaching effects on the organization of peasant life and production. In addition to the effects of spills on mangroves…spills of crude, dumping of by-products from exploration, exploitation and refining operations (often in freshwater environments) and, overflowing of oily wastes in burrow pits during heavy rains has had deleterious effects on bodies of

135

The relevant section provides that “where there arises any dispute as to the amount of compensa-tion…such dispute shall be referred to the appropriate Land Use and Allocation Committee”. (Section 30).

136 See Osaghae, The Ogoni Uprising: Oil politics, Minority Agitation and the Future of the Nigerian State, African Affairs (1995), 94, p. 325, at p. 342. See further Frynas, supra n. 59, at pp. 54-58.

137 Section 2(4). As long as the governors are in alliance with the oil companies, it means the oil companies are acting as a judge in their own cause, in violation of the rules of natural justice.

138 According to the official estimates of the Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC), a total of appropriately 2300 m3 of oil is spilt in 300 separate incidents annually. “However, as the oil companies [including the NNPC] frequently underestimate the quantity of oil spilt and a large number of other spills go unreported, the total volume of oil spilt may be 10 times higher than the official figure.” Moffat / Linden, supra n.120, at 532. See also Awobajo, An Analysis of oil spill incidents in Nigeria: 1976-1980 – Paper presented at the seminar on the Petroleum Industry and the Nigerian Environment, organised by the NNPC at the Petroleum Training Institute, Warri, 9-12 November 1981.

139 Robinson, supra n. 32, at p. 28. See also Hutchful, Oil Companies and Environmental Pollution in Nigeria, at p. 118.

227

surface water used for drinking, fishing and other household and industrial purposes. The percolation of industrial wastes (drilling and production fluids, buried solid wastes, as well as spills of crude) into the soil contaminates ground water aquifers.”

140 The impact of the

Funiwa-5141

oil blow-out on the affected areas illustrates this observation. Investigations at Fishtown (one of the impacted areas) eighteen months after the blow-out showed the top soil and ground water still contaminated.

142 Yet all these are not counted in the assessment

of damages due to the victims under the LUA. Since oil is statutorily and exclusively vested in the state, oil-bearing communities of the Niger Delta are not entitled to rents and royalties paid for the exploitation of oil in their lands by the oil companies. Annual land rent was an important way by which the people partook in oil revenue. The Niger Delta people are ‘minority groups’

143 in the Nigerian federation and there is no

constitutional or other legal provision guaranteeing them access to political power at the centre where they can take or partake in decisions on how oil revenue can be utilized. Annual land appeared to be their only consolation. The Niger Delta remains undeveloped despite the enormous revenue derived by the Nigerian state from the exploitation of oil in their homestead. According to a recent World Bank report, “of the resources available in the Niger Delta, oil is by far the most valuable to the national economy. However, the benefits to the Niger Delta region is less obvious.”

144

It seems the situation is worse today since they are no longer considered as stakeholders in any sense whatsoever. The Niger Delta people are amongst the poorest people in Nigeria, despite the huge revenue derived from oil exploited from their lands. This poverty is accentuated by the despoliation of their lands by the activities of the oil companies. In the words of an observer: “Ironically, the oil industry which has brought development to many parts of Nigeria, has

140

Hutchful, Oil Companies and Environmental Pollution in Nigeria, at p. 118. 141

The Funiwa-5 blow-out was a major oil spill in Nigeria in the early 1980s; the quantity of oil spilled was enormous and the damage it caused was extensive. Yet the oil companies concerned showed great insensitivity and inhumanity on the handling of the spill and on the issue of com-pensation. For a case-study of that incident, see Hutchful, Oil Companies and Environmental Pollution in Nigeria, at 124-135.

142 Oteri, Effect of oil spills on Groundwater, 1981 (cited in Hutchful, Oil Companies and Environ-mental Pollution in Nigeria, at p. 118.

143 See Osaghae, Ethnic Minorities and Federalism in Nigeria, (1991) 90, African Affairs, 237-258, esp. at pp. 248-258.

144 World Bank, Defining An Environmental Strategy For the Niger Delta, at p. 81.


become a source of misery to the people of oil-producing communities whose existence is now threatened by the scourge of oil pollution.”

145

There is an alliance between the Nigerian state (controlled by the majority ethnic groups) and the oil companies which helps to deprive the Niger Delta people of employment in the oil companies, with the result that unemployment abound in the Niger Delta. Annual rents compensation had been a source of some income for the people. Since the enactment of the LUA, the oil companies no longer approach the communities to negotiate access to land for oil operations, on terms of payment of compensation, as was the case before.

146 In fact, “it is possible for the government to acquire a vast area of land

for petroleum purposes, i.e. granting the operator a lease over a large area, yet the villages will know nothing about the acquisition”

147; they wake up one morning to find that the

government has given out their farmland to oil operators.148

Hence the feeling of participation in the exploitation of oil found in their land has been lost and this has accentuated a sense of deprivation. Protests over the injustice of the LUA by the Niger Delta people had been met with gross violation of human rights by the government. Several lives have been lost in clashes between protesters and government security agencies.

149

In enacting the Land Use Act, the federal government showed bias against the Niger Delta people by ignoring a positive recommendation of the Land Use Panel which it had set up to make recommendations for land reform. The panel had recommended that the “federal government should take a serious look at the effects of oil exploration and exploitation” with a view to “improving the quantum of compensation payable to land owners” and to compelling oil companies into “complete reclamation” of all leased land.

150 This

recommendation was borne out of their findings in the Niger Delta.

145

Okonmah, supra n. 21, at p. 43. 146

Cf. Frynas, supra n. 51, at p. 77. 147

Adewale, supra n. 107, at p. 95 (footnote 31). 148

Often some portion of the land is fenced and barred to ‘trespassers’. 149

See Human Rights Watch, The Price of Oil – Corporate Responsibility and Human Rights Viola-tions in Nigeria’s Oil-Producing Communities, Human Rights Watch, New York, 1999.

150 See Report of the Land Use Panel, 1977.

229

Because they no longer pay compensation for any damage to the land itself, the oil companies have tended to be more reckless in their operations in the Niger Delta.

151

As we shall see presently, the Niger Delta people see the impact of the LUA on them as bordering on expropriation

152and injustice.

153 It would appear that they are not rid of the

conviction that oil belongs to them, being traditionally part of their land. Hence they are struggling for justice: to regain possession of their ‘seized’ property; to end the despoliation of their environment by reckless oil operations. Two instances will illustrate this point. Firstly, in 1993 the Ogoni ethnic group of the Niger Delta boycotted a presidential election on the argument that “Ogoni should not give legitimacy to a president who would swear to uphold a constitution [the LUA has been part of the Nigerian constitution since 1979] that dispossessed Ogoni people of their natural rights.”

154 They have even taken their case to

several international bodies.155

The second instance relates to a recent action by some dissatisfied youths of the Niger Delta. On 11 December 1998, Ijaw youths organisations gathered under the umbrella of Ijaw Youths Congress (IYC) at a place called Kaiama and issued a Declaration which they called ‘Kaiama Declaration’

156. Part of this Declaration

reads:157

“All lands and natural resources (including mineral resources) within the Ijaw territory belong to the Ijaw communities and are the basis of our survival…We cease to recognise all undemocratic Decrees that rob our peoples/communities of the right to ownership and control of our lives and resources, which were enacted without our participation and consent. These include the Land Use Decree and the Petroleum Decree, etc…”

These two instances appear to aptly illustrate the observation of a learned author in a similar context:

151

The annual Reports of the Civil Liberties Organisation and those of other non-governmental organisations are replete with reports of the devastation of operational lands.

152 For arguments whether or not the Land Use Act expropriates, see: Omotola, Special Comments – Does the Land Use Act Expropriate?, (1985) 3, Journal of Private and Property Law, 1; Umezu-

rike, Does the Land Use Act Expropriate? Another View, (1986) 5, Journal of Private and Prop-erty Law, 61.

153 ‘Injustice’ is the antithesis of ‘justice’. In a recent case, the Nigerian Supreme Court pointed out that “the test for justice is what a fair minded ordinary person would say as to whether justice has or has not been done. The essence of justice is fairness – fairness to everyone.” See Engineering

Enterprise v. A.-G. [1987] 2 N.W.L.R. (part 57) 381, at 385. 154

Quoted in Naanen, supra n. 21, at p. 70. 155

Like the UN and the UNPO. 156

For the full text, see: http://www.nigerianext.com/Ijawdeclare.html 157

See Human Rights Watch, The Price of Oil, supra n. 149, at 130.


“There are, indeed, many different methods of expropriation, but, so far as the dispossessed owner is concerned, they…do not necessarily rid [him] of his conviction that he is the owner, and that he should be entitled, if not to secure his reinstatement as an owner, then at least to claim some compensation for his disappointment.”

158

4. Concluding remarks

It has become a platitude to point out that the Nigerian state, like most other African states, was an artificial creation. Yet the recent Kaiama Declaration restated the point when it said: “it was through British colonisation that the Ijaw nation was forcibly put under the Nigerian state.” This is an unequivocal attack on the legitimacy of the Nigerian state, and (located in the context of the entire Declaration) an indication that the issue of state legitimacy and ownership of natural resources are still current political issues in Nigeria. In fact, in a recent statement the Rivers state Study Group poignantly said:

“At the moment the colonial government left Nigeria… there was no doubt in the minds of the Oil Rivers Peoples [as the Niger Delta people were generally known during the colonial era] that natural resources and in particular land, petroleum resources and other economic potentialities belonged to the autochthonous peoples of ‘Nigeria’ wherever they were and we had no misgivings of the magnitude that a Petroleum Decree and a Land Use Decree would emerge, whereby all the most important natural resources of our peoples would be confiscated by the central government…”

159

This article has amply demonstrated the hardship and injustice which the LUA is occasioning to the Niger Delta minorities. While other aspects of injustice (such as environmental degradation and under-development of the region) may take some time to redress, this is not the case with the injustice brought about by the provisions of the LUA. This can be quickly ended by the repeal of the LUA; what is required is the political will to do it. Sustained protests and demands for equity, despite repressive actions by the government, indicate that the struggle is the life of the people. It does not seem that token responses like the recent establishment of the Niger Delta Development Commission

160 can

be an answer to the injustice of the LUA. The people are demanding the repeal of the

158

Wortley, Expropriation in Public International Law, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1959, p. 4.

159 Quoted in Naanen, supra n. 21, at p. 60.

160 Established by a Federal law in 2000; the Commission was constituted in early 2001. The Delta state governor recently alleged that the commission is not doing anything because it is being starved of funds by the federal government. See “Ibori Accuses FG of Starving NDDC of Funds”. Post Express, 4 April 2001.

231

LUA.161

More than that, they are demanding the right to control their natural resources.162

“Claims long dormant are being asserted in ways that call for answers, not merely token responses or outright repression.”

163The recalcitrance of the government to address the

issues raised in a concrete way poses a great danger to the Nigerian state.164

As a recent report surmises, “the lingering crisis in the Niger Delta constitutes a threat to peace and stability, and therefore to democratic consolidation in the larger Nigerian society.”

165 The

repeal of the LUA may force a truce, as it would end the injustice it is presently visiting on the people. Hence, the position of this article is that the LUA should be repealed

166 without

further delay.

161

See Kaiama Declaration, 1998. 162

Ibid. 163

Sigler, Minority Rights: A Comparative Analysis, Greenwood, London: 1983, p. 176. 164

Citing the example of the Nigerian civil war, Sigler has observed: “Many nations have failed to give due attention to minority rights and paid a price in blood.” Sigler, Minority Rights, at p. 196.

165 International IDEA, Democracy in Nigeria: Continuing Dialogue(s) for Nation-Building, supra n. 9, at p. 149.

166 The objectionable issues in the LUA are legion, and these cannot be properly cured by amend-ments. A comprehensive amendment of all the objectionable provisions will take as much time as the making of a new law, and what will emerge will certainly not be an amendment of the LUA; it will be a new law. So it will be better and neater to repeal the Act in its entirety and start anew if it is really desired to reform the pre-existing customary land tenure system. The advantage of repeal also lies in its ability to quickly end its present injustice to the Niger Delta people and thereby reduce the tension it is presently generating in the country.


The role of the National Council of Provinces within the framework of co-operative government in South Africa A legal analysis with special regard to the role of the Bundesrat in Germany By Mirko Wittneben, Hamburg A. Introduction

Chapter 3 of the 1996 South African Final Constitution

1 deals with the principle of co-

operative government.2 This principle determines the relationship among the different

spheres of government in South Africa.3 Section 40 (1) of the South African Constitution

(FC) states governments at the national, provincial and local spheres of government are distinctive, interdependent and interrelated. The principle of co-operative government enjoins the different spheres, be they national, provincial or local, to co-operate with each other as well as across spheres.

4 In addition to co-operation, the relationship among the

spheres is characterised by consultation, co-ordination and mutual support.5

On a national level, South Africa ‘voted for’ a national Parliament comprising of two legislative bodies, the National Assembly and the National Council of Provinces (NCOP).

6

The national Parliament, nine provincial legislatures and 264 Municipal Councils exercise legislative authority in terms of the powers assigned to them by the Constitution. The primary role of most of the second chambers in other constitutional systems is to review national legislation with a view to bringing to bear upon it regional interests and concerns.

7 Like other constitutionally-grounded jurisdictions the NCOP, as the second

chamber of parliament in South Africa, ensures that provincial interests are taken into account in the national sphere of government. This is achieved by ‘participating in the

1 Constitution of the Republic of South Africa 1996 Act 108 of 1996.

2 See section 40 and 41 FC.

3 Rautenbach / Malherbe, Constitutional Law, 1999, 3rd ed., p. 290.

4 See Devenish, Commentary on the South African Constitution, 1998, p. 105.


6 C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: the National Council of Provinces after its first

year, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL, 96, 97. 7 R. Watts, Comparing Federal Systems in the 1990’s, p. 88.

233

national legislative process and by providing a national forum for public consideration of issues affecting the provinces’.

8

As a constitutional body, the NCOP has no direct precedent in the world though it is closely modelled on the Bundesrat, that is the German ‘Federal Council of provinces‘.

9 The

Bundesrat is one of Germany’s two constitutional bodies of legislature on the federal level, the other being the Bundestag (the Federal Assembly). It serves as a link between the Federal Government and the states or Länder and is the channel through which the states can take part in the legislative and administrative processes of the Federal Republic and in matters affecting Germany’s involvement in the European Union (EU). The NCOP is still very young while the Bundesrat brings with it a history of 53 years. Despite remarkable similarities between these two second houses of Parliament, the NCOP deviates from the German model in several respects. This article

10 provides an outline of the multi-level system in South Africa. It examines

some of the provisions relating to federal governance articulated in the 1996 Constitution and compares them with similar features found in the German Constitution. The main focus is the role of the NCOP within the framework of co-operative government. However, the role of the NCOP cannot be understood without an evaluation of the multi-level system, and its function must be analysed within the concept of co-operative government. By examining the role of the NCOP it is important to look at the reasons for its design and to understand the history of the second houses of Parliament in South Africa. Although the role of the NCOP is clearly stated in section 42 (4) of the South African Constitution, in practice the NCOP’s specific functions and responsibilities are still developing. The article evaluates the NCOP’s composition and voting procedures, its special functions and its role in the legislative process. It will ascertain whether the NCOP fulfils its functions in a manner consistent with the principle of co-operative government provided in Chapter 3 of the constitution and question whether a change in the provisions relating the NCOP would enhance the principle of co-operative government. As a basis for comparison, attention will be paid to the model provided for in German federalism and the Bundesrat. The German federal experience is valuable not only because of its uniqueness, but also

8 Section 42 (4) FC.

9 C.M. Murray, South Africa’s National Council of Provinces: Stepchild to the Bundesrat, p. 262;

see also C.M. Murray, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL, 96, 98; N. Steytler, Concurrency and cooperative government, p. 3; R. Watts, Comparing Federal Systems in the 1990’s, p. 88.

10 The article is based on a LL. thesis submitted in the academic year 2000/01 to the University of

Cape Town, Faculty of Law, School for Advanced Legal Studies, supervised by Prof. Christina M. Murray.


because of the immense influence that it had on the drafting of the South African Constitu-tion.

11 The article further explores why the drafters of the South African Constitution relied

so heavily on the German federal experience and illuminates the reasons for the NCOP‘s deviation from the model provided for by the Bundesrat. It scrutinises the issue whether the NCOP is able to fulfil its role as a representative of provincial interests on a national level and whether the structure and powers of the NCOP can be seen as an improvement to the conception of the Bundesrat. B. The South African multi-level system of government

When the drafters of the South African Constitution considered the design of their consti-tutional system there were many different models from which to choose. The most impor-tant question to answer was whether there should be strong, centralised government or whether territorially defined regions should enjoy real autonomy.

12 Hence, discussion

revolved around the issue of whether to adopt a unitary or a more federal system of govern-ance.

13

I. Notion and historical background of federalism in South Africa

Federalism is a widely used concept in law and political science. The word derives from the Latin word ”foedus” meaning association, treaty or alliance.

14 Federalism therefore

describes a community consisting of several states which recognises in particular their right of self-determination and their right to participate in decision-making processes.

15 The

national government is responsible for those matters which must be dealt with in a uniform manner and which is in the interest of all people, while the constituent states determine

other, more local matters.16

The term ‘federalism‘ has been introduced to constitutional terminology from Anglo-Saxon federations. In the United States in particular it has been used to describe the strict compartmentalisation of Federal and State powers.

17

11

De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation – the potential role of provincial interest offices: the German experience, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL, 381, 386.

12 G. Erasmus, Provincial government under the 1993 Constitution. What direction will it take?,

SAPL 9 (1994), 407, 408. 13

G. Carpenter, The Republic of South Africa Constitution Act 200 of 1993 – an overview, SAPL 9 (1994), 222, 230.

14 D.J. Kriek, Theory and practice of federalism, p. 12, in: Kriek, Federalism – The solution?

15 Miebach, Federalism in Germany, p. 2.

16 See http://www.bundesrat.de/Englisch/Wissen/Index.html.

17 Philip M Blair, Federalism and Judicial Review in West Germany, 1981, p. 208.

235

Terms like federalism or federal have been problematic in South Africa. The Apartheid State used the ideas of federalism and confederalism to help justify the existence of the homelands, also known as the Bantustans.

18 In the multi-party negotiations leading to the

Interim Constitution the African National Congress (ANC) argued in favour of a unitary state.

19 It maintained that only a unitary state could secure majority rule and ensure that the

concentration of resources necessary to undertake the massive process of social and economic transformation remained in the hands of a centralised government. Decentralising authority would make decision-making more difficult and would undermine the govern-ment’s capacity to reconstruct and develop the country.

20

However, other political players argued for a federal state. The National Party (NP), for example, favoured an American style system of checks and balances against majority power. They argued that federalism together with a Bill of Rights would be an important check on the power of the majority.

21 Some right-wing Afrikaners advocated the establish-

ment of an ‘Afrikaans Volkstaat’, a homeland with an Afrikaner majority.22

The Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), on the other hand sought more autonomy by promoting the right for self-determination for the province of KwaZulu-Natal.

23

II. Federal features in the Interim Constitution (IC) of 1993

The multi-party negotiations culminated in a compromise and a balance being struck between the powers of the central government and those of the regions.

24 Although the

Interim Constitution of 199325

did not embody the principles of classical federalism, it was

18

R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel governance in South Africa – an interim report, p. 2. 19

See N. Steytler, Constitution-Making: In Search of a Democratic South Africa, in: M. Bennun / M.

Newitt (eds.), Negotiating justice, 1995, 62, 65. 20

R.. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federation: The South African constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPL, 42, 45; see also R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel governance – an interim report, p. 5.

21 See R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federation: The South African constitution in

comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL, 42, 45. 22

See A. Sparks, Tomorrow is another country, p. 191, 204-206. 23

R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel Governance – an interim Report, p. 5. 24

See F. Venter, Levels of government, in: Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung (ed.), Aspects of constitu-tional development in South Africa, 1995, 41, 42.

25 Constitution of the Republic of South Africa Act 200 of 1993, assented to 25 January 1994, Date

of commencement: 27 April 1994, as amended by Acts 2, 3, 13, 14, 24 and 29 of 1994, Acts 20 and 44 of 1995, and Acts 7 and 26 of 1996.


also not a completely centralised unitary form of state.26

Indeed the federal principle was deeply embedded in the Interim Constitution.

27 Section 156 (1) (b) IC, for instance, gave

the provinces the exclusive right to oppose taxes in respect of casinos, gambling, wagering, lotteries and betting. There was also an implicit exclusion of the power of Parliament to legislate in respect of provincial official languages

28 and the names of the provinces.

29

The ‘Constitutional Principles‘, contained in Schedule 4 to the Interim Constitution and which were included in the Constitution in order to guide the Constitutional Assembly in the writing of the Final Constitution, stated that ‘Government shall be structured at national, provincial and local levels‘ (Constitutional Principle XVII). Furthermore the Principles stipulated that some forms of constitutional amendments required the approval of the provinces, or their representatives in a provincially constituted second house of parliament (Constitutional Principle XVIII) and that each level of government had ‘exclu-sive and concurrent powers‘ (Constitutional Principle XIX). Above all these Principles endorsed the principle of subsidiarity, which requires that decisions should be taken at the level that is most ‘responsible and accountable’ (Constitutional Principle XXI). As a result in the process leading to the new Constitution of 1996 the drafters paid even greater atten-tion to intergovernmental relations. III. Federal features in the final Constitution of 1996

While working on the Final Constitution, the Constitutional Assembly closely studied several existing federations, including those of Canada, India, Germany, Switzerland and the United States. The model it chose closely resembled the German model of co-operative, shared or integrated federalism.

30 The idea of a national leadership with framework legisla-

tion implemented by the states (Länder), as well as a close interrelationship between central and Land governments achieved through the Bundesrat seemed to be more appropriate to serve the South African needs than for instance the Canadian model.

31

26

De Villiers, Intergovernmental relations in South Africa, 12 (1997) SAPL, 197, 199. 27

R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federation: The South African constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPL, 42, 45; F. Venter, Milestones in the evolution of the new South African Constitution and some of its salient features, 9 (1994) SAPL, 211, 219.

28 Section 3 (5) IC.

29 Section 124 (1) IC.

30 R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel Governance in South Africa – an interim Report, p. 6.

31 R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel Governance in South Africa – an interim Report, p. 6; see

also N. Steytler, Concurrency and cooperative government: a South African case study, p. 1.

237

The 1996 South African Constitution does not allude to the term ‘federal‘ or ‘federalism‘ but it sets up a system in which both legislative and executive authority is divided between the different spheres of government. Each sphere is directly elected and each has at least some autonomous powers.

32 In effect this constitutional framework establishes a system of

so-called ‘co-operative federalism’.33

In order to examine the multi-level system of govern-ance enunciated in the Final Constitution one must pay attention to some of its most promi-nent federal features. Consequently, a comparison of similar German features will promote a better understanding of the South African model. 1. Vertical division of power

In South Africa, the national, provincial and local governments all exercise legislative authority. a) Division of power in the Final Constitution

Section 44 (1) empowers the national Parliament to legislate on ‘any matter‘. In addition Schedule 4 lists a broad range of powers that are exercised concurrently with provincial and local governments, whereas Schedule 5

34 lists areas of exclusive provincial legislative

competence.35

However, Parliament may still pass legislation on the functional areas listed in Schedule 5. Section 44 (2) provides for this exception by conferring on Parliament the power to intervene in the areas of exclusive provincial competence listed in Schedule 5 in defined circumstances. Parliament has the power to legislate in these areas of provincial jurisdiction, if it is necessary to ‘maintain national security‘, ‘maintain economic unity‘,

36

‘maintain essential national standards‘, or to ‘prevent unreasonable action taken by a 32

De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation – the potential role of provincial interest offices: the German experience, 14 (1999) SAPL/PR 381, 46.

33 See De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation – the potential role of provincial interest offices:

the German experience, 14 (1999) SAPL/PR 381 382/383; R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPL/PR 42, 59.

34 Including: Abattoirs, ambulance services, archives, museums and libraries, other than national

ones, liquor licenses, provincial planning, cultural matters, recreation, roads and sport, and veteri-nary services.

35 See section 104 (1) (b) (ii) FC.

36 In Ex parte President of the Republic of South Africa in re: The constitutionality of the Liquor

Bill 2000 (1) BCLR 1 (CC) para 75 the Court held that ‘economic unity’ must be understood in the context of the system of co-operative government set up by the Constitution. This meant that the Constitution does not contemplate that the provinces will compete with each other and that in the context of trade the national government must be allowed to set up a single regulatory system for inter-provincial trade.


province which is prejudicial to the interests of another province or to the country as a whole‘.

37 Where these circumstances do not apply, provincial legislation prevails.

Although the instances of intervention are broadly formulated the word ‘necessary’ consid-erably limits Parliament’s power to legislate in respect of provincial issues. The term ‘necessary’ implies that there must be no alternative to deal with the circumstances therein stated other than by way of national intervention. In the Liquor Bill Case

38, the Constitu-

tional Court held that the provisions of the Liquor Bill, which prescribes detailed mecha-nisms for provincial legislatures in the establishment of retail liquor licensing, infringed upon the provincial legislature’s exclusive competence to enact legislation on liquor licenses and that this was not necessary for the maintenance of economic unity as prescribed by Schedule 5 of the Final Constitution. The Constitutional Court recognised that consistency of approach in the field is important, but held that ‘importance does not amount to necessity’.

39 It further held that whether national legislation was ‘necessary’ had

to be determined in the light of the system of co-operative government set up by the Constitution. Consequently, because this structure did not contemplate that provinces will compete with one another on an economic level, it was necessary for national legislation to establish a single regulatory system for the conduct of inter-provincial trade of liquor.

40

Due to the ‘necessity’ requirement, the national power of intervention in an area of exclu-sive provincial competence is thus defined and limited.

41 The only incidence of exclusive

provincial competence, in the sense of a power distributed to one competent level of government only, is the naming of a province,

42 the writing of a provincial constitution,

43

and the adoption of a language policy.44

b) Division of power in the German Constitution

37

See section 44 (2) (a-e) FC. 38

Ex parte President of the Republic of South Africa in re: The constitutionality of the Liquor Bill

2000 (1) BCLR 1 (CC) para 80. 39

Ex parte President of the Republic of South Africa in re: The constitutionality of the Liquor Bill

2000 (1) BCLR 1 (CC) para 80. 40

See Ex parte President of the Republic of South Africa in re: The constitutionality of the Liquor

Bill 2000 (1) BCLR 1 (CC) para 75. 41

Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: In re: Certification of the Constitution of

the Republic of South Africa, 1996 1996 (4) SA 744 (CC); 1996 (10) BCLR 1253 (CC) para 257. 42

Section 104 (2) FC. 43

Section 142-145 FC. 44

Section 6 FC.

239

In Germany, the national government’s legislative power extends to issues falling within Parliament’s exclusive and concurrent authority. The catalogue of exclusive powers is short and only a limited number of legislative powers are allocated to the national government.

45

In most other cases ‘the exercise of governmental powers and the discharge of govern-mental functions shall be incumbent on the Länder‘.

46 However, where there is a conflict

between the two, federal law overrides that of the Länder.47

The Basic Law, the German Constitution of 1949, contains a long list of powers exercised concurrently, including ordinary civil and criminal law and the administration of justice, public welfare, education, the environment

48 and other general areas which, taken together,

cover nearly the whole range of public policy.49

When federal legislative power is concur-rent, the Länder are free to act to the extent the Bund does not. Article 72 sets out the conditions under which the federation has the right to legislate, reflecting the idea of subsidiarity.

50 The federal government’s concurrent authority may only be exercised when

there is a necessity for federal regulation. This is the case when state legislation cannot be effectively regulated by individual Länder; where Land regulation might prejudice the interests of other Länder or the country as a whole; or where it is necessary for the mainte-nance of legal and economic unity‘.

51

45

Including: Foreign affairs, citizenship and immigration, nuclear power, domestic and international trade, currency, postal and telecommunications, social insurance, air transport, railways and national highways and a few others; Article 73 No. 1-11.

46 Article 30 BL.

47 Article 31 BL.

48 See Article 74 No 1, 7, 13, 24 BL.

49 D.P. Kommers, The constitutional jurisprudence of the Federal Republic of Germany, 2nd ed.,

1997, p. 76. 50

R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPL 42, 56.

51 Article 72 (2) BL.


c) Differences and similarities between the two models

The South African Final Constitution employs similar wording. With regard to the area of concurrent power listed in Schedule 4, section 146 sets out the conditions under which national law prevails. It must apply uniformly across the country; must deal with a matter that cannot be regulated effectively by the provinces acting individually, must set out national norms, standards or policies, and must be ‘necessary‘ for the maintenance of national security, economic unity, and other matters.

52 National legislation also prevails

where it is aimed at ‘preventing unreasonable action by a province‘ that is prejudicial to the economic health or security interests of another province or the country as a whole‘.

53

While the provinces have extensive law-making powers of their own,54

the national govern-ment is competent to exercise significant legislative powers. However, its actions have to be justified and linked to specific national purposes, again reflecting the idea of subsidiar-ity.

55 Thus, the division of powers in the South African Final Constitution reflects a cen-

tralised federal system, but one in which there is enough space for notable provincial initiative.

56

(aa) The German model of shared powers The German system differs from the South African model in a number of respects. Com-pared to the South African system, the German concept is more akin to a ”shared powers-model”. Firstly, the German model provides for very few exclusive powers at the national and the provincial level, thereby offering more room for concurrent law-making power than in the South African Constitution. This difference is accountable to the history of the Basic Law. One of the basic prerequisites for Allied approval which was laid down when the Länder governments were authorised to call a Constitutional Convention in Herrenchiem-

see in 1948, was that the new system be a federal one that protects the rights of the partici-pating states.

57 Based upon allied insistence, the founding members of the Basic Law

52

See section 146 (2) FC. 53


Schedule 4 and 5 list 46 separate items and a range of local government matters. 55

R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPL/PR 42, 61.

56 R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in

comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPL 42, 62; see also R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel governance in South Africa – an interim Report, p. 8.

57 Frankfurter Dokument Nr. 1, in: 2 Quellen zum Staatsrecht 197, 198, cited after D.P. Currie, The

Constitution of the Federal Republic of Germany, 1994, p. 43.

241

redrafted Article 72 to ensure that concurrent federal powers could be exercised only upon a showing of special need.

58

Whether a special need in fact exists when the federal government exercises its concurrent jurisdiction is a question which the Constitutional Court has left to Parliament. It has held that it is a question of legislative discretion that is by its nature non-justiciable and there-fore basically not reviewable by the Constitutional Court,

59 although, it has reserved its

right to review independently any abuse of this discretion.60

Later judgements by the Con-stitutional Court even declared that the Court was entitled to inquire whether the Legis-lature correctly interpreted the terms employed in article 72 (2) and stayed within the parameters prescribed by it.

61 The Constitutional Reform Act of 27 October 1994 has

subsequently changed the 'clause of special need' for the Federation into a 'clause of neces-sity' in favour of the Länder. Furthermore the law attempts to force the Constitutional Court to abandon its 'political question theory' by giving the Court an explicit power of jurisdic-tion in disputes over the new 'clause of necessity'.

62 However, It remains to be seen if this

change has an impact on the court’s approach. (bb) The role of the Länder in Germany Secondly, the German Länder do not have broad legislative powers of their own. All legis-lation has more or less been centralised to a federal level. As a result, the States do not have very much of their own legislation. Indeed the States only regulate a couple of matters exclusively: school education and science policies as well as police matters. The laws that the Länder implement are mainly those which the Bundestag, the German Federal Assem-bly, has adopted. The German model is also one in which, subject to the approval of the Bundesrat, the national government has a broad scope to act, and to influence Land legislative and admin-

58

D.P. Currie, The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Germany, 1994, p. 43. Article 72 reads as follows: (1) In the field of concurrent legislative power, the States [Länder] have power to legislate as long

as and to the extent that the Federation does not exercise its right to legislate by statute. (2) In this field, the Federation has the right to legislate if and insofar as the establishment of equal

living conditions in the federal territory or the preservation of legal and economic unity necessi-tates, in the interest of the state at large, a federal regulation.

(3) A federal statute can stipulate that a federal regulation for which the conditions of Paragraph (2) no longer hold true is replaced by law of the States [Länder].

59 See BVerfGE 2, 213 (224).

60 BVerfGE 4, 115 (127/128).

61 BVerfGE 13, 230 (234); 26, 338 (382); 78, 249 (270/271).

62 See article 93 (1) No 2a BL.


istrative discretion. But this legislative domination held by the Bund is counterbalanced by the primacy of the Länder in the administrative sphere.

63 Since the federal public service is

relatively small, it obliges the states to implement federal policies.64

It is therefore impor-tant for the Länder to be involved in the legislative process. The close involvement of the Länder has significant consequences as they try to exercise as much influence as possible on those laws during the national legislative process. Besides, since the federal government is dependent on the Länder for the implementation of its policies, it is more inclined to accommodate the needs of the Länder concerning the content of legislation. As a result more attention is directed at the federal government in respect of legislation than the legislatures of the Länder. This attention of the Länder is channelled through the Bundesrat making it a powerful constitutional body. Another important feature of the ”shared-powers model” derives from the fact that the Basic Law provides for ‘joint tasks‘, allowing for the federal government to participate in areas of Land jurisdiction. These tasks have to be ‘relevant to the community as a whole‘, and ‘necessary to improve living conditions‘. Furthermore, with the consent of the Länder, federal law may partake in other issues of joint responsibility such as joint planning and financing.

65

(cc) The role of the provinces in South Africa The position of the South African provinces differs from that of the Länder in Germany.

Since they enjoy extensive legislative powers, they do not have to wait for the implementa-tion of national legislation in order to enact their own laws. They may take their own legis-lative initiative on a range of exclusive as well as concurrent matters. However, with the regard to the enactment of legislation, a pattern has evolved, whereby the majority of legis-lation is developed and passed at the national level. Subsequently, provinces have initiated little of their own legislation.

66 Their major role is to implement national legislation, a

model borrowed from the German pattern of provincial implementation of national frame-work legislation.

67 Nevertheless, the provinces are able to influence national legislation

through the NCOP.

63

R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 56.

64 Malherbe, The South African NCOP, (1998) TSAR 77, 93.


66 N. Steytler, Concurrency and cooperative government: a South African case study, p. 4, 5. The

provinces overall legislative output has been low. For the first six years (1994-1999) the average number of laws passed annually was 6, 7.

67 R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel governance in South Africa – an interim Report, p. 9.

243

There are in essence two reasons for the lack of provincial legislation. Because of their limited powers to raise or generate revenue, provinces have little financial means to imple-ment provincial laws as to do so would dramatically add to their financial burden.

68

Secondly, the dominance of the ANC in all provinces except the Western Cape has mini-mised the presence of competing laws.

69 There remains, however, enough potential in the

Constitution for provincial legislative initiative. 2. Fiscal arrangements

The dominant position of the national government is obvious when one has regard to the fiscal arrangements of the provinces. The provinces have only limited revenue-raising capacities. They are barred from income or sales or value added taxes.

70 Other provincial

revenue raising and borrowing is subject to national regulation and legislation. Provincial revenue raising activities that ‘materially or unreasonably’ affect national economic poli-cies, inter-provincial commerce, or the mobility of economic factors are prohibited.

71

In contrast to the South African model, the German concept is one of shared revenue and taxing powers.

72 Articles 104a – 115 of the Basic Law provide for a division of fiscal

authority between the Bund and the Länder.73

Only a limited number of revenue sources are allocated exclusively to either level.

74 Carrying out the terms of the provisions made in

articles 104a – 115 requires extensive co-ordination between levels of government. The federal government has the duty to ensure reasonable equality between financially strong and financially weaker states.

75 This may require federal grants to weaker states (vertical

financial adjustments) as well as transfer payments from rich to poor Länder (horizontal

68

Provinces receive over 96% of all their revenues in the form of transfers from the national government, see R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel governance in South Africa – an interim Report, p. 9 and N. Steytler, Concurrency and cooperative government: a South African case study, p. 5, fn. 26.

69 See N. Steytler, Concurrency and cooperative government: a South African case study, p. 5.

70 Section 228 FC.

71 See R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in

comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 62. 72

R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 56.

73 U. Karpen, Federalism, in: The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Germany, 1988, 205, 209.

74 Article 106 BL.



financial adjustments).76

Federal law regulates the way these transfers are made subject to the consent of the Bundesrat. 3. The principle of co-operative government and its characteristics

With regard to the Interim Constitution, the Constitutional Court stated that the constitu-tional distribution of powers required co-operation between the various levels of govern-ment.

77 Chapter 3 the Final Constitution now explicitly details directives and principles in

the conduct of intergovernmental relations. These principles found their way In the South African Final Constitution through the notion of co-operative governance.

78 The core of

this framework is the fact that decentralisation of state power in terms of the constitution is not based on competitive federalism but on the norms of co-operative government.

79 Sec-

tion 41 sets out the principles of co-operative government in terms of which government at all levels must promote national unity, ensure good government, obey the constitution, respect one another, refrain from encroaching on another’s integrity, and co-operate in good faith. Co-operative government further means that the spheres of government must govern as a type of partnership and that national legislation must be sensitive to the needs and concerns of the provinces.

80 Governments at the various levels are obliged to assist one another. In

the determination of each province’s and municipality’s share of national income, it must be ensured that they are able to provide basic services and perform the functions allocated to them.

81 The national government must also assist the provinces to develop the adminis-

trative capacity that is required for the effective exercise of their powers and performance of their functions.

82 The national and provincial governments have a similar obligation

towards local government.83

Furthermore governments are authorised to delegate powers to

76

D.P. Kommers, The constitutional jurisprudence of the Federal Republic of Germany, 2nd ed., 1997, p. 90.

77 See Ex parte Speaker of the National Assembly: In re: Dispute concerning the constitutionality of

certain provisions of the National Education Policy Bill No 83 of 1995 1996 (4) BCLR 518 (CC), 1996 (3) SA 289 (CC) para 34.

78 See section 41 (1) FC.

79 Intergovernmental Relations Audit, p. 9.

80 C.M. Murray, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 (1999) SAPL/PR 96, 97,

see also C.M. Murray, Municipal integrity and effective government: The Butterworth inter-vention, 14 (1999) SAPL/PR 332, 342.

81 Section 214 (2) (d) and 227 (1) (a) FC.


83 Section 154 FC.

245

governments at other levels, facilitating co-operation between the different spheres. The Constitution provides for a general authorisation to delegate functions and to perform agency services for other governments.

84 In addition, Parliament may delegate any legisla-

tive power to a legislature at another level, except the power to amend the Constitution, and a provincial legislature may assign any legislative power to a municipality.

85 Structures to

facilitate inter-governmental relations and for the settlement of disputes must be estab-lished

86 and governments are obliged to exhaust all other remedies in disputes before they

approach the courts.87

a) The German concept of Bundestreue – model for the principle of co-operative

governance in the South African Constitution The above mentioned principles are derived mainly from the German concept of Bundes-

treue (doctrine of comity).88

The partnership between the German national government (Bund) and the Länder is based on this fundamental principle. It is a uniquely German concept and describes the mutual trust, respect and obligation to co-operate as well as the interdependence of the Bund and the various Länder upon which the functioning of the federal system in Germany is founded.

89

In the German federal system, the federation is a federal state as a whole, while the sixteen constituent states (Länder) are independent states with their own constitutions, parliaments, governments, administrations and courts. There is no general supremacy of the federal level over the states.

90 The term ”co-operative federalism” is often used to describe German

federalism and has been described as ‘an active principle of government which achieves a balance between clear demarcation of responsibilities without which a federal order is inconceivable’.

91 The concept of Bundestreue does not appear in the text of the Basic Law.

84

Section 238 FC. 85

Section 44 (1) (a) (iii) and 104 (1) (c) FC. 86

See section 41 (2) and (3) FC. 87

See section 41 (3) and (4) FC. 88

De Villiers, Intergovernmental relations in South Africa 12 (1997) SAPL/PR 197 200/201; N.

Steytler, Concurrency and cooperative government: a South African case study, p. 7; N. Goolam, The interim Constitution, the working drafts and South Africa’s new Constitution – some observations, 12 (1997) SAPR/PL 181, 193.

89 De Villiers, Intergovernmental relations: a German perspective, 9 (1994) SAPL 430, 432; De

Villiers, National-provincial co-operation, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 381, 382; see also D.P. Currie, The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Germany, 1994, p. 77.

90 E. Schmidt-Aßmann, The Constitution and the Requirements of Local Autonomy, in: C. Starck

(ed.), New Challenges to the German Basic Law, 1991, p. 167, 169. 91

P.M. Blair, Federalism and Judicial Review in West Germany, 1981, p. 209.


It is an unwritten constitutional norm which regulates the relationship between the national government and the Länder, as well as between the Länder themselves.

92 But it is also a

dynamic principle and its scope is permanently developing.93

When disputes arose between different levels of government, the Constitutional Court (Bundesverfassungsgericht) had to give content to the concept. The Constitutional Court applied the principle in one of its earliest decisions

94 and thus made it a legal standard. The principle is the centrepiece of

intergovernmental relations in Germany and it represents a legal basis from which to monitor, evaluate and conduct the activities of government in a multi-tiered system. How-ever, the effects of the principle are not restricted to the legal sphere. In addition, it applies to political conduct in negotiations undertaken in order to arrive at solutions which do not violate or weaken the federal concept as such.

95

b) Executive intergovernmental relations

As part of the model of co-operative governance, the South Africa Constitution sets up a network between the different levels of government. In turn, section 41 (2) provides for the implementation of an Act of Parliament to establish structures and institutions to ‘promote and simplify executive intergovernmental relations‘.

96

(aa) Some features of executive intergovernmental relations in South Africa Two intergovernmental bodies have been established by legislation,

97 namely the Commit-

tee of Education Ministers98

and the Budget Council99

. Prior to the establishment of these bodies, other structures for co-operation in the executive branch of government have emerged rapidly, even without legislation.

100 An Intergovernmental Forum (IGF), estab-

lished in 1994, brings provincial premiers and national ministers together quarterly and

92

See BVerfG 12, 205 (254). 93

D.P. Currie, The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Germany, 1994, p. 78. 94

See BVerfG 1, 299 (315). 95

De Villiers, Intergovernmental relations: a German perspective, 9 (1994) SAPL 430, 434. 96

See R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 64.


98 See National Education and Policy Act of 1997.

99 See Intergovernmental Fiscal Relations Act 97 of 1997.

100 R Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 64.

247

provides a forum for policy dialogue.101

The IGF is supported by the ‘technical inter-governmental committee‘ (TIC), the administrative counterpart of the IGF, consisting of national and provincial senior officials and chaired by the Director-General of the National Department of Constitutional Development.

102 In addition, about twenty ministerial forums

(MinMECS) have been formed to facilitate consultation and joint action in several func-tional areas.

103

(bb) Conclusion Each of these authorities has important parallels in Germany. The need to co-ordinate voting and responses to Bund legislation, and the fact that the Länder administer most of federal law, means that Bund-Land and inter-Land co-operation is extensive. The Bundes-

rat makes the Länder governments participants in the federal legislative process, and thus gives them direct influence over the Bund. In addition to this intergovernmental institution at the core of the German constitutional structure, Germany also has a number of non-constitutional intergovernmental arrangements. Although non-constitutional, the working of these other intergovernmental bodies is co-ordinated with, and facilitated by, the working of the Bundesrat. The decisions of these institutions are formalised by treaties or agreements and the agreements have the full force and effect of law.

104

South Africa has made great progress in a short time in the structuring and conduct of intergovernmental relations, although there is still an absence of mutually agreed-upon strategy of how to manage the new multi-tiered system.

105 The concept of the German

Bundestreue is surely an illustration of how the complexities of a federal-type system can be managed. Although Bundestreue is not a constitutionally created concept, the German courts have used it to provide ground rules for intergovernmental relations. South Africa will also have to rely on more than its Constitution to be able to successfully implement and manage the directions contained therein. A culture that recognises the importance of partnership, co-operation and mutual trust should also be the core of intergovernmental relations in South Africa.

101

De Villiers, Intergovernmental relations in South Africa, 12 (1997) SAPR/PL 197, 206; see also Intergovernmental Relations Audit, p. 17.

102 De Villiers, Intergovernmental relations in South Africa, 12 (1997) SAPR/PL 197, 211; see also Intergovernmental Relations Audit, p. 18.

103 R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 64; see also Intergovernmental relations Audit, p. 36.

104 R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 57.

105 De Villiers, Intergovernmental relations in South Africa, 12 (1997) SAPR/PL 197, 212.

249

c) Legislative intergovernmental relations

The term ‘legislative intergovernmental relations‘ describes the relationship between the two Houses of Parliament in South Africa, the National Assembly and the NCOP.

106 The

relationship between the two houses is an important one within the system of South African federalism and can be described as a centrepiece for the model of co-operative govern-ance.

107 South Africa has followed the German model of federalism by setting up a strong

second chamber in the national Parliament. The NCOP has significant powers that vary according to the impact of the legislation in question on provincial concerns, thereby ensuring a provincial voice in national decision-making. d) The significance of the model of co-operative governance in practice

While the impact of the concept of Bundestreue on the Bund-Länder relations in Germany is very strong, the significance of intergovernmental co-operation in South Africa is still developing. This is accountable mainly to the dominance of the ANC in all governmental processes. Co-operative governance only becomes an issue when different parties are in charge of national and provincial governments and institutional arrangements become more relevant to ensure co-operation and interaction. The fact that the ANC dominates eight of the nine provinces as well as the national government means that most co-operation takes place behind the scenes and is in many cases determined by the national caucus and leader-ship of the governing party.

108

The notion of co-operative government in the Constitution is supported by the provision made for participation by governments in decision-making at other levels. This encom-passes the main purpose of the NCOP, in which both the provincial legislatures and Execu-tives are represented. In the following chapter the role of the NCOP within the South Afri-can system of co-operative governance will therefore be examined. Its role and functioning will be compared with that of the Bundesrat so as to provide a better understanding of how the two constitutional bodies work.

106

C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 SAPR/PL (1999) 96, 99.

107 R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations: The South African Constitution in comparative context, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 65.

108 De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 381, 383.


C. The National Council of Provinces within the framework of co-operative

government

The legislative authority of the Republic of South Africa, in the national sphere of govern-ment, is vested in Parliament.

109 Parliament is a bicameral legislature which means that it

consists of two houses, the National Assembly and the NCOP.110

Traditionally the members of each of the two houses in a bicameral system are elected or appointed in differ-ent ways, with the intention that the members of each house represent different interests in society. Furthermore, the bicameral system promotes the idea that the two houses will act as a check on one another. In South Africa, the National Assembly represents the interests of all South Africans while the NCOP is supposed to represent the interests of the nine provinces.

111

I. History of second houses of Parliament in South Africa

The existence of a second chamber of Parliament is not new in South African constitutional history. When the two British colonies of the Cape and Natal and the two Boer Republics of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State joined in 1910 to form the Union of South Africa, the drafters of the Union decided to create an upper house of Parliament, called the Senate, to protect the interests of the smaller provinces and the ‘coloured people’.

112 How-

ever, the Senate achieved neither of these goals during the 68 years of its existence. To achieve a two-third majority to remove the ‘coloured people’ from the common voters role in the Cape, the National Party government simply adopted legislation that increased the size of the Senate.

113 This fact discredited the Senate, which was eventually abolished in

1980.114

Despite the history of the Senate in the South African Union, the drafters of the Interim Constitution again opted for a second house of Parliament which was aimed at protecting the interests of the provinces at a national level.

115 The senators were nominated and owed

109

See section 43 (a) FC. 110

Section 42 (1) FC read with section 43 (a) FC. 111

C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 SAPR/PL (1999) 96, 97.

112 See G. Carpenter, South African Constitutional Law, 1987, p. 241.

113 G. Carpenter, South African Constitutional Law, 1987, p. 242; see also L. du Plessis, An Introduction to Law, 1999, p. 170.

114 In terms of section 13 by the Republic of South Africa Constitution 5th Amendment Act 101 of 1980; see G. Carpenter, South African Constitutional Law, 1987, p. 276.

115 C.M. Murray, South Africa’s NCOP – stepchild to the Bundesrat, p. 263.

251

their seats to the party to which they belonged.116

During negotiations on the Final Con-stitution, various politicians criticised the composition of the Senate, arguing that the composition of the Senate was merely a duplication of the composition of the National Assembly and that it did not provide for effective representation of the provinces.

117

In the First Certification Judgment the Constitutional Court also expressed its disapproval at the conception of the Senate, arguing that the representation of the provinces in the Senate was weak and indirect because the senators owed their appointment to the parties and not directly to the provincial legislatures or electorates.

118 As a result, the conception

of the NCOP is intended to remedy this detrimental state of affairs.119

Section 42 (4) of the Final Constitution now provides that the purpose of the NCOP is to ‘represent the provinces to ensure that provincial interests are taken into account in the national sphere of government’.

120 The NCOP does this by allowing representatives of the provincial legisla-

tures and their Executive Councils to participate directly in the legislative process and ‘by providing a national forum for public consideration of issues affecting the provinces’.

121

The question is in how far the composition and the powers of the NCOP allow and encour-age it to represent provincial interests in the national sphere of government and in how far the Council is able to enhance co-operative governance. II. Composition of the NCOP and voting

Appointments to the NCOP and the functioning of the NCOP differs notably from that of Senate set up by the Interim Constitution.

122 Under the 1996 Constitution, the NCOP

consists of 9 delegations, each comprising ten delegates that represent a province.123

In addition, organised Local Government may participate in the proceedings of the Council. Section 67 of the Final Constitution provides for a maximum number of ten representatives without a vote to represent the different categories of municipalities.

124 This role granted to

116

See section 48 IC. 117

See Malherbe, The South African NCOP, (1998) TSAR 77, 79/80. 118

Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: in re Certification of the Constitution of

the Republic of South Africa, 1996 1996 (4) SA 744 (CC); 1996 (10) BCLR 1253 (CC) 1318 para 319.

119 Devenish, Constitutional Law, 1998, p. 126.


121 Devenish, Constitutional Law, 1998, p. 126.

122 De Villiers, Intergovernmental relations in South Africa, 12 (1997) SAPR/PL 197, 203.


124 The Organised Local Government Act 52 of 1997 provides the method for identifying representatives for the NCOP. NCOP rule 107 (see NCOP rules in plain language – draft,


local government is unique for second houses. From the point of view of a strict vertical separation of powers between the different spheres of government, this type of representa-tion could be questioned.

125 But the model of co-operative government adopted in the

South African Constitution does not envisage such a strict separation. On the contrary it demands close co-operation between the spheres of government and thus, the inclusion of local government in the NCOP reflects the importance of co-operative government in the South African Constitution.

126

1. Special and permanent delegates

Each provincial delegation represented in the NCOP consists of four special delegates and six permanent delegates.

127

a) Permanent delegates

The different political parties comprising the provincial legislatures nominate their perma-nent delegates which are appointed in terms of a system of proportional representation. The system aims to ensure that all parties form part of the delegation and that the strength of a political party is reflected proportionally in the delegation to the Council.

128

The permanent delegates do not have to be members of the provincial legislature, how-ever.

129 If the appointed delegate is a member of the legislature than he or she loses his or

her membership upon such appointment. His or her party may than fill the vacancy in the provincial legislature.

130 Permanent delegates are appointed for a full parliamentary term.

Generally they will serve as a permanent delegate until after the next general election when the newly elected provincial legislature appoints new permanent delegates to the NCOP.

131

http://www.parliament.gov.za/Documents/rules/3657373178) states when a representative of local government may take part into a committee meeting. They are allowed when ‘the interests of local government are affected by a matter that is being discussed’. Section 67 FC permits participation of local government representatives ‘when necessary’. NCOP rule 107 is a further qualification and does not clarify the term ‘necessary’ in section 67 FC.


126 De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 381, 407.


128 See section 61 FC. Schedule 3 Part B provides the formula.

129 Section 62 FC only provides that the person must be eligible to be a member of the provincial legislature.

130 Section 62 (5) FC provides that national legislation is to determine how the vacancy needs to be filled.


253

(aa) Loss of membership A permanent delegate loses membership if he or she ceases to be eligible for membership, becomes a member of Cabinet or is absent from the NCOP without permission in terms of section 62 (4) (e).

132 A permanent delegate will also cease to be member of the NCOP if

the party that nominated the person recalls the delegate. This may be the case if he or she ceases to be a member of the party or if the person loses the confidence of the provincial legislature or his or her political party.

133

(bb) Implications of the right to recall A political party’s right to recall a delegate seems to establish a strong link between the delegate and the provincial legislature who nominated the person. It reflects the fact that the delegate has to represent the provinces’ interests in the national sphere of government, thereby promoting co-operation between the national and provincial level of government. But one also has to take into account that the right to recall belongs to the party and not to the legislature. It is therefore more likely to strengthen the leadership of the party and to enforce party discipline than to promote the accountability of the permanent delegate to the provincial legislature. This impression is emphasised by the fact that the respective NCOP delegation votes as a single entity and only has one vote. In practice the delegation will always reflect the views and interests of the majority in the provincial legislature. Based on this position one can state that the relation between the permanent delegates and the legislature as an institution is a weak one. The individuals form part of their party caucuses but they are not directly involved in the provincial legislature.

134

b) Special delegates

The legislature of each province must select from its members three special delegates to sit on the NCOP.

135 This nomination must be in proportion to the representation of the various

parties in the legislature and must be done in concurrence with the premier and the leaders of all parties.

136 In practice however, premiers do not take part in choosing the special

132

See section 62 (4) (a) (b) and (e) FC. 133

See section 62 (4) (c) (d) FC. 134

See also De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation, 14 (1999) SAPL 381, 407. 135

Section 60 (2) (a) (ii) FC. 136

Section 61 (4) FC.


delegates.137

The special delegates are not based at Parliament, but simply attend meetings held for a special purpose and period of time. In theory special delegates could be nomi-nated only for a special session of the NCOP.

138 The premier of the respective provincial

legislature constitutes the fourth special delegate who leads the delegation.139

In contrast to the permanent delegates, a ‘special’ delegate keeps his or her membership of the provincial legislature after the nomination. (aa) The provisions relating to special delegates and the principle of co-operative

government The rationale behind having special delegates is to link the NCOP delegation closer to the province.

140 Furthermore, in theory, the special delegates are meant to show greater

allegiance to their province than to their party interests.141

Their position stands in contrast to the former senators who were not only physically removed from their legislature, but were also not obliged to operate under provincial instructions.

142

The provision for the premier or his or her designate to head the provincial delegation in the NCOP will also add weight to provincial delegations because their executives will generally be obliged to execute the national laws.

143 In theory it seems as if under the

provisions of the Final Constitution it is more likely that provincial interests will prevail over party interests in the NCOP. (bb) The Constitutional Court’s opinion on the special delegate-provisions The Constitutional Court, however, is skeptical of whether the provisions relating to special delegates will ensure an effective representation of provincial interests. In the First Certifi-

cation Judgment it argued that the structure of the NCOP as provided for the Final Consti-tution is better suited to the representation of provincial interests than the functioning of the

137

C.M. Murray, South Africa’s NCOP: Stepchild to the Bundesrat, p. 267; C.M. Murray / R.

Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 96, 105. 138

R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel governance in South Africa – an interim report, p. 11. 139


See also Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: In re certification of the amended

text of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996 1997 (2) SA 97 (CC); 1997 (1) BCLR 1 (CC) para 61.

141 Malherbe, The South African NCOP, (1998) TSAR 77, 88.

142 See C.M. Murray, South Africa’s NCOP: Stepchild to the Bundesrat, p. 263; see also Ex parte

Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: in re Certification of the Constitution of the

Republic of South Africa 1996 1996 (4) SA 744 (CC) ; 1996 (10) BCLR 1253 (CC) para 330. 143

See section 125 (2) FC; see also Malherbe The South African NCOP (1998) TSAR 77 93.

255

Senate under the Interim Constitution. Nonetheless the Constitutional Court could not unequivocally confirm that the changes that had been made would necessarily enhance the collective interests of the provinces.

144 Its uncertainty arose from a number of variable

factors, including the difference in the powers of the two Houses; the method of appointing the members of the Houses; the contrast between direct and indirect representation; differ-ent methods of voting and the influence of the parties on the voting pattern.

145

(cc) Conclusion The variable most likely to affect the extent to which the NCOP represents the interests of the provinces in an effective manner is party affiliation and the degree to which parties allow their delegates to diverge from the party line. Co-operative government as the underlying rationale of the Final Constitution presents a unique challenge to special dele-gates to rise above party politics and promote the interests of the provinces, rather than sectional party politics.

146 Where the majority party in Parliament is also the majority of a

provincial legislature, delegations will often adhere to their party line. Adherence to strict party discipline will mean that those provincial delegations controlled by the majority party will be reluctant to challenge the political consensus of the majority party in the National Assembly. In South Africa, the majority party of the ANC holds just under two-third of the seats in the National Assembly and 7 of the 9 provinces. It is therefore unlikely that the National Assembly and the NCOP will differ on an issue.

147

2. Voting procedures

The members of the NCOP delegations vote on the instruction (‘mandate’) of the provincial legislature. This reflects the purpose of the NCOP, namely to bind the provinces into national government.

148

144

Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: in re Certification of the Constitution of

the Republic of South Africa 1996 1996 (4) SA 744 (CC) ; 1996 (10) BCLR 1253 (CC) para 331. 145

Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: In re: Certification of the Constitution of

the Republic of South Africa, 1996 1996 (4) SA 744 (CC); 1996 (10) BCLR 1253 (CC) para 332. 146

Devenish, Constitutional Law, 1998, p. 108. 147

Although experiences in Germany show that Länder delegations in the Bundesrat do not always adhere to the party consensus reached in Cabinet in the Federal Assembly. Especially in matters affecting the Länder budgets majority party governed delegations tend to diverge from the party line in favour of Länder interests.

148 C.M. Murray, South Africa’s NCOP: Stepchild to the Bundesrat, p. 267.


a) Matters affecting and matters not affecting the provinces

On matters affecting the provinces, the members of the various NCOP delegations vote as a single unit, i.e. as a province and each delegation has one vote which is cast by the head of each delegation.

149 Although the view of a minority party can be heard, only the vote of the

majority party is cast when legislation is considered. Where a province is governed by a coalition between parties, it will need prior agreement on how to cast its vote before voting as a delegation in the NCOP.

150

In matters not affecting the provinces,

151 the members of the delegations vote as individu-

als or party members.152

The fact clearly indicates that the main function of the NCOP is to represent the interests of the provinces. When it comes to matters not affecting the provinces, the role of the NCOP is merely to serve as an advisory body. However, this function is tactically important as it gives the NCOP the power to delay the passing of controversial bills.

153

b) The procedure to confer authority on the delegations

The fact that the provincial legislatures need to confer authority on their NCOP delegations in order to cast a vote on their behalf serves to closely connect the delegations to the provincial legislatures.

154 The Final Constitution states that an Act of Parliament ‘must

provide for a uniform procedure by which provincial legislatures confer authority on their delegations to cast votes on their behalf’.

155 Until the Act is passed the provinces may

decide for themselves how authority is given to their respective delegation.156

Because such legislation has not yet been passed, the provinces have in the interim estab-lished their own practices to determine mandates.

157 There are two different types of

mandates: Negotiating mandates are given to guide the delegations at the first stages of 149

Section 65 (1) (a) FC. 150

De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 381, 408. 151

See section 75. 152

C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 96, 98.

153 C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 (1999) SAPL 96, 97/98.



156 Item 21 (5) to Schedule 6.

157 C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 96, 118.

257

NCOP discussions whereas final mandates are given to decide the vote in the NCOP plenary.

158 Common to both types of mandates is that they are specifically given in respect

of each piece of legislation and that they leave little to no leeway in the delegation’s vote in the NCOP plenary.

159

Four different models on how the final mandate is conferred have developed in various provinces and yet they allow only minor or no deviation from mandates.

160 The result of

this practice is that important aspects of NCOP decision-making takes place in the provin-cial legislatures.

161

3. Comparison with the Composition and voting procedures of the Bundesrat In order to better understand the functioning of the NCOP in terms of composition and voting procedures one can compare it with the Bundesrat upon which the NCOP is closely modelled. The Bundesrat is the intergovernmental chamber through which the Länder take part in the legislative process and administration of the Federation as well as in matters concerning the European Union.

162

a) Composition and Voting Procedures in the Bundesrat The members of the Bundesrat belong to the sixteen different Länder governments. The Länder governments appoint and recall their delegates

163 and each Land may appoint as

many members to the Bundesrat as it has votes in the Bundesrat.164

The number of votes of each Land depends on the size of its population.

165 The role of the members of the Bundes-

rat is to represent the Länder at a federal level.166

They are bound by the decisions of the

158



160 C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 96, 119.


162 Article 50 BL.



165 See article 51 (2) BL.

166 Maunz / Zippelius, Staatsrecht, p. 271.


Land government167

and each Land must cast its votes in the Bundesrat as a block.168

The Länder do not have equal voting strength as the numbers of votes apportioned to each Land

is determined by the size of its population. In turn, smaller Länder have relatively more votes than larger states. Though this system is open to criticism the principle that all the votes of a Land must be cast uniformly and cannot be split is generally accepted in Ger-many. b) Differences to the NCOP

Although the design of the NCOP is strongly influenced by the design of the Bundesrat, the composition of the Bundesrat is significantly different to the NCOP. The appointment of permanent members to the NCOP delegations and the inclusion of opposition politicians into NCOP delegations are purely South African features.

169 Another striking difference to

the Bundesrat is the role of the provincial legislatures in the mandating process. Although the members of the Bundesrat are also bound by the mandate conferred to them, they

receive their mandate from the Länder governments. As mentioned, the Bundesrat consists of members who remain part of their provincial governments and legislatures. This is different to the NCOP where permanent members, once nominated, no longer sit in their provincial legislatures and unifies legislative and executive federalism.

170 The inclusion into the NCOP of members of provincial legislature

rather than an Executive Council was implemented in reaction to the criticism concerning the composition of the Bundesrat, namely doubts if the legislative process in the Bundesrat

fully complies with the ‘separation of powers doctrine’, thereby creating a ‘democratic deficit’.

171

167

Maunz / Zippelius, Staatsrecht, p. 273; Maunz, in: Maunz / Dürig / Herzog / Scholz (eds., MDHS), Grundgesetz, Art. 51, Rn. 16; Hendrichs, in: von Münch (ed.), Grundgesetz-Kommentar, Vol. II, 2nd ed., 1983, Art. 51, Rn. 19; v. Münch, Staatsrecht, p. 297; Jarass / Pieroth, Grundgesetz, Art. 51, Rn. 6; Stern, Staatsrecht II, p. 138; see also BVerfGE 8, 120.



170 R. Simeon / C.M. Murray, Multilevel governance in South Africa – an interim report, p. 11, fn. 41.

171 Jekewitz, in: Alternativkommentar, Grundgesetz, Vol. II, Vorb. Article 50, Rn 11; see also De

Villiers, National-provincial co-operation, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 381, 387 and F. Gress, Interstate co-operation in the USA and in the FRG, p. 411, in: De Villiers, Evaluating federal systems, 1994. For a more general view on the principle of separation of powers regarding the legislature and the executive see Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: In re: Certification of the

Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996 1996 (4) SA 744 (CC); 1996 (10) BCLR 1253 (CC) para 106-113.

259

However, this criticism is not fully justified. Despite the fact that the Bundesrat is not directly elected, Land delegations in the Bundesrat gain their legitimacy from their election into the Land legislature.

172 Furthermore, the provincial legislatures (Landtage) are able to

control the political and voting behaviour of these delegations in the Bundesrat.173

In addition the party-political structures of the Landtage are not reproduced in the composi-tion of the Bundesrat. This is a consequence of the observation that the more directly one bases the composition of the second chamber on the same foundations as that of the first – i.e. the elective principle – the more one will have competition and deadlock between the two houses.

174 A deadlock can arise due to the fact that both houses claim the same legiti-

macy. In federal states such deadlocks can weaken the federal structure. In such situations the party headquarters at national level will naturally attempt to influence the party repre-sentatives in the second chamber. c) Reasons for the conception of the Bundesrat in terms of composition and voting

procedures

The incorporation of governmental members in the Bundesrat was the result of a compro-mise between a ‘Senate-model’ and the Bundesrat-model in the Parliamentary Council, which drafted the Basic Law.

175 The perception of a ‘democratic deficit’ about decision-

making in the Bundesrat can be justified, for the reason that the inclusion of Executives in the Bundesrat is to guarantee that the laws, which are enacted on a national level, can be implemented through the Länder governments.

176 Thus, although Germany is relatively

more centralised in legislative terms than South Africa, it is more decentralised in terms of constitutionally determined administrative jurisdiction. d) Reasons for the conception of the NCOP in terms of composition and voting

procedures

The composition, voting procedures and mandating process of NCOP delegations seems to be a direct response to South African fears of an executive-driven legislative process. South African history has generated skepticism regarding executive dominance in government. In a system of so-called ”executive Federalism”, major policy decisions tend to be made within the intergovernmental structures which are generally dominated by the executives

172

v. Münch, Staatsrecht I, p. 294; Maunz, in: MDHS, Grundgesetz, Article 50 Rn. 8; De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 381, 387.

173 Robbers, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Article 50 Rn. 15.

174 Maunz / Zippelius, Staatsrecht, p. 272.

175 J. Rau, Bewährt oder erstarrt? Unser föderales System auf dem Prüfstand, 17, 18; see also Robbers, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Article 50 Rn. 3.



and civil servants. These decisions are often not sufficiently transparent and open to public scrutiny. Such a lack of transparency could lead to ’collusion’ between governments which have their own interests and not the concerns of the voters at heart.

177 To involve provin-

cial legislatures in the NCOP appears to be an attempt to restrict the power of executives and to guarantee greater legislative control of the process.

178

e) Ways to promote co-operative government

Both constructions of a second house of Parliament have their advantages and drawbacks. The South African idea of including provincial executives as well as opposition politicians is part of an endeavour to promote co-operative government between the national and provincial spheres of government. The views of minority parties are heard in debates and within the committees of the NCOP, however ultimately only the vote of the majority party is cast when legislation is considered. Thus, it remains to be seen whether the notion of the NCOP in terms of composition can enhance co-operative government and guarantee suffi-cient representation of provincial interests. The danger lies in the very real fact that due to of the overall political configuration, party-political considerations will supercede those of the provinces. (aa) The German permanent Länder interest offices The German experience with the permanent Länder interest offices may also provide South Africa with ideas to strengthen the role of provinces in national policy formulation and implementation within the framework of co-operative governance. The existence of the permanent Länder interest offices in Berlin is one of the most unique characteristics of the German federal system. However, there is no constitutional or statutory base for the interest offices. They are purely a creation of the respective Länder governments and can be described as internal embassies or missions of the respective Länder in the federal capital to represent the interests of the Länder in the national governmental process.

179 The main

function of the Länder interest offices is to represent the views of its Land in the Bundesrat

and in the Bundesrat’s committees and to inform the Länder governments about legislation that may be on its way to the Bundesrat.

180 For this purpose their civil servants have the

constitutionally guaranteed right of access to all Bundestag plenary sessions and committee meetings.

181 Furthermore, the Länder interest offices inform the Land legislatures about

177


C.M. Murray, South Africa’s NCOP: Stepchild to the Bundesrat, p. 274. 179



Article 43 BL.

261

their activities in the Bundesrat.182

The Länder offices, however are not only involved in ‘vertical’ co-operation between the Länder and federal government but also in horizontal co-operation between Länder and thus promote and facilitate interaction and co-operation with other Länder at the federal level.

183

(bb) The development of South African provincial desks Similarly, in the last few years the South African provinces have established provincial ‘desks’ in Cape Town with the aim of facilitating close interaction with the national legis-lative process. They do so mainly by providing a support base for members of the NCOP visiting Cape Town, by sending information to the provincial capitals and communicating with Parliament on behalf of the provinces.

184 Although at the moment the provincial desks

still suffer from a lack of clarity on their role and in the most cases simply receive and send information between Parliament and the provinces. Thus, most of the offices add little value to the process of co-operative governance.

185

In order to enhance co-operative government between the national and the provincial spheres of government, the enactment of legislation stipulating the role of the provincial desks in the legislative process is needed. Another way to promote co-operative govern-ment would be to integrate the provincial desks into other structures and institutions involved in facilitating intergovernmental relations. To be able to intensify the relations between the provinces and the NCOP, it is imperative that staff members should at least attend the major meetings of the IGF and the Premiers Forum as well as other meetings at which senior national-and provincial leadership convenes. III. Duration and Dissolution of the NCOP

Like the Bundesrat,

186 the NCOP is a permanent body without a fixed term. The rules of

the NCOP nonetheless provide that Bills lapse at the end of the annual session, but that they may be reinstated on the Order Paper during the next session by resolution of the Council.

187 The tenure of the permanent delegates, however, is linked to the provincial

182

Benda / Maihofer / Vogel (eds.), Handbuch des Verfassungsrechts, 1994, p. 1172. 183

Benda / Maihofer / Vogel (eds.), Handbuch des Verfassungsrechts, 1994, p. 1191. 184

De Villiers, National-provincial co-operation, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 381, 406/407. 185


See Robbers, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Article 50, Rn. 14. 187

NCOP Rule 223 (1).


legislature they represent.188

Accordingly, if a new legislature is elected, it may appoint a new delegation. IV. Special functions of the NCOP

To be able to assess the role of the NCOP within the South African framework of co-operative government it is important to examine the special role and responsibilities of the second house of Parliament. Oversight of the Executive is among the main functions of any legislature. This applies equally to the NCOP which in terms of section 42 (4) of the Final Constitution is given a set of specific roles and functions to ensure accountability. 1. The Overseeing/Monitoring role of the NCOP and the principle of co-operative

government

Oversight describes the important role of legislatures to observe and review the executive actions of government.

189 The National Assembly and the NCOP together exercise the

national legislative authority in South Africa. The following section answers the question which special oversight functions are vested in the NCOP and whether these functions enable the NCOP to fulfil the requirements of co-operative government. The constitutional rationale behind the NCOP is to represent the provinces in the national sphere. The overseeing role of the NCOP is therefore determined by this function. How-ever, this role is limited by the fact that the NCOP oversees only the national aspects of provincial and local government.

190

a) Oversight to protect spheres of government

An important responsibility of the NCOP is to protect other spheres of government. This role comes into play where one sphere of government interferes in the affairs of another and such intervention violates the integrity of the other sphere. For example where the national executive intervenes in a matter of exclusive determination by the province

191 or where a

provincial executive intervenes in a municipality.192

In such a case, the NCOP must not

188


Corder / Jagwath / Soltau, Report on Parliamentary Oversight and Accountability, Chapter 4. 190

Corder / Jagwath / Soltau, Report on Parliamentary Oversight and Accountability, Chapter 4.2. 191

Section 100 (1) FC. 192

Section 139 (1) FC. There have been provincial interventions under section 139 (1) FC for instance in municipal areas as Butterworth, Warrenton, Wedela, Ogies, Sunnieshof and Nouw-poort; see: Address of President Mbeki at the National Council of Provinces, 28 October 1999, http://www.polity.org.za/govdocs/speeches/1999/sp1028html. For a comprehensive description of

263

only ratify the intervention but also ‘review the intervention regularly and make appropriate recommendations to the provincial executive’.

193

The right to intervene in the integrity of another sphere of government is not always consistent with the requirements of co-operative government. The Constitutional Court is slowly shaping the role of the NCOP as a monitoring body by giving content to the provi-sions in Chapter 3 of the Final Constitution. In the First Certification Judgment the Court held that the discretion to intervene in another sphere’s administration should be exercised in terms of the general principles of co-operative government.

194 In order to harmonise

apparently contradictory mandates, the power of intervention and the duty to respect that sphere’s functional and institutional integrity, a minimalist approach to intervention should be followed.

195 According to the principle of proportionality, the intervenor has to choose

the least intrusive means of an intervention.196

Furthermore, the powers have to be exer-cised only in exceptional circumstances.

197 Notwithstanding these pronouncements as part

of its commitment to co-operative government, the Constitution provides that an action taken under section 139 must mainly aim at assisting municipalities which are unable to fulfil their obligations in an effort to enable the municipality to govern effectively.

198

The provisions made in sections 100 and 139 give the NCOP a critical role in a sensitive area of intergovernmental relations: In overseeing provincial intervention in municipality affairs the NCOP is required to support the actions of one of its members, whereas in reviewing national intervention in provincial affairs, the NCOP has to deal with actions against one of its members. In effect, the NCOP is asked to assume the role of both moni-toring body and mediator,

199 thereby fulfilling the requirements of the principle of co-

operative government.

the Butterworth Case see C.M. Murray, Municipal integrity and effective government: the Butter-worth intervention, 14 SAPR/PL 332-380.

193 See section 100 (1) (b) FC and 139 (1) (b) FC respectively, and also NCOP rule 240 (1).

194 Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: in re Certification of the Constitution of

the Republic of South Africa, 1996 1996 (4) SA 744 (CC); 1996 (10) BCLR 1253 (CC) 1318 para 264.



197 See the remarks by the Constitutional Court in Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional

Assembly: in re Certification of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996 1996 (4) SA 744 (CC); 1996 (10) BCLR 1253 (CC) 1318 para 254-257, 262-266.

198 C.M. Murray, Municipal integrity and effective government, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 332 357.



b) Disputes regarding the administrative capacity of the provinces

Disputes about the administrative capacity of provinces present another example of the monitoring role of the NCOP. Implementing national legislation affecting provinces is generally a task of the provinces. Yet problems can arise when a province administers national legislation despite its inability to implement such legislation.

200 Accordingly,

disputes on the administrative capacity of the provinces must be resolved by the NCOP under section 125 (4). c) National Defence and Treasury decisions preventing the transfer of funds to a

province

Both Houses of Parliament must approve a declaration by the State President of a state of national defence.

201 Similarly, in cases of decisions of the treasury to stop the transfer of

funds to a province, both the National Assembly and the NCOP have to give their approval.

202 These provisions illustrate the dual character of the NCOP: It is required to act

both as like a traditional Senate (providing a second view on certain matters) and as a chamber representing distinctly provincial interests.

203 This ”partnership” with the National

Assembly makes sense in view of the impact of these decisions on the interests of the provinces.

d) General oversight of the executive on provincial matters

Although the Final Constitution does not refer to a general overseeing role for the NCOP, the National Assembly is tasked with a general monitory function in sections 42 (3) and 55 (2) of the Final Constitution. Similarly, section 102 gives the National Assembly the final oversight power to oversee decisions of the national Executive as well as the power to dissolve the Cabinet. However, only the National Assembly may impeach the President,

204

a judge, the Public Protector, the Auditor General, or a member of a commission estab-lished by the constitution.

205

200


201 Section 203 FC.

202 Section 215 FC.

203 Corder / Jagwath / Soltau, Report on Parliamentary Oversight and Accountability, Chapter 4.5.

204 Section 89 FC.

205 Section 177 and 194 FC.

265

The NCOP’s general monitoring role is limited and shaped by its constitutional mandate. Its role is to represent the provinces and to ensure that provincial interests are taken into account in the national sphere of government. Furthermore, the NCOP is a part of Parlia-ment to which the Cabinet is accountable.

206 The role of the NCOP provides a forum for

discussing provincial issues developed by the national Executive and which the provinces are obliged to carry out. This judicates that the constitutional role of the NCOP also encompasses an oversight of the Executive generally in matters where provincial issues are concerned.

207

The Constitutional Court has not yet delivered a judgement on how the NCOP has to exer-cise its general overseeing function that meets the requirements of co-operative govern-ment. As a result of its pronouncements in the First Certification Judgment, it can be presumed that the oversight power would have to be used in a co-operative manner which is comparable to the way the NCOP has to deal with interventions. 2. Legislative functions of the NCOP

The significant constitutional role of the NCOP within the framework of co-operative government is further emphasised by its legislative function which can be described as its primary task.

208 The NCOP has the right to consider all national bills, but the legislative

powers of the NCOP vary according whether the legislation falls under section 75 or section 76 legislation. a) Section 76 Legislation

Section 76 of the Constitution provides for a special mechanism for the passing of ordinary bills affecting the provinces and other bills specified by various provisions of the Constitu-tion. So-called section 76 legislation deals with bills ‘affecting’ the provinces and covers any legislation which falls substantially in the functional areas listed in Schedule 4

209 of the

Constitution and for which the national and provincial governments share responsibility.

206


C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 (1999) SAPR/PL 96, 104; see also Malherbe, The South African NCOP, (1998) TSAR 77, 92; Chaskalson, Constitutional Law of South Africa, 3-13, states that the national executive is only accountable to the National Assembly and not the NCOP but does not differentiate between matters affecting and those not affecting the provinces.

208 Chaskalson, Constitutional Law of South Africa, 3-13.



Section 76 legislation also includes bills relating to a range of specific matters.210

Bills which fall into this category must be passed by the NCOP for which a supporting vote of five of the nine provinces is sufficient.

211 If the National Assembly and the NCOP cannot

agree on such a Bill, then a mediation committee is set up,212

consisting of nine members of the National Assembly and one representative of each provincial delegation.

213 The

mediation committee’s decision requires a majority of five of the nine representatives from each house.

214 If consensus cannot be reached an agreement the National Assembly can

still pass the Bill, however in this case it needs a two-thirds vote to do so.215

The mediation committee can also suggest an alternative version of the Bill, which would then be passed by a simple majority in each house.

216

b) Section 75 Legislation

Section 75 of the Constitution sets out the procedure concerning the passing of ordinary bills that do not affect the provinces. Regarding ordinary legislation which does not affect the provinces, the NCOP may support, amend or reject bills passed by the National Assem-bly.

217 In these cases the voting procedures in the NCOP are different. Members of the

delegations all vote as individuals and the bill must be passed by a single majority of the votes.

218 This arrangement reflects the limited significance of these bills for the provinces.

Since the bills do not affect the provinces directly, voting is not required to take place on provincial instructions.

219 If the NCOP does not pass a bill that falls into the scope of

section 75 legislation, the Bill may nevertheless become law if the National Assembly passes the Bill, again with a simple majority of its members.

220

210

See Chaskalson, Constitutional Law of South Africa, 3-17, fn. 6-10. 211

See section 75 (2) (a) FC read with section 65 (1) (b) FC. 212

Section 76 (1) (d) FC. 213

Section 78 (1) (a) FC. 214

Section 78 (2) (a) (b) FC. 215

Section 76 (1) (i) FC. 216

Section 76 (1) (h) FC, see also R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 66.

217 Section 75 (1) (a) (i-iii) FC, see also R. Simeon, Considerations on the design of federations, 13 (1998) SAPR/PL 42, 66.

218 See Section 75 (2) (a) (c) FC.

219 See also C.M. Murray / R. Simeon, From paper to practice: The NCOP after its first year, 14 SAPR/PL 96, 102.

220 See section 75 (1) (c) (i) FC.

267

Thus, while both houses are required to consider ordinary bills not affecting the provinces, the National Assembly has the power to override the NCOP and pass the bill despite oppo-sition from the NCOP. The absence of an absolute power of veto on section 75 and section 76 legislation is the result of a political compromise in the drafting process. Since the provinces gained much more power in the Constitution than the ANC had initially wished, the drafters granted in return the right of the National Assembly to override the NCOP in a case of disagreement over legislation.

221

c) Constitutional amendments – Section 74 Legislation

Finally section 74 of the Final Constitution enables the NCOP to participate in the enact-ment of bills amending the provisions of the Constitution. Section 1 of the Constitution declares South Africa ‘one sovereign, democratic state’. At least 75 per cent of the members of the National Assembly and 6 of the nine provinces must pass proposed amendments to section 1, or to the amending procedure itself.

222 A majority of six votes in

the NCOP and two-thirds of the members of the National Assembly for instance can amend Chapter 3 of the Constitution, which sets out the principles of co-operative government.

223

Finally a two-thirds majority of the National Assembly alone can pass all other amend-ments to the Constitution provided that the provinces are not affected by such amend-ments.

224 If the amendments in fact affect the NCOP, alter provincial boundaries, powers,

functions or institutions, or affect a provision, which deals specifically with a provincial matter, the National Assembly can only pass the bill with the concurrence of six provincial delegations of the NCOP.

225 This shows that provinces have sufficient power to guard

themselves against amendments, which may negatively affect them. 3. Comparison with the functions of the Bundesrat Like the NCOP, the Bunderat’s most important function is its legislative function. As a parallel to the South African Constitution the German Basic Law also sets up a house of provinces to protect the interests of the German Länder in the legislative process. The Bundesrat is the forum through which the 16 Länder participate in the legislative and administrative processes of the Federation.

226 As a matter of principle, the Bundesrat

221




Section 74 (3) (a) FC read with 74 (3) (b) (i-iii) FC. 225

Section 74 (3) (b) (i-iii) FC. 226

Article 50 BL.


participates in passing every law adopted by the Bundestag. The extent of its participation, however, depends on whether the Bill in question is one to which the Bundesrat may lodge an objection or merely one requiring the Bundesrat's consent.

227

a) Legislative Functions of the Bundesrat Laws affecting the interests of the Länder

228 cannot enter into force unless the Bundesrat

expressly consents to them (consent Bills).229

These include, for instance Bills that would change the constitution

230, Bills affecting state finances

231 and Bills that affect the adminis-

trative jurisdiction of the states232

. Furthermore, the Bundestag cannot override a rejection by the Bundesrat, giving the Bundesrat an absolute veto in such cases. Thus, where it refuses to give its consent, the Bill fails.

233 The Bundestag cannot override this veto,

regardless of how large a majority of its members support the Bill. However, the Bundestag and the Federal Government can invoke the Mediation Committee (Vermittlungsausschuss) in an attempt to reach an agreement.

234 This right of veto over consent Bills gives the

227

I. v. Münch, Staatsrecht I, p. 303, Rn. 740. 228

The Basic Law does not use the term ‘laws affecting the Länder’. But all consent bills basically affect the interests of the Länder, see Robbers, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Art. 50 Rn. 23; also Lücke, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Art. 77, Rn. 14.

229 Article 78 BL.

230 See Article 79 (2) BL. Article 79 (1), (2) BL reads as follows:

” (1) This Constitution can be amended only by statutes which expressly amend or supplement the text thereof. In respect of international treaties, the subject of which is a peace settlement, the preparation of a peace settlement or the phasing out of an occupation regime, or which are intended to serve the defence of the Federal Republic, it is sufficient, for the purpose of clarifying that the provisions of this Constitution do not preclude the conclusion and entry into force of such treaties, to effect a supplementation of the text of this Constitution confined to such clarification.

(2) Any such statute requires the consent of two thirds of the members of the House of Representatives and two thirds of the votes of the Senate.”

231 See Articles 105 (3), 106 (4), 106 (5) (2), 107 (1) (2), 107 (2) BL.

232 Article 84 (1) BL. Two-thirds of all consent bills are bills, which fall under the regime of Article 84 BL (1), see Jarass / Pieroth, Grundgesetz, Art. 77 Rn. 4. Article 84 (1) BL reads as follows:

”(1) Where the States execute federal statutes as matters of their own concern, they provide for the establishment of the requisite authorities and the regulation of administrative procedures insofar as federal statutes consented to by the Senate do not otherwise provide.”

233 See I v. Münch, Staatsrecht I, p. 305, Rn. 748.

234 Article 77 (2) (4); see also v. Münch, Staatsrecht I, p. 305, Rn. 749.

269

Bundesrat a great degree of influence on legislation,235

especially considering that in prac-tice, consent bills make up at least half of all federal legislation.

236

If not specifically provided for in the Basic Law, a Bill does not need the consent of the Bundesrat. In such cases, the Bundesrat may lodge an objection to the Bill.

237 If the

Bundesrat wishes to object to a Bill it must first request that the Mediation Committee convene.

238 The Bundestag can reject an objection from the Bundesrat by an absolute

majority, i.e. a majority of its statutory members present.239

Thus, by holding another vote, the Bundestag can overcome the opposition of the Bundesrat and open the way for the law to be promulgated. b) The Overseeing/Monitoring Function of the Bundesrat Like the NCOP, the Bundesrat oversees executive actions. The Basic Law obliges the Federal Government to keep the Bundesrat constantly informed of all government busi-ness.

240 This includes its legislative and administrative plans, the general political situation

as well as its foreign defence policy.241

With regard to European Union (EU) affairs, the Federal Government must inform the Bundestag and Bundesrat of all EU plans, since national law and thus also the interests of the states are often materially affected by EU law. The right of the Bundesrat to be involved in EU affairs has been materially strengthened and enshrined in the Basic Law since 1993.

242

c) Other Functions of the Bundesrat

235

Robbers, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Article 50, Rn. 23; see also R. Watts, Comparing Federal Systems in the 1990’s, p. 88.

236 Robbers, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Article 50, Rn. 23; see also Davis / Chaskalson / de Waal, Democracy and Constitutionalism: The role of constitutional interpretation, 1, 114, in: Van Wyk /

Dugard / De Villiers / Davis, Rights and Constitutionalism, 1994. For the period from 05 September 1949 till 15 September 2000, consent bills made up 53, 1% of all bills which passed parliament; see http://www.bundesrat.de/Englisch/PDundF/index.html.

237 See v. Münch, Staatsrecht I, p. 303, Rn. 741.

238 Article 77 (3) (1) BL read with Article 77 (2) BL.

239 Article 77 (4) (1) BL read with Article 121 BL. As a rule, the Bundestag adopts Bills by a majority of the members present; see Article 42 (2) BL.

240 Article 53 BL.

241 Jarass / Pieroth, Grundgesetz, Art. 53, Rn. 2.

242 See article 23 BL.


The Bundesrat elects half the members of the Federal Constitutional Court.243

It may state its views on matters before the Constitutional Court

244 and launch proceedings itself.

245

Furthermore, if the Federal Chancellor no longer has the confidence of the Bundestag, the Federal Government may enact laws with the consent of the Bundesrat.

246

Finally the Bundesrat serves an important function as a guardian of the Basic Law. Article 79 (3) requires a two-thirds majority in both the Bundestag and the Bundesrat in order to amend the Basic Law. However, provisions regarding the division of the Federation into Länder, or their participation in the legislative process cannot be amended.

247

4. Differences and similarities between the NCOP’s and the Bundesrat’s functions

The preceding description of the Bundesrat’s functions reflects its influence on the design of the NCOP. The role of the Mediation Committee, for instance is nearly identical to that of the German Mediation Committee.

248 The way, however, in which the Mediation Com-

mittee functions differs in these two constitutional systems. a) Differences between the Mediation Committees

The Mediation Committee in Germany functions as a bridge between the Bundestag and the Bundesrat. Like its South African counterpart, its responsibility is to submit compro-mise proposals whenever there is a difference in opinion between the Bundestag and Bundesrat on the content of Bills.

249

(aa) The functioning of the German Mediation Committee

243

Article 94 (1) (2) BL. 244

Robbers, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Art 50, Rn. 37. 245

See Article 93 (1) No 1 BL. 246

See Article 81 BL. 247

See Article 79 (3) BL, the so-called ”eternity clause”. Article 79 (3) BL reads as follows: ”Amendments of this Constitution affecting the division of the Federation into States, the

participation on principle of the States in legislation, or the basic principles laid down in Articles 1 and 20 are inadmissible.”


249 Article 77 (2) (4) BL.

271

Like South Africa’s Mediation Committee it has equal representation from each house:250

It comprises 16 members of the Bundestag, who reflect the relative strengths of the parlia-mentary groups in the Bundestag, and 16 members of the Bundesrat, one for each Land.

251

The members of the Bundesrat on the committee are not, however, bound by instructions from their Land governments (as they are when the Bundesrat takes decisions).

252 Further-

more, the meetings of the Mediation Committee are strictly confidential.253

Minutes of the meetings are generally not available until the electoral term following the one during which the meeting was held, i.e. not until at least 5 years have passed. If meetings were not strictly confidential committee members would be unable to reach compromises with each other and would be put under pressure by their respective Land governments or political parties to refuse to make concessions on particular issues. Like the South African committee, the German Mediation Committee is only eligible to make proposals. In turn, it has no decision-making powers as regards the content of a Bill.

254 Mediation proceedings in the Committee can lead to four different outcomes: The

Committee may recommend that a Bill passed by the Bundestag be revised, i.e. that provi-sions not acceptable to the Bundesrat be reformulated, that additions be made, or that parts be deleted.

255 Secondly, a Bill passed by the Bundestag may be confirmed, in which case

amendment proposals submitted by the Bundesrat are rejected.256

Thirdly, the proposal may be made that the Bundestag repeals the Bill in question. This happens when the Bundesrat rejects a Bill in its entirety and gains acceptance for its standpoint in Mediation Committee proceedings.

257 Finally, Mediation Committee proceedings may also be

concluded without the submission of a compromise proposal, like for instance, when there is a committee deadlock. (bb) Outlook on the Functioning of the South African Mediation Committee The existence of the South African Mediation Committee reinforces the strong underlying commitment to co-operative government in the South African Constitution. Disagreement

250

Article 77 (2) (2) BL. The composition and the procedure of this committee is regulated by rules of procedure, the Gemeinsame Geschäftsordnung des Bundestages und des Bundesrates fuer den

Ausschuss nach Art. 77 des Grundgesetzes [Vermittlungsausschuss] (GO VermA). 251

See paragraph 1 GO VermA. 252

Article 77 (2) (3) BL. 253

Lücke, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz, Art. 77, Rn. 26. 254

See Lücke, in: Sachs (ed.), Grundgesetz Art. 77, Rn. 25, 30. 255

Paragraph 10 (3) (1) read with paragraph 10 (1) (1) GO VermA. 256

See paragraph 11 (1) GO VermA. 257

See paragraph 10 (1) (1) GO VermA.


regarding the content of legislation must be resolved in a manner that respects the other sphere’s interest. The German Mediation Committee, however differs in one material aspect from the situa-tion in South Africa. For the South African Mediation Committee’s recommendations to become law, the NCOP and the National Assembly must pass them. However, where there is a deadlock, the National Assembly can veto the NCOP’s position and still pass the law alone under the override provision.

258 Naturally, because of the current political situation

in South Africa, it seems unlikely that the National Assembly will exercise its override power. As long as the same party dominates each the NCOP and the National Assembly and as long as the party system is in fact a ‘single party system’, the question of an override is irrelevant. Differences between the two houses will therefore be rare in the near future.

259 To date, the Mediation Committee has only been convened twice.

260 Nonethe-

less, because meetings of the South African Mediation Committee are strictly confidential and not open to the public, the efficiency of the committee is very high and on both occa-sions the contentious issues were resolved and agreement reached within 2 – 3 hours of the meeting being convened.

261 When comparing the South African model with the German

system, one can surmise that matters might be different if the political landscape of the national and the provincial level were to change and the composition of the National Assembly and the NCOP were different.

The NCOP would perhaps be tempted to show its

strength and influence more regularly. Although, the small number of convocations of the Mediation Committee can also be seen as a sign that co-operative government is effectively in operation and that because of the high degree of consultation between the National Assembly and the NCOP differences between the two Houses on legislation are minimised. In Germany, the frequency with which meetings of the Mediation Committee take place is an indication of the extent to which the Federation and the Länder disagree over legisla-tion. Furthermore, it reflects the political constellation at the federal level. Where the politi-cal majority in the Bundesrat is not the same as that in the Bundestag, then both organs are more likely to disagree.

262 However, this does not mean that the parties generally exploit

258

See section 76 (1) (i) FC. 259


One disagreement occurred on the Local Government: Municipal Structures Act No 117 of 1998, the other one on the Republic of South Africa National Land Transport Transition Act No 22 of

2000, discussion with Mr. M.E. Surty, Chief Whip of the ANC in the NCOP, on 28 March 2001. 261

Discussion with Mr. M.E. Surty, Chief Whip of the ANC in the NCOP, on 28 March 2001. 262

During the 7th electoral term (1972-1976) when there was an SPD-FDP coalition government, the Bundesrat demanded that the Mediation Committee be convened on 96 occasions and, in the following 8th legislative term (1976-1980), on 69 occasions. During the 10th electoral term (1983-1987), however, when the CDU/CSU-FDP coalition was in power, the Mediation Committee was

273

the mediation procedure depending on the political composition of the Bundestag and the Bundesrat. The fact that either the Bundestag or the Bundesrat resorts to the mediation procedure also reflects the different political policies at federal and regional level and shows that the Bundesrat is also a political organ.

263

5. Conclusion

An analysis of the functions of the NCOP and the Bundesrat shows that both second houses in theory enjoy significant influence and responsibilities within their respective constitutional systems. With regard to constitutional amendments, the NCOP has consider-able powers to prevent the enactment of legislation affecting the provinces negatively. However, these powers are not as strong as those exercised by the Bundesrat. Articles 79 (1) and (2) of the German Basic Law require approval of two-thirds of the members of both the Bundestag and the Bundesrat in order to amend the Basic Law. However, the Basic Law prohibits any amendment affecting the division of the Federation into Länder, or their participation in the legislative process.

264

Concerning the enactment of legislation, there remains doubt whether the NCOP will be able to perform its role as a representative of provincial interests at a national level. Despite the fact that the provincial executives and members of the legislatures are able to express their concerns and needs in the NCOP, the powers of the NCOP are still to some extent unclear. The NCOP has no final veto and therefore it cannot prevent the National Assembly from enacting legislation, even if the disputed law affects the interests of the provinces. The strongest pressure that the NCOP can exert in such a case is to force the National Assembly to pass the Bill with a two-thirds majority. This differs notably from the power of the Bundesrat as explained above.

In general, if the views of the provinces are overridden too often, which is at present unlikely, it could place a heavy burden on national-provincial relations and could jeopard-ise the overall commitment to co-operative government. However, for now, one can assume

convened only 6 times. Over the whole of this period, from 1972 to 1987, the majority in the Bundesrat was formed by representatives of the CDU/CSU Land Parliaments. Since that time, until 1998 when the SPD came into power at the national level, following a series of elections at Land level, the CDU/CSU had lost its majority in the Bundesrat, which had led to an increase in the use of the mediation procedure; see http://www.bundesrat.de/Englisch/PDundF/index.html.

263 A statistic about the convocation of the Mediation Committee between 05 September 1949 and 15 September 2000 reveals that in 88, 8% of the cases the Mediation Committee was convoked by the Bundesrat. In a small number of cases the Federal Government (8,7 %) or the Bundestag

(2,5 %) convoked the committee; see http://www.bundesrat.de/Englisch/PDundF/index.html. 264

See article 79 (3) BL.


that conflicts and differences will be resolved in a peaceful manner and in the light of the principle of co-operative governance. Therefore it is likely that consensus between the national government and the provinces will be reached in most instances. Nonetheless, an amendment to the Constitution giving the NCOP an absolute right to veto legislation affecting the provinces, could possibly guarantee the NCOP a substantive voice in the national legislative process. D. The NCOP and the national legislative process

The procedure followed when Parliament legislates depends on the category of legislative competence exercised by Parliament. For example, if Parliament legislates in an area of concurrent competence, namely in Schedule 4 matters, the directions provided in section 76 must be followed. However, where Parliament exercises its exclusive competence, it must follow the manner and form laid down in section 75 of the Constitution. The question is: What role does the NCOP play in the national legislative process and to what extent is it able to exercise its responsibility and role within a framework of co-opera-tive government? This inquiry is aided by a review of the German legislative process, upon which the South African system is modelled. I. Initiating legislation

A number of bodies can initiate legislation under the South African Constitution. 1. The bodies empowered to initiate legislation

Members of the National Assembly

265 or a committee of the National Assembly

266 are

empowered to initiate legislation, regarding any issue other than money bills.267

Similarly, section 85 (2) (b) of the Final Constitution empowers the Executive branch of government to initiate legislation.

268 In addition members or the committee of the NCOP carry this

265

Section 73 (2) FC, such a bill is called a Private Members Bill. 266

See the rules of the National Assembly (RNA) sections 238-240. 267

Section 55 (b) (1) FC generally empowers the National Assembly to initiate legislation. 268

See section 85 (2) (b) FC, the President and Cabinet is specifically empowered to initiate and prepare national legislation.

275

right.269

Yet, this right is limited in so far as it applies only to Bills falling within one of the functional areas listed in Schedule 4 and other matters listed in section 76 (3). 2. The initiating of legislation under the German Basic Law

Under the German Basic Law, the Federal Government, the Bundesrat, and the members of the Bundestag have the right to introduce Bills to be debated by the Bundestag.

270 Bills

tabled by members of the Bundestag must be signed by at least 5 per cent of members or by a parliamentary group.

271 In the case of the Federal Government or the Bundesrat, the

organ concerned must take a decision to this effect.272

The Bundesrat seldom makes use of its right to initiate legislation. The Federal Govern-ment introduces over two thirds of all bills.

273 But this statistic does not imply that

members of the Bundestag do not take the initiative to introduce legislation or that it merely accepts what the Federal Government dictates. Rather, it is typical of the parlia-mentary system of government provided for by the Basic Law. In line with the Basic Law, the majority of the Bundestag elects the Federal Chancellor.

274 The Federal President then

appoints the Cabinet ministers on the proposal of the Chancellor.275

Because the Federal Government and the parliamentary majority are identical in political terms, it is appropriate for the Bills to be drafted by the Federal Government. The Bundestag's control, therefore, de facto extends to deciding which of these legislative proposals will ultimately be adopted and which of them will be amended.

269

See section 68 (b) FC. 270

See article 76 (1) BL. The article reads as follows: ”Bills are introduced in the House of Representatives [Bundestag] by the Government or by

members of the House of Representatives [Bundestag] or by the Senate [Bundesrat].” 271

See paragraph 76 (1) of the Geschäftsordnung des Bundestages (GeschOBT). 272

Pieroth, in: Jarass/Pieroth, Grundgesetz, Art. 76, Rn. 2. In the case of the Bundesrat this follows from article 52 (3) BL.

273 I v. Münch, Staatsrecht I, p. 302, Rn. 736; from 07 September 1949 till 15 September 2000 draft bills tabled by the Bundesrat made up only 7,5 % of all draft bills. Draft bills tabled by the Federal Government in the Bundesrat made up 57,1 % while the Bundestag itself introduced 35,4 % of all bills; see http://www.bundesrat.de/Englisch/PDundF/index.html.




3. Differences between South Africa and Germany regarding the right to initiate

legislation

Like the situation in Germany, the role of the NCOP as an initiator of national legislation has been limited. To date, the NCOP has not initiated any legislation. The executive branch of government initiates almost all bills tabled in Parliament. The NCOP’s lack of initiating legislation lies in the responsibility of the Executive branch which is arguably better equipped in terms of expertise and infrastructure to determine the need for new laws.

276 As

in Germany, this fact does not necessarily signify that the different bodies are not commit-ted to the principle of co-operative government. As in the case of the Basic Law, Cabinet members can also be members of Parliament in the South African parliamentary system. Because of a system of strict party discipline, the members of the majority party of the National Assembly generally support the Bills proposed by the Cabinet. However, in contrast to the German system it is usually not politically feasible for ordinary members of the majority party in parliament to initiate legislation since they cannot demand the same support like Cabinet members. Although both two upper houses – the NCOP and the Bundesrat – have significant rights concerning the initiation of legislation, in practice, this right does not come into play too often due to the structure of those systems. However, it can be expected that the role of the NCOP as an initiator of legislation will change in the near future. On certain issues the NCOP is better equipped to table a Bill than the Executive branch of government, that is in respect of section 65 (2) legislation or in the area of linguistic and cultural matters pertain-ing to the provinces. However, how far does the principle of co-operative government have to be considered by the different bodies in initiating legislation? Neither the Constitution nor the Constitutional Court have pronounced on the issue of how co-operative government plays a role in the process of initiating legislation. In the Education Policy Judgment however, the Court mentioned that ‘where two legislatures have concurrent powers to make laws in respect of the same functional area, the only reasonable way in which these powers can be imple-mented is through co-operation‘.

277 This statement reveals that not only the ‘making of

laws’ but also the introduction of laws must be implemented in accordance with the prin-ciple of co-operative government. It is therefore desirable that the NCOP collaborates with the National Assembly and the Executive branch of government if it wishes to introduce legislation.

276

Rautenbach / Malherbe, Constitutional Law, 1999, 3rd ed., p. 169. 277

See Ex parte Speaker of the National Assembly: In re: Dispute concerning the constitutionality of


277

II. The Involvement of the NCOP in the Introduction and First Reading of a Bill

Once legislation has been drafted, the relevant party introduces the legislation to the National Assembly by submitting it to the Speaker of Parliament

278 or the Chairperson of

the NCOP.279

It is at this stage of the legislative process that the draft becomes known as a Bill. Five main types of Bills come before Parliament: Section 75 and section 76 Bills, mixed section 75 and 76 Bills, Bills that allocate public money (also called money Bills or section 77 Bills), and Bills amending the Constitution (section 74 Bills). 1. Description of the legislative process under the South African Constitution

Once a proposed Bill has been drafted, the Joint Tagging Mechanism (JTM), a committee consisting of the Speaker and Deputy Speaker of the National Assembly as well as the Chairperson and permanent Deputy Chairperson of the NCOP tags the Bill,

280 i. e. classify-

ing the Bill into one of the above named five different categories. Tagging the Bill into one of the five categories in turn determines the procedures which the Bill must follow to become enacted.

281 Once tagged the Bill is normally introduced by being tabled in the

National Assembly.282

It may also be introduced in the NCOP283

if the bill concerns the functional areas listed in section 76 (3) (a-f).

284 However, only a member or a committee

may introduce a Bill into the NCOP.285

A draft of every Bill, together with a memorandum explaining the objects of the Bill, must be submitted to the speaker of the National Assembly and the Chairperson of the NCOP before referral to the relevant portfolio and select committees.

286 This rule enables the

committees to plan their activities in advance and to give members of the committees the

278

Section 243 RNA. 279

Rule181 NCOP. 280

The Joint Rules of Parliament (JRP), as approved by the Joint Rules Committee on 24 March 1999, regulate this process, see sections 151-158 JRP.

281 The process of qualifying the bill into one of the four categories is set out in section 160 JRP.

282 See section 73 (1) FC; see also section 244 (2) (b) RNA, section 157 (a) JRP.

283 Section 157 (a) JRP.

284 The exception is money Bills, see Section 73 (3) FC.

285 Section 73 (2) and (4) FC.

286 Section 159 (1) and (2) JRP.


chance to prepare themselves.287

The rules of the NCOP provide that when a Bill on a matter affecting the provinces is referred to or introduced in the NCOP, copies must be referred to the provincial legislatures for the purpose of conferring mandates on their dele-gates in the NCOP.

288 Even copies of Bills not affecting the provinces – the so-called

section 75 Bills, must be referred to the provincial legislatures for information purposes.289

After a Bill is introduced in the National Assembly or the NCOP a short debate is held during which the party who initiated the Bill introduces it.

290 During this first reading, one

member of each party may also set out briefly their position on the Bill.291

After this first reading, the Bill is referred to the relevant portfolio committee for detailed considera-tion.

292

2. The Involvement of the Bundesrat in the Introduction and First Reading of a Bill

Under the Basic Law, a Bill that has been drafted by the ministry concerned, is not immedi-ately forwarded to the Bundestag. It first has to be introduced to the Bundesrat for consid-eration,

293 giving it the ‘first say’ in parliamentary proceedings.

294 The so-called first

passage in the Bundesrat results from its extensive rights to participate in the legislative process. Usually the Bundesrat delays the Bill and, in the case of consent bills, even prevents some from ever entering into force.

295 To ensure that the views of the Bundesrat

and Länder become known in good time, the Basic Law entitles the Bundesrat to make early comments on the draft law before it is submitted to Parliament.

296 The Bundesrat

committees examine whether the Bills are compatible with the Basic Law, their subject matter and their financial and political implications.

297 In turn, the Federal Government has

an opportunity to take the counterproposals of the Bundesrat into consideration and may

287

Rautenbach / Mahlerbe, Constitutional Law, 1999, 3rd ed., p. 173. 288

See rule 115, 126, 134 and 165 NCOP. It also applies to certain constitutional amendments (section 74 FC and rule 150 NCOP).

289 Rule 142 NCOP.

290 Section 247 (3) (i) RNA and rule 181 NCOP.

291 Section 247 (3) (ii) FC.

292 See section 247 (5) (a) RNA read with section 248 (1) (a) RNA; if Parliament is in recess, the Speaker must refer the bill to the relevant portfolio committee. The bill is then considered to have been read a first time, see section 248 RNA.

293 Article 76 (2) (1) BL.

294 Miebach, Federalism in Germany, p. 18.

295 I v. Münch, Staatsrecht I, p. 303, Rn. 740.

296 I v. Münch, Staatsrecht I, p. 303, Rn. 739.

297 Miebach, Federalism in Germany, p. 18/19.

279

attach to the draft law a written statement known as a counterstatement.298

Like the comments of the Bundesrat, which the Bundesrat has to submit within 6 weeks,

299 this

counterstatement is attached to the original Bill. In this way, the experience and knowledge which the Länder gain from the implementation of legislation is in this way used in the federal legislative process and ultimately enables the Länder to exercise control over the Federal Government via the Bundesrat.

300 The documents submitted to the Bundestag at

the beginning of the legislative process thus already reveal important aspects which may possibly lead to a conflict between the Federation and the Länder at a later stage.

298

Maunz, in: MDHS, Grundgesetz, Art. 76, Rn. 19. 299

See article 76 (2) (2) BL. 300

Miebach, Federalism in Germany, p. 19.


3. Comparison between the South African and the German process

The above description illustrates that each constitutional system pays significant attention to the rights of the respective provinces and Länder. The process of introduction and first reading of a Bill in terms of the South African Final Constitution closely resembles the process under the German Basic Law. However, the existence of a committee like the JTM is unknown to the German parliamentary system. The JTM provides means by which to avoid possible conflicts regarding the content of legislation at an early stage. Nevertheless, the introduction of the right of ‘first say’ for the NCOP could be an improvement to the South African legislative process. German experience has shown that this right is able to guarantee the Bundesrat a strong voice in the legislative process. And yet, in the process of initiating and first reading of a bill in an area of concurrent law-making power, the principle of co-operative government plays a significant role. The South African Constitutional Court has pointed out that the vesting of concurrent lawmaking powers in Parliament and the provincial legislatures calls for consultation and co-operation between the national Executive and the provincial Executives.

301 This statement illustrates

that the principle is invoked at an early stage in the national legislative process. This obser-vation is substantiated by a practice that has recently been established in Parliament. Namely section 76 legislation is progressively being introduced in the NCOP, practically giving it a right of ‘first say’. Thus, the principle of co-operative government is exercised in daily parliamentary affairs without the existence of a legislative framework. III. The Passing of Bills under the South African Final Constitution

After the Bill has been referred to the relevant Portfolio Committee for detailed considera-tion, it is debated in their meetings and interested parties, individuals and groups may submit commentary on the Bill to the committee. 1. The work of the Parliamentary Portfolio Committees and the second reading of the

bill

The influence of the Parliamentary Portfolio Committees in the legislative process is significant in that they may propose any amendment to the Bill, whether it relates to detail

301

See Ex parte Speaker of the National Assembly: In re: Dispute concerning the constitutionality of


281

or principle.302

After the portfolio committee has considered the Bill, it is again tabled in the National Assembly or the NCOP together with the Committee’s report in which the committee either approves, rejects or proposes amendments to the Bill.

303 Three days must

lapse before there can be a debate on the Bill.304

During the debate which takes place in either the National Assembly or the NCOP depending on where the Bill was introduced, members of the different parliamentary groups are given the opportunity to discuss the Bill’s content. It is at this stage that the National Assembly or the NCOP may make amendments to the Bill. Once this is completed, the second reading of the Bill takes place. That is when the Bill is ready to be passed by Parliament. Different procedures follow depending on how the Bill has been tagged. The complexity of these procedures highlights the significant and central theme of co-operative government underlying this process. The input provided by the Portfolio Committees and a second reading of the Bill give promi-nence to the views of the provincial legislatures, which are considered and substantially influence the law making process. 2. The Passing of section 75 Legislation

Section 75 of the Final Constitution describes the procedure to be followed where the introduced Bill is an ordinary Bill which does not affect the provinces. Ordinary Bills include all legislation that does not fall within the functional areas set out in Schedule 4 and 5 of the Constitution.

305 Bills which fall within the scope of section 75 can only be

introduced in the National Assembly and it must be passed by a majority of members present.

306 If the National Assembly does not pass the Bill, it lapses,

307 whereas if the

National Assembly passes the bill it is referred to the NCOP for consideration.308

In respect of section 75 Bills, the members of the NCOP all vote individually and the deci-sion must be taken with a majority of the NCOP’s members present.

309 If the NCOP passes

the Bill without proposing any amendments it is submitted to the President for his or her

302

Section 249-251 RNA and rules 186-189 NCOP, see also Rautenbach / Mahlerbe, Constitutional Law, 1999, 3rd ed., p. 174.

303 See section 251 (3) RNA on all the information that the report of the relevant committee has to include.

304 Section 253 RNA.

305 See section 75 (1) FC read with section 76 (1) (3) (4) (5) FC.

306 See section 53 (1) (a) read with (c) FC.

307 Section 269 (a) RNA, section 181-183 JRP.

308 Section 75 (1) FC, section 269 (b) RNA, section 181 JRP.

309 Section 75 (2) FC, one third of the members of the NCOP must be present, see section 75 (2) (b) FC.


consent.310

If, on the other hand, the NCOP rejects the Bill or passes an amended version of the Bill

311, it must be referred back to the relevant Portfolio Committee in the National

Assembly. The Portfolio Committee must then reconsider the Bill by taking into account any amendments proposed by the NCOP.

312 Following its reconsideration, the Committee

reports to the National Assembly313

which either accepts or rejects the amendments and passes the Bill with an ordinary majority of its members.

314 The National Assembly may

also decide not to proceed with the Bill at all.315

Thus, while both houses consider section 75 Bills, the National Assembly is able to override any opposition from the NCOP by a simple majority of its members. Notwithstanding constitutionally-mandated veto powers given to the National Assembly, due to the current political situation, the NCOP is unlikely to disagree over section 75 legislation. The informal or de facto pattern that has evolved regarding section 75 matters is that the delegates in the NCOP meet before their vote is cast to discuss their respective voting behaviour and ultimately vote along party lines. Consequently, because the majority party in 8 of the 9 Councils also holds the majority of seats in the National Assembly, the role of the NCOP is relegated to that of a mere rubberstamp. Although this voting pattern is undesirable, it is an obvious consequence of voting procedures set out in the Constitution. Furthermore, this dilemma cannot be obviated by introducing the more onerous section 76 voting for section 75 legislation as the procedure of conferring a mandate on provincial delegations is time-consuming for provincial legislatures and it would seem impractical for provincial legislatures to consider section 75 matters in as much depth as section 76 issues. 3. The passing of section 76 legislation

Section 76 provides for a special mechanism by which ordinary Bills affecting the provinces and other Bills specified by various provisions of the Constitution are passed. An ordinary Bill will be tagged as affecting the provinces if its provisions fall substantially within the functional areas listed in Schedule 4

316 or if it is a law envisaged by the various

sections of the Constitution listed in section 76 (3).317

In addition, other specific Bills must be passed in terms of section 76. These include legislation contemplated in section 44 (2)

310

Section 75 (1) (b) FC, see also rule 207 (a) NCOP. 311

The NCOP is entitled to do so following section 75 (1) (a) (ii) (iii) FC. 312

Section 75 (1) (c) FC, section 270 RNA, rule 207 (c) NCOP. 313

Section 271 (1) RNA. 314

Section 75 (1) (c) (i) FC, section 272 (4) (a-c) RNA. 315

Section 75 (1) (c) (ii) FC, section 272 (4) (d) RNA. 316


Section 76 (3) FC lists sections 65 (2), 182, 195 (3) and (4), 196 and 197 FC.

283

and section 220 (3) as well as legislation envisaged in the general financial provisions of Chapter 13, where the legislation affects the financial interests of the provincial sphere of government. Most Bills falling within the scope of Schedule 4 or are referred to in section 76 (3) may be introduced in either the National Assembly or the NCOP. Although, as mentioned, these Bills have mainly been introduced in the NCOP. In contrast, the specific Bills passed in terms of section 76 (1) may only be introduced in the National Assembly.

318 This distinc-

tion is an important one since the Assembly has no ultimate veto in respect of Bills intro-duced in the NCOP. The house that passes the Bill must refer it to the other house which may then either pass it, pass an amended version of it, or reject it. If both houses pass the same version of the Bill, it is submitted to the President for his or her approval.

319 If the second house passes an

amended version of the Bill passed by the house in which the Bill originated, the amended version is referred back to that house for its consideration and, if it is passed, is submitted to the President for his or her assent.

320 In all cases where the National Assembly and the

NCOP do not agree on a single version of the Bill, the matter is referred to the Mediation Committee.

321

4. The Passing of Mixed section 75 and 76 Legislation

Mixed section 75 and 76 legislation is legislation that contains provisions which both affect and not affect the interests of the provinces. The Joint Rules of Parliament

322 provide for

mixed section 75 and 76 bills to be introduced in the National Assembly.323

To be able to be tabled in the National Assembly the bill must be of such a nature that a dispute between the two Houses is unlikely to arise.

324 Furthermore, it has to be possible to separate the

318


Section 76 (1) (b) and 76 (2) (b) FC. 320

Section 76 (1) (c) and 76 (2) (c) FC. 321

Section 76 (1) (d) and 76 (2) (d) FC. 322

See section 191-201 JRP. 323

Mixed section 75 and 76 Bills introduced in the NCOP are unconstitutional in that they contain section 75 provisions which cannot be introduced in the Council; see Part 7 (1) JRP; see also section 193 JRP.

324 Section 191 (2) (a) JRP.


Bill, if necessary into a section 75 and section 76 Bill.325

Finally, other unmanageable procedural complications have to be excluded.

326

a) Disagreement over mixed section 75 and 76 legislation

Potential problems might arise in determining which procedures to follow where the two houses disagree over the content of a mixed section 75 and 76 bill. The JRP are required to foresee that the Bill could be split into a section 75 and 76 Bill, or amended to such an extent that it may be reclassified as either a section 75 or section 76 bill.

327 The voting

procedures in the NCOP differ in respect of mixed section 75 and 76 Bills in that the NCOP must pass mixed Bills in terms of both its voting procedures. It first votes by province and then by individual member.

328 This procedure of separation makes the

process of passing mixed section 75 and 76 legislation both complex and difficult and members of the NCOP have expressed that they would prefer this procedure to change.

329

A way to facilitate the enactment of mixed Bills would be to pass them according to the requirements set out for section 76 legislation. Such a procedure would be less time consuming and contribute to the fulfillment of co-operative government. Above all it would guarantee a strong voice for provincial interests. In terms of the current arrangement, these interests are vulnerable to being compromised because of the fact that the NCOP votes also individually in respect of the section 75 part of the Bill. Yet on the other hand, passing mixed Bills according to the requirements set out for section 76 legislation could pose problems, as illustrated in the German practice. b) The German Practice in respect of mixed Legislation

As mentioned, in Germany, Bills that affect the legal status of the Länder or the relation-ship between the Länder and the Bund as well as Laws amending the Basic Law require the consent of the Bundesrat. Since the Länder execute most of the Bund’s legislation more than half of all legislation belongs to this category. The question arises as to whether a single administrative clause in a Bill can already make the Bill a ‘consent Bill’. The German Constitutional Court has ruled that in effect the administrative nature of a single clause in a Bill will give the Bundesrat a veto over the

325

Section 191 (2) (b) (i) JRP. 326

Section 191 (2) (c) JRP. 327

Section 194 (2) (a) (i) (ii) JRP. 328

Section 197 (1) JRP. 329

Discussion with Mr. M.E. Surty, Chief Whip of the ANC in the NCOP, on 28 March 2001.

285

entire Bill.330

This applies for instance where a federal law prescribes certain competencies, official forms, time limits, administrative fees, arrangements for the service of official documents, or new agencies, which the Land authorities have to comply with.

331 The veto

powers of the Bundesrat have presented problems in cases where political parties have exploited their majorities in the Bundesrat to block reforms of their opponents in the Bundestag. The Constitutional Court realised that such deadlocks have the potential to weaken the federal structure. The Court recognised that, as more and more Bills became amendments of existing legislation, – over which the Bundesrat would be given an absolute veto – the government would not be able to govern without the consent of the opposition unless the same coalition governed both the Bundestag and the Bundesrat. Consequently, the current practice is that amendments which initially required the consent of the Bundes-

rat require renewed consent of the Bundesrat only when they seek a ‘systematic shift’ in the power relations between the Bund and the Länder.

332

Nonetheless, mixed legislation in Germany is not as problematic as it is in South Africa. The mixed nature of a Bill in Germany does not necessarily make the voting process more complex and time-consuming, but it simply adds more weight to the influence of the Bundesrat. 5. The Passing of section 77 Legislation (Money Bills)

Money bills are bills that allocate public money for a particular purpose or impose taxes, levies or duties.

333 They may not deal with any other matter except one incidental to the

appropriation of money or the imposition of taxes, levies or duties.334

Only the Minister of Finance may introduce money bills and they may only be introduced in the National Assembly.

335

The passing of money Bills follows the same procedure as the passing of section 75 legis-lation and confirms the fragile position of the NCOP. On financial Bills, many of which can quite substantially affect the interests of the provinces, the NCOP can only exercise a rather weak suspensive veto, meaning that resistance by the NCOP to a money Bill can be over-ridden by a simple majority of the members of the National Assembly.

330

BVerfGE 8, 274 (294). 331

Miebach, Federalism in Germany, p. 19. 332

BVerfGE 37, 363 (379). 333

See section 77 FC; section 77 (1) (a) FC gives a definition of a money bill. 334


Section 73 (2) FC.


6. The Passing of Constitutional Amendments (section 74 Bills)

The Final Constitution distinguishes between at least five different kinds of constitutional amendments and prescribes different procedures for each amendment. Depending on the category, the Constitution requires different organs of state and legislatures to be involved in the amendment process and in some cases requires higher majorities to pass the amend-ment. Common to all constitutional amendments is that there is no provision for an override in favour of the National Assembly. Where the NCOP participates in a constitutional amend-ment, it has a veto power over the adoption of an amendment. Voting on amendments in the NCOP is done by province even when the amendment does not concern provincial interests.

336 The RNA and the JRP refer disputes between the houses on constitutional

amendments to the Mediation Committee. The amendment Bill lapses if mediation is unsuccessful.

337 Thus, if provinces are able to develop some real political autonomy from

the national parties at the centre, they will have considerable protection through the NCOP against amendments affecting them negatively. 7. Legal consequences of not observing the correct procedures

The provisions in the Constitution prescribe how laws are made and changed. They form part of a framework that guarantees the participation of both houses in the exercise of the legislative authority vested in Parliament and also establish machinery for breaking dead-locks.

338 If the correct form and manner is not followed in passing a Bill, the Bill cannot

become law.339

Problems arise where Parliament applies the incorrect procedure for adopting a law, operating under the misconception that the law is differently categorised. For example – applying section 76 procedure to a law which in fact falls outside the area of provincial competence. In such a case does the law become invalid because section 75 procedure should have been applied to adopt the law?

336

This follows from the wording of section 74 which refers to a supporting vote of at least six provinces.

337 See section 266 RNA and sections 177-180 JRP.

338 See Ex Parte: Executive Council of the Western Cape Legislature versus the President of the

Republic of South Africa 1995 (10) BCLR 1289 (CC), 1995 (4) SA 877 (CC) para 62. 339

See Chaskalson, Constitutional Law 3-25 (f) (i) footnote 3.

287

a) The Constitutional Court’s opinion

The Constitutional Court advanced an obiter dictum statement in the Liquor Bill Judgment.

While discussing the possible legal consequences of adopting a bill through the more onerous section 76 procedure when it should have been done through the easier section 75 procedure, the Court remarked that it would be formalistic to consider a Bill invalid. If Parliament erred in good faith in assuming that the Bill was required to be dealt with under the section 76 procedure, then the only consequence of Parliament’s error would be to give the NCOP more weight and in the event of an intercameral dispute to make the passage of the Bill through the National Assembly more difficult.

340

However, the problem is not resolved that easily because voting procedures differ in the NCOP depending whether section 75 or section 76 is followed. In a situation where differ-ent political parties are in control of the National Assembly and the NCOP the question of which procedure is to be applied becomes crucial. Regarding section 75 legislation the delegates in the NCOP vote individually and therefore along party lines. Nonetheless, despite these fears it can never be assumed that the outcome would be the same, even if the same party controls both houses.

341

b) Matthew Chaskalson’s opinion

In contrast to the obiter dictum comments of the Constitutional Court in the Liquor Bill

Judgment, some scholars are of the opinion that the section 76 procedure is not only more onerous but different in a number of respects. In fact section 75 and 76 are different to the extent that compliance with the one can never amount to compliance with the other. Thus, for Chaskalson, if a Bill is adopted in terms of a procedure that is inconsistent with the Constitution, it is constitutionally invalid.

342

The correct tagging of the Bill is therefore very important. In turn, if the incorrect proce-dure is applied to it, the Bill may not in theory become law. However, for all practical purposes and intents, the Bill will become enforceable until it is invalidated by a court of law. In terms of section 172 (1) (a) a court must declare the entire Act invalid to the extent of its inconsistency with correct procedure.

340

See Ex parte President of the Republic of South Africa in re: The constitutionality of the Liquor

Bill 2000 (1) BCLR 1 (CC) para 26. 341

The Constitutional Court, however, recognised that the question of which procedure is applied could in defined circumstances be determinative of whether the NCOP passes a Bill; see Ex parte

President of the Republic of South Africa in re: The constitutionality of the Liquor Bill 2000 (1) BCLR 1 (CC) para 26.

342 Chaskalson, Constitutional Law 3-26 (f) (i).


8. Comparison with the German legislative process and conclusion

The German legislative process is in many respects similar to the South African legislative process. As noted, the majority of legislative proposals in Germany are Bills tabled by the Federal Government. The Federal Government must submit these Bills to the Bundesrat

before transmitting them to the Bundestag. The Bundesrat's involvement after the adoption of the bill by the Bundestag serves to underline the federal structure of the Federal Repub-lic and the important role played by the Länder in terms of the implementation of legisla-tion and the consideration given to regional disparities. On the other hand, bills originating in the Bundesrat make their way to the Bundestag by way of the Federal Government. This accounts for the fact why legislation is generally the product of a broad consensus reached by the three institutions.

343

This is also the case in South Africa. The relatively small number of convocations of the Mediation Committee illustrates the broad consensus that is usually reached when laws are being made. It further illustrates the functioning of co-operative government in the law-making process. Although, the legislative process in South Africa is relatively complex, it was not deliberately intended to be so. Its complexity is simply the result of having to involve so many different bodies in the passage of legislation, of ensuring that often diffi-cult subject matter is examined several times over, and of making available a wide range of information to all those interested in a particular subject. The complexity of the process is ultimately a reflection of the demands of democracy and the rule of law in South Africa. E. The involvement of the NCOP in conflicts of law

Despite issues pertaining to the legislative competence of the national and provincial legis-latures as well as the manner and form in which legislation is passed, the issue of a conflict of law between national and provincial laws can play an important role. I. The issue of a conflict of law

A Conflict of law occurs where there is inconsistency between laws passed by legislatures in different spheres of government. As mentioned both the national and the provincial legislatures may legislate in the areas of concurrent powers listed in Schedule 4 of the Constitution thereby increasing the likelihood of a conflict. A conflict may also occur when Parliament intervenes in the Schedule 5 areas by making use of section 44 (2). Finally, a conflict may arise between national and provincial law. 343

Kommers, The Constitutional Jurisprudence of the Federal Republic of Germany, 1997 p. 117.

289

II. General principles for the resolution of conflict

In certain instances it may be difficult to determine if there is a conflict between the laws of two spheres of government. In such a case a court should follow an interpretation of legis-lation that avoids conflict.

344 In adopting a narrow construction of the statute, the court

avoids conflict with another law compared to a broader construction which would raise a conflict.

345 The constitutional provisions relating to a conflict of laws only apply when it is

not possible to resolve the conflict through interpretation. The Constitutional Court has developed a test to determine whether there is inconsistency between the national constitu-tion and a provincial constitution. The Court stated that provisions are conflicting when they either cannot stand at the same time, or cannot stand together, or cannot both be obeyed simultaneously. On the other hand, provisions are not inconsistent when it is possible to comply with both without infringing one or the other.

346

III. The role of the NCOP

In the case of a conflict of law the Constitution foresees an important role for the NCOP. The courts are generally reluctant to become involved in conflicts of law which is consis-tent with the principle of co-operative government which envisages that these conflicts be resolved at a political level. The NCOP has to ensure that national and provincial legislative efforts are co-ordinated and the potential of conflicts minimised. The Constitution stipulates that when confronted with disputes between national and provincial laws, a court must consider the views of the NCOP in resolving whether a section 146 (2) (c) override is engaged.

347 The Constitutional

Court has supported the provisions of section 146 (4) and indicated that even without the provision it might have read it into the text of the Constitution in any event.

348 The pre-

344

See section 150 FC. 345

See Ex parte Speaker of the KwaZulu-Natal Provincial Legislature: In re KwaZulu-Natal

Amakhosi and Iziphakanysiwa Amendment Bill of 1995; in re Payment of Salaries and

Allowances and Other Privileges to the Ingonyama Amendment Bill of 1995 1996 (4) SA 653 (CC), 1996 (7) BCLR (CC) para 36.

346 Ex Parte Speaker of the KwaZulu-Natal Legislature: In re Certification of the Constitution of

KwaZulu-Natal 1996 (4) SA 1098 (CC), 1996 (11) BCLR 1419 (CC) para 24. 347


See Chaskalson, Constitutional Law, 5-8 (b).


sumption can therefore be extended to other categories of override beyond section 146 (2) (c).

349

Consequently, section 146 (4) strengthens and enhances the idea of co-operative govern-ment in that it enjoins the courts to interpret potentially conflicting laws co-operatively and consistently. In turn, in cases where the NCOP is opposed to the national override legisla-tion, the court should be cautious to find in favour of an override.

350 After all, the NCOP’s

assent affirms that the majority of the provinces agree with the national law. F. Final Conclusion

An analysis of the role of the NCOP within the framework of co-operative government as expanded in the Constitution reveals that the Council allows the provinces considerable influence on national legislation, especially in areas of concurrent jurisdiction. Yet, despite these powers, the NCOP has been reluctant to maximise the full potential. This occurrence is largely a result of the enormous influence that the ANC national government exerts upon the provinces. Consequently, it is difficult to predict how effectively the NCOP will assert its role as a representative of provincial interests in the future. South Africa’s current politi-cal climate is uncertain to produce a definitive conclusion. In addition, the NCOP is still a young institution and needs to find its position within the institutional structure of the South African Constitution. It can be expected, however that its impact on the development on national legislation will increase. Yet is its role going to be as significant as that of the Bundesrat in the German constitutional structure? The Bundesrat is at the heart of the German federal system. By giving the Länder governments a direct voice in the Federal Legislature the Basic Law ensures a central role for the Länder in German law-making despite the wide scope of Bund legislation. To date, the NCOP has been less effective as a forum in which provincial interests as opposed to national interests are reflected. As indicated, this is mainly caused by political factors, at the forefront of which is the political configuration of the NCOP. However, the Constitution sets up sufficient structures to ensure that the NCOP enhances the ideals of co-operative government. The fact that a provincial delegation to the NCOP has a single vote

349

See Ex parte Chairperson of the Constitutional Assembly: In re Certification of the Amended

Text of the Constitution of the Republic of South Africa, 1996 1997 (2) SA 97 (CC), 1997 (1) BCLR (CC) para 155.

350 Chaskalson, Constitutional Law, 5-9 (b).

291

on provincial matters implies that there is room for negotiations aimed at reflection of the provincial interest in contrast to the interest of a political party. For example, the veto power of the NCOP in matters that affect the provinces could enhance the NCOP’s role. This mechanism will promote co-operative government in the national sphere of government to the extent that it would force the National Assembly to negotiate on agreements with the NCOP even on matters where it is disinclined to do so. To conclude, although the NCOP is still in its infancy, it provides a mechanism by which the national government is called to fulfil the constitutional mandate of participatory and co-operative government by giving the provinces a voice in the shaping and enactment of legislation affecting them.


AUS POLITIK UND WISSENSCHAFT

Thailands Rechtssystem: Zwischenbilanz eines asiatischen Reformmodells Von Norbert Eschborn und Jochen Zenthöfer, Berlin Wenn es um ihr Recht geht, haben die Thais insbesondere seit den neunziger Jahren ein beachtliches Maß an Kreativität, Lernfähigkeit und Mut zur Reform bewiesen. Die dabei erreichten rechtspolitischen Erfolge können sich vor allem im regionalen Vergleich schon jetzt sehen lassen. Wenn es um ihr Recht geht, spalten sich die Thais jedoch auch in die Minderheit unbeirrbarer Reformer vor allem aus Rechtswissenschaft und Zivilgesellschaft sowie die Mehrheit der Bevölkerung, für die Recht und Gesetz noch immer vornehmlich Instrumente zur Bestrafung darstellen, nicht jedoch zur Beseitigung von Unrecht und Herstellung von Chancengleichheit. Eine Nation, der legalistisches Denken weitgehend fremd war und ist, hat mit den jüngsten Reformen ihres Rechtssystems gleichwohl einen Weg beschritten, der vor allem im Kontext der von Traditionalisten forcierten Bewahrung althergebrachter kultureller Legate kurzfristig nicht ohne Risiken ist. Auf lange Sicht jedoch eröffnet er den Thais die Chance zur Schaffung einer Gesellschaft, die den Heraus-forderungen des 21. Jahrhunderts besser gewachsen sein dürfte. Zu erkennen und zu akzeptieren, dass Demokratie und Rechtsstaatlichkeit in einer inter-dependenten Beziehung zueinander stehen, ist für Thailands herrschende Eliten ein langer Prozess gewesen, der in vielen Fällen bis heute noch nicht abgeschlossen ist. Zu oft seit dem Ende des Zweiten Weltkriegs hatte das Land Perioden von Pseudo-Demokratie ohne rechtsstaatliche Kontrollinstitutionen erlebt, und viel zu regelmäßig wurde Recht ohne demokratische politische Basis als Herrschaftsmittel für die Verfolgung von individuellen oder Gruppeninteressen durch die Machteliten missbraucht. Ein erstes Anzeichen für einen Ausbruch des Königreichs aus diesem Teufelskreis waren die prodemokratischen Proteste vom Mai 1992, in deren Folge klar wurde, dass der Aufbau des Rechtsstaates in Thailand im Rahmen einer extensiven Rechtsreform ein Kernziel eines umfassenden politischen und Verfassungsreformprozesses sein würde.

291

In der Tat haben die politischen Entwicklungen seither in der Gestaltung des Rechtssystems deutliche Spuren hinterlassen. Fast alle Rechtsgebiete erfuhren in den letzten Jahren Ände-rungen. Doch dringen beinahe nur Meldungen über Strafverfahren gegen Drogenhändler samt der in diesem Zusammenhang häufig vollstreckten Todesstrafe in die internationale Berichterstattung. Von den Anstrengungen thailändischer Juristen, nach der Wirtschafts-krise 1997 ein modernes Insolvenzrecht zu schaffen oder das Gesetz zur Zwangsvoll-streckung zu reformieren, erfährt in der Regel nur die Fachöffentlichkeit. Und auch von den Neuerungen im Öffentlichen Recht wüssten nur Experten, hätte es nicht im August 2001 die aufsehenerregende Entscheidung des Verfassungsgerichts im „Fall Thaksin“ gegeben. I. Entscheidung im „Fall Thaksin“

Entscheiden mussten die 15 Richter des Verfassungsgerichts, ob Premierminister Dr. Thak-sin Shinawatra vorsätzlich erklärungspflichtige private Vermögenswerte verschleiert hatte. Dies hatte ihm die Nationale Anti-Korruptionskommission (NCCC) im Dezember 2000 vorgeworfen. Nach Kapitel 10 der Verfassung muss jeder Kandidat für ein politisches Amt seine Finanzsituation offen legen.

1 Dies hatte Thaksin während seiner Amtszeit als stellver-

tretender Premierminister 1997 nur unvollständig getan. Vorgeworfen wurde ihm von der NCCC insbesondere, dass er Teile seines Aktienbesitzes auf Familienmitglieder und Haus-angestellte übertragen lassen hatte. Thaksin sprach in dem Verfahren von einem “honest mistake” seinerseits und beteuerte seine Unschuld. Sieben der 15 Verfassungsrichter konnten von diesem Bekenntnis nicht beeindruckt werden. Allerdings votierten die acht anderen gegen eine Amtsenthebung des Premierministers. Die Reaktionen auf das am 3. August 2001 verkündete, in Thailand lange erwartete Urteil waren gemischt: Während große Teile der Bevölkerung und Wirtschaftsvertreter den Frei-spruch begrüßten, blieben viele Rechtsexperten und Bürgerrechtsaktivisten kritisch. Sie bemängelten, dass die Begründung der Richtermehrheit nicht nur unterschiedlich, sondern auch dogmatisch dürftig ausgefallen war. So vertraten vier Richter die Auffassung, dass der betreffende Artikel 295 gar keine Anwendung auf Thaksin finden könne, weil diese Bestimmung laut Verfassungstext nur für aktive Amtsinhaber bzw. Mandatsträger gelte. Thaksin war aber zum Zeitpunkt der Abgabe seiner Erklärung kein Regierungsmitglied mehr. Fraglich ist bei dieser Interpretation allerdings, warum das Verfassungsgericht den Fall dann überhaupt angenommen hatte. Außerdem wird bei einer solchen Auslegung von

1 Andernfalls drohen die Konsequenzen des Artikel 295 der Verfassung: “Jede Person, die ein

politisches Amt innehat und es vorsätzlich unterlässt, die in dieser Verfassung genannten Doku-mente vorzulegen, die Vermögenswerte und Verbindlichkeiten aufweisen, oder unvollständige oder falsche Dokumente vorweist, (...) muss für fünf Jahre auf jedes politische Amt verzichten.” [Übersetzung durch den Verfasser, J.Z.]


Artikel 295 eine effektive Bekämpfung von Vermögensverschleierungen verhindert – was der Teleologie der Norm und dem Kontext, in der sie steht, zuwiderläuft. Dieser politisch wohl bedeutsamste Fall der thailändischen Rechtsgeschichte machte das Verfassungsgericht über die Grenzen Thailands hinaus bekannt.

2 Wichtiger für die Ent-

wicklung des thailändischen Rechtssystems war aber die öffentliche Resonanz im Land selbst. Noch vor Jahresfrist konnten viele Thais mit der Institution “Verfassungsgericht” nichts verbinden, inzwischen jedoch ist seine Existenz weit bekannt. Auch wenn die Ent-scheidung juristisch angreifbar ist und unter politischen Reformaspekten einen Rückschlag für den Rechtsstaat darstellt, hat sich das Gericht doch als oberstes Verfassungsorgan profiliert, das den Premierminister hätte absetzen können. In früheren Fällen hatte das Gericht mehr Mut und Politiker, die Vermögenswerte verschleiert hatten, für fünf Jahre begrenzt eine mittlere aus der Politik verbannt.

3 Allerdings fanden diese Fälle nur begrenzt

Resonanz innerhalb der Bevölkerung. Thaksin dagegen gilt, besonders im Norden und Nordosten des Landes, noch immer als politischer Hoffnungsträger, dem zugetraut wird, das Land aus der wirtschaftlichen Krise führen zu können. Zugute gehalten wird ihm dabei sein persönlicher wirtschaftlicher Erfolg: Durch seine Telekommunikationsunternehmen stieg Thaksin innerhalb weniger Jahre zum reichsten Mann des Landes auf. Ob ihn dies allein allerdings qualifiziert, auch sein Land zu neuem Wohlstand zu führen, ist fraglich nach fast zwei Jahren seiner Amtszeit ohne herausragende ökonomische Erfolge. II. Die Reformverfassung von 1997

Die Anklage eines Premierministers vor einem Verfassungsgericht und die theoretische Möglichkeit seiner Amtsenthebung durch ein solches Tribunal wären vor zehn Jahren noch undenkbar gewesen. Durch den Coup von 1991 gelangte das Militär wiederum und bis heute letztmals zu diktatorischer Machtstellung. Diese fand erst mit den blutigen Unruhen

2 So war die Entscheidung der Frankfurter Allgemeinen Zeitung am 4. August 2001 eine Meldung

auf Seite 1 und einen Kommentar wert; Time Asia und Asiaweek brachten Thaksin in ihren ersten Augustausgaben 2001 ebenfalls auf dem Titel, CNN berichtete in der Folge des 3. August 2001 ausführlich.

3 Schlagzeilen machte in diesem Zusammenhang der im Jahr 2000 vom Verfassungsgericht verhan-

delte Fall des früheren thailändischen Innenministers Sanan Kachornprasert, der nach der Erhe-bung der Anklage gegen ihn von seinem Regierungsamt und später auch als Generalsekretär der seinerzeit regierenden Demokratischen Partei zurücktrat, die damit eine ihrer wichtigsten politi-schen Schlüsselfiguren verlor. Inzwischen hat Sanan, der vier Verfassungsrichtern, die Thaksin freigesprochen haben, Anlegung unterschiedlicher Maßstäbe bei der Behandlung seines und des Falls des Premierministers vorwirft, unter Anwendung des Art. 304 der Verfassung (Sammlung von 50.000 Unterschriften zur Einleitung eines förmlichen Amtsenthebungsverfahrens über den Senat) erste Schritte zur Amtsenthebung dieser Richter eingeleitet. Vgl. u.a. Bangkok Post, 31. Oktober 2001.

293

vom Mai 1992 ihr Ende. Seitdem befindet sich Thailand in einem Prozess der Demokrati-sierung. Ein Ergebnis dieser Reformbemühungen war die Verfassung von 1997

4 – immer-

hin die sechzehnte seit dem Ende der absoluten Monarchie 1932, zugleich aber die erste, in der Menschenwürde

5, Grundrechte

6, Rechtsstaatsprinzip

7 sowie Rechtsschutz durch Ver-

waltungsgerichte8 verankert sind. Mit ihren 336 Artikeln gehört die thailändische Verfas-

sung zu den längsten der Welt. In den sieben Artikeln, die das erste Kapitel ausmachen, werden geschützt (in dieser Reihenfolge): Die Monarchie, das Demokratieprinzip mit einem König als Staatsoberhaupt, die Volkssouveränität, die Menschenwürde, das Gleich-heitsprinzip, der Vorrang der Verfassung sowie die rechtsmethodische Bestimmung, dass alle ungeregelten Fälle im Sinne der Verfassung zu entscheiden sind. Über Artikel 4, das Menschenwürdeprinzip, wurde bei den Verfassungsberatungen heftig gestritten

9: Einige

Mitglieder der Verfassunggebenden Versammlung wollten dieses Grundrecht in das dritte Kapitel, “Rechte der Thais”, verbannen. Dem hatten sich Jura-Professoren der Bangkoker Thammasat-Universität in den Beratungen standhaft wiedersetzt. Ihnen ist es zu verdanken, dass die Menschenwürde heute ein allgemeines, nicht nur für alle Thais geltendes Grund-recht ist. Auffallend ist, dass die Verfassung viele Details regelt. Vergleichbare Bestimmungen sind in der Bundesrepublik Deutschland nicht im Grundgesetz (GG), sondern in einfachen Gesetzen wie dem Bundesverfassungsgerichtsgesetz (BVerfGG), Satzungen wie der Geschäftsordnung des Bundestages (GOBT) oder Rechtsverordnungen zu finden. Bestim-mungen über die Pflichten von Staatsbürgern (Kapitel 4 der thailändischen Verfassung) finden sich im GG, außer bei den Regeln zur Wehrpflicht, überhaupt nicht. Ebenfalls facettenreicher ist die thailändische Verfassung bei den Grundrechten.

10 Notwendig ist

diese Ausführlichkeit, da – anders als in Deutschland – noch nicht auf eine gefestigte Ver-fassungsrechtsprechung zurückgegriffen werden kann. Obwohl der deutschen, französischen, schwedischen oder US-amerikanischen Verfassung viele Regelungen entlehnt sind, finden sich einige bemerkenswerte Unterschiede zu den

4 Die Verfassung in englischer Sprache ist abrufbar unter: http://www.krisdika.go.th/law/text/

lawpub/e11102540/ text.htm; Zur gewandelten Rolle des Senats unter der neuen Verfassung Aurel Croissant, Von der Veto-Kammer zum deliberativen Organ? VRÜ 33 (2000), S. 348

5 Artikel 4 der Verfassung: “Die Menschenwürde, sowie Rechte und Freiheiten der Menschen

sollen geschützt werden.” [Übersetzung durch den Verfasser, J.Z.] 6 Artikel 26 – 65 der Verfassung.

7 Artikel 6, 7 (Vorrang der Verfassung), 27 (Bindung an Recht und Gesetz), 28 II (Rechtsweggaran-

tie) der Verfassung. 8 Artikel 276 – 280 der Verfassung.

9 siehe Fn. 5.

10 Die Grundrechte nehmen 44 Artikel ein: Artikel 26 – 65 der Verfassung.


westlichen Vorbildern. Einer davon ist, dass die Verfassung erst nach einer Periode von fünf Jahren nach ihrem Inkrafttreten im Hinblick auf mögliche Modifikationen überprüft werden kann (Artikel 336). Dies wird im Herbst 2002 der Fall sein. Fraglich ist, ob die dann zu erwartenden Änderungen folgende Unterschiede zu westlichen Verfassungen aufheben werden: Bewerber für beide Häuser des Parlaments müssen in Thailand eine akademische Qualifi-kation vorweisen, die mindestens dem Bachelor entspricht (Artikel 107 III), also ein rund sechssemestriges Studium. Damit ist der allergrößte Teil der thailändischen Bevölkerung vom passiven Wahlrecht ausgeschlossen. Ziel der Bestimmung ist es, die Arbeitsfähigkeit des Parlaments durch eine akademische Qualifikation seiner Mitglieder zu sichern. Inzwi-schen wird daran gedacht, Artikel 107 III bei der bevorstehenden Verfassungsänderung im Herbst 2002 zu streichen.

11

Bewerber zum Repräsentantenhaus müssen einer Partei angehören (mindestens 90 Tage vor ihrer Nominierung). Unabhängige Bewerber werden gemäß Art. 107 IV nicht zugelassen. Ziel ist es auch hier, die Arbeitsfähigkeit des Parlaments durch starke Fraktionen zu sichern. Thailänder, die ihre Staatsbürgerschaft durch Anerkennung und nicht bereits durch Geburt erhalten haben, besitzen nur ein aktives Wahlrecht (Artikel 105 I, 107 I). Bei der Wahl zum Senat dürfen nur parteilose Kandidaten antreten. Das Verfassungsgericht besteht aus nur einem Senat mit 15 Richtern. Alle Richter behan-deln jeden Fall und müssen jeder Entscheidung eine persönliche Urteilsbegründung anfü-gen. Dies führt zu langwierigen Verfahren. Das Urteil wird erst veröffentlicht, wenn auch der letzte Richter seine schriftliche Begründung abgegeben hat. Bemerkenswert ist die Zusammensetzung des Verfassungsgerichts: Es besteht aus fünf Richtern des Obersten Gerichtshofs (vergleichbar dem Bundesgerichtshof), zwei Richtern des Obersten Verwal-tungsgerichts, fünf weiteren Rechtsexperten wie Professoren und drei Politikwissenschaft-lern (Artikel 255 i.V.m. 257). Dieser letzten Gruppe wird besonders zugetraut, die Verfas-sung teleologisch, also nach Sinn und Zweck, auszulegen. In dieser Disziplin besteht bei vielen Juristen noch Nachholbedarf: Eine rechtsmethodische Schulung im Öffentlichen Recht fand jahrzehntelang in den Universitäten fast nicht statt. Zudem war Staatsrecht lange Zeit ein frei wählbares Wahlfach, und zudem aufgrund der ständig wechselnden Verfassungen nicht beliebt. Dagegen konnten sich die Studenten der Politik lange Zeit mit Verfassungsfragen intensiv auseinandersetzen. Trotzdem wird überlegt, die drei Posten der Politikwissenschaftler zu streichen, um das Verfassungsgericht zu verkleinern. Mit dann nur noch 12 Richtern könnte eine Teilung in zwei gleich große Senate erfolgen (was bei 15

11

Einschätzung mehrerer, von den Autoren im August 2001 befragter, führender thailändischer Rechtswissenschaftler.

295

Richtern aufgrund der ungeraden Zahl unmöglich ist), wodurch der Aufbau dem des deut-schen Bundesverfassungsgerichts ähneln würde. Die klassischen Grundrechte werden allen Thailändern gewährt – allerdings auch nur ihnen. Vergleichbar ist die Koppelung des Grundrechtsschutzes an die Staatsbürgerschaft mit den “Deutschengrundrechten” im Grundgesetz. Freilich sind die wichtigsten Freiheits-rechte des Grundgesetzes (Artikel 2, 4, 5, 10, 14) “Jedermannsrechte” und gelten damit auch für Nichtdeutsche. In der thailändischen Verfassung sind vor allem geschützt: Gleich-heit vor dem Gesetz (Artikel 30 I), Diskriminierungsverbot (Artikel 30 III), Folterverbot (Artikel 31), Unschuldsvermutung (Artikel 33), freie Meinungsäußerung (Artikel 37 und 39), Religionsfreiheit (Artikel 38) und Versammlungsfreiheit (Artikel 44). Das Recht auf eine mindestens zwölfjährige freie Schulbildung wird durch Artikel 43 garantiert. Eingriffe in diese Grundrechte sind möglich, jedoch müssen diese verhältnismäßig erfolgen und dürfen den Kernbereich des Grundrechts nicht antasten (Artikel 29). Allerdings kann das Verfassungsgericht über die Verletzung von Grundrechten nur im Rahmen einer abstrakten oder konkreten Normenkontrolle entscheiden. Verfassungsbeschwerden seitens der Bürger sind nicht möglich. Vorgesehen sind aber Entscheidungen des Verfassungsgerichts über Organstreitigkeiten und die Amtsenthebung des Premierministers (wie im Fall Thaksin). Die Wahlprüfung, die in Deutschland in letzter Instanz ebenfalls in den Händen des Bun-desverfassungsgerichts liegt, übernimmt in Thailand die Nationale Wahlkommission. Ebenfalls keine Notwendigkeit sah man, dem Verfassungsgericht die Entscheidung über Parteiverbote anzuvertrauen. Ohnehin definieren sich die Parteien in Thailand mehr über Personen und weniger über Inhalte. Gefordert wird meist annähernd das Gleiche, wenn überhaupt ein politisches Programm vorhanden ist. Ein philosophisch-historischer Unter-bau wie bei den europäischen Programmparteien fehlt völlig. Die thailändische Verfassung von 1997 hat neben dem umfangreichen Grundrechtsschutz auch eine direkte Form der Bürgerbeteiligung eingeführt: Jeder Bürger kann, wenn er 50.000 Unterstützer findet, einen Gesetzesvorschlag ins Parlament einbringen (Artikel 170). Nicht nur ein Recht, sondern auch eine Pflicht ist die Stimmabgabe bei Wahlen, u.a. bei den alle vier Jahre stattfindenden Parlamentswahlen (Artikel 68). Um Wahlbetrug und Stimmenkauf einzuschränken, verpflichtet die Verfassung die politischen Parteien auf eine demokratische Struktur und ein transparentes Verfahren bei der Kandidatenaufstellung (Artikel 47 II). Das Wahlsystem ist eine Mischung aus Verhältnis- und Mehrheitswahl-recht. 500 Sitze sind im Repräsentantenhaus zu vergeben, 400 davon werden durch die Gewinner von Einer-Wahlkreisen besetzt. Weitere 100 Mandate werden über landesweite Parteilisten vergeben, wofür eine 5 %-Sperrklausel besteht. Bei Ungereimtheiten im Wahl-verfahren kann die Nationale Wahlkommission Untersuchungen anstellen, Verwarnungen aussprechen und Neuwahlen in einzelnen Bezirken anordnen, bei denen der unzulässigen Manipulation überführte Bewerber nicht mehr antreten dürfen. Nach den letzten Parla-mentswahlen am 6. Januar 2001 hatten deshalb eine Reihe von Wiederholungswahlen


stattzufinden, in einigen Bezirken bis zu fünfmal. Aus diesem Grund diskutieren thailändi-sche Rechtsexperten derzeit, die Rechte der Wahlkommission zur Überprüfung möglicher Ungereimtheiten (wie Stimmenkauf) im Vorfeld zu stärken, ihr aber das Recht zu nehmen, beliebig viele Nachwahlen anzuordnen. Da die Verfassung im Herbst 2002 nach einer fünfjährigen Erprobungsphase zum ersten Mal geändert werden kann, ist die skizzierte Reform des Wahlrechts bereits vor der nächsten Stimmabgabe 2004 zu erwarten. III. Das Verfassungsgericht

Erst 1998 entstand in Thailand das, nach dem südkoreanischen, zweite Verfassungsgericht auf dem asiatischen Kontinent, und im März 2001 nahm die Verwaltungsgerichtsbarkeit (die bisher einzige in Asien) ihre Arbeit auf. Zuvor hatte Thailand keine Gerichtsbarkeit im Öffentlichen Recht. Die neuen Systeme folgen der kontinentaleuropäischen Rechtstradi-tion, wobei viele Bestimmungen aus dem französischen und deutschen Recht übernommen wurden. Dagegen orientiert sich der innere Aufbau der an Gerichte am angloamerikani-schen Rechtskreis. Beide Gerichte haben ihren Sitz in Bangkok. Alle Richter des Verfas-sungsgerichts müssen mindestens 40 und dürfen höchstens 70 Jahre alt sein. Die fünfzehn, derzeit durchweg männlichen Richter hatten bis November 2001 über 150 Fälle abge-schlossen, 78 Klagen wurden bis dahin nicht zugelassen, und über 40 befanden sich im Eingangsverfahren.

12 Die Sicherung von Grundfreiheiten ist oberstes Ziel der Verfassungs-

rechtsprechung. Bei der notwendigen Interpretation der Charta vertreten reformorientierte Verfassungsrichter die Auffassung, man dürfe man nicht nur am Wortlaut von Normen haften, sondern müsse vielmehr den Geist des Gesetzes erfassen. Bei dieser teleologischen Auslegung seien sowohl “westliche” wie “östliche” Werte von Bedeutung. Da momentan noch ein Kommentar zur Verfassung fehlt, fällt den Richtern die Entscheidungsfindung zuweilen schwer. Während in Deutschland schon über zwanzig Grundgesetz-Kommentare verfügbar sind

13, hat es in Thailand aufgrund der ständig wechselnden Verfassungen bisher

keine mit ähnlichen europäischen Projekten vergleichbaren wissenschaftlichen Anstren-gungen in dieser Richtung gegeben.

14 Zumindest aber wurden die Beratungen zur Verab-

12

Quelle: Office of the Constitutional Court gegenüber den Autoren. 13

Vgl. Jochen Zenthöfer, Staatsrecht I, 3. Auflage 2002, S. 114 14

Es existiert jedoch ein von Juristen der Bangkoker Ramkhamhaeng-Universität unter der Leitung von Prof. Dr. Montree Rupsuwan 1999 in thailändischer Sprache erstellter, von der Konrad-Ade-nauer-Stiftung geförderter quellenkritischer Kommentar zur gegenwärtigen thailändischen Verfas-sung. Quelle: Büro der Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung in Bangkok, erreichbar über: [email protected]. com

297

schiedung der Reformverfassung von 1997 dokumentiert und stehen inzwischen auf CD-Rom zur Verfügung.

15

Ein Grund für die hohe Arbeitsbelastung des Gerichts ist die fehlende Teilung in zwei Senate. Alle Fälle werden deshalb in großer – nichtöffentlicher – Runde entschieden. Dabei benennt der Präsident des Gerichts den ersten Richter, der daraufhin seine Argumentation und seine Entscheidung darzulegen hat. Die Reihenfolge der nachfolgenden Redner bestimmt sich nach Sitzordnung oder Alphabet. Eine zweite Meinungsäußerung oder gar eine Korrektur des individuellen Urteils ist nicht vorgesehen. Nachdem alle fünfzehn Richter gesprochen haben, wird das Ergebnis bekannt gegeben. Anschließend verfassen alle Fünfzehn eine schriftliche Urteilsbegründung, die nicht von den mündlichen Erläuterungen abweichen darf, diese aber noch konkretisieren soll.

16

IV. Verwaltungsaufbau und Verwaltungsrecht

Thailand ist traditionell ein zentralistischer Staat. Sitz aller oberen und obersten Behörden sowie der oberen Gerichte ist Bangkok. Rechtsgrundlage staatlicher Eingriffe sind neben dem 1996 eingeführten Verwaltungsverfahrensgesetz vor allem Rechtsverordnungen. In der Vergangenheit kennzeichnete sich die Verwaltung durch mangelnde Reformfreudigkeit. Zusätzlich zeigte sie sich anfällig für die Einflüsse wichtiger Machteliten wie z.B. dem Militär oder Interessengruppen aus der Wirtschaft. Von einer unabhängigen Verwaltung konnte keine Rede sein. Begrüßenswert ist daher die Einführung der Verwaltungsgerichts-barkeit. Den Thais stehen inzwischen drei in der Verwaltungsgerichtsordnung (Thai-VwGO) beschriebene Klagearten zur Erlangung des gewünschten Rechtsschutzes zur Ver-fügung: Will ein thailändischer Bürger einen Verwaltungsakt beseitigt wissen, wählt er die Anfechtungsklage. Zuvor ist jedoch ein Widerspruchsverfahren bei der den Akt ausstellen-den Behörde zu durchlaufen. Damit soll dieser die Möglichkeit der Korrektur gegeben werden. Begehrt der Bürger dagegen den Erlass eines Verwaltungsakts, zum Beispiel eine ihm bislang versagte Baugenehmigung, wählt er die Verpflichtungsklage. Auch hier ist ein Widerspruchsverfahren vorzuschalten.

15

Database for Thailand’s Constitution Drafting Assembly Records. Constitution of the Kingdom of Thailand B.E. 2540 (1997). Bangkok, Nonthaburi [2000]; Information der US-amerikanischen Asia Foundation, Bangkok, und des King Prajadhipok’s Institute (KPI), Nonthaburi. Allerdings bestehen Zweifel an der Vollständigkeit der dort erfassten Dokumente.

16 Erläuterungen eines Verfassungsrichters gegenüber den Autoren im August 2001.


Möchte der Bürger eine Leistung der Behörde, die kein Verwaltungsakt ist, ergreift er die Leistungsklage. Damit kann er sich z.B. Auskünfte erstreiten oder Akten einsehen. Diese Rechtsschutzmöglichkeiten erinnern sehr an das deutsche Recht. Tatsächlich haben die Thais sowohl die VwGO als auch das deutsche Verwaltungsverfahrensgesetz (VwVfG) fast vollständig übernommen. Zentral ist in beiden Rechtsordnungen der Verwaltungsakt (§ 35 VwVfG). Durch die Einrichtung einer Verwaltungsgerichtsbarkeit können die Thais ihre Rechte nun auch einklagen, wovon sie bisher eifrig Gebrauch machen. Seit Arbeitsbeginn am 9. März 2001 hat das Gericht mehr als 4.000 Klagen

17 erhalten, davon nicht wenige Altlasten, die

früher die Petitionsabteilung des Staatsrates bearbeitet hatte. Nichtsdestotrotz erreichen das Gericht jeden Tag bis zu 50 neue Fälle. Oberste Verwaltungsrichter führen dies auf die Möglichkeit der Klageerhebung durch Brief zurück. Die weitaus überwiegende Zahl der Antragsteller verfassen ihre Begehren schriftlich und ohne Zuhilfenahme eines Rechts-anwalts. Problematisch ist, dass die rechtsunkundigen Bürger oft keine Angaben zur Sache machen und sich die Verfahren aufgrund zahlreicher Rückfragen in die Länge ziehen. Weiterhin fallen viele vorgelegte Sachverhalte nicht in die Zuständigkeit des Gerichts oder sind verjährt. Die Nichtannahme von Fällen frustriert die Antragsteller und könnte die Hoffnungen der Thais auf ihr neues Gericht enttäuschen. Um dem entgegenzuwirken, werden inzwischen Verwaltungsgerichte der ersten Instanz eröffnet: 16 sollen es einmal werden – im ganzen Land verteilt. Ein erstes hat im Sommer 2001 die Arbeit in Chiang Mai (Nordthailand) aufgenommen, wo bisher 50 Fälle im Monat zu bearbeiten waren.

18

Gegen jede ihrer Entscheidungen ist eine Berufung zum Obersten Verwaltungsgericht in Bangkok möglich. Als problematisch für die Gründung weiterer erstinstanzlicher Gerichte hat sich das Fehlen qualifizierter Verwaltungsjuristen herausgestellt. Verwaltungsrecht hatten nur die jüngeren Juristen als Pflichtfach im universitären Curriculum – wer aber jung ist, kann in einem Land mit kulturell fest verankertem Senioritätsprinzip nicht sofort Rich-ter werden.

19

17

Stand: November 2001, Quelle: Office of the Administrative Courts. 18

Weitere erstinstanzliche Regionalverwaltungsgerichte bestehen inzwischen in Songkhla (Südthai-land) sowie in Nakhon Ratchasima (Nordostthailand). Quelle: Office of the Administrative Courts.

19 Auch wenn keine rechtsverbindlichen Altersvoraussetzungen für die Berufung ins Richteramt

bestehen, zeigen die Erfahrungswerte, dass die Vollendung des 40. Lebensjahres unabdingbar ist, um Richter an einem Verwaltungsgericht der ersten Instanz werden zu können. Eine Berufung an das Oberste Verwaltungsgericht gelang bisher, bis auf eine Ausnahme, i.d.R. nur Bewerbern mit einem Lebensalter von mindestens Mitte Fünfzig (Analyse der den Autoren vom Office of the Administrative Courts zur Verfügung gestellten offiziellen Biographien der Richter des Obersten Verwaltungsgerichtshofes).

299

V. Rechtsgeschichtliche Wegmarken

Nicht erst seit den neunziger Jahren hat die deutsche Jurisprudenz einen erheblichen Ein-fluss auf das Recht in Thailand. Als König Chulalongkorn (Rama V.) 1897 Berlin besuchte, schrieb er in seine Heimat: “Sehr eindrucksvoll sind das Heer und das Recht. Das Heer können wir nicht übernehmen, aber das Recht studieren”.

20 Nach seiner Rückkehr

initiierte der König ein Rechtssystem nach kontinentaleuropäischem Modell. Dabei stellte er fest, dass die Auslegungskriterien der Glaubensvorschriften im Buddhismus denen des christlich geprägten europäischen Rechts ähnelten. Nach und nach übernahm das frühere Siam so große Teile des deutschen Bürgerlichen Rechts und des Strafrechts. Im Jahre 1908 wurde das Strafgesetzbuch verabschiedet. Bürgerliches Recht und Handelsrecht wurden in einer Kodifikation vereint und nach europäischem Muster aufgebaut. Das Gesetz kennt bis heute sechs Bücher: Allgemeiner Teil, Allgemeines Schuldrecht, Besonderes Schuldrecht (einzelne Vertragstypen), Sachenrecht, Familienrecht und Erbrecht. Während das Schuld- und Sachenrecht fast vollständig aus deutschen, französischen und schweizerischen Paral-lelgesetzen übernommen wurden, erhielt das Familienrecht kulturell bedingte Änderungen. Bevor diese modernen Gesetzbücher in Kraft traten, galt in Thailand eine alte volkstümli-che Kodifikation, die aus dem indischen “Dharmasastra” oder “Codex Manu” stammt. Die letzte Zusammenfassung dieser Kodifikation wurde von König Rama I. im Jahre 1805 erstellt und ist als “Codex Rama I.” bekannt. Darin regeln 29 Abschnitte materielles und prozessuales Recht. Überliefert wurden viele Vorschriften, deren Entstehung bis ins 14. Jahrhundert zurückreicht. Der “Codex Rama I.” kannte beispielsweise ein Gesetz über Räuberei: Wer einen Raub mit Todesfolge begangen hatte, wurde der Familie des Opfers übergeben. Diese durfte den Täter nach ihrem Belieben bestrafen, eine finanzielle Entschä-digung fordern oder seinen Eintritt in das buddhistische Mönchsleben verlangen. Obwohl sich hier Elemente des Vergeltungsrechts wiederfinden, wurden den Tätern nicht selten auch goldene Brücken gebaut. Da das Töten im Buddhismus als schwere Sünde gilt, wurde versucht, die Todesstrafe in vielen Fällen zu vermeiden. Das hält die heutige thailändische Regierung freilich nicht von einer Politik ab, an Drogenhändlern regelmäßig ein Exempel statuieren zu lassen, so dass zahlreiche zum Tode verurteilt werden. Über mindestens 600 Jahre galt damit das traditionelle Recht, bevor es vor rund 100 Jahren durch moderne Kodifikationen abgelöst wurde – zu einer Zeit also, als auch in Deutschland neue Regelwerke wie das BGB in Kraft traten. In einigen Provinzen im äußersten Süden des Landes (Satun, Yala, Narathiwat und Pattani) wird der muslimischen Bevölkerung, deren Anteil dort relativ groß ist, die Anwendung traditionellen islamischen Rechts unter sich zugebilligt. Allerdings beschränkt sich dies auf bestimmte Bereiche wie das Familien- und Erbrecht. Minderheitenschutz garantiert die 20

Berliner Morgenpost, 18.12.2001, Seite 18.


Verfassung in Artikel 46. Allerdings hat dies keine Tradition in Thailand. So gab es in den fünfziger Jahren diskriminierende Gesetze gegen ethnische Chinesen, die deren Zuwande-rung massiv einzuschränken suchten. VI. Zivilrecht

In Thailand sind das Bürgerliches Gesetzbuch (BGB) und das Handelsgesetzbuch (HGB) in einem Zivil- und Handelsgesetzbuch (ZHGB) zusammengefasst. Das Gesetzbuch ist mit 1755 Artikeln deutlich kürzer als die deutschen Parallelwerke – allein das BGB hat 2385 Paragraphen -, da es Generalklauseln bevorzugt. Aus dem BGB wurden vor allem die Regelungen der Rechtsgeschäftslehre

21, der Geschäftsführung ohne Auftrag und der unge-

rechtfertigten Bereicherung übernommen. Auf das Abstraktionsprinzip wurde verzichtet: Fehler eines Verpflichtungsgeschäfts (z.B. im Kaufvertrag) schlagen automatisch auf das Verfügungsgeschäft (z.B. die Übereignung des Kaufgegenstandes) durch. Hier zeigt sich der Einfluss auch französischer und englischer Rechtsprinzipien. Im Familien- und Erbrecht übernimmt das ZHGB viel vom traditionellen thailändischen Recht. Der Einfluss der Verfassung auf Normen des Zivilrechts war für viele thailändische Juristen bislang unbekannt. Die Wechselwirkung der Rechtsgebiete kann deshalb nur dann in der Praxis Auswirkungen zeitigen, wenn, wie inzwischen geschehen, auch das Öffentliche Recht zum Pflichtfach in der Juristenausbildung wird. Im Sachenrecht sind das Publizitäts- und Bestimmtheitsprinzip sowie das Prinzip des numerus clausus dinglicher Rechte bekannt. Bei Grundstücken erfolgt der Erwerb, wie in Deutschland, durch die Eintragung ins Grundbuch. Unbewegliche Sachen werden nach dem Konsensprinzip übereignet. Dem BGB ähnlich sind auch die Regelungen zum Besitz und zu den beschränkt dinglichen Rechten wie Hypothek oder Grundschuld. Heiraten können in Thailand nur Heterosexuelle. Die Ehe wird in ein Familienbuch eingetragen. Scheidung ist möglich (Art. 1514 ZHGB), hat aber negative Folgen für das gesellschaftliche Ansehen der Frau. Polygamie ist nicht erlaubt, wird aber geduldet und ist keine Ausnahmeerscheinung. Im Erbrecht werden die Abkömmlinge, anschließend die Eltern des Erblassers vorrangig berücksichtigt, sollte kein Testament vorliegen. Ist ein letzter Wille vorhanden, herrscht völlige Testierfreiheit. Ein Pflichtteil ist nicht vorgesehen. Mönche können über ihren Besitz frei verfügen; tun sie es zu Lebzeiten nicht, erbt der Tempel (Art. 1623 ZHGB). Das Wirtschaftsrecht wird seit der Krise von 1997 mutig zu reformieren versucht. So ist ein modernes Insolvenzrecht – nach deutschem Modell – entstanden. Bei der Neufassung des Zwangsvollstreckungsrechts orientieren sich thailändische Rechtsexperten an US-amerika-

21

Beide Rechtsordnungen bewegen sich derzeit durch die Schuldrechtsreform wieder auseinander; vgl., Christian Rauda / Jochen Zenthöfer, Das neue Schuldrecht, Dänischenhagen 2001, S. 1ff.

301

nischen und deutschen Gesetzen. Auch bei der anstehenden Reform des Wettbewerbsrechts blickt man nach Europa. Dabei sind Regelungen gegen alle Formen von unlauterem Wett-bewerb zu implementieren. Problematisch ist, dass die wissenschaftliche Durchdringung der übernommenen Kodifikationen nur langsam vorankommt. Sehr wenige thailändische Rechtsanwälte können englisch-, geschweige denn deutschsprachige Gesetzeskommentare verstehen. Eine weitere Unsicherheit ergibt sich aus den unterschiedlichen kulturellen Traditionen der westlichen Welt zu Thailand. So ist in vielen Fällen davon abzuraten, westliche Gesetze ohne Rücksicht auf eigene Gewohnheiten vollständig zu übernehmen. Gefragt ist vielmehr eine behutsame Einpassung in die thailändische Rechtsdogmatik. Dies wird noch einige Jahre in Anspruch nehmen und kann aufgrund der Komplexität zweifellos als das spannendste zivilrechtliche Forschungsgebiet dieses Jahrzehnts bezeichnet werden. VII. Kennzeichen und Probleme thailändischer Rechtswirklichkeit

1. Rechtszugang

Traditionell wird der Zugang zu Recht und Rechtsprechung als mühselig, teuer sowie unfair empfunden und mithin von der Durchschnittsbevölkerung so weit wie möglich vermieden. Besonders die ohnehin benachteiligten Bevölkerungsgruppen werden Recht und Rechtsprechung vornehmlich als von politischen Machterwägungen geprägte Bereiche ansehen, die jenseits ihrer Alltagswelt liegen. Es ist daher nicht verwunderlich, dass nach allgemeiner Überzeugung der Durchschnittsbevölkerung in Thailand der Weg zu Recht und Gerechtigkeit bis heute nur über Macht und Politik führt. Schon in der Gesellschaft des alten Siam suchte man auf der dörflichen Ebene Gerechtigkeit und Schutz zuerst beim eigenen, lokalen Patron. Und selbst wenn in neuerer Zeit Bürger förmliche Rechtswege zur Vertretung ihrer Interessen zu wählen wünschten, standen ihnen dafür entweder keine oder nur unzureichende Instrumente zur Verfügung, deren Nutzung im allgemeinen nicht zum gewünschten Erfolg führte. Ein Beispiel dafür ist der 1979 eingerichtete Petition Council, eine Abteilung des bereits 1874 von König Chulalongkorn (Rama V.) begründeten Staats-rates

22 (Council of State), der den Monarchen bei Gesetzesentwürfen beraten sowie Strei-

tigkeiten zwischen Behörden und einzelnen Bürgern regeln sollte. Letztere Funktion war auch dem Petition Council zugedacht, aber es gelang dieser Abteilung nie, im Sinne ihrer Aufgabe öffentliches Profil zu gewinnen. Ausweislich neuerer wissenschaftlicher Untersu-chungen

23 erhielt sie z.B. im Jahr 1998 644 Eingaben, von denen nur etwas mehr als die

22

Zur Geschichte des Staatsrates vgl. die Angaben im Abschnitt “Information” auf der Homepage des Council of State unter: http://www.krisdika.go.th

23 Die Angaben in diesem Abschnitt beruhen auf Informationen und Ergebnissen einer vom

Bangkoker Büro der US-amerikanischen Asia Foundation im Auftrag der Asian Development


Hälfte (325) abschließend bearbeitet wurden. Darunter befanden sich jedoch 278 abgewie-sene Petitionen ohne Urteilsspruch. Mithin wurden lediglich in 47 Fällen Entscheidungen getroffen, d.h. für nur 7% der insgesamt eingereichten Petitionen. Schwerwiegende Handicaps des thailändischen Rechtssystems bleiben die Langwierigkeit und die zahlreichen Unzulänglichkeiten der Gerichtsverfahren. Über 80% der erstmaligen Vorladungen der Parteien eines Verfahrens verfehlen ihren Zweck, so dass insbesondere Angeklagte im Wege einer zweiten Vorladung vor Gericht gebracht werden müssen. Das-selbe gilt für Zeugen: In über 80% aller Verfahren scheitert mindestens eine der beteiligten Parteien durch Nichterscheinen ihrer Zeugen, ein in Thailand gängiges Phänomen, von dem selbst das Verfassungsgericht schon betroffen war. Die Rechtsmittel, um Zeugen zwangs-weise vor Gericht erscheinen zu lassen, sind so komplex, dass es schon allein aufgrund dessen zu mindestens einer Vertagung pro Verfahren kommt. Da überdies drei Viertel aller offiziell festgesetzten Verhandlungstage eines Verfahrens mehr als einen Monat auseinan-der liegen, können sich selbst einfachste Verfahren über Jahre hinziehen, auch wenn keine der beteiligten Parteien eine solche Manipulation beabsichtigt. Nicht zuletzt erweist sich die noch immer weit verbreitete Unkenntnis zentraler Gesetzge-bung als Belastung für das Rechtssystem. Dies gilt nicht nur für die Bürger, denen nicht selten keinerlei Informationen über ihre Verfassungsrechte, insbesondere die ihnen dem-nach zustehenden Partizipationsmöglichkeiten, zur Verfügung gestellt werden, weil Schul- und Erwachsenenbildung diesen Bereich kaum berücksichtigen und die Zivilgesellschaft mit ihren begrenzten Mitteln diese Defizite nicht kompensieren kann. Auch Fachbeamte aller Behörden offenbaren durch ihr rechtswidriges Verwaltungshandeln regelmäßig z.T. bedenkliche Unkenntnis rechtlicher Grundlagen, die für ihre Tätigkeit von höchster Rele-vanz sind. 2. Privilegierung von Machteliten

Eines der charakteristischen Kennzeichen der thailändischen Gesellschaft, die Gewährung von Privilegien an bestimmte Berufsgruppen, ist jüngst in eine intensive öffentliche Dis-kussion geraten. In deren Mittelpunkt stehen besonders die dem Militär gewährten Vor-rechte bezüglich der Behandlung von Angehörigen der Streitkräfte, die im Verdacht einer kriminellen Handlung stehen.

24 Diese Privilegierung ergibt sich aufgrund einer aus dem

Bank (ADB) durchgeführten, bisher unveröffentlichten Studie zu “Legal Literacy for Supporting Governance”.

24 Anlass hierfür war der gewaltsame Tod eines Polizeioffiziers Ende Oktober, für den der Sohn

eines führenden Politikers der derzeitigen Regierungspartei NAP verantwortlich gemacht wird. Der Tatverdächtige, zum Tatzeitpunkt Offiziersanwärter, ist bei Manuskriptabschluss noch immer flüchtig. Polizei und Militär sahen sich in Zusammenhang mit diesem Fall schwerster öffentlicher

303

Jahr 1955 stammenden und bis 1969 immer wieder erweiterten Vereinbarung zwischen den Ministerien für Inneres und Verteidigung. Demnach ist mit einem militärischen Tatver-dächtigen u.a. folgendermaßen zu verfahren: Die Polizei informiert als Geste des Entgegenkommens gegenüber dem Militär zunächst den militärischen Vorgesetzten des Verdächtigen über die bevorstehende Festnahme. Rechtlich wäre sie befugt, tatverdächtige Militärangehörige jederzeit festzunehmen. Diese Bestimmung steht daher auch im Mittelpunkt der Kritik der Polizei, während die Militärs auf ihren Fortbestand drängen. Während eines Verhörs kann der militärische Tatverdächtige auf die Anwesenheit eines Offiziers der Obersten Militärstaatsanwaltschaft bestehen. Auch diese Regelung trifft auf den Widerstand der Polizei. Gegenwärtig ist es der Polizei nicht erlaubt, militärischen Tatverdächtigen Handschellen anzulegen bzw. sie, sofern sie in Gewahrsam genommen werden, zum Ablegen ihrer Uni-form aufzufordern. Insbesondere letzteres wird von den Streitkräften als ehrverletzend strikt abgelehnt.

25

Nicht ohne Grund also stößt diese Sonderbehandlung von Militärangehörigen in Zusam-menhang mit der Handhabung ihrer Straftaten durch die Polizei insbesondere in jüngster Zeit auf wachsende Kritik. Es ist ein Zeichen für die effektive Wächterfunktion der Zivilge-sellschaft, dass dort die Opposition gegen rechtliche Ungleichbehandlung von thailändi-schen Staatsbürgern am größten ist. Findet doch die weit verbreitete Überzeugung breiter Bevölkerungskreise von der offensichtlich extremen Ungleichheit zwischen verschiedenen Gruppen der Gesellschaft hier erneut ihre Bestätigung. Entsprechend groß ist die Sorge um die Glaubwürdigkeit aller rechtsstaatlicher Reformen.

26 Und zu Recht wird vornehmlich in

Kritik ausgesetzt, da der Eindruck entstand, die Sicherheitsbehörden hätten die Suche nach dem Verdächtigen aufgrund seiner familiären Herkunft und seines militärischen Hintergrunds bewusst nicht engagiert betrieben oder gar verschleppt, um ihm gegebenenfalls die Vernichtung von Beweismaterial zu ermöglichen (vgl. u.a. die fortgesetzte Berichterstattung in den englischsprachi-gen Tageszeitungen Bangkok Post und The Nation seit dem 30. Oktober 2001).

25 Eine Uniform hat in Thailand einen erheblich höheren Symbolwert als z.B. in Europa. Insbeson-

dere militärische und polizeiliche Ränge und ihre äußeren Zeichen gelten protokollarisch als vom König verliehene Insignien der jeweiligen Position mit “Ewigkeitscharakter”. Aus diesem Grund werden ihre Träger z.B. auch nach Quittieren des Militär- oder Polizeidienstes förmlich mit ihrem letzten Rang betitelt: Bekanntestes Beispiel hierfür ist der Premierminister selbst, der in offiziellen Regierungsverlautbarungen als “Polizeioberstleutnant Thaksin Shinawatra” bezeichnet wird.

26 Besonders deutlich brachte dies der Kommentator der Tageszeitung The Nation am 02. November

2001 zum Ausdruck: “Die Herrschaft des Rechts wird durch die Privilegien für militärische Tat-verdächtige zunichte gemacht. Die ganze politische Rhetorik, wonach jedermann dem Gesetz


den Medien herausgestellt, dass keine wirklich gefestigte Demokratie solche Arrangements braucht.

27 Ihre Existenz deutet vielmehr auf einen erhöhten Reformbedarf innerhalb der

thailändischen Streitkräfte hin, wo ein grotesker Ehrenbegriff insbesondere des Offiziers-korps die Wahrnehmung der gesellschaftlichen Realität und ihrer Veränderungen blockiert und das Ansehen des Militärs in der Bevölkerung weiter sinken lässt. Es bleibt abzuwarten, ob sich der für das öffentliche Meinungsklima im allgemeinen sensible Premierminister Thaksin mit seinem laut Presseberichten

28 nachhaltig forcierten Drängen gegenüber dem

Militär zur weitgehenden Aufgabe ihrer Rechtsprivilegien durchzusetzen vermag; gilt er doch trotz gegensätzlicher Beteuerungen nicht gerade als überzeugter Verfechter rechts-staatlicher Prinzipien.

29

VIII. Ausblick

Wo steht Thailand auf dem Weg von der Herrschaft durch Recht (“rule by law”) zur Rechtsherrschaft (“rule of law”)? Nicht zu bestreiten ist das politische Reformbewusstsein der thailändischen Gesellschaft während der vergangenen beiden Jahrzehnte: Heute beanspruchen die Bürger sehr viel selbstbewusster als früher ihre Rechte und Freiheiten, die ihnen durch die Verfassung garantiert werden; und mit ebenso großem, gewachsenem Selbstbewusstsein bringen sie ihr Verlangen nach transparenter Regierung, die ihnen Rechenschaft ablegt, zum Ausdruck. Die seit 1997 durch die Reformverfassung erreichten Fortschritte führten zu einer Akzent-verschiebung der Rolle der Bürger von passiver Unterwerfung hin zu sehr viel aktiverer Partizipation. Thailands Gesellschaft durchläuft einen Transformationsprozess, der seinen Ausgang nahm in einer Phase eines unhinterfragbaren, allumfassenden Entscheidungs-monopols der Regierung, in dessen Endstadium sie jedoch idealiter nur noch die Rahmen-bedingungen setzen wird, innerhalb derer die Bürger die Entscheidungen treffen. Die dafür erforderlichen Garantien zur Teilnahme und Teilhabe am Prozess der politischen Entschei-dungsfindung stellt erstmals die Verfassung von 1997 zur Verfügung. Diese Entwicklung hat reale Konsequenzen: Bedenkt man, dass noch vor einem Jahrzehnt schon allein die Kenntnisdefizite hinsichtlich des Verwaltungsrechts viele Richter davon

untersteht und niemand, gleichgültig, wie bedeutend oder mächtig auch immer, über dem Gesetz steht, erweist sich als gänzlicher Unsinn” [Übersetzung durch den Autor, N.E.].

27 Vgl. Bangkok Post, 02. November 2001.

28 Vgl. Bangkok Post, 19. November 2001.

29 Vgl. Norbert Eschborn, “Thailand unter Thaksin. ‚Neues Denken, neues Handeln’ – zurück in die

Zukunft?”, in: KAS-Auslandsinformationen 3/2001, S. 82-127, 127; www.kas.de:

305

abgehalten haben, die Rechtmäßigkeit von Verwaltungsakten überhaupt zu prüfen. Gängige Praxis war es, grundsätzlich durch keinerlei gerichtliche Prüfung in den Entscheidungspro-zeß von Beamten zu intervenieren, um dergestalt ihren für gewöhnlich breiten, jedoch nicht unbedingt rechtlich begründeten Ermessensspielraum zu begrenzen. So ist erkennbar, welchen Fortschritt das thailändische Rechtssystem allein durch die Einführung einer Ver-waltungsgerichtsbarkeit gemacht hat. Dieser neue Rechtsstrang kann maßgeblich dazu beitragen, eine Atmosphäre zu schaffen, die es den Thais erlaubt, unrechtmäßigem Staats-handeln wirkungsvoll entgegenzutreten. Gleichwohl wird die neue Verwaltungsgerichts-barkeit sich ihren festen Platz im thailändischen Rechtssystem erst noch erobern müssen – eine Aufgabe, die durch die erkennbar skeptische Distanz, mit der ihr zumal die etablierten Gerichtsbarkeiten bisher begegnen, besonders schwer zu meistern sein wird. Zu sehr berührt das Verwaltungsrecht althergebrachte Einstellungen und Verfahrensweisen der Administration. Möglicherweise droht es gar, im Einzelfall die sorgsam austarierten Balan-cen des thailändischen Behördengefüges aus dem Gleichgewicht zu bringen, so dass frag-lich erscheint, ob die für ihr großes Beharrungsvermögen bekannten traditionsverhafteten Kräfte des Staatsapparates dies ohne weiteres akzeptieren werden. Hinzu kommt die psychologische Komponente einer Revidierung eines Verwaltungsaktes per Gerichtsbe-schluss, die theoretisch jeder betroffene Bürger erwirken kann und die für eine sich äußerst staatstragend gebärdende Verwaltung, deren Angehörige sich selbst als “Diener des Königs” (nicht als Diener des Volkes) bezeichnen und nicht an Widerspruch gewöhnt sind, eine einschneidende Änderung ihres Selbstverständnisses bedeuten muss. Dies gilt um so mehr, als die Vorbeugung vor rechtlicher Überprüfung des Verwaltungshandelns von Staatsbediensteten im Interesse der Vermeidung rechtswidriger Verwaltungsakte auch die Erfordernis einer höheren (rechtlichen) Qualifizierung der Beamten mit sich bringen muss. Ein solcher Sekundäreffekt der neuen Verwaltungsgerichtsbarkeit wäre überaus wün-schenswert, zielt er doch auf ein politisches Kernanliegen: Die von vielen früheren Regie-rungen im Wege der Ankündigungspolitik immer wieder versprochene Verwaltungsreform. Sie ist auch unter der Regierung Thaksin bisher über das Stadium der Diskussion bekannter Missstände nicht hinausgekommen. Der nur wenig älteren Verfassungsgerichtsbarkeit stehen nach einer relativ problemfreien Anfangsperiode jetzt eher schwierige Zeiten bevor. Gefahren drohen ihr in erster Linie durch das parlamentarische Berufungsverfahren der Verfassungsrichter im thailändischen Senat. Eigentlich gedacht als politisch transparenter Weg der Auswahl der obersten Verfas-sungshüter, hat sich dieses Verfahren bereits als anfällig für die schädlichen Einflüsse traditioneller thailändischer Gefälligkeitspolitik erwiesen und Kandidaten mit zweifelhafter Qualifikation auf die Richterbank des Verfassungsgerichts gebracht. Ungeachtet aller derzeit bestehenden Probleme der neuen Gerichtsbarkeiten birgt allein ihre Existenz die Grundlage einer langfristig weitreichenden Veränderung nicht nur des Rechts-, sondern auch des politischen Systems in sich: Institutionsbildung war und ist ein wichtiger


Bestandteil der Rechtsreform in Thailand. Erfahrungen in anderen Transformationsländern belegen, dass neue Reforminstitutionen der Rechtsprechung nach einer anfänglichen Peri-ode mit dem z.T. schwierigen Bemühen um die Gewinnung von Profil und öffentlicher Anerkennung durchaus in der Lage sind, durch ihre Arbeit positiv stilbildend auf Legisla-tive und Exekutive einzuwirken. Ausschlaggebend für die Zukunft des thailändischen Rechtssystems und der begonnenen Reformen bleibt ein anderer Aspekt: Inwieweit werden die Thais die Bereitschaft ent-wickeln, Recht als Mittel zur gesellschaftlichen Reform anzuerkennen und zu nutzen? Um Rechtsstaatlichkeit zu erreichen, bedarf es u.a. eines ausgeprägten Rechtsbewusstseins der Staatsbürger. Gesetzestreues Verhalten wiederum basiert nicht zuletzt auf der allgemeinen Überzeugung, dass bestehendes Recht mit den vorherrschenden Moralvorstellungen weit-gehend übereinstimmt und die Organe des Gesetzesvollzugs zur Anwendung der ihnen hierfür zur Verfügung stehenden Instrumente legitimiert sind. Thailand muss sich, soll seine Rechtsreform erfolgreich fortgeführt und vollendet werden, zu einer Nation ent-wickeln, wo Durchschnittsbürger und politische Entscheidungsträger gleichermaßen nicht nur eine symbolische, oberflächliche Funktion des Rechts (“role of law”) meinen dürfen, wenn sie von Rechtsstaatlichkeit (“rule of law”) sprechen. Dies ist eine Generationenauf-gabe.

307

BUCHBESPRECHUNGEN Andreas L. Paulus

Die internationale Gemeinschaft im Völkerrecht Eine Untersuchung zur Entwicklung des Völkerrechts im Zeitalter der Globalisierung C.H. Beck Verlag, München, 2001, 495 S., € 69,00 In der disziplinären Trizone von zeitgenössischer politischer Philosophie, Sozial- und speziell Politikwissenschaft und Rechtswissenschaft wird seit einiger Zeit über die Ent-wicklung der internationalen Beziehungen im allgemeinen und des internationalen Rechts im besonderen sowie über beider Zusammenhang diskutiert, auf hohem und anregendem Niveau. Darauf wurde bereits mit den vorangegangenen Rezensionen der einschlägigen Arbeiten von Höffe, Byers und Roth hinzuweisen versucht (vgl. VRÜ 33 (2000) 2, 237 ff.; 3, 377 ff.; 391 ff.; sowie 34 (2001) 1, 101 ff.). Nunmehr liegt mit der von der Juristischen Fakultät der Universität München angenommenen Dissertation von Andreas L. Paulus ein weiterer hochkarätiger deutschsprachiger Beitrag zu dieser Debatte vor. Diese Arbeit könnte zudem als eine Art Grund-Buch des interdisziplinären Austauschs vor allem zwischen Forschern in den Bereichen Internationale Beziehungen und Internationales Recht in Deutschland fungieren (nicht deutschsprachige Leser erhalten in einem ausführ-lichen englischen summary einen Überblick über den Argumentationsgang). Diese mir so wünschenswert scheinende Brückenbau-Funktion für den interdisziplinären Diskurs hierzulande kann die Arbeit von Paulus vor allem aus zwei Gründen erfüllen: Zum einen hat er sich, von der juristischen Seite kommend, ebenso tief wie erfolgreich auf das sozialwissenschaftliche Terrain bewegt und gibt einen vorzüglichen Überblick über aktu-elle einschlägige Entwicklungen etwa im Bereich der Theoriebildung der Internationalen Beziehungen. Wenn er also im Vorwort schreibt, er habe sich „in die für einen Völker-rechtler oft fremde Welt der politischen Wissenschaft“ (viii f.) bewegt, so mag man dies für die vielleicht einzige leicht kokette Feststellung des Bandes halten. Denn im Ergebnis ist dem Autor diese Welt doch vertraut genug geworden, dass ihm vorzügliche Resümees gelingen. Doch rechne ich andererseits auch damit, dass einige politikwissenschaftliche Leser in den hinteren, ausdrücklich juristisch-völkerrechtlich argumentierenden Teilen auf Passagen stoßen werden, die nun ihrerseits zunächst eher fremd auf sie wirken werden, etwa zur Frage der „international crimes of State“. Schließlich kommt auch Paulus nicht umhin festzustellen: „Selten ist wohl eine theoretische völkerrechtliche Debatte mit so viel Eifer und mit so vielen Mißverständnissen geführt worden wie über die ‚Staatenverbre-chen’.“ (S. 390) Was nur zeigt: Auf beiden Seiten gibt es Theorie-Diskussionen, die selbst für Insider nur noch bedingt verständlich sind. Doch selbst hier ist Paulus ein solider Füh-rer und stiftet sinnvoll Ordnung, bleibt für den aufmerksamen Leser durchaus verständlich.


Eine Rechtfertigung zur Verweigerung des interdisziplinären Diskurses besteht also nicht. Meist ist es wohl auch eher die Unvertrautheit mit der Grundperspektive der jeweils ande-ren Disziplin, die die Verständigung zunächst schwierig macht. Gerade insofern könnte die Lektüre der Arbeit von Paulus für Nicht-Juristen hilfreich sein. Dies schließlich auch, weil Paulus, darin liegt der zweite Grund, warum die Arbeit als Grund-Buch interdisziplinärer Verständigung dienen kann, nicht nur die aktuellen zeitgenössischen Debatten berücksich-tigt, sondern manch klassischen Autor der Sozial- wie der Rechtswissenschaft auf frucht-bare Beiträge zum Thema hin sichtet und damit gegen die ‚Arroganz der Spätgeborenen’ ankämpft, die, zugegeben, auch immer die Rezeptionslast tragen – freilich aber auch den Gewinn des Blicks von den ‚Schultern der Riesen’ ernten können, wenn sie denn sorgfältig die geistigen Vorgänger (von Tönnies in der Soziologie bis zu Scelle im Völkerrecht und Max Huber inmitten) berücksichtigen. Dies getan zu haben macht Paulus’ Arbeit zu einer Fundgrube. Doch worum geht es nun inhaltlich? Zwei große Teile machen die Arbeit aus. Der erste rezipiert eher sozialwissenschaftliche und philosophische Debatten zum Begriff der Gemeinschaft wie der Globalisierung. Erste-rer Begriff wird im Lichte klassischer soziologischer Arbeiten zum Thema wie etwa auch der zeitgenössischen Debatte um den Kommunitarismus in der politischen Philosophie geklärt. Deutlich wird, dass durchaus unterschiedliche Vorstellungen mit dem Begriff verbunden werden. Dies gilt auch im Hinblick auf die internationale Gemeinschaft, die von den einen, etwa der sog. Englischen Schule der Internationalen Beziehungen, als Staatenge-sellschaft, von den anderen als zivilgesellschaftliche Weltgesellschaft verstanden wird. Auch in eher normativ inspirierten Projekten aus dem Kreise der Völkerrechtler wie etwa der New Haven School oder dem World Orders Model Project schlagen sich diese divergie-renden Sichtweisen nieder, von der ebenfalls referierten, im wesentlichen jedoch zu Recht als wenig fruchtbar beurteilten postmodernen Kritik an all diesen Konzeptionen ganz zu schweigen. Zwei der Ergebnisse dieses ersten Teils seien hervorgehoben. Zum einen betont Paulus zu Recht die letztlich auch zwischen divergierenden Gemeinschaftsvorstellungen vermittelnde Aufgabe des Völkerrechts: Man dürfe, auch in guter Absicht, „nicht versu-chen, die Grundkonzeption einer bestimmten Ethik und Philosophie denjenigen aufzuzwin-gen, die einen anderen Lebensstil, eine andere Konzeption des Guten haben. Nur dann kann gerade das Völkerrecht seine Funktion erfüllen, das Miteinander verschiedener Staaten, ethischer Konzeptionen und Religionen zu regeln“ (S. 161). Und zweitens, das ergibt die Sichtung der Diskussion zum Globalisierungsbegriff: „Der Prozeß der Globalisierung läßt es fraglich erscheinen, ob die klassische Konzeption (des Völkerrechts, ML) aufrecht erhalten werden kann.“ (S. 221) Dem geht der zweite, im eigentlichen Sinne völkerrechtlich argumentierende Teil genauer nach. Er untersucht in jeweils eigenen Kapiteln die Fragen, ob es einen Wandel der Sub-jekte des Völkerrechts gibt (nur sehr bedingt; das Völkerrecht bleibt ein Spiel zwischen Staaten, wie Paulus mehrfach betont); ob im positiven Völkerrecht die Kodifizierung von so etwas wie „Gemeinschaftswerten“ auszumachen ist (durchaus, und zwar über die Staa-tenwerte hinaus auch solche, die letztlich über Staatsgrenzen hinaus verallgemeinerbare

309

Interessen von Individuen – Menschenrechte – oder auch der Menschheit als ganzer – etwa im Umweltbereich – zu schützen suchen); und ob dem auch eine Institutionalisierung oder gar Konstitutionalisierung des Staatensystems korrespondiert (nur sehr bedingt; im Rahmen der UN-Charta vor allem bei der Wahrung der internationalen Sicherheit und des Weltfrie-dens nach Kap. VII, was freilich den Sicherheitsrat als politischen, eben nicht juristisch-gerichtlichen Akteur ins Spiel bringt). Der Gesamtbefund in Teil 2 ist also komplex, gemischt, oder eben differenziert – differenzierter, als es die gebotene Kürze der Rezension darzustellen erlaubt. Erwähnt sei statt dessen ausdrücklich nur noch die vierte Frage des zweiten Teils, die nämlich nach der internationalen Gemeinschaft als Völkerrechtssubjekt im geltenden Völkerrecht. Hierzu werden, und dies sind die am ‚technischsten’ juristisch argumentierenden, deshalb aber nicht minder interessanten und oft Klarheit stiftenden Teile der Arbeit, drei Teilaspekte untersucht: Status und Wirkung des zwingenden Völkerrechts (ius cogens) – aus seiner Anerkennung ergibt sich ein Element der Subordination der Staa-ten in der ansonsten von Koordination geprägten Völkerrechtsordnung; die Klagebefugnis (ius standi) für die internationale Gemeinschaft und die Frage der sog. Verpflichtungen erga omnes (deren Verhältnis zum ius cogens, eine notorisch schwierige Frage, eine sinn-volle Klärung erfährt); und schließlich die bereits erwähnte Frage der Staatenverantwort-lichkeit, zu der vor allem der jüngste Entwurf der International Law Commission kritisch gewürdigt wird. In der Summe liegt ein weit blickendes, tief schürfendes Buch vor, das in der von einem einzelnen Autor nur erwartbaren Vollständigkeit die einschlägige Literatur (in vier Spra-chen zitiert) heranzieht und nachweist, – was ein dritter Punkt wäre, es als Grund-Buch interdisziplinärer Diskurse zu verwenden. Einzig der doch erhebliche Umfang, in etwas komplexer Gliederung erschlossen, und der – leider – wieder eher abschreckende Preis könnten sich als Rezeptionshindernis erweisen. Da bleibt nur für einschlägige Bibliothe-ken, Studierenden aller Niveaus und einschlägiger Fächer das Werk zur Verfügung zu stellen, – und die nachdrückliche Empfehlung des Rezensenten, auf dieser so wohl geform-ten Leiter des geistigen Arbeitens durch eigene Lektüre selbst weiterzuklettern.

Martin List, Hagen Gerhart Niemeyer

Law without Force The Function of Politics in International Law Transaction Publishers, New Brunswick (USA)/London, 2001, 408 S., £ 25,50 Kaum war, in der vorangegangenen Rezension der Arbeit von Paulus (VRÜ 35 (2002), S. 307) von der Rezeptionslast gesprochen, die die Jüngeren im Verhältnis zu den Älteren zu


tragen hätten, da kam das Buch von Gerhart Niemeyer auf meinen Tisch, bestellt ohne Hinweis in der Verlagsankündigung darauf und auch ohne Wissen darum, dass es sich beim Autor um jenen Gerhart Niemeyer handelt, der, 1907 in Essen geboren, der engste Mit-arbeiter Hermann Hellers (dem das Buch als Mensch, Lehrer und Freund gewidmet ist) wurde, diesem ins spanische Exil gefolgt und später in die USA emigriert war, wo er bis 1992 an der Universität von Notre Dame politische Theorie lehrte, hoch angesehen, vor allem im Kreise des Konservatismus, zu dessen Erstarken in den USA er beigetragen hat, u.a. als außenpolitischer Berater des Präsidentschaftskandidaten Goldwater wie im Umfeld des Präsidenten Reagan. Niemeyer starb 1997 nach einem langen Gelehrtenleben, das auch ein Spiegel des 20. Jahrhunderts war. Von alledem erfährt der Leser leider weder in der Einführung von Michael Henry, der den Band in die von ihm herausgegebene „Library of Conservative Thought“ aufgenommen hat, noch aus dem Klappentext Hinreichendes. Das Internet, in dem die Philadelphia Society einen Nachruf publiziert hat (http://www. town-hall.com/phillysoc/gerhart.htm), hilft hier weiter. Was nun die eingangs erwähnte Last anbelangt, so kann von ihr im konkreten Fall nicht die Rede sein. Vielmehr bringt Niemeyers Buch Dreierlei. Zunächst wird für den nachgebore-nen Leser noch einmal deutlich, was das nazistische Deutschland durch Vernichtung, Ver-folgung oder Vertreibung nicht nur etlichen seiner Mitbürger und europäischen Nachbarn angetan hat – sondern was es sich durch die damit einhergehende Zerstörung einer Geistes-Welt auch selbst angetan hat. Verwerflichkeit war hier tatsächlich gepaart mit Dummheit! Ein zweites, inhaltliches Interesse an Niemeyers Arbeit ist ebenfalls zunächst ein histori-sches. Das Buch, dessen Vorwort mit 5. November 1940 datiert ist (die Erstausgabe erschien 1941 bei der Princeton University Press), zeigt nicht nur, wie ein großer Geist mit dem Zerfall einer Völkerrechtsordnung fertig zu werden versucht, der sich vor seinen Augen ja noch abspielt. Es spiegelt auch, in sprachlich noch ganz klarer, auch insofern von Heller beeinflusster und zuweilen auch noch vom heimatlichen Deutsch angereicherter Form, die Anfänge des funktionalistischen Denkens in den Sozialwissenschaften, dessen Entdeckung hier miterlebt werden kann, bis hin zur Inspiration durch Äußerungen des Architekten Frank Lloyd Wright. Diese beiden Punkte begründen das historische Interesse, das heutige Leser an der Arbeit haben können. Sie enthält jedoch darüber hinaus ein hohes, ganz aktuelles Anregungs-potenzial für das Durchdenken gegenwärtiger Probleme. Wenn Niemeyers Vorschlag einer neuen, eben funktionalen Sicht des (Völker-)Rechts auch, wie Henry in der Einführung schreibt, später sogar von Niemeyer selbst als nicht adäquat aufgegeben worden ist, so kommen in seinen sprachlich so klaren Formulierungen (die sich wohltuend unterscheiden von der fast esoterischen, in ihrer eigenen Terminologie ‚selbstreferenziell geschlossenen Sprache’ der funktionalistischen Nachfolger hierzulande, insbesondere seit der sogenannten ‚autopoietischen Wende’) doch zentrale Probleme zum Ausdruck, von denen man auch heute nicht wirklich sagen kann, dass sie ‚gelöst’ seien. Vielleicht gehören sie sogar zu jenen, bei denen das erneute Durchdenken durch jede Generation nicht nur kein Manko, sondern ihr eigentlicher Sinn ist. Was ja nicht gegen ein Kumulationsmodell der Erkenntnis

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spricht, vielleicht aber gegen seine simplifizierte Version, die, zumal im Bereich von Sozi-altheorie und -philosophie, an die ‚Erledigung’ von Problemen glaubt. Niemeyers Diagnose ist der Verfall einer Völkerrechtsordnung. Die Ursache sieht er in ihrer unzureichenden gedanklichen Grundlegung. Recht sei bisher letztlich religiös oder moralisch fundiert worden. Das trage nun nicht mehr, da den Staaten und ihren Vertretern der Glaube an die Autorität einer höheren Macht vielfach abhanden gekommen sei. Auch das Beschwören der internationalen Gemeinschaft oder der freiwilligen Vereinbarung als Geltungsgrund sei nicht wirksam, um den einschränkenden Charakter bisheriger (Völker-)Rechtsnormen effektiv werden zu lassen. Gerade darin, dass sie in römisch-rechtlicher Tradition die Rechtsordnung als eine zwischen zunächst völlig unabhängigen Personen (in Analogie: Staaten) zu konstruieren versuche, liege der Fehler der bisherigen rechtstheoreti-schen Grundlegung. Dem stellt er die funktionale Sicht gegenüber, die Individuen – und Staaten – von vorneherein in ihrer sozialen Verbundenheit begreift: „international relation-ship is not a ‘creation’ of the states’ free wills. It is connectedness-in-social-life-transcend-ing-state-boundaries, it is the interrelatedness of different states by virtue of common or mutual concerns resulting from the congruity of tasks they pursue.“ (S. 310) So eine der Formulierungen des Gedankens, auf die internationalen Beziehungen bezogen, die sich im Buch finden. Und hieran wird auch gleich das Problem von Niemeyers Vorschlag deutlich. Funktionales (im Unterschied zu bisherigem) Recht soll nicht mehr die Akteure einschrän-kenden Charakter, sondern nur noch die Erfüllung ihrer eigentlichen sozialen Funktionen ermöglichenden Charakter haben. Wohlgemerkt: Soziale (oder wie Niemeyer auch sagt: kulturelle) Funktionen, nicht technische. Regelungen rein technischer Art (wie etwa Links- oder Rechts-Verkehr auf Straßen) sind für Niemeyer nur regulations, nicht wirklich Recht. Woher aber soll dann die Einigkeit beim Erkennen der ‚eigentlichen Funktionen’ kommen? Angesichts dessen, dass Niemeyer doch in einigen besonders gelungenen Passagen zuvor die Notwendigkeit von Politik gerade damit begründet hat, dass in großen Kollektiven die Uneinigkeit über Ziele unvermeidbar ist? Wie Niemeyer später selbst einräumt: „As to the question of who is to decide about the inner necessity of ends and motives, no concise answer can be given.“ (S. 376) Nicht nur keine knappe Antwort ist möglich, sondern auch keine, die aus Herrschaft herausführt, diese in das allseitig geteilte Erkennen funktionaler Notwendigkeiten auflöst. Dieser Illusion war bereits der Marxismus erlegen, indem er die Auflösung von Politik in die Verwaltung von Sachen erwartete. Und unter – zumindest verbal deklariertem – Verzicht auf jeglichen moralischen Anspruch an Politik (als ‚alteuro-päisch’) kann man sich postmodern-funktional ebenfalls damit bescheiden, dass es nur aufs Funktionieren sozialer Systeme ankommt. Ist man zu diesem Verzicht nicht bereit, kann man dennoch eine Rolle für jene Vorgehensweise sehen, die Niemeyer in einer kontrastie-renden Übersicht personalistischen und funktionalistischen Rechts (S. 355) als die funktio-nalistische Strategie zur Verwirklichung einer Rechtsordnung sieht: „Promoting the indi-viduals’ consciousness of law by pointing out ends and suggesting means, of social rela-tions“. Doch wird man dies nicht für alles halten, was zu tun ist. Vielmehr wird man Nie-meyers Formulierung der personalistischen Alternativ-Strategie: „Authoritative commands


imposing standards of abstract values upon individual wills“ als unzulänglich zugespitzt zurückweisen und sich an den Versuch einer weniger autoritären, stärker diskursiven Begründung von Moral und auch Recht machen müssen. Was auf einen Prozess der diskur-siven (Selbst-) Aufklärung, insbesondere der Entscheidungsträger, hinausläuft. Ein anderes Fundament hat letztlich auch Niemeyer für das Recht nicht gesehen: „The only possible means of making the powerful on this earth observe rules of inherent lawfulness is by creating in them, through careful training and constant habituation, a perspective which works as a motive in all their relevant actions.“ (S. 366)

Martin List, Hagen Markus Krajewski

Verfassungsperspektiven und Legitimation des Rechts der Welthandelsorganisation

(WTO)

Hamburger Studien zum Europäischen und Internationalen Recht, Band 31 Duncker & Humblot Verlag, Berlin, 2001, 298 S., € 62,00 Eine überfällige Analyse! Befaßte sich die – immerhin doch rasch wachsende – deutsche rechtswissenschaftliche Literatur, von der Ausnahme der Studie Trüebs (Umweltrecht in der WTO, 2001) abgesehen, bislang im wesentlichen mit rechtssystematischen bzw. -dogmatischen Fragen des Rechts dieser vergleichsweise neuen internationalen Wirt-schaftsorganisation sowohl in organisations- und verfahrens- als auch in materiellrechtli-cher Hinsicht, so betritt Krajewski weithin Neuland, indem er sich – eingedenk der bereits in Vorwort und Einleitung vermerkten (S. 5, 15 f.) mannigfaltigen Aktivitäten der civil

society – verfassungspolitischen und -theoretischen Fragestellungen zuwendet, die schon im Titel der Untersuchung deutlich gemacht werden. Vor drei unterschiedlich umfangreichen Kapiteln – das letzte, zur „Legitimation der WTO-Rechtsetzung als Verfassungsproblem“, gerät zwar nicht knapp, aber doch am kürzesten – stellt Krajewski sein „Vorverständnis“ klar, das „ideologische Voreingenommenheiten überwinde“, indem es „eine kritische Analyse bestehender Rechtsnormen und tatsächlicher Entwicklungen der internationalen Wirtschaftsbeziehungen“ erfordere; es gehe dabei „weder davon aus, daß Handelsliberalisierungen grundsätzlich sinnvoll und Eingriffe in die Wirtschaftsbeziehungen nur in Ausnahmefällen zu rechtfertigen sind, noch daß jede Libe-ralisierung einseitig den Interessen der Industrie und staatliche Regulierung der Wirtschaft den Interessen der Allgemeinheit dient“ (S. 17). Maßgeblich sei der Bezug auf die „Ver-wirklichung der Bedürfnisse der jeweils Betroffenen“, weshalb das Vorverständnis eines internationalen Wirtschaftsrechts mit „menschlichem Antlitz“ (Weiss/de Waart) auch mit den „Grundannahmen einer freiheitlich-demokratischen Verfassungsordnung“ überein-

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stimme (S. 17). Die Arbeit zielt so darauf ab, „die verschiedenen Beiträge“ – insbesondere von E.U. Petersmann und T. Stoll –, „die das GATT/WTO-Recht aus Verfassungsperspek-tiven betrachten, systematisch kritisch darzustellen und sie zu bewerten“, jedoch keine eigene, neue Konzeption zu entwerfen, freilich die „rein funktionale Bewertung“ um „inhaltliche Aspekte“ zu ergänzen (S. 19). Bereits am Ende der Einleitung wird hervorge-hoben, eine „ausschließlich den Marktkräften überlassene Entwicklung“ werde den Anfor-derungen an ein „demokratisch legitimiertes internationales Wirtschaftsrecht“ nicht gerecht, nur dieser Wandel könne „einer nicht zu unterschätzenden Legitimationskrise der WTO“ steuern (S. 21). Krajewski erörtert zunächst „Rechtsordnung und Entscheidungsfindung der Welthandels-organisation“. Hier wird zu Beginn eine völkerrechtliche Sichtweise eingenommen, die formelle wie materielle Elemente und dynamische Entwicklung anreißt, bevor der Autor zum Verhältnis der WTO- zu innerstaatlichen Rechtsordnungen übergeht; sorgfältig her-ausgearbeitet werden insbesondere die Gründe gegen eine unmittelbare Anwendbarkeit des WTO-Rechts (S. 53 ff.). Eher rechtstatsächlich ausgerichtet ist die Behandlung von Ent-scheidungsprozessen, bei der Strukturelemente und Akteure – nicht zuletzt Private – im Vordergrund stehen; konstatiert werden eine enge Rückkopplung von Delegationen an die Entscheidungsträger in den nationalen Hauptstädten und eine Doppelstruktur der Entschei-dungsfindung in Gestalt einer Aufgabenteilung zwischen Delegationen am Sitz der WTO und nationalen Ministerien (S. 118 f.), also (insgesamt) eine ausnehmend exekutivische Prägung. Kapitel 2 („Verfassungsperspektiven des GATT/WTO-Rechts“) gliedert sich in vier Abschnitte. Anfangs werden Verfassungsbegriffe und -funktionen erläutert, in der Folge ökonomische Grundlagen der Verfassungsperspektiven (wie z.B. public choice-Theorie und Überlegungen Buchanans oder von Hayeks) dargestellt und „kritisch gewürdigt“. Trotz einiger positiver Aspekte im Falle einer vollständigen und nicht nur selektiven Rezeption beschränke letztlich der Unterschied der normativen Grundlagen die „Übertragung ökono-mischer Erkenntnisse auf juristische Argumentationszusammenhänge“ (S. 161), was die im folgenden analysierte Theorie der Verfassungsfunktionen des GATT/WTO-Rechts nicht hinreichend berücksichtige. Für diese erachtet Krajewski zwei Gedankengänge als wesent-lich, nämlich daß sie Protektionismus mit einigem Recht als Verfassungsproblem (insbe-sondere in bezug auf Eingriffe in individuelle Freiheitsrechte und mangelnde gerichtliche Kontrolle) ansehe und (zudem) die internationale Rechtsordnung als „völkerrechtliche Nebenverfassung“ (Tomuschat) begreife, die die Grundprinzipien konstitutioneller Demo-kratie erweitere bzw. sichere (S. 196). Auch diesen Überlegungen sei einiges abzugewin-nen, jedoch seien sie zu sehr auf die „herrschaftsbegrenzenden Funktionen einer Verfas-sung“ fokussiert (S. 207). Krajewski neigt hier einer von Thürer formulierten Ansicht zu, die WTO lasse sich am ehesten als „Teilordnung der Verfassung der internationalen Gemeinschaft“ begreifen (S. 213); selbst diese Sicht entspreche jedoch schwerlich der Praxis und könne im Hinblick auf bestehende „strukturelle Lücken“ bei den „entwick-


lungspolitischen, sozialen und ökologischen Auswirkungen des internationalen Handels“ allenfalls als Postulat angesehen werden (S. 216). Das Schlußkapitel zur Legitimation der WTO-Rechtsordnung bezweckt nicht nur, die allein an Herrschaftsbegrenzung orientierte Theorie der Verfassungsfunktionen zu ergänzen, sondern will auch nach der Rechtfertigung für Rechtsetzung durch internationale Verträge und Entscheidungen Internationaler Organisationen fragen (S. 217). Auch hier beginnt der Autor wieder allgemein, mit „Legitimationsformen und -grundsätzen“, um dann zuerst eine demokratische Legitimation internationaler Rechtsetzung durch nationale Organe (ein-schließlich diesbezüglicher Defizite in der WTO) und alsdann „nicht-majoritäre Legitima-tionsmodelle“ (durch Verhandlungen oder „effiziente Regulierung“) zu untersuchen; diese werden freilich für nicht anwendbar erachtet (S. 240 f.). Die tour d’horizon mündet in die Prüfung von Reaktionsmöglichkeiten auf das Legitimationsdefizit in der WTO. Krajewski zeigt sich eher skeptisch und mißt erhöhter Transparenz noch am ehesten Bedeutung bei, während eine Einbeziehung von Non-Governmental Organizations oder die Einrichtung einer parlamentarischen Versammlung allein keine entscheidende Verbesserung bewirken könnten (S. 265, 268). Ziemlich utopisch mutet an, wenn in Anlehnung an Habermas letzt-lich die „Entwicklung einer demokratisch legitimierten ‚Weltinnenpolitik‘ oder ‚global

governance‘“ als Lösung propagiert wird, wenn und weil diese „sich eine politische Gestaltung transnationaler Verflechtungsprozesse auch im Hinblick auf die Erhaltung sozialer Standards und die Beseitigung innergesellschaftlicher Ungleichgewichte zur Auf-gabe macht“, wofür es aber der „Entwicklung eines globalen Bewußtseins in den Bevölke-rungen“ bedürfe (S. 268). Der Weg dorthin kann kaum anders als über (wenn auch mängel-behaftete) institutionalisierte Kooperation zwischen Staaten verlaufen; auf der Tagesord-nung steht daher weniger die Abschaffung oder grundlegende Umgestaltung der WTO als deren bessere Vernetzung mit anderen Verbänden, nicht zuletzt der UNO, wobei – und darin liegt das eigentliche Problem – die arbeitsteilige Aufgabenerfüllung nicht zur Vermi-schung der Verantwortlichkeiten führen darf; für Individuen relevante oder gar verbindli-che Entscheidungen bedürfen nicht dadurch minderer Akzeptanz, daß sie auf höherer Ebene, weiter weg, gewissermaßen global und nicht lokal getroffen werden – eher umge-kehrt! Für den flüchtigen Leser bringt Krajewski am Ende eine kurze und bündige „Zusammen-fassung der wesentlichen Ergebnisse“, das Personen- und Sachregister ist leider etwas knapp geraten. Vom etwas blauäugig anmutenden Schluß abgesehen, gelingt dem Autor die kritische Auseinandersetzung mit Autoritäten des Welthandelsrechts in recht überzeugender Weise, nicht zuletzt, weil er der wenig hilfreichen Dichotomie von Markt- oder Staatsversagen aus dem Weg geht und menschliche Bedürfnisse, aber nicht nur einen homo oeconomicus in den Vordergrund stellt. Dabei erweist er sich, auch wenn er das Werk Richard Sentis (WTO – System und Funktionsweise der Welthandelsorganisation, 2000) offenbar nicht mehr heranziehen konnte, als profunder Kenner von WTO-Recht und -Praxis, was seine Argumentation um so eingängiger macht. Die Feststellung wird schwerlich durch einzelne

315

Unzulänglichkeiten konterkariert, wie die unrichtige Einordnung des (4. bzw. 5.) Protokolls zum GATS (Finanzdienstleistungen; Basistelekommunikation [S. 43] – diese wird auch an anderer Stelle – Stichwort „Regulierung“ [S. 235 f.] – nicht erwähnt) oder die hierbei vorgenommene Modifikation der Ratsauffassung zur unmittelbaren Anwendbarkeit, bei der auch nicht eine für diese Qualität sprechende Vorschrift (Art. 20 des Government Procure-ment Agreement) angeführt wird! Bei der insgesamt ausgewogenen Diskussion um „unab-hängige Fachorganisationen“ (S. 236 ff.) hätten autonome Zentralbanken ein weiteres gutes, vielleicht das beste Beispiel für die Grenzen dieses Arguments abgeben können. Kein Einwand hingegen sollte sein, daß auch Krajewski bei der Suche „nach demokrati-schen Formen und Verfahren jenseits des Nationalstaats als Alternative ‚zur aufgesetzten Fröhlichkeit neoliberaler Politik‘ (Habermas)“ (S. 268) kein Patentrezept entwickelt hat; immerhin hat er auf dem Weg dorthin einige Pflöcke eingeschlagen, die (hoffentlich) weite-ren Wissenschaftler die Richtung weisen und sie vor Fehltritten bewahren können.

Ludwig Gramlich, Chemnitz Daniel Kaboth

Das Schlichtungs- und Schiedsverfahren der Weltorganisation für geistiges Eigentum

(WIPO)

Peter Lang Verlag, Frankfurt am Main u.a., 2000, 293 S., € 45,50 Seit dem 1. Oktober 1994 bietet die Weltorganisation für geistiges Eigentum (WIPO) institutionelle Schlichtungs- und Schiedsverfahren an (vgl. http://arbiter.wipo.int/center/ index.html), die besonders Inhaber von Rechten des geistigen Eigentums ansprechen sollen, eine Gruppe, die für die Beilegung von Streitigkeiten traditionell weitgehend auf nationale Gerichte vertraut. Da jedoch auch die Rechte des geistigen Eigentums der Globa-lisierung unterliegen und zunehmend international vermarktet werden, besteht für daraus folgende Konflikte, wie im internationalen Wirtschaftsverkehr ganz allgemein, ein Bedarf nach effektiver und kostengünstiger Streitbeilegung wie sie vor allem die internationale Schiedsgerichtsbarkeit, zunehmend aber auch Schlichtungsverfahren, bieten; all das unter Berücksichtigung der Besonderheiten des geistigen Eigentums, wie etwa des besonderen Interesses von Rechteinhabern an Geheimnisschutz und Wahrung der Vertraulichkeit. Die WIPO Schlichtungs- und Schiedsverfahren nehmen auf die Besonderheiten des geisti-gen Eigentums Rücksicht, ohne sich einem breiteren Anwendungsbereich zu verschließen. Die WIPO kann, anders als andere internationale Schlichtungs- und Schiedsgerichtsinstitu-tionen, ihre Erfahrungen und ihr und Renommee als für die Wahrung und Entwicklung des Schutzes des geistigen Eigentums zuständige Sonderorganisation der Vereinten Nationen einbringen und verfügt aufgrund dieser Spezialisierung über einschlägig qualifiziertes


Personal und Kontakte zu Schlichtern und Schiedsrichtern, die Erfahrung in verschiedenen Bereichen des geistigen Eigentums haben – derzeit sind es mehr als 1000 in allen Regionen der Erde. Bekannter als die allgemeinen WIPO Schlichtungs- und Schiedsverfahren sind derzeit die von der WIPO mitentwickelten Verfahren zur Beilegung von Domain Namens-Streitigkei-ten (vgl. http://arbiter.wipo.int/domains/index.html). Seit Dezember 1999 hat das WIPO Arbitration and Mediation Center hier weit über 3500 solcher Verfahren durchgeführt, bislang in neun verschiedenen Sprachen. Im Bereich der allgemeinen Schlichtungs- und Schiedsverfahren ist es bislang wesentlich ruhiger geblieben. Hier wird das Feld immer noch von den etablierten Institutionen beherrscht, vor allem dem 1923 gegründeten Schiedsgerichtshof der International Chamber of Commerce (ICC) und der American Arbitration Association (AAA) von 1926. Der Verfasser der hier zu besprechenden, von Gottwald betreuten Regensburger Disserta-tion, wirft daher zu Beginn seiner Arbeit die Frage auf, ob diese Zurückhaltung „an einer vergleichsweise minderen Qualität der WIPO-Regeln bzw. an der Überlegenheit der exis-tierenden Verfahrensordnungen, der inhaltlichen Begrenzung (…) oder einfach am man-gelnden Bekanntheitsgrad und den daraus resultierenden Anlaufschwierigkeiten liegt“. Er stellt sich die Aufgabe, „diese und sich hieraus ergebende Fragen durch eine Analyse der WIPO-Regeln sowie einen sich auf zentrale Punkte beschränkenden Vergleich mit den wichtigsten konkurrierenden Verfahrensordnungen so gut als möglich zu beantworten und einen Platz für das Schlichtungs- und Schiedsgerichtsverfahren der WIPO auf dem drama-tisch wachsenden Markt internationaler Schlichtungs- und Schiedsgerichtsverfahrensord-nungen zu finden“ (S. 46). Mit anderen Worten: Gehen die WIPO-Verfahren am Markt vorbei? Um es gleich vorweg zu nehmen: Das Fazit des Verfassers ist, bei mancher Kritik im ein-zelnen, positiv, und zwar für sämtliche der angebotenen Verfahren. Auf seinem Weg zu diesem Ergebnis positioniert der Verfasser die WIPO Verfahren zunächst im status quo des internationalen Schlichtungs- und Schiedsgerichtswesens (Kapitel 1: Einführung in das Schlichtungs- und Schiedsverfahren der WIPO, S. 47-70); analysiert dann im Hauptteil des Werkes die einzelnen Verfahren im Vergleich zu den wichtigsten anderen Schlichtungs- und Schiedsgerichtsordnungen (Kapitel 2: Darstellung und Analyse der WIPO Regeln im einzelnen, S. 70-197), und zieht, nach einem Blick auf die Möglichkeiten der Vollstre-ckung und der Anfechtung von Verfahrensergebnissen in Kapitel 3 (S. 198-208), eine fast ausschließlich positive Bilanz (Kapitel 4: Bewertung und Zusammenfassung, S. 209-219): „Die WIPO Schlichtungs- und Schiedsgerichtsregeln sind in besonderer Weise auf Kon-flikte im Bereich des geistigen Eigentums zugeschnitten und bieten diesbezüglich auch deutliche Vorteile, die sich vor allem in den sorgfältigen Regelungen der Vertraulichkeit und der Wahl hochspezialisierter Schlichter und Schiedsrichter niederschlagen. Weder die Regelungen der ICC noch die der AAA oder auch der UNCITRAL haben dort ihre Schwerpunkte und Stärken.“ (S. 218).

317

Dem Verfasser auf diesem Weg zu folgen, ist nicht immer leichte Kost. Das Werk ist stark untergliedert und, vor allem im 2. Kapitel, kommentarartig abgefasst. Die Bewertung stützt sich, neben ersten Bewertungen in der Sekundärliteratur, im wesentlichen auf den Text der Vorschriften selbst, da bislang auf wenig empirische Erfahrungen in Form von Entschei-dungen etc. zurückgegriffen werden kann. Allerdings wäre die Analyse durch eine etwas vertieftere Auseinandersetzung mit den besonderen Fragen, die die (staatlich verliehenen) Rechte des geistigen Eigentums in der Schiedsgerichtsbarkeit aufwerfen, noch bereichert worden. Ein Stichwortverzeichnis, das den gezielten Zugang zu Einzelfragen erleichtern würde, fehlt, doch enthält der Anhang deutschsprachige Versionen sämtlicher WIPO Ver-fahrensregeln sowie der ICC-, AAA- und UNCITRAL-Regeln. Insgesamt gesehen bietet das Buch eine verlässliche vergleichende Übersicht über die verschiedenen WIPO Verfah-ren und leistet damit einen willkommenen Beitrag zur weiteren Entwicklung des internatio-nalen Schiedsverfahrensrechts.

Johannes Christian Wichard, Genf Michael Bothe (ed.) Towards a Better Implementation of International Humanitarian Law

Proceedings of an Expert Meeting organized by the Advisory Committee on International Humanitarian Law of the German Red Cross, Frankfurt/Main, May 28-30, 1999 Bochumer Schriften zur Friedenssicherung und zum Humanitären Völkerrecht, Vol. 43 Berlin Verlag Arno Spitz GmbH, Berlin, 2001, 149 pp., € 20.00 In his preface, editor Bothe states that the basic idea of the current workshop, the „Expert Meeting on the Establishment of a Reporting System on International Humanitarian Law“, was to explore the possibility of such a mechanism and to do so by giving experts the chance to informally exchange views and search for a consensus for the possible establish-ment of such a mechanism. This slender volume informs the interested public about the proceedings of that meeting in 1999. Knut Ipsen, President of the German Red Cross, describes the commission as a unique body and explains who it consists of, while the list of participants at the back of the book shows that not as many renowned scholars or delegates from Foreign Offices attended as one would have hoped. Certainly the topic deserves the utmost attention from universities and ministries. „The subject of this meeting (...) has been chosen in order to find further instruments for promoting the implementation of international humanitarian law. A reporting system (…) could not only strengthen the implementation of international humanitarian law, but it could be also of considerable value for its dissemination, because it could lead to a perma-


nent and widespread exchange of experiences in the field of dissemination.” (p. 9) It could promote the implementation of international humanitarian law (IHL) in conflict situations. Since the majority of governments is rather reluctant about a reporting system in IHL, it is essential the workshop discusses a variety of problems, among them: voluntary or obliga-tory system, concentration on dissemination or implementation, role of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). The opening address of the Swiss Réné Kosirnik marks the 50th anniversary of the ICRC again by reminding us of the campaign “Even Wars have Limits” that helps victims of wars and thus stresses the importance of the topic, because international humanitarian law should be about people. In his introduction “The Purpose of the Expert Meeting” Michael Bothe claims that “com-plex international regimes most often require elaborate national regimes for their imple-mentation. This is the time for many areas of international law, including IHL. The crucial question is how to make sure that these national mechanisms of implementation are in place when they are needed in times of armed conflict. A reporting system is a means to make sure that states indeed take the measures, at national level, which they are supposed to adopt. This mechanism is used in many fields of international law, in particular humani-tarian law, arms control and environmental law.” (p. 15) This get-together of experts in an international brainstorming exercise; at the departure point one looks at the systems in place and the searches for general lessons that can be learned from them. The compilation of essays is divided into three parts: Part 1 finds out why states have accepted these systems, whether they are working efficiently and which problems they encounter, Part 2 asks about the concrete shape of a reporting system for IHL, singling out specific questions by various rapporteurs and Part 3 summarizes the development of initia-tives to create a reporting system and states what can currently be done in this area. Rüdiger Wolfrum’s contribution “The Reporting System under International Human Rights Agreements – From the collection of Information to Compliance Assistance” focuses on the experience under the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD). In his conclusion he shows the changes made since its imple-mentation and lists its strengths and shortcomings. Wolfrum calls for measures that allow the human rights bodies to prevent situations which might escalate in human rights’ viola-tions, especially designating a special rapporteur may be one possibility. Assessing the situation in the former Yugoslavia he concludes that “if neither the human rights treaty bodies nor the commission on human rights are vested with the power to exercise such functions effectively, the necessary measures will have to be taken by the Security Council” (p. 27). Philippe Sands from the London School of African and Oriental Studies scrutinizes the Reporting Requirements and International Environmental Agreements. He argues that there would be no point in establishing reporting requirements without establishing mechanisms for reviewing reports and initiating measures in relation to their contents. Consideration needs to be given to differentiating between the reporting requirements of developed and

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developing countries, the latter deserving a less stringent time-table, due to their financial status. The Dutch Erik Myjer deals with “A Reporting System on International Humanitarian Law: An Arms Control Law Experience”. Arms control law is “a logical area to look at in order to see whether that field of international law offers any reporting procedure that could also be applied with regard to international humanitarian law. The reason for this is not to be found in the fact that there exists an overlap between the humanitarian law of armed con-flict and the law of arms control and disarmament (…), but because it shows some viable systems of supervision in one of the more delicate areas of national security” (p. 39). As an example he has chosen the case of the Chemical Weapons Convention, which he explains in detail and then shows the lessons that can be learned from this CWC-model. In the end he seems to be ambivalent about the results that can be achieved by copying the super-visory mechanisms and suggests checking out more comparable areas of public inter-national law. The Point of View of the German National Administration is given by Helga Voelskow-

Thies from the Ministry of Justice. She describes the procedure and the problems that arise in the course of drawing up long reports on the cross-sectional subject of human rights. Maria Teresa Dutli is concerned with the establishment of the Advisory Service, explains its structure, national implementation, the promotion via seminars, technical assistance, and collection of national laws and then scrutinizes how the Advisory Service has already embarked on a series of meetings of experts with the aim of preparing guidelines on different topics relevant for the national implementation of international humanitarian law. Saying that, while universally recognized, the task of promoting implementation is vast and long-term. Dutli lists its achievements and difficulties, stressing the role of the ICRC. At the end of the discussion of Part 1, a host of unanswered questions remains, not the last of them being what could induce states to actually participate in any kind of reporting system. Part 2 starts with Krzysztof Drzewicki’s list of topics that need to be dealt with, among them the legal consequences of executive provisions, failures of domestic implementation, legal basis for reporting mechanism, identification of its legal rules, substantive scope of mechanism, content of reports and the procedure for review mechanism. He stresses that “the reporting mechanism should first and foremost be non-political in its nature, based on predominantly pragmatic approach to assessment of national legislation and thus avoid encroaching upon the very application of humanitarian law” (p. 81). Heike Spieker summarizes the possible shape, composition and status of an evaluating body. This authoress advises to combine independent experts with governmental experts, 10-18 members, who report every 5 years. While it may be rather premature to favour the establishment on a universal scale, one could start with a relatively small number of states whose reporting system may eventually overcome the scepticism of the other states. The areas covered by the United Nations monitoring system in order to make it easier for the Red Cross to consider whether there would be “significantly added value” in such a


reporting system in IHL are described by Bent Sorensen from Denmark. In his opinion the election procedure, composition, competence as well as the functions and working methods of the Convention against Torture (CAT) make an excellent example. Representing the Istituto Affari Internazionali in Rome, Natalino Ronzitti gives a short account of the result of the procedure before a summary of Part 2 concludes that the proce-dure of such a body must be based on dialogue. Part 3 of this volume offers some insights into the future perspectives, Lucius Caflisch reminding the reader of the developments on this topic of IHL since 1995, and Bothe attempting a summary saying if nothing else this meeting makes for a sound preparation for the Red Cross and the Red Crescent. He lists the conclusions this group of experts has agreed on, and the book ends with short contributions about a workshop organized in Switzerland in October and November 1999 as well as the Action Plan for the Years 2000-2003. An interesting host of fresh ideas well presented.

Dagmar Reimmann, Tong Norton, GB Patrick Hönig

Der Kaschmirkonflikt und das Recht der Völker auf Selbstbestimmung

Schriften zum Völkerrecht, Band 138 Duncker & Humblot Verlag, Berlin, 2000, 405 S., € 76,00 Die 1999 von der Universität Köln als Dissertation angenommene Arbeit gliedert sich in vier Hauptteile: „Aufriss des Kaschmirkonfliktes und seine völkerrechtliche Dimension“ (S. 27-98), „Die Anwendbarkeit des Selbstbestimmungsrechtes auf den Kaschmirkonflikt“ (S. 99-193), „Ausgleich des Selbstbestimmungsrechtes der Bevölkerung Jammu und Kaschmirs mit konkurrierenden Prinzipien der Völkerrechtsordnung“ (S. 194-280) und „Die Vorgaben des Selbstbestimmungsrechtes zur Lösung des Kaschmirkonfliktes in der völkerrechtlichen Praxis“ (S. 281-342). Eine deutsche und englische Zusammenfassung, diverse Anhänge (Zeittafel, Dokumente und Karten) sowie ein umfangreiches Literatur- und ein Stichwortverzeichnis runden das Werk ab. Flüssig geschrieben, knapp und dennoch ausreichend detailreich werden im ersten Teil die Stationen des Kaschmirkonfliktes seit 1947 geschildert. Der Autor spricht die mit der geschichtlichen Entwicklung verbundenen völkerrechtlichen Fragen kurz an und hält auch mit seiner eigenen Einschätzung nicht hinter dem Berg. Dabei wirkt dieser Teil der Arbeit trotz der ausführlichen Fußnoten eher journalistisch und historisch bzw. politisch geprägt, was den angesichts des Titels auch völkerrechtliche Dogmatik erwartenden Leser zunächst etwas erstaunt. Dies dürfte dem Überblickcharakter des „Aufrisses“ geschuldet sein sowie

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dem insgesamt etwas gewöhnungsbedürftigen, nach Lektüre des gesamten Buches aber in sich stringent erscheinenden Aufbau, der dogmatische Fragen nicht ausgliedert, sondern dort, wo sie auftauchen (können) – gleichsam „am Fall“ – abhandelt. Durch den ersten Teil hinsichtlich der Fakten bestens eingestimmt und durchaus neugierig auf die dogmatischen Erwägungen des Verfassers nimmt man den zweiten Teil in Angriff, der vor einer Diskussion des völkerrechtlichen Volksbegriffs Ausführungen zu den „Cha-rakteristika der Bevölkerung Jammu und Kaschmirs“ macht. Hier werden vergleichsweise hohe Anforderungen an das Vorwissen des Lesers über das völkerrechtliche Selbstbestim-mungsrecht der Völker gestellt, denn dieser Einstieg ist nur zu verstehen, wenn man schon über gewisse Kenntnisse über die Diskussion zum Rechtsträger des Selbstbestimmungs-rechts verfügt. Allerdings wird man zu Recht davon ausgehen dürfen, dass dies bei jeman-dem, der sich die „Schriften zum Völkerrecht“ zu Gemüte führt, vorausgesetzt werden kann. Als Einführung zur Selbstbestimmungsrechtsdiskussion und -dogmatik ist das Buch nicht geeignet und wohl auch nicht gedacht. Wenn man sich von dieser Vorstellung frei gemacht hat, stört es auch nicht, dass die dogmatische Herleitung gerade in diesem Teil häufig sehr knapp bleibt und sich der Autor einer als vernünftig erkannten Meinung anschließt, um diese den weiteren Ausführungen zugrunde zu legen. Dieser das ganze Buch durchziehende eher „pragmatische“ Umgang mit den dogmatischen Fragen ist nach Über-windung der ersten Überraschung sehr sympathisch; er erlaubt es dem Verfasser, eine Fülle völkerrechtlicher Probleme anzuschneiden und zum Teil zu äußerst faszinierend zu lesen-den Ideen zu kommen, ohne sich mit dem Rattenschwanz der dogmatischen Herleitung zu belasten. Allerdings schmerzt dies immer ein wenig bei dem eigenen Steckenpferd (dem uti

possidetis-Prinzip). Anderen Lesern mag es an anderen Stellen (etwa bei der Behandlung von Okkupation und Annexion oder der Frage der Einstufung der Anwerbung von Söld-nern als völkerrechtswidrig) ähnlich gehen, ohne dass dies den positiven Gesamteindruck ernsthaft zu beeinträchtigen vermag. Sehr interessant ist die Prüfung, ob Kaschmir (bzw. seine indisch und pakistanisch besetz-ten Teile) als Kolonien Indiens und Pakistans verstanden werden können. Nach einer inten-siven Auswertung der rechtlichen und tatsächlichen Verhältnisse wird der Kolonialstatus des indischen Kaschmirs bejaht, für den pakistanischen Teil wird das positive Votum weni-ger detailliert, angesichts der recht plakativen Verhältnisse aber ausreichend begründet. Auch die Frage, ob andauernde Verstöße gegen Menschenrechte als Grund für ein Sezes-sionsrecht herhalten können, beantwortet der Autor nach deutlichen Worten über die belegbare Praxis von Folter, extralegalen Hinrichtungen und Verschwindenlassen, die er mit guten Gründen für systematisch hält, für das indische Kaschmir mit „ja“. Für den pakistanisch und den chinesisch besetzten Teil wird die Frage kurz (auch unter Hinweis auf fehlende Informationsflüsse aus diesen Gebieten) verneint. Nachdem im zweiten Teil ein Selbstbestimmungsrecht zumindest von erheblichen Teilen der Bevölkerung Kaschmirs hergeleitet wurde, widmet sich der dritte Teil der Frage, welche Form dieses Selbstbestimmungsrecht annehmen darf. Dabei wird argumentiert, dass das Selbstbestimmungsrecht nur dann zum Sezessionsrecht führen dürfe, wenn keine über-


wiegenden Gegenrechte Indiens und Pakistans existierten. Eine äußerst lesenswerte Dar-stellung möglicher Gegenrechte wie der territorialen Integrität Indiens, Pakistans und Chi-nas sowie einer eventuellen Gefährdung des Weltfriedens durch eine Sezession Kaschmirs kommt zu dem Ergebnis, dass kein Grund erkennbar sei, Kaschmir die Loslösung von Indien, Pakistan und China zu verwehren. Daran anschließend folgt eine Auseinanderset-zung mit der Rechtmäßigkeit der Gewaltanwendung durch die „Jammu and Kashmir Libe-ration Front“, die mit einer Einstufung der selbst ernannten „Freiheitsbewegung“ als terro-ristisch endet, sowie Ausführungen zur Zulässigkeit einer humanitären Intervention durch Pakistan, was mit guten Gründen verneint wird. Im vierten Teil arbeitet der Autor die praktischen Folgen, die eine Bejahung des Selbstbestimmungs- und Sezessionsrechts für Kaschmir haben muss, heraus. Er kommt zu dem Ergebnis, dass es notwendig sei, die Bevölkerung in einem zweistufigen Plebiszit zu befragen: zunächst dazu, ob eine Unabhängigkeit oder eine Anschlusslösung gewünscht werden, dann (im Falle mehrheitlicher Entscheidung für die Anschlusslösung) die Wahl zwischen einem Anschluss an Indien oder an Pakistan. Nach den Ausführungen zu Vorbe-reitung und Durchführung eines solchen Plebiszits (wie die Bestimmung der Wahlberech-tigten, die Probleme hinsichtlich der Flüchtlinge und des Rechts auf Heimat aufwerfen), favorisiert der Verfasser ein regionales Plebiszit, d.h. eine Abstimmung nach Regionen bzw. Volksgruppen. Das ist als Ergebnis seiner Ausführungen zum Volkscharakter der Bevölkerung Kaschmirs verständlich, lässt aber – bei allem sonst vorhandenen Hang zu Pragmatik und Praktikabilität – ein Problembewusstsein hinsichtlich der Gebietsfragmen-tierung vermissen. Vielleicht stellt sich diese Frage in Kaschmir, wo die einzelnen Bevölke-rungsteile anscheinend regional recht deutlich voneinander getrennt leben (anders als z.B. in Bosnien-Herzegowina), nicht. Doch wird man sich im Hinblick auf die Auswirkungen eines solchen Präzedenzfalles für die Dogmatik des Selbstbestimmungs- und Sezessions-rechts fragen müssen, ob eine derartige Zersplitterung wirklich den Königsweg darstellt. Abschließend werden die völkerrechtlichen Rahmenbedingungen für eine Verhandlungs-lösung zwischen allen beteiligten Parteien (Indien, Pakistan, Bevölkerung Jammu und Kaschmirs) und die Möglichkeiten einer Vermittlungslösung durch die Vereinten Nationen beleuchtet. In seinem kurzen Überblick über „Neueste Entwicklungen und Ausblick“ schätzt der Verfasser allerdings die Chancen der Bevölkerung Jammu und Kaschmirs, ihr Selbstbestimmungsrecht in absehbarer Zeit ausüben zu können, sehr verhalten ein. Fazit: Ein lebhaftes, gut geschriebenes Buch, das dem an Fragen des Selbstbestimmungs-rechts Interessierten spannende Überlegungsansätze liefert und gleichzeitig die jüngere Geschichte Kaschmirs schonungslos aufbereitet.

Christiane Simmler, Berlin

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Iván Jaksić

Andrés Bello Scholarship and Nation-Building in Nineteenth-Century Latin America Cambridge Latin American Studies, Cambridge University Press, 2001, 254 S., £ 36.00 Das Wort „Mäßigung“ bedeutet in seiner ursprünglichen Bedeutung so viel wie „ordnende Verständigkeit“ und das Bestreben, aus verschiedenen Teilen ein zusammengehörendes Ganzes zu fügen. Als persönliche und politische Tugend ist damit aber auch die Suche nach der Mitte zwischen den Extremen gemeint und, wo immer möglich, der Ausgleich zwischen Gegensätzen und Konflikten. Nach der Lektüre dieser ersten umfassenden biographischen Arbeit in englischer Sprache über Andrés Bello scheint es glaubhaft, daß dieser Rechtsge-lehrte, Philologe und Schriftsteller, Diplomat und Staatsmann wie kaum ein anderer seiner Zeitgenossen jenes Streben nach „Maß und Mitte“ verkörpert. In seltener Harmonie verei-nen sich im Werk dieses Mannes literarische, juristische und politische Begabungen, die Suche nach wissenschaftlicher Erkenntnis und der Wunsch nach Gestaltung des öffentli-chen Lebens. Weltanschaulich tritt das Streben nach Ausgleich und Verbindung gegenläu-figer Ansätze hervor. Im ersten Abschnitt („The Formation of a Colonial Scholar, 1781-1810“) sind besonders aufschlußreich, aus der Perspektive des jungen Beamten Bello geschildert, die Einblicke in die Kolonialverwaltung des Generalkapitanats Venezuela und die Darstellung des Zwie-spalts, in dem sich die kreolische Oberschicht am Vorabend des Unabhängigkeitskrieges befand. Trotz der persönlich empfundenen Loyalität zur spanischen Krone formulierte Bello jene Depesche seiner Vorgesetzten an die spanische Regentschaft (Mai 1810), mit der im Grunde der Übergangsregierung die Legitimität abgesprochen und die Gefolgschaft verweigert wird und die zur späteren Lösung vom Mutterland beitrug (S. 26 f.). Der Loya-litätskonflikt verschärft sich im Verlauf der diplomatischen Mission, die Bello u.a. mit Simón Bolívar im Auftrag der Regierungsjunta von Caracas nach London unternimmt (1810). Die Reserve des englischen Foreign Office und der folgende Unabhängigkeitskrieg verhindern nicht nur den Erfolg dieser Mission, sondern auch die Rückkehr Bellos in seine Heimat. Dennoch verdankt er dem Londoner Aufenthalt (bis 1829) entscheidende Wei-chenstellungen seines Lebens. Die Bekanntschaft mit einflußreichen Liberalen, u.a. Lord Holland, und das Studium der englischen und schottischen Aufklärung haben bleibenden Einfluß auf seine gemäßigte, konservativ-liberale Grundhaltung, die später auch sein philo-sophisches Hauptwerk, die „Filosofía del Entendimiento“ (1843/44), prägen wird (S. 71 f.). Hierzu gehört auch die kritische Auseinandersetzung Bellos mit dem Utilitarismus Jeremy Benthams, dessen Rechtsdenken und Strafrechtstheorie zu dieser Zeit in Übersee Resonanz finden. Bello neigt ebenso wie maßgebliche Protagonisten der frühen Unabhängigkeitsbe-wegung zunächst einer gemäßigten, konstitutionellen Monarchie zu. Dieser Aspekt ist in Folge des Siegeszugs der republikanischen Staatsform in Lateinamerika verständlicher-weise in den Hintergrund getreten, findet aber in verfassungsgeschichtlichen Beiträgen wieder größere Aufmerksamkeit (etwa Rubén Darío Salas, Los proyectos monárquicos en el


proceso de la independencia argentina (1810-1820), in: Ibero-Amerikanisches Archiv 15 (1989), S. 193 ff.). Insofern enthält der kurze Abschnitt („The Monarchical Option“, S. 44 ff.) einige aufschlußreiche Hinweise, insbesondere über die Sichtweise eines in Übersee weilenden Lateinamerikaners, der in dieser Frage auch die Haltung der europäischen Großmächte einbezieht. Nach mehreren Anstellungen in den diplomatischen Vertretungen Großkolumbiens und Chiles („The Diplomacy of Independence, 1820-1829“) nimmt Bello die Stellung eines „Oficial Mayor“ der chilenischen Regierung in Santiago an, Ausgang einer glänzenden Laufbahn als hoher Regierungsbeamter, Rektor der „Universität von Chile“ nach ihrer Gründung (1842) und Senator. Die Darstellung der Situation im Land nach seiner Unab-hängigkeit („In the Land of Anarchy, 1829-1840“) und des Beitrags Bellos zum Aufbau wissenschaftlicher Einrichtungen dort („A Decade of Triumph, 1840-1850“) erhellen einige Gründe späterer Stabilität in Chile. Dazu gehört die weitsichtige Förderung leistungsfähiger öffentlicher Institutionen. Bello beteiligt sich an der begleitenden Debatte und wohl auch an der Ausarbeitung einer neuen chilenischen Verfassung (1831-33), wobei er u.a. einen besseren institutionellen Ausgleich zwischen König und Staatsrat sowie eine wirkungsvolle „Bändigung des Despotismus und Mäßigung ungezügelter Freiheit“ fordert (S. 103 f.). Als Oficial Mayor des Ministeriums für auswärtige Beziehungen tritt er angesichts der bevor-stehenden militärischen Auseinandersetzung Chiles mit Peru und Bolivien (1836-39) für einen friedlichen Ausgleich ein und riskiert den Bruch mit dem damals einflußreichsten, ihm sonst freundschaftlich verbundenen Politiker Diego Portales. Trotz seiner ebenfalls bekannten völkerrechtlichen Abhandlung „Principios de Derecho de Gentes“ (1832) verbindet sich der Nachruhm Bellos wohl am stärksten mit der über zwan-zigjährigen Arbeit an einem chilenischen Zivilgesetzbuch (Código Civil de la República de Chile), die 1855 abgeschlossen ist. Dieser Abschnitt („The Rule of Law“) bietet nicht nur zahlreiche Fundstellen zum Verlauf des aufwendigen Projektes, das in der deutschsprachi-gen Rechtsliteratur bereits monographisch behandelt worden ist (Dietrich Nelle, Entstehung und Ausstrahlungswirkung des chilenischen Zivilgesetzbuches von Andrés Bello, Frank-furt/Main, 1988). Er erlaubt vor allem Einblicke in die Gedankenwelt und Motive eines gelehrten „Gesetzgebers“ („Bello the Codifier“, S. 163 ff.), dessen Entwurf die bürgerli-chen Gesetzbücher in zahlreichen lateinamerikanischen Ländern beeinflußt hat. Die per-sönliche Perspektive Bellos verdeutlicht den Zwiespalt: Er mußte einerseits konservative Vorbehalte entkräften, die einer gegenüber der Kolonialgesetzgebung und spanischen Rechtstradition grundlegend neuen Kodifikation mißtrauten, andererseits den tatsächlich gewandelten Anforderungen und dem Selbstverständnis der jungen Republik gerecht wer-den. Die Schlußfolgerung etwa bezüglich des Personenstandes, Ehe- und Kindschaftsrechts bestand in einer Verbindung römisch-rechtlicher und spanischer Quellen sowie im Rück-griff auf kanonische Prinzipien und auf solche des französischen Code Civil. Die Umwandlung der Majoratsgüter (mayorazgos) bedeutete einen Kompromiß zwischen libe-ralen Forderungen und dem Bestandsinteresse der Rechtsinhaber (S. 166 f., 169). Der Autor behandelt auch diese Fragen aus der Perspektive des Biographen kenntnisreich und

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einfühlsam. Jedem, der sich für die Person Andrés Bello oder allgemein für die Geschichte Südamerikas im 19. Jahrhundert interessiert, ist die vielseitige Untersuchung sehr zu emp-fehlen.

Andreas Timmermann, Berlin Nathan Brown

Constitutions in a Nonconstitutional World

Arab Basic Laws and the Prospects for Accountable Government State University of New York Press, Albany, 2002, 244 S., $ 21,95 Constitutions in a Nonconstitutional World ist eine vergleichende Untersuchung von Geschichte und Perspektiven des Konstitutionalismus in der arabischen Welt. Die Welle der Demokratisierung in Osteuropa und Südamerika hat auch in der Politikwissenschaft das Interesse an verfassungsrechtlichen Fragen wiedererweckt. Brown konstatiert vor dieser Folie einen arabischen Sonderweg, wobei zwei Thesen im Mittelpunkt stehen (S. xiii-xiv): Arabische Verfassungen wurden in der Regel erlassen, um staatliche Macht zu festigen. Sie sind daher, so Brown, von ihrem Ursprung her kein Produkt des liberalen Konstitutiona-lismus, weil diese Verfassungstexte nicht das primäre Ziel verfolgten, die Ausübung staatli-cher Macht zu binden und zu begrenzen. Gleichwohl, so Brown, sind diese Verfassungen die mögliche Grundlage für einen arabischen Konstitutionalismus. Allerdings dürfe in den arabischen Staaten dies nicht mit der Herausbildung der liberalen Demokratie westlichen Zuschnitts gleichgesetzt werden. Die Untersuchung ist in zwei Teile gegliedert. Der erste Teil enthält eine Einführung in die Verfassungsgeschichte der arabischen Staaten. Ausgangspunkt sind hier die einzelnen Verfassungstexte, die Brown in drei Gruppen unterteilt: Das erste Kapitel behandelt die frühen Verfassungsdokumente wie etwa das tunesische qânûn al-dawlâ (1861) und die osmanische Verfassung von 1876, das zweite Kapitel die Verfassungen der konstitutionel-len Monarchien, zu denen er neben der ägyptische Verfassung von 1923 auch die heutigen Verfassungen von Jordanien, Marokko und Kuwait zählt. Das dritte Kapitel ist dann den republikanischen Verfassungen gewidmet, wie sie etwa in Ägypten und Algerien nach den Revolutionen erlassen wurden. Auch wenn die untersuchten Texte in ganz unterschiedli-chen Perioden und Kontexten entstanden sind, sind ihnen nach Ansicht von Brown bestimmte Charakteristika gemein. Zu diesen zählt insbesondere, dass diese Verfassungen in den wenigsten Fällen erlassen wurden, um die Ausübung staatlicher Macht zu binden oder zu begrenzen. Die meisten Verfassungen sollten vielmehr dem Zweck dienen, ein neues politisches System zu installieren und zu festigen (S. 92). Historisch gesehen sind die arabischen Verfassungen folglich losgelöst von Tendenzen der Demokratisierung. Es ist


dabei das Anliegen von Brown, die übergreifenden Charakteristika der Verfassungsent-wicklung in den arabischen Staaten herauszuarbeiten. Sein Vergleich ist weit gespannt und geht möglicherweise zu Lasten der regionalen Unterschiede, die zwischen Staaten wie Ägypten mit einer weit ins 19. Jahrhundert zurück reichenden Verfassungsgeschichte und den Staaten der arabischen Halbinsel bestehen, deren heutiges Rechts- und Verfassungs-system erst in den letzten Jahrzehnten und in einem ganz anderen politischen und sozialen Kontext entstanden ist. Im zweiten Teil diskutiert Brown die Perspektiven des Konstitutionalismus in den arabi-schen Staaten: Ist es möglich, dass Verfassungstexte, deren historischer Zweck darin bestand, staatliche Macht zu festigen, eine Eigendynamik entfalten und im Ergebnis dazu beitragen, staatliche Macht zu begrenzen und zu kontrollieren? Brown greift hier drei verschiedene Aspekte auf. Im fünften Kapitel erörtert er die schwache Stellung der Parla-mente, die verbunden ist mit weitreichenden legislativen Kompetenzen der Exekutive. Zur Illustration hierfür dienen Fallstudien von Ägypten, Kuwait und Palästina. Ob dabei aller-dings der Befund, dass Gesetzesentwürfe weitgehend in den Fachabteilungen der Ministe-rien entworfen werden, zutreffend als arabische Besonderheit hervorgehoben wird, mag dahinstehen (S. 120). Im sich anschließenden Kapitel greift Brown mit der Entwicklung des richterlichen Prüfungsrechtes (judicial review) ein Thema auf, das bereits Gegenstand seines vorangehenden Buches über die Entwicklung des Rechtsstaates war: In „The Rule of Law in the Arab World“ hatte er bereits eine ähnliche These formuliert, wonach die Ent-wicklung des Rechtsstaates in den arabischen Staaten in erster Linie im Zusammenhang mit einer Effektivierung und Zentralisierung staatlicher Gewalt zu sehen ist (vgl. die Bespre-chung in VRÜ 1998, 253 ff.). Die Entwicklung des richterlichen Prüfungsrechts ist so komplementär zur Entwicklung des Konstitutionalismus. Im sechsten Kapitel erörtert Brown dann islamische Verfassungen, verstanden als Verfassungstexte, die nicht wie die Mehrzahl der heutigen arabischen Verfassungen auf europäischen Vorbildern beruhen, sondern auf dem Rekurs auf islamisch-rechtliche Vorstellungen. Brown konstatiert hier einen breiten Konsens islamischer Verfassungstheoretiker, wonach die Forderung nach der Anwendung des islamischen Rechts zentral für den islamischen Konstitutionalismus ist: Die letzte Souveränität gebührt alleine Gott, die Kompetenz legislativer Organe ist folglich darauf beschränkt, die Bestimmungen des islamischen Rechts zu erkennen und zu imple-mentieren (S. 170 und 172). Vor diesem ideengeschichtlichen Hintergrund erörtert Brown dann die Erfahrungen in Ägypten und im Iran, die, wie er selbst einräumt, allerdings beide wenig repräsentativ sind. Die iranische Verfassung von 1979 beruht auf einer Adaption speziell schiitischer Prinzipien durch Khomeini. Aus ihr lassen sich nur schwerlich allge-meine Aussagen ableiten (hinzu kommt, dass der Iran kein arabischer Staat ist). Ob die ägyptische Verfassung, die in Art. 2 die Bestimmungen des islamischen Rechts zur Haupt-quelle der Gesetzgebung erhebt, allein deswegen als „islamische“ Verfassung durchgeht, ist fraglich, weil die meisten arabischen Verfassungen eine ähnliche Bestimmung enthalten. Das Buch von Brown bietet eine instruktive Einführung in die Verfassungsentwicklung der arabischen Staaten, die für Politologen und Juristen gleichermaßen interessant ist. Mit der

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Betonung der regimestabilisierenden Funktion der arabischen Verfassungen entspricht die Untersuchung dem Trend jüngerer politikwissenschaftlicher Untersuchungen, die die Sta-bilität vieler der autoritären Regime in der arabischen Welt hervorheben und die Wahr-scheinlichkeit einer umfassenden Demokratisierung eher zurückhaltend beurteilen. So dürfte die Untersuchung von Brown auch über ihr eigentliches Thema hinaus von Interesse sein.

Kilian Bälz, Frankfurt am Main Jörg Fedtke

Die Rezeption von Verfassungsrecht

Südafrika 1993-1996 Recht und Verfassung in Südafrika, Band 8 Nomos Verlagsgesellschaft, Baden-Baden, 2000, 469 S., € 85,00 Neben die originäre Rechtsentwicklung tritt seit langem die Übernahme – oder Rezeption – fremden Rechts. Wenn sich auch die Rezeption von Recht auf allen denkbaren Gebieten abspielen mag, so ist das jüngste südafrikanische Verfassungsrecht, dem sich der Verfasser hier ausführlich widmet, doch ein besonders interessantes Beispiel. Denn während Rezep-tionsprozesse oft unbemerkt und gleichsam schleichend ablaufen, ist in Südafrika mit der Abkehr von der Politik der Apartheid ein klarer Schlussstrich unter die bisherige Entwick-lung gezogen worden. Gleichzeitig wurde mit der Verabschiedung zweier neuer Verfassun-gen in den Jahren 1994 und 1997 ein neuer Weg beschritten, der Anleihen bei anderen Rechtssystemen erforderlich machte. Die vorliegende Thematik vereint damit den Vorzug, die Rezeption von Recht in Südafrika seit Beginn der Verfassungsverhandlungen im Jahre 1991 klar und belegbar nachvollziehen zu können mit einer verfassungsrechtlich überaus interessanten Thematik, die zudem viele Bezüge zu Normen des Grundgesetzes aufweist. Die Rezeption fremden Rechts wird durch eine Reihe von Faktoren beeinflusst, die der Verfasser im ersten Teil des Buches eingehend untersucht (S. 21 ff.). Dabei sieht er den Begriff in Abgrenzung zur Oktroyierung nur dann als erfüllt an, wenn den betroffenen Rechtsgemeinschaften ein gewisser Entscheidungsspielraum zur Annahme verbleibt. Als Ursachen der Rezeption macht der Autor nicht nur Effizienzgründe – die Übernahme bewährten ausländischen Rechts ist oftmals wesentlich einfacher, als die eigene Entwick-lung – aus. Auch der mit der Globalisierung verbundene zunehmende Trend zur Rechtsver-einheitlichung, Einflüsse der Kolonialmächte und aktuell der Entwicklungspolitik sowie die Attraktivität politischer und wirtschaftlicher Leitideen (wie etwa der des Sozialismus) sind ausschlaggebend.


Nachdem der Autor den Rahmen der nachfolgenden Untersuchung bestimmt hat, nimmt er im zweiten Abschnitt – gleichzeitig Hauptteil der Arbeit – eine umfangreiche Betrachtung rezipierter Verfassungsbestimmungen vor. Hierbei sind einige südafrikanische Besonder-heiten zu beachten. Neben dem schon genannten mehrstufigen Verfassungsgebungsprozess, aus dem die Interimsverfassung von 1994 und die endgültige Verfassung von 1997 hervor-gingen, ergeben sich Eigentümlichkeiten im verfassungsrechtlichen Umfeld, u.a. bei der Integration der verschiedenen Rechtsordnungen des burischen Roman Dutch law, des englischen common law und des durch die traditionellen Stammesgemeinschaften gebilde-ten customary law (S. 67 f.). Eine außergewöhnliche Rolle weist der Verfasser den vormals formal selbständigen Homelands zu, die durch frühzeitige Rezeption ausländischen Verfas-sungsrechts für den Verfassungsgebungsprozess oftmals eine Modell- und Vorbildfunktion übernahmen. Zudem wurde der Verfassungsgebungsprozess auch durch Einzelpersonen, welche beratend im Verfassungsgebungsprozess tätig waren, geprägt. Bei der Forschung nach den Ursprüngen rezipierter Normen sieht sich Fedtke dann dem Problem gegenüber, dass die Herkunft der jeweiligen Verfassungsbestimmungen oftmals nicht klar erkennbar ist und insofern interpretativ bestimmt werden muss. Hierbei steht die Entstehungsgeschichte im Vordergrund, wobei der Verfasser subjektiven Beweggründen den Vorzug gibt und Kriterien der objektiven Auslegung nur ergänzend hinzuzieht. Dabei wird auch eine vergleichende Betrachtung mit entsprechenden Bestimmungen des deut-schen Verfassungsrechts vorgenommen. Anknüpfungspunkt ist durchweg die Interimsver-fassung, darüber hinaus werden jedoch stets auch Bezüge zur endgültigen Verfassung aufgezeigt. Am Anfang der Betrachtung steht der constitutional state als Entsprechung des Rechts-staatsprinzips (S. 88 ff.) und, als dessen Konkretisierung, die Beschränkung der Grund-rechte, die in die Interimsverfassung durch die allgemeine limitation clause Eingang gefun-den hat. Anschließend beleuchtet Fedtke die grundrechtsbezogene Auslegungsregel der interpretation clause aus section 35 der Interimsverfassung (S. 180 ff.), die er mit dem Grundsatz der verfassungskonformen Auslegung vergleicht. Untersucht werden sodann die Drittwirkung der Grundrechte (S. 200 ff.) sowie deren Anwendung auf juristische Personen (S. 230 ff.). Den Schwerpunkt bilden jedoch die Grundrechte selbst. Hier werden der all-gemeine Gleichheitssatz (S. 252 ff.), die Menschenwürde (S. 269 ff.), die Kommunika-tionsfreiheiten, die Wissenschaftsfreiheiten und die Freiheit der Kunst (S. 279 ff.), das Recht auf economic activity und die Berufsfreiheit (S. 301 ff.), die Eigentumsgarantie (S. 314 ff.) sowie die v.a. durch die Rechtsprechung entwickelte Entsprechung zur allgemeinen Handlungsfreiheit, die der Verfasser anhand der richtungsweisenden Ferreira-Entscheidung des südafrikanischen Verfassungsgerichtes eingehend ergründet, untersucht. Schließlich folgt die Analyse der Beteiligung der Provinzen an der Gesetzgebung inklusive der Bestimmung des co-operative government sowie des föderalen Aufbaus der Bundesrepu-blik (S. 355 ff.) und der Verfassungsgerichtsbarkeit (S. 391 ff.), die eine Untersuchung der wichtigsten Klagearten und die Organisation der Verfassungsgerichtsbarkeit umfasst.

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Der Verfasser weist einen erheblichen Einfluss deutschen Verfassungsrechts auf die süd-afrikanischen Verfassungen von 1994 und 1997 nach, allerdings in unterschiedlicher Inten-sität. So blieben Anleihen beim Rechtsstaatsprinzip, dem Prinzip der verfassungskonfor-men Auslegung, der mittelbaren Drittwirkung der Grundrechte der Wesensgehaltsgarantie auf die Interimsverfassung beschränkt. Andere, wie die Verfassungsgerichtsbarkeit und Teile des Bundesratsmodells sind nur in stark veränderter Form enthalten. Dagegen bilden einige Bestimmungen, wie das Grundrecht auf freie Berufswahl, die Anwendung bestimm-ter Grundrechte auf juristische Personen und Teile der limitation clause ihre deutschen Vorbilder recht genau ab. Im Ergebnis ist dem Verfasser wohl zuzustimmen, dass sich der seit der Verabschiedung der Interimsverfassung abzeichnende Trend eines abnehmenden Einflusses deutschen Verfassungsrechts fortsetzen wird. Hauptgründe sind die Sprachbar-riere sowie der damit verbundene begrenzte Zugriff auf einschlägige deutsche Rechtspre-chung und Kommentierungen. So wird Südafrika über kurz oder lang verstärkt zu seinen eigenen rechtlichen Wurzeln zurückkehren oder Rückgriff auf Vergleichsmaterial aus dem angloamerikanischen bzw. kanadischen Rechtssystem oder auch den Rechtsordnungen benachbarter afrikanischer Länder nehmen. Für die Zukunft bleibt jedoch interessant, wie die nun einmal in die südafrikanische Verfassung übernommenen Verfassungsbestimmun-gen deutschen Ursprungs in ihrem neuen rechtlichen Umfeld entwickeln werden. Fedtke ist eine herausragende Arbeit gelungen, die im ersten Teil durch die präzise Heraus-arbeitung des vielschichtigen Untersuchungsgegenstandes überzeugt. Im Hauptteil besticht die Arbeit durch die nahezu vollständige Würdigung der einschlägigen Literatur und Rechtsprechung. Dies verdient besondere Anerkennung, weil die verfassungsrechtliche Diskussion in Südafrika wegen der kurzen Zeit seit der Verabschiedung der Interims- und endgültigen Verfassung und der unterschiedlichen sprachlichen Herkunft der partizipieren-den Wissenschaftler noch nicht vollständig strukturiert ist. So unterzieht Fedtke sich hier der Mühe, teilweise parallel verwandte Begrifflichkeiten auf ihren tatsächlichen Bedeu-tungsgehalt zu überprüfen und vermittelt damit zusätzlich einen sehr gut aufbereiteten Überblick über den Stand der verfassungsrechtlichen Diskussion in Südafrika. In der vergleichenden Betrachtung belässt es Fedtke nicht bei der üblichen Gegenüberstel-lung verwandter Normen der in den Fokus genommenen Jurisdiktionen, sondern rundet das Bild durch die Bezugnahme auf andere Rechtssysteme, wie das US-amerikanische, kanadi-sche und namibianische ab. Bemerkenswert ist auch das beachtliche Gespür Fedtkes für die praktischen Gegebenheiten des Verfassungsgebungsprozesses, das es ihm erlaubt, formaljuristische Argumentationen zum richtigen Zeitpunkt zugunsten einer lebensnahen Betrachtung zurückzustellen. Der Verfasser beweist so eine erhebliche Souveränität im Umgang mit dieser komplexen Mate-rie, die allerdings nie zulasten seines stets präzisen und behutsamen Vorgehens geht. Der hervorragende Gesamteindruck wird durch den kompakten historischen Überblick über die Verfassungsgeschichte Südafrikas und die verständige Darstellung über Strukturierung und Ablauf der Verfassungsverhandlungen zur Interims- und zur endgültigen Verfassung kom-plettiert.


Zusammenfassend stellt die Arbeit einen wertvollen Beitrag zur Analyse des neuen südafri-kanischen Verfassungsrechts dar, die auch für die Beobachtung der weiteren Entwicklung der rezipierten Normen im neuen Rechtsgefüge eine wertvolle Grundlage sein kann. Das Buch ist neben mit Rechtsvergleichung Befassten und südafrikanischen Verfassungsrecht-lern auch deutschen Verfassungsrechtlern sehr zu empfehlen, da es eine der wohl umfas-sendsten Rezeptionen deutschen Verfassungsrechts dokumentiert, aus der sich in der Zukunft auch interessante Rückkopplungen im Hinblick auf die übernommenen Normen selbst ergeben können.

Edzard A. Schmidt-Jortzig, New York Sabine Mengelkoch

The right to work in SADC countries

Recht und Verfassung in Südafrika, Band 13 Nomos Verlagsgesellschaft, Baden-Baden, 2001, 98 S., € 20,00 Soziale Grundrechte – darunter besonders auch das Recht auf Arbeit – spielen in der ver-fassungsrechtlichen Diskussion im südlichen Afrika seit langem eine große Rolle. So wurde beispielsweise bei den südafrikanischen Verfassungsverhandlungen in den neunziger Jah-ren erwogen, der durch die Apartheid benachteiligten schwarzen Mehrheitsbevölkerung materiellen Wohlstand durch entsprechende soziale Grundrechte zu sichern. In letzter Zeit sind derartige Gewährleistungen aufgrund der mangelnden Leistungsfähigkeit der garantie-renden Staaten jedoch mehr und mehr zugunsten ökonomischer Freiheitsrechte in den Hintergrund getreten. Dementsprechend definiert die Verfasserin das Right to Work nun-mehr als Fähigkeit, möglichst ungestört von staatlicher Regulierung eine Anstellung suchen und dann auch erhalten zu können. Im regionalen Kontext der South African Development Community (SADC) – einer internationalen Organisation mit dem Ziel einer umfassenden Koordinierung, Harmonisierung und Rationalisierung der Politiken ihrer im südlichen Afrika befindlichen Mitgliedsstaaten – wandeln sich nationale arbeitsbezogene Freiheits-rechte in ein Recht auf Arbeitnehmerfreizügigkeit ähnlich Art. 39 des EG-Vertrages (EGV), mit dem sich Mengelkoch in ihrer Untersuchung befasst. Die Arbeit wurde als LL.M.-thesis an der Universität Stellenbosch eingereicht und ist in englischer Sprache verfasst. Im ersten von vier Teilen diskutiert die Verfasserin zunächst den Bedarf für eine umfas-sende Arbeitnehmerfreizügigkeit, wobei wirtschaftliche und politische Aspekte beleuchtet werden. Wirtschaftlich ist vor allem die Flexibilisierung des Arbeitsmarktes von Vorteil, die zu einer Vergünstigung der Arbeit in den sog. Empfängerländern führt, während die sog. Entsendestaaten durch den steigenden Wohlstand der Fremdarbeiter und ihrer Fami-lien in der Heimat profitieren. Im politischen Bereich weist die Verfasserin auf die ermuti-

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genden Entwicklungen seit Gründung der Europäischen Gemeinschaft hin, bemerkt aber einschränkend, dass diese auf das südliche Afrika – insbesondere weil es sich bei den betroffenen Staaten um Entwicklungsländer handelt – nicht ohne weiteres übertragbar seien. Auch erweise sich für die Entsendestaaten vor allem die Abwanderung qualifizierter Arbeitskräfte als Problem. Dennoch gibt Mengelkoch den positiven Aspekten im Ergebnis den Vorrang. Als entscheidend sieht sie die Möglichkeiten zu einer koordinierten Reaktion auf bereits existierende illegale Migrationsbewegungen, den Trend zur Globalisierung, auf den mit der Vergrößerung der regionalen Märkte geantwortet werden müsse, und den Frei-heitszugewinn für die Arbeitnehmer an. Im zweiten Teil befasst sich die Verfasserin mit der aktuellen rechtlichen Situation von Fremdarbeitern in den Mitgliedsstaaten der SADC, wobei Südafrika als größtes Empfän-gerland im Mittelpunkt steht. Untersucht werden insbesondere die nationalen Grundrechte auf Freiheit der Berufswahl, Freizügigkeit, Gleichheit und rechtmäßiges Verwaltungshan-deln. Den meisten dieser Grundrechte ist jedoch gemein, dass sie als Bürgerrechte Auslän-dern keinen entsprechenden Schutz gewähren. Ein ähnliches Bild ergibt sich auch in der nationalen Arbeitsgesetzgebung. So gilt der südafrikanische Labour Relation Act zwar grundsätzlich für alle Arbeitsverhältnisse, nimmt jedoch illegal Beschäftigte von seinem Schutz aus. In den Einwanderungsgesetzen wird die Erteilung einer Aufenthaltsgenehmi-gung im allgemeinen davon abhängig gemacht, dass eine bestimmte Stelle nicht mit einem nationalen Bewerber besetzt werden konnte. Eine Tendenz zur Vereinheitlichung der unter-schiedlichen Regelungen ist bisher nicht erkennbar. Bestrebungen zur Verwirklichung einer umfänglichen Arbeitnehmerfreizügigkeit finden sich jedoch in zwei Protokollentwürfen der SADC, deren organisatorische Grundlagen und wesentlichen Merkmale Mengelkoch am Anfang des dritten Teils beschreibt. Eine Umset-zung der Entwürfe scheiterte jedoch ebenso wie die meisten anderen Integrationsvorhaben; einziger wesentlicher Erfolg ist bislang die Errichtung einer Freihandelszone zwischen den Mitgliedsstaaten. Vorbild für eine effektive Einführung von Arbeits-Grundrechten ist die Europäische Union. Dabei wird die Entwicklung der Arbeitnehmerfreizügigkeit aus Art 39 EGV im Kontext der Niederlassungsfreiheit (Art. 43 EGV) und der Dienstleistungsfreiheit (Art. 49 ff. EGV) im einzelnen dargestellt. Das Recht auf Arbeitnehmerfreizügigkeit erweist sich dabei als Teil einer umfassenden wirtschaftlichen Integration aller Mitglieds-staaten, wobei für die wirtschaftlich schwächeren Beitrittsstaaten Übergangsregelungen vereinbart sind. Elemente dieses Modells finden sich in den Beschlüssen der Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), jedoch bestehen trotz weitreichenderer Ansätze im Wesentlichen die selben Probleme in der Umsetzung wie bei der SADC. Im vierten und letzten Teil der Arbeit entwickelt die Verfasserin Lösungsvorschläge für die Implementierung einer umfassenden Arbeitnehmerfreizügigkeit innerhalb der SADC. Am Anfang steht eine Harmonisierung der grundlegenden sozialen Standards, vor allem bei den sozialen Sicherungssystemen und in der Bildung. Ein besonderes Augenmerk soll dabei auf die Verhältnisse im Arbeitsmarkt der Entsendestaaten gelegt werden. Die Verteilung von Ressourcen könnte durch ein gemeinschaftliches Sekretariat für Human Resources Policy


und eine gemeinsame Arbeitsmarktpolitik verbessert werden. Dies sollte einhergehen mit einer Harmonisierung der nationalen Vorschriften, die im übrigen auch eine Privilegierung von Gastarbeitern aus den jeweils anderen SADC Staaten einschließen sollte. Mengelkoch spricht sich für eine schrittweise Umsetzung nach dem Beispiel der Europäischen Union aus, wobei die Integration den wirtschaftlichen Verhältnissen der jeweiligen Staaten ent-sprechend durchaus mit wechselndem Tempo vor sich gehen kann. Die sozial schwächeren Entsendestaaten sollten des weiteren durch spezielle Förderprogramme unterstützt werden, um ihnen erwachsende Nachteile auszugleichen und die Harmonisierungsbestrebungen auch wirtschaftlich zu unterstützen. Was die Zukunft betrifft, gibt sich Mengelkoch jedoch allenfalls verhalten optimistisch: Weder handele es sich bei dem vorgeschlagenen Konzept um eine Patentlösung zur Beseitigung sozialer Missstände, noch könne mit einer kurzfristi-gen Umsetzung gerechnet werden. Die Arbeit bietet einen guten Überblick über dieses hochinteressante und für die Region auch praktisch sehr wichtige Thema. Dem Untersuchungsumfang einer LL.M.-thesis ent-sprechend findet sich jedoch keine vertiefte Auseinandersetzung mit den wissenschaftlichen Grundlagen der Thematik. Zu kritisieren ist, dass die Verfasserin bei der Begründung der Eingangsthese letzte Zweifel an dem Bedürfnis nach einer umfassenden Arbeitnehmerfrei-zügigkeit innerhalb der SADC nicht zu beseitigen vermag. So erscheinen insbesondere aufgrund der fragilen Sozialsysteme in den Mitgliedsstaaten, des vergleichsweise geringen Ausbildungsgrades der Arbeitnehmer und des existentiellen Wettbewerbes um das Gut Arbeit ohne die in Europa übliche soziale Absicherung größere Konflikte vorprogrammiert. Beim Aufbau ist zu bemängeln, dass eine ausführlichere Darstellung der SADC erst im dritten Teil der Untersuchung erfolgt und der Leser damit über den Bedeutungsgehalt einer wesentlichen Bezugsgröße etwas zu lange im Unklaren gelassen wird. Auch gerät die Her-leitung des Untersuchungsgegenstandes ein wenig zu kurz und die Gedankenführung ist mitunter etwas sprunghaft. Dies kann jedoch nicht darüber hinwegtäuschen, dass die Arbeit die wichtigen Aspekte des Themas aufzeigt, interessante Lösungsansätze entwickelt und damit einen beachtenswerten Beitrag für die weitere wissenschaftliche Diskussion in die-sem Bereich leistet. Überzeugen kann auch der gute Anhang, der die Arbeit sinnvoll kom-plettiert. Die Buch kann südafrikanischen und deutschen Arbeits- und Verfassungsrechtlern gleichermaßen zur Lektüre empfohlen werden.

Edzard A. Schmidt-Jortzig, New York

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Obasi Okafor-Obasi

Völkerrechtlicher Schutz der Frauen und Kinder unter besonderer Berücksichtigung

der Rechtslage in Afrika südlich der Sahara

Menschenrechtszentrum der Universität Potsdam, Band 9 Berlin Verlag Arno Spitz, Berlin, 484 S., € 49,00 Okafor-Obasi untersucht in seiner Dissertation den völkerrechtlichen Schutz von Frauen und Kindern in Afrika aus rechtswissenschaftlicher, soziologisch-ethnologischer und politi-scher Perspektive. Zunächst skizziert der Verfasser die historische Entstehung der Men-schenrechte in Europa (von der Magna Charta bis zur Paulskirchenverfassung) und Ame-rika, um sich dann der Entwicklung in Afrika und der dortigen Bedeutung von Kultur und Tradition zuzuwenden (Kap. 1 und 2); dargestellt wird die Menschenrechtsituation im vorkolonialen Afrika – mit den schon „klassischen Fragen“ einer Existenz von Menschen-rechten im westlichen Sinne, der Bedeutung des Gewohnheitsrechts im traditionellen Afrika und der Stellung des Einzelnen in Familie und Gesellschaft; weiter wird die Men-schenrechtslage in der Kolonialzeit sowie in den heutigen afrikanischen Verfassungen der unabhängigen Staaten thematisiert. Im Anschluss beschäftigt sich der Verfasser (unter der Überschrift „Regionale Menschenrechtskonventionen“) mit universellen Menschenrechts-dokumenten – der Allgemeinen Erklärung der Menschenrechte, die er als nicht „universell“ bewertet, da das afrikanische Menschenrechtsbild nicht repräsentiert werde (S. 117) – und den beiden UN-Pakten sowie den universellen Schutzverfahren vor der UN-Menschen-rechtskommission gemäß den Resolutionen 1235 und 1503, bevor er sich dem entschei-denden regionalen afrikanischen Menschenrechtsdokument zuwendet: der Afrikanischen Charta der Menschenrechte und der Rechte der Völker. Beschrieben wird die geschichtli-che Entwicklung der Charta, ihre Auslegung, ihr Inhalt, die innerstaatliche Anwendung am Beispiel Nigerias, das Kontrollorgan – die Afrikanische Menschenrechtskommission – und die Staaten- und Individualbeschwerde; ferner listet der Autor deskriptiv die Unterschiede und Gemeinsamkeiten zu den anderen beiden regionalen Menschenrechtskonventionen, AMRK und EMRK, auf, bevor er die Frage nach der Universalität bzw. Relativität der Menschenrechte aufwirft. Enttäuscht wird leider der Leser, der angesichts des Titels der Dissertation bei der Darstellung der Afrikanischen Charta einen stärkeren Fokus auf die dortige Rechtsposition von Frauen (und Kindern) erwartet hatte: Eine vertiefte Auseinan-dersetzung mit der in der Charta relevanten Vorschrift zum Schutze von Frauen (Art. 18 Abs. 3 AfrC), mit ihrem Verweis auf internationale Menschenrechtsdokumente bzw. mit den für die Rechte von Frauen strittigen Vorschriften (z.B. Art. 18 Abs. 2, Art. 27 Abs. 2, Art. 29 Abs. 1 und 7 AfrC) findet nicht statt; zwar bemängelt Okafor-Obasi an späterer Stelle (in Kap. 6, S. 289) die Benachteiligung von Frauen durch etliche afrikanische kultu-relle Werte und betont den „Widerspruch“ in der Charta mit ihrer Anerkennung afrikani-scher Tradition einerseits und internationaler Menschenrechtsnormen andererseits; die unterbliebene Diskussion der in der Literatur und auch von einzelnen Mitgliedern der Afrikanischen Menschenrechtskommission zu diesem Verhältnis und vor allem zur Bedeu-


tung des Art. 18 Abs. 3 AfrC vertretenen Auffassungen und das Fehlen eines eigenen Lösungsvorschlags machen allerdings seine Bewertung, die Charta erscheine daher „als unbefriedigende Menschenrechtscharta“ (S. 289) angreifbar; auch seine Bemerkungen in seinem „Résumée“ am Ende der Arbeit schließen diese Lücke nicht, da nun zwar alle gegen internationales Recht verstoßenden kulturellen Praktiken ohne weiteres als nach Art. 18 Abs. 3 AfrC „bedeutungslos oder unwirksam“ (S. 441) eingeschätzt werden, zugleich aber wieder unter Verweis auf diese Vorschrift und auf Art. 29 Abs. 7 AfrC geurteilt wird, die Charta biete „den Frauen im allgemeinen einen unzureichenden Schutz“ (S. 444). Interessant sind die Ausführungen des Verfassers zur sozialen und rechtlichen Position von Frauen in der traditionellen und modernen afrikanischen Gesellschaft (in Kap. 5). Okafor-Obasi liefert eine anschauliche tour d’horizon über die tatsächlichen und rechtlichen Ver-hältnisse und Traditionen, z.B. im Hinblick auf Ehe, Brautpreis, Polygamie, Levirat, Frau-enehe, Scheidung, Sorgerechte und Eigentumsverhältnisse; er vergleicht die gewohnheits-rechtliche Position der „Unmündigkeit der Frau“ im heutigen Afrika mit jener, wie sie in Europa bis in das 20. Jahrhundert herrschte (S. 225), nicht aber ohne auf Verbesserungen durch vereinzelte progressive innerstaatliche Rechtsprechungsbeispiele und Gesetzesände-rungen hinzuweisen. Hiernach kehrt der Verfasser zu völkerrechtlichen Fragen zurück (Kap. 6): Dargestellt wird im Schwerpunkt der Schutz der Frau nach der CEDAW, wobei auch die für das Recht auf Staatsangehörigkeit und für die Rechte der Frau in der Ehe einschlägigen Fälle des Human Rights Committee (Aumeeruddy-Cziffra et al.) und die europäischen Urteile des EGMR (Abdulaziz et al., Airey, Johnston, Marckx) beschrieben werden. Zum Abschluss des Kapitels widmet sich der Verfasser den innerafrikanischen Bemühungen und Verfahren zum Schutz von Frauen und führt diverse Beispiele an: von der Bangalore-Erklärung, über einige innerstaatliche Urteile (u.a. den tansanischen „Vor-zeigefall“ Ephraim v. Pastory zum frauendiskriminierenden Gewohnheitsrecht der Haya) bis zum nigerianischen Strafgesetz mit seinem Abtreibungsverbot. Im Kap. 7 untersucht der Verfasser den völkerrechtlichen Schutz der Kinder in Afrika, einmal durch das UN-Übereinkommen über die Rechte des Kindes und zum anderen durch die hieran anknüpfende „African Charter on the Rights and Welfare of the Child“. Zum UN-Übereinkommen über die Rechte des Kindes bezieht der Verfasser, dessen eigene Position in den ersten Kapiteln wenig deutlich wird (auch, da Zwischenergebnisse fehlen) klar Stellung; er bewertet das Abkommen differenziert: negativ mangels Individualbe-schwerde und positiv angesichts einer universellen Definition der Rechte des Kindes (S. 357). Allerdings weist Okafor-Obasi auch auf die Diskrepanz zwischen den theoretischen Rechten des UN-Abkommens und der praktischen Durchsetzungsmöglichkeit hin, da der Mindeststandard völkerrechtlicher Staatenverpflichtungen hauptsächlich dem europäischen Niveau entspreche, ein Standard, den afrikanische Staaten mangels sozioökonomischer Voraussetzungen nur schwer erfüllen könnten (S. 450). Abgerundet wird die Bearbeitung der Menschenrechtslage von Kindern durch einen Blick auf ihre tatsächliche und rechtliche Situation: Der Verfasser informiert u.a. über die Problematik von Straßenkindern und Kinderbettlern, beleuchtet innerstaatliche Regelungen zum Schutz von Kindern am Beispiel

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Nigerias zur Mündigkeitsfrage, zur Adoption, Kinderarbeit und zum ethnischen Quoten-system im Bildungsbereich und kritisiert gesamtafrikanisch die fehlende Einhaltung inter-nationaler Maßstäbe in Strafverfahren gegen Kinder. Im Schlusskapitel präsentiert der Verfasser einen politischen Forderungskatalog zur Ver-besserung der Lage von Frauen in Afrika: Propagiert wird eine Verbesserung ihrer Situa-tion durch die Gesetzgebung – aber nicht nur hierdurch, sondern auch durch eine Demo-kratisierung der Gesellschaft, durch soziale und politische Emanzipation der Frauen, Ent-wicklung der wirtschaftlichen Bedingungen und besonders durch Bildung – Vorschläge, denen wohl kaum jemand widersprechen wollte. Im Rahmen des neu zu schaffenden oder zu ändernden innerstaatlichen Rechts macht der Verfasser zugleich ausführlich auf bereits erzielte Erfolge im nationalen Familienrecht und bei der Beseitigung diskriminierenden Gewohnheitsrechts anhand von Rechtsprechungsbeispielen aufmerksam. Die Ausführungen zur emanzipatorischen Entwicklung sind weitgehend durch persönliche Einschätzungen des Verfassers geprägt; ob Feststellungen wie z.B. „Das Tragen von Hosen alleine reicht nicht, um die Emanzipation der Frauen zu erringen.“ (S. 422) insoweit hilfreich sind, mag man bezweifeln; Handlungsbedarf sieht Okafor-Obasi bei den modernen Frauenorganisationen in Afrika, die aufgrund ihrer Zersplitterung in zwei Gruppen („Elitefrauen“ einerseits und „ärmere Frauen auf dem Land“ andererseits, S. 414) und aufgrund ihres an „männlichen Maßstäben“ ausgerichteten Feminismus als „elitär westlich orientierte Organisationen“ nicht die Mehrheit der afrikanischen Frauen erreichten (S. 422 f.). Im Ganzen: Okafor-Obasi hat der immer noch recht überschaubaren Anzahl deutschspra-chiger Untersuchungen zum Menschenrechtsschutz in Afrika eine interessante Arbeit hin-zugefügt, die sich nicht auf den rechtlichen Bereich des Schutzes von Frauen und Kindern in Afrika fixiert, sondern durch soziologisch-ethnologisch-kulturelle Ausführungen farbig wird und durch eine Vielzahl von innerstaatlichen Rechtsprechungsbeispielen, besonders zu Nigeria, angereichert ist. Die Eigenpräsentation des Verlages trifft daher uneinge-schränkt zu: Das Buch ist von Interesse für alle, die sich in irgendeiner Weise mit Afrika beschäftigen.

Michaela Wittinger, Saarbrücken Albert Hung-yee Chen

An Introduction to the Legal System of the People’s Republic of China

Butterworths Asia, Singapore/Malaysia/Hong Kong, 1994, 291 S. Der Autor, Anwalt beim Supreme Court of Hong Kong und Professor of Law an der Uni-versität Hong Kong, hat seine Einführung in das Rechtssystem der Volksrepublik China zu einem Zeitpunkt geschrieben, als die damalige britische Kronkolonie noch nicht in die


Volksrepublik China „reincorporated“ war. Es wäre interessant zu erfahren, wie der Autor die neueste Entwicklung in der Volksrepublik sieht. Aber auch in der hier zu besprechen-den Fassung ist das Buch von Chen eine hochinteressante Lektüre für Rechtsvergleicher, Rechtshistoriker und Politologen. Das erste von insgesamt zehn Kapiteln bringt mit dem Dreiklang von Legal Theory, Comparative Law and the Case of China (S. 1 ff.) gewisser-maßen eine Einführung in die Einführung. Wie nimmt ein Land westliches Recht auf, wenn die Geschichte des Landes stärker von Tradition geprägt ist als die anderer Länder: „With nearly five thousand years of a continuous history of civilisation behind them, the forces of tradition are probably stronger in China than in most other countries in the contemporary world“ (S. 1). Im 2. Kapitel („The Legal History of Tranditional China, S. 6 ff.) schildert der Autor ein-drucksvoll den Einfluss des Konfuzianismus, mit der Dominanz moralischer und sozialer Verhaltensregeln (li) gegenüber Gesetzen (fa); die Koexistenz beider wird mit dem Gedan-ken erklärt, „that fa is to be employed as a last resort to maintain social order when li has failed to do so“ (S. 11). Das 3. Kapitel über „The Legal History of Modern China” (S. 20 ff.) bringt einen sehr knappen Abriss der Rechtsformen bis zur Gründung der Volksrepu-blik China und eine ausführliche Darstellung der Phasen der „transition from New Democ-racy to Socialism“. Von extrem einschneidender Auswirkung auf das Rechtssystem war die sogenannte Kulturrevolution, deren „painful lesson“ (S. 35) der Autor anschaulich schildert (S. 29 ff.). Auch wenn diese dunkle Phase Ende 1969 beendet war, so stellt der Verfasser zu Recht fest, dass hinsichtlich Rechtscharakter, rechtlicher Infrastruktur und effektivem Gesetzesvollzug „a long uphill journey still lies ahead“ (S. 37). Den Nachholbedarf an „trained legal personnel“ zeigen deutlich die Zahlen, die der Autor bringt: Im Jahre 1989 hatte die Volksrepublik China bei einer Bevölkerung von 1,1 Milliarden Menschen nur 24.000 hauptberuflich tätige und 19.500 teilzeitbeschäftigte Juristen (S. 37). Zum Ver-gleich: In der Bundesrepublik Deutschland waren bei einer Bevölkerungszahl von 82 Mil-lionen am 1.1.2002 ca. 116.300 Rechtsanwälte zugelassen (Neue Juristische Wochenschrift – Dokumentation, Heft 19/2002, S. XXXI). Das 4. Kapitel befasst sich mit „Constitution and Government: Constitutional Doctrines and State Structure“ (S. 39 ff.). Interessant sind insoweit die Zweifel, ob die Verfassung „direct legal effect“ hat (S. 46). Die systematische und institutionalisierte Verletzung von Menschenrechten, wie die Stigmatisierung und Diskriminierung der „five black elements“ („landlords“, „rich peasants“, „counterrevolu-tionaries“, „rightists“ and „other bad elements“) dauerte bis 1976. Danach, so meint der Verfasser, „the human rights situation in China has, relatively speaking, improved substan-tially“ (S. 52). Nur sehr knapp wird in diesem Kapitel das Wirtschaftssystem erläutert (S. 54). Das 5. Kapitel ist überschrieben mit „Constitution and Government: Political Parties and Elections“ (S. 63 ff.); der Schwerpunkt dieses Kapitels liegt naturgemäß in der Dar-stellung der Rolle der Kommunistischen Partei Chinas, mit über 50 Millionen Mitgliedern der größten politischen Partei der Welt (S. 69). Im 6. Kapitel („Sources of Law and the Law-making System“, S. 77 ff.) sind für Leser aus westlichen Rechtssystemen die Ausfüh-rungen zur Gesetzesauslegung besonderes interessant, weil in vielen Einzelheiten für unser

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Rechtsverständnis sehr fremd. Nur kurz angedeutet ist die Frage, ob das Völkerrecht Teil der chinesischen Rechtsquellen ist (S. 103). Im 7. Kapitel („Legal Institutions: Courts and Procuratorates“, S. 104 ff.) sind die Informationen zur Frage der richterlichen Unabhängig-keit – konkret: zu deren Einschränkungen – (S. 117 ff.) lesenswert. Auch die weitgehenden Befugnisse der „Procuratorates“ (vgl. dazu S. 124 ff.) sind für uns fremd. „Legal Institu-tions: Lawyers, Legal Education and the Ministry of Justice“ bilden den Gegenstand des 8. Kapitels (S. 128 ff.). Zwischen 1957 und dem Ausgang der siebziger Jahre waren auf Grund der „Anti-Rightist Campaign“ Juristen in der Volksrepublik China verpönt: „China remained a country with no practising legal profession for two decades“ (S. 130). Diese Situation hat sich erheblich geändert, insbesondere was das Zivilrecht und das Wirtschafts-recht betrifft. Die ökonomischen Reformen führen dazu, dass „China has in fact become an increasingly legalized society in matters such as contractual and property relations“ (S. 142). Das 9. Kapitel („The Law of Procedure“) gibt einen Einblick in die relativ schwache Rolle des Prozessrechts in China; interessant ist die Feststellung, dass in jüngerer Zeit fast 60 % der Zivilrechtsfälle vor den meisten chinesischen Gerichten durch Mediation gelöst worden sind (S. 171), eine Streitbeilegungsmethode, die auf alte chinesische Traditionen zurückweist (vgl. dazu S. 12) und zugleich durchaus modern ist. In diesem Zusammenhang, aber nicht nur in diesem, ist auch interessant, dass erst durch eine Ergänzung zum Organi-schen Gesetz über die Volksgerichte von 1983 das Erfordernis juristischer Berufskennt-nisse Voraussetzung für den Beruf des Richters wurde (S. 109). Für Wirtschaftsbeziehun-gen wichtig sind Schiedsverfahren (S. 175 f.). Das abschließende 10. Kapitel („The Sub-stantive Law“, S. 185 ff.) gibt einen Einblick in die Regelungen der wichtigsten Rechtsge-biete. Bemerkenswert ist die erst später und zögerliche Entwicklung eines chinesischen Verwaltungsrechts – das erste Verwaltungsrechtslehrbuch zum Gebrauch an chinesischen Universitäten erschien erst 1983 (S. 203). Jedoch war dieses Zögern kein chinesischer Sonderweg; die Unterentwicklung des Verwaltungsrechts war vielmehr geradezu ein (negatives) Markenzeichen der sozialistischen Staaten überhaupt. Für weitere Fragestellungen sehr nützlich sind die Anhänge zu dem Buch (S. 207 ff.), z.B. die Angaben über die hauptsächlichen Quellen des Rechts der Volksrepublik China und über chinesische juristische Zeitschriften, ein Glossar sowie eine Auflistung der wichtigsten Gesetze und Dokumente mit normativem Effekt. Alles in allem: ein lobenswertes Buch.

Ingo von Münch, Hamburg


Achim Güssgen / Reimund Seidelmann / Ting Wai (eds.)

Hong Kong After Reunification

Problems and Perspectives Nomos Verlagsgesellschaft, Baden-Baden, 2000, 378 pp., € 50.00 (paper) Christian Starck (ed.)

Staat und Individuum im Kultur- und Rechtsvergleich

Deutsch-taiwanesisches Kolloquium vom 8. bis 10. Juli 1999 an der Georg-August-Universität Göttingen Beiträge zum ausländischen und vergleichenden öffentlichen Recht, Band 14 Nomos Verlagsgesellschaft, Baden-Baden, 2000, 214 pp., € 44.00 (hardcover) Chen-Shan Li (ed.)

Recht und Gerechtigkeit

Festschrift für Heinrich Scholler zum 70. Geburtstag Wunan Book Co. Ltd., Taibei/Taiwan, 2000, 577 pp. Alice Tay (ed.)

East Asia – Human Rights, Nation-Building, Trade

Nomos Verlagsgesellschaft, Baden-Baden, 2000, 598 pp., € 54.00 (paper) Ever since a variety of causes put the 1997 expiry of the British lease of Hong Kong’s New Territories on the agenda of Sino-British relations in the early 1980s, the termination of colonial rule in the entire territory quickly emerged as the only possible denouement. China, driven by nationalist ardour to expunge the humiliating loss of Hong Kong after the Opium War of 1840-42, would permit no other outcome. The United Kingdom, in view of her abiding wider interests in the region and lack of any means to force Peking’s hand, speedily acquiesced in the reversion of the Crown Colony to Peking sovereignty without affording the population of Hong Kong, many of whom were refugees from the communist mainland or their descendants, any opportunity to express their preferences in the matter of Hong Kong’s future status and governance. Britain’s Conservative government at the time also took care, in spite of verbal protestations of concern for the fate of the people of Hong Kong, to bar, through amending the relevant legislation on nationality and the right of abode in the UK, any large influx of migrants from Hong Kong in the run-up to reversion and beyond. In the Sino-British negotiations prior to 1997, the Chinese side sought to limit the scope of local democratic participation in Hong Kong and to strengthen Peking’s say in the formation of the territory’s government. The British, in addition to efforts to entrench democratic elements in Hong Kong’s future constitution through the Sino-British “Joint Declaration” of 1984, attempted to create facts on the ground, by pursuing democratic reform under the last London governor to a speed and degree they had by no means deemed imperative in times when an end to British rule had not been a serious prospect. The

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Chinese in turn made sure that the changeover in 1997 would proceed outside the reach of local political opposition from Hong Kong. This was principally achieved by causing the first Chief Executive of the new Special Administrative Region (SAR) to be elected by an assembly hand-picked by Peking. There never was substantial international resistance to returning Hong Kong to the sovereignty of the People’s Republic of China (PRC), and the Chinese residents soon found themselves left to their own devices. Profound satisfaction at the departure of the alien colonial régime mixed with deep disquiet of many at the new sovereign, however familiar through the bonds of common ethnicity, as well as concern at the risks of seeing the proven good governance under the British replaced by the opaque and corrupt clientelism of the mainland. The ambiguity is pointedly summed in the quip of a Chinese local at the time of reversion, “The British departure is like my mother-in-law leaving town in my new car: I’m glad she’s gone, but what about my car?” Many in the Chinese business community in Hong Kong decided that their best commercial bet would to accommodate inevitable Peking rule in their schemes and deftly professed their loyalty and patriotic trust in the new dispensation; other Hong Kongers chose to fight in the fora on offer for more democracy in the new SAR; some opted for emigration to English-speaking countries; most of course stayed and carried on. The collection of papers on “Hong Kong After Reunification” from a conference held in November 1997 in Frankfurt, Germany, to appraise the reversion of 01 July 1997, offers assessments, in five chapters, on the event of the ‘handover’, political developments in the SAR, economic prospects, relations with the PRC, and wider regional and international issues related to the new status of Hong Kong. It was perhaps too early after the event for evaluating the outcome of Hong Kong’s “return to the motherland’s embrace”, as Peking parlance would have it. Many of the papers limit themselves to either dutiful optimism on the viability of coexistence between Hong Kong’s capitalism and mainland “socialism with Chinese characteristics” under Peking’s talismanic formula of “one country, two systems” or to doomsaying that takes disaster as a foregone conclusion. Doubts voiced in the contri-butions about the acceptability of “one country two systems” to the much larger, and by now democratically self-governing, island of Taiwan would appear well founded, and the rather smooth transition from British rule to circumscribed autonomy under the watchful gaze of Peking may thus offer fewer clues for dealing with Peking-Taibei relations than the PRC leadership may have wished themselves and others to believe. Many of the texts are uncomfortably full of grammatical and typographical errors which strenuous proofreading could at least have reduced to more palatable proportions. Deng Xiaoping’s “policy of opening and reform” (gaige kaifang) is carelessly rendered as “open-door” (e.g. p. 309) although the latter term, from US China policy of the late 1890s, means quite something else and is usually expressed in Chinese as menhu kaifang zhengce (scil. a policy of equal access to China by all foreign interests, including the then US, and not only of the powers already established in China at the time).


The legal traditions of “the West” and East Asia have long excited scholarly and political interest, from Enlightenment Europe’s early fascination by the meritocratic recruitment of public officials in imperial China to the stormy contemporary debates over “Asian values” in the area of human rights. Strong ties between Germany and Republican China, and today’s Taiwan, in jurisprudence and legal studies provide a particularly promising forum for dialogue on fundamental constitutional issues, such as comparative perspectives on the relationship of “State and Individual”. The papers, edited by Christian Starck, from a colloquium at the University of Göttingen in July 1999, offer reflections by lawyers from Germany and Taiwan, among them a former judge of the German Constitutional Court, Hans Hugo Klein, and Jyun-hsyong Su, member of the Judicial Yuan of the Republic of China in Taibei, which are complemented by summaries of discussion among the conferees. The added value of the conference lies not least in the familiarity of the Taiwanese partici-pants, who have done legal research in Germany, with German law and the German language. The thematic chapters deal with “Human Rights”, “Guilt and Punishment”, “Separation of Powers”, and “State and Religion”. China’s traditional emphasis on substantive politico-ethical norms only weakly backed by institutional safeguards (censors, remonstration by officials) appears from the survey of Ai-er Chen; the absence of a doctrine of separation of powers in traditional China and the purport of Sun Yatsen’s

1 distribution

of powers under his “Five-Power Constitution” – which he intended as an alternative to “Western” separation of the legislative, executive and judicial branches of government – is presented in the paper of Hsu Tzong-li. Several of the papers, e.g. Heuns’ historical over-view on Western-style separation of powers, and Starck’s on state and religion in Europe and North America, are very helpful introductions to the subject. Regrettably, almost none of the vast body of extant modern research on Chinese law and comparative studies by Chinese, Japanese and Western authors is referred to in this volume, maybe because the discussants, as academics or practitioners of their own respective law, were not conversant with that literature

2. Taking account of that previous research would have helped to advise

the reader of the academic context of the conference papers and might also have allowed to focus more succinctly on certain comparative aspects already well familiar in the area of Chinese legal studies. It may likewise have been due to lack of sinological assistance in preparing this volume that Chinese names and titles of works have not been transliterated according to scholarly usage so that names and sources cannot easily be identified. These technical criticisms aside, it remains to be hoped that the most valuable intellectual links

1 On authoritarian tendencies in Sun’s politics, cf. Yuan Weishi, Sun Zhongshan yu minzhu ziyou

xiangbei de guannian, MINGPAO Monthly (Mingbao yuekan) [Hong Kong], 10/2001, p. 50 et seq.

2 A small selection of relevant sources (excluding works in Chinese and Japanese) can be found in

the bibliographical annexes of Robert Heuser, Einführung in die chinesische Rechtskultur, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Asienkunde, No 315, Institut für Asienkunde, Hamburg, 1999.

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between lawyers in Germany and Taiwan will allow further joint enquiry into the European and Chinese legal traditions. The Festschrift for Professor Scholler, whose wide-ranging teaching and research in public law includes a visiting professorship in Taibei in 1986/87, was prepared by scholars in Taiwan and comprises seventeen essays mostly on constitutional law and organisation of the court system. It is yet another testimony to the lively and fertile exchanges between legal scholarship in Germany and Taiwan. Southeast Asia, here taken as coextensive with the member states of ASEAN

3, is character-

ised by remarkable diversity of topography (continental and archipelagic states), ethnicities (e.g. Malay, Chinese, South Asian) and religions (Buddhist, Muslim, Christian, Hindu). To these must be added political diversity spanning democracies of varying degrees of open-ness as well as a wide spectrum of ideological systems comprising highly developed, globally integrated capitalism, as in Singapore, and slow-moving departures from commu-nist autocracy, as in Laos or Vietnam. The region is also home, at the same time, to two vocal advocates of ‘Asian values’ and ‘Asian’ ways of doing things (Malaysian Prime Minister Dr. Mahatir, and Senior Minister Lee Kwan Yew of Singapore) and to impressive economic development unthinkable without a high degree of dependence on the US market and on US strategic presence in the Western Pacific to counterbalance the growing weight of the PRC. The collection of essays in “East Asia – Human Rights, Nation-Building, Trade” deal with former British colonies (Burma/Myanmar, Malaysia, Singapore), the former Indo-China (Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam) and Indonesia and Thailand. Several contributors describe the reception of British law in former British possessions and national developments after independence, in particular in respect of the doctrinal ties, or their dissolution, with the Common Law of the former colonial power. The chapter on Indo-China centres on aspects of post-communist transformation in pursuit of forms of market economics – and, of course, foreign investment, a process much reminiscent of the earlier stages of China’s “opening and reform”. The paper on Indonesia highlights the dramatic shifts in the political order after the demise of the authoritarian New Order of President Soeharto and the difficulties of replacing the structures of graft and nepotism by a func-tioning government which will provide legal certainty and thus pave the way for sustained domestic reform and help recapture the confidence of foreign investors. Two essays, about “Law and Legal Culture in Malaysia from the Perspective of Public Law” by Khoo Boo

Teong and “Apostates, Deviants and Visions of Modernity” by Poh-Ling Tan, allow out-siders a glimpse of the laborious attempts at reconciling the politically sacrosanct pre-eminence of Malays, and of Islam as their religion, with the rights of non-Muslim minori-ties. They tell a cautionary tale to all who assume that integration of large communities of

3 Association of Southeast Asian Nations: Brunei, Indonesia, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore,

Thailand, plus the later entrants of Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam and Burma/Myanmar.


different faiths and cultures is easily accomplished. This tome, as the one on Hong Kong, would clearly have benefitted from more stringent editing and proofreading.

Wolfgang Keßler, Berlin Sinclair Dinnen

Law and Order in a Weak State

Crime and Politics in Papua New Guinea Pacific Islands Monograph Series, No. 17 University of Hawaii Press, Honolulu, 2001, 248 S., $ 40,00 Sechsundzwanzig Jahre nach der Unabhängigkeit ist der südpazifische Inselstaat Papua-Neuguinea durch eine stagnierende Volkswirtschaft, explodierende Bevölkerungszahlen, wachsende Armut und Ungleichheit sowie Stammeskämpfe und ein Klima von „fear, crime

and violence everywhere“ (so die dortige Katholische Bischofskonferenz, Post-Courier, 10.5.2001) gekennzeichnet. Korruption und politische Instabilität bedrohen die institutio-nelle Integrität und fragile Legitimität des postkolonialen Staates, der den Herausforderun-gen kaum gewachsen scheint. Mehr noch wird immer offensichtlicher, dass zumindest Teile des Staates und seiner Repräsentanten in diese Dynamik von Instabilität, Gewalt und Mar-ginalisierung verwoben sind und das Bild, wer nun deviantes Verhalten praktiziert und wer Autorität in der Gesellschaft beanspruchen darf bzw. darüber verfügt, zunehmend an Kon-tur verliert. Das vorliegende Buch des Kriminologen Dinnen ist die überarbeitete Fassung einer 1996 an der Australian National University in Canberra angenommenen rechtswissenschaftlichen Dissertation. Sie thematisiert die oben genannten Probleme unter dem zentralen Gesichts-punkt öffentlicher Ordnung. Unternommen wird der Versuch, die Krisendynamik des Staates sowie dessen Interaktionen mit der Gesellschaft herauszuarbeiten. Eine Einführung skizziert die Strukturmerkmale des Landes, das durch die bis heute fortdauernde extreme soziale und kulturelle Fragmentierung mit über 800 Sprachgruppen charakterisiert ist (die auch landesweite Generalisierungen so schwierig macht). Der folgende historische Überblick diskutiert die hochgradig personalisierten sozialen und politischen Beziehungssysteme staatenloser melanesischer Gesellschaften und deren Transformation über die Periode der Dekolonisierung hinaus. Wichtige Stichworte sind hier kleine, auf Abstammung beruhende soziale Einheiten, das big-men-System, das auf der Akkumulation von Ansehen durch Verteilung von Wohlstand beruht und auf beständig der Konkurrenz ausgesetzte Loyalität zielt, sowie das Prinzip der Reziprozität, die über den Austausch Bindungen und Verpflichtungen herstellt und damit als fundamentale Modalität sozialer Kontrolle und Kontinuität fungiert. Auch die Anwendung der im Hochland nahezu

343

endischen Gewalt wurde als legitime Strategie angesehen, unvorteilhafte Ergebnisse zu revidieren. Dinnen skizziert dann die Lokalisierung einer nur schwach ausgeprägten kolonialen Admi-nistration seit den 1960er Jahren, die bis heute mit der Durchdringung und Transformation staatlicher Institutionen durch lokale soziale Kräfte einhergeht. In Abwandlung von Habermas spricht er hier von einer Kolonisierung des Staates durch die melanesische Lebenswelt. Deutlich wird, dass es dem jungen Staat bis heute nicht gelungen ist, die Men-schen politisch und ideologisch einzubinden und eine gesellschaftliche Vorherrschaft zu erringen. Identitäten der Bevölkerung bleiben zumeist im Kontext lokaler Abstammung verankert. Es folgen drei empirisch durch Feldforschung und Quellenstudium sowie theoretische Perspektiven untermauerte Fallstudien, die jeweils aus materialistischer, kultureller und institutioneller Sicht analysiert werden. Der materialistische Fokus zielt dabei auf Erklä-rungsmuster, die gesellschaftliche (Modernisierungs-) Defizite und Abweichungen wie die hohe Kriminalität im Rahmen von Entwicklungstheorien zu erklären suchen. Die kulturelle Perspektive hinterfragt soziale Kontinuitäten, die im Kontext des sozialen, politischen und wirtschaftlichen Wandels evident werden. Der institutionelle Blick schließlich ermöglicht die Analyse der Verfasstheit und Wirkungsweise staatlicher Institutionen. Die erste Studie thematisiert das Phänomen ursprünglich städtischer krimineller Gangs (sog. raskols), die in den 1960er Jahren mit der einsetzenden Urbanisierung entstanden sind. Deren Bandbreite bewegt sich heute zwischen den Polen einfacher ländlicher Straßen-räuberei bis hin zu hochspezialisierten, zum Teil von Politikern genutzten kriminellen Netzwerken. Gangmitglieder sind in das jeweilige soziale Umfeld eingebunden, was durch die Umverteilung der Beute zugunsten individuellen Prestiges und eines höheren Führer-status gefördert wird. Strafe hat aufgrund fehlender Erfolge der Behörden bis heute nur begrenzte Abschreckungsfunktion. Die häufig auf exzessive und illegale (Gegen-) Gewalt setzende Reaktion der Polizei mündet eher in Ablehnung denn Unterstützung staatlicher Institutionen. Dinnen hält dagegen die Förderung sogenannter Massenkapitulationen von kriminellen Gruppen für kulturell angemessener und erfolgreicher. Bei diesen zumeist durch Kirchenvertreter vermittelten und über Entwicklungsprojekte oder finanzielle Zuge-ständnisse materiell abgesicherten retreats wird den Tätern die für sie nicht beschämende Rückkehr in die Gesellschaft ermöglicht. Das folgende Kapitel dokumentiert den Ablauf eines Entwicklungsprojekts, das die Etablie-rung einer 300köpfigen polizeilichen Elitetruppe (neben bestehender Polizei, riot squads

und teilweise landesintern eingesetztem Militär) zum Schutz der für die Volkswirtschaft und den Staatshaushalt überlebenswichtigen Bergbauminen und der Ölindustrie zwischen 1991 und 1994 vorsah. Involviert waren Politiker, Polizeibehörden, Landbesitzer, Groß-konzerne, ein britisches Sicherheitsunternehmen und Vertreter der australischen Entwick-lungshilfe. Der Verlauf des letztlich an Geldmangel gescheiterten Projekts zeigt, wie Politi-ker dazu fähig sind, das Projekt gegen eine mächtige Industrie zugunsten der Interessen der


eigenen Klientel zu manipulieren. Es zeigt zudem, dass es dem Staat kaum gelingt, eigene Interessen gegen die mit ihm konkurrierenden Landbesitzergruppen durchzusetzen. Die dritte Fallstudie untersucht die wachsende, mit Parlamentswahlen verbundene Gewalt am Beispiel der Wahlen von 1992. Die Erlangung eines politischen Amtes wird angesichts fehlender Alternativen zunehmend zum Königsweg, um an die zentralen Ressourcen des Staates und damit an Prestige und Wohlstand zu gelangen und die Wiederwahl durch die lokale Basis zu sichern. Die erheblichen Mittel, die dabei staatlicher Steuerung entzogen werden, unterminieren wiederum die administrative Planungs- und Implementierungskapa-zität, was die Marginalisierung und Kriminalität bestärkt – ein Teufelskreis. Politiker erscheinen damit selbst als führende Akteure der Schwächung staatlicher Institutionen. Das abschließende Kapitel lotet dann die Chancen einer gesellschaftlichen Reintegration durch das Bemühen aus, einen melanesisch inspirierten Weg zu geregelteren Formen öffentlicher Ordnung zu finden. Das Buch demonstriert exemplarisch die Komplexität und Resistenz vorstaatlicher und vorindustrieller politischer und kultureller Faktoren, in deren Kontext sich heute die Etab-lierung einer europäisch geprägten rechtsstaatlichen Ordnung in Papua-Neuguinea bewegt. Prozesse der Begründung eines unparteiischen Rechtsstaates, der Erlangung eines kollekti-ven Selbstverständnisses und der Konsolidierung demokratischer Strukturen müssen, sollen sie nicht, wie derzeit, zum Scheitern verurteilt sein, an bestehende soziale Fundierungen anknüpfen und diese konstruktiv mit einbinden. Die Arbeit zeigt zudem, dass technokratisch orientierte Vorstellungen der Kapazitäts- und Effizienzsteigerung des Öffentliches Dienstes zugunsten des Zieles Entwicklung (good

governance) wenig Aussicht auf Erfolg haben, da die interne Gesellschaftsdynamik kaum adäquate Berücksichtigung findet. Entwicklungstheorie hat, eigentlich ein „alter Hut“, trotz des struktur(mit)bildenden Einflusses von Auslandskapital und anderer globaler Akteure (insbesondere die Weltbank) landesinterne Bedingungen mit einzubeziehen. Dies demons-triert die von Dinnen aufgezeigte Aneignung des Entwicklungsprojekts durch Politiker trotz schwachen Staates und starker transnationaler Konzerne par excellence. Es bleibt der Ein-druck, dass die Legitimität des Staates Papua-Neuguinea nach der kurzen Unabhängigkeits-euphorie weitgehend extern begründet ist und dessen Überleben nur durch Auslandsinves-titionen und Entwicklungshilfe gesichert wird.

Roland Seib, Darmstadt

345

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The Authors

Coomans, Fons, Doctor of Law, Senior Human Rights Researcher, Centre for Human

Rights, Faculty of Law, University of Maastricht, the Netherlands; publications on the protection of economic, social and cultural rights in general, and the right to education in particular; e-mail: [email protected].

Ebeku, Kaniye S.A., LL.M (London), Barrister and Solicitor of the Supreme Court of

Nigeria, Senior Lecturer in Law, Rivers State University of Science and Technology, Port Harcourt, Nigeria; presently studying for a Doctoral Degree in Environmental Law and Conservation at Kent Law School, University of Kent at Canterbury, UK; e-mail: [email protected].

Eschborn, Norbert, Ph.D., Political Scientist; represents the Konrad Adenauer-Foundation

in Djakarta (formerly in Bangkok); publications on EU/Asia-relations, ASEAN-issues, politics in Thailand; e-mail: [email protected].

Wittneben, Mirko, LL.M. (Cape Town), Attorney at law, Hamburg, law studies in Göttin-

gen, Louvain, and Cape Town; e-mail: [email protected]. Zenthöfer, Jochen, law student at the Humboldt-University, Berlin, research assistant

University of Potsdam; in 2001 research fellow at Thammasat-University Bangkok; e-mail: [email protected]