International Organizations

Sarah Collman is a research associate in the Center for Preventive Action at the Council on Foreign Relations. On December 15, South Sudan will have been at civil war for three years. In 2013, just two years after the country seceded from Sudan and gained independence, fighting broke out in the capital between forces loyal to South Sudanese President Salva Kiir and former Vice President Riek Machar. The political struggle between Kiir and Machar dating back to the 1990s, and divisions within the ruling party, quickly devolved into full-scale civil war, pitting tribal groups against each other. Leaders manipulated ethnic identities and mobilized members of their respective tribes. Forces loyal to Kiir were mainly from the Dinka tribe, and were pitted against Machar’s tribe, the Nuer. The death toll of the war in South Sudan is at least fifty thousand people, although the United Nations stopped counting in 2014. Privately, humanitarian officials note this is figure is greatly underestimated. Other news outlets estimate the figure could be as high as three hundred thousand people killed. In three years, the civil war has displaced 1.8 million people internally and caused 1.1 million people to flee the country. Approximately 40 percent of the population faces severe food shortages, and almost 75 percent is dealing with some degree of food insecurity. Needless to say, the situation is dire. In a new Center for Preventive Action (CPA) report, Ending South Sudan’s Civil War, author Kate Almquist Knopf, director of the Africa Center for Strategic Studies, argues that the only way to save South Sudan is by putting it on “life support.” To ensure the country’s sovereignty and territorial integrity, she proposes that the United Nations, in coordination with the African Union (AU), establish an international transitional administration to run the country for ten to fifteen years. Instituting a transitional administration, and taking power over the country from current leaders, would be an extreme measure. Almquist Knopf argues, however, that it would provide the “clean break” that South Sudan needs to end fighting between tribal groups, rebuild the economy, strengthen institutions, and heal from three years of civil war and decades of violence. Lessons from other UN transitional administrations—such as those in East Timor, Kosovo, and Liberia—could be applied to shape a more peaceful and inclusive future for South Sudan. Because the United States played a unique role in fostering the country’s independence, it is well-placed to help guide the transition from civil war. As a road map toward establishing an international transitional administration, Almquist Knopf proposes the United States should:                       Foster a negotiated exit for Kiir and Machar, in coordination with South Sudan’s neighbors, using tools such as offering amnesty, pressing the AU to establish a hybrid court, and instituting time-triggered sanctions and an arms embargo through the UN Security Council. Reach out to Kiir and Machar’s core partisans and family members to defuse spoilers and persuade them to accept the UN and AU administration. Conduct sustained high-level diplomacy with South Sudan’s neighbors, other states in the region, and the AU to design the international transitional administration and generate support for it. Conduct a diplomatic campaign with UN Security Council members and donor countries for them to endorse and secure funding for an international transitional administration.   The United States has allocated $1.9 billion in humanitarian assistance to South Sudan since the outbreak of the civil war, and contributes greatly to the UN peacekeeping mission there. The report’s proposed approach would not necessary be more costly. According to Almquist Knopf, investing in an international transitional administration would be more effective than the current U.S. policy approach. It would finally put an end to the violence and offer the people of South Sudan an opportunity to build an inclusive, representative, and legitimate state. Read Kate Almquist Knopf’s Ending South Sudan’s Civil War for a full analysis of the challenges South Sudan faces and how the United States can help foster a transition out of civil war.

Susanna Kalaris an intern in the Center for Preventive Action at the Council on Foreign Relations. As Americans flocked to polling stations on November 8, United Nations peacekeepers in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) were hit by a grenade blast that killed one and injured thirty-two others. Since 1999, the United Nations Organization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (MONUC), and its successor, MONUSCO, have deployed peacekeepers to implement a ceasefire, disarm combatants, and protect civilians following an international war that killed an estimated 5.4 million people between 1996 and 2003 and plunged the country into economic and political chaos. Yet despite more than seventeen years, twelve billion dollars spent, and twenty-thousand personnel dispatched across the country, the peacekeeping missions have left an unfulfilled mandate and a local government that recognizes and profits from its failures. President Joseph Kabila and his government are emboldened to maintain the political status quo; while peacekeeping troops struggle to contain violence, the government violates democratic processes and civil rights with impunity, knowing MONUSCO will not stop it anytime soon. Like some other notorious UN peacekeeping missions, MONUSCO has failed to intervene as rebel forces attacked civilians and outraged those they are meant to protect. In November 2012, as the M23 insurgent group invaded the city of Goma, fleeing civilians were passed by trucks full of peacekeepers themselves escaping the rebels. M23 troops went on to take Goma without resistance from the better-equipped and more numerous MONUSCO forces. The peacekeepers drew both international and local criticism: France called their actions “absurd,” and young Congolese deemed them “useless” and “dismissed.” During a rebel attack in June 2014, at least thirty civilians were killed in the two days it took for MONUSCO forces to respond to calls for help in South Kivu. In August of this year, rebel fighters massacred at least fifty civilians with impunity, prompting over two thousand protestors to decry the lack of action from MONUSCO. These instances of inaction have powerful consequences not only for the victims of attacks, but for the future of the DRC. Since succeeding his father in 2001, President Kabila has presided over a government plagued by corruption, instability, and civil rights violations. Between June 2014 and May 2015, the United Nations Joint Human Rights Office reported numerous violations of the rights to free speech and assembly, including suspending opposition radio and television programs and blocking citizens’ access to text messaging and internet services. The government has also used force against opponents, as in January 2015 when national security forces killed at least twenty unarmed protestors. The arrests and deaths of demonstrators and opposition leaders across the DRC foreshadowed Kabila’s latest exploit, postponing presidential elections until 2018 and violating presidential term limits. Political violence has since escalated throughout the country—clashes between police and civilians protesting Kabila’s postponement left seventeen people dead in September. Critics have explained Kabila’s violation of the constitution and civil rights solely as an attempt to cling onto power, but it can also be considered a result of the inefficacy of MONUSCO forces. MONUSCO’s mistakes set an example of weakness that allows the political climate in the DRC to endure and even worsen, as it has in the past months. The failures of MONUSCO troops to protect the civilian population demonstrate to Kabila and his government that an international force has little power to affect change within his country. Consequently, Kabila is empowered to repress speech, arrest opposition voices, and use deadly force with impunity. As long as peacekeeping troops fail to create positive change in the DRC, the government can continue the current climate of violence and repression can continue without accountability. While many scholars advocate for better-equipped troops, more specific mandates, or flexible forces in the DRC, what is missing is accountability. Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon regularly condemns rebel attacks on civilians, though there is neither criticism nor rebuke for the inaction of peacekeepers and their commanders. A UN Office of Internal Oversight Services report acknowledges several reasons why peacekeepers fail to protect civilian populations, but its few recommendations—like publishing “self-contained guidance” and increasing reporting of failures—lack teeth. Only by holding forces and their commanders accountable with tangible consequences will troops fully commit to their mandates and the populations they are asked to protect. If the UN truly held MONUSCO forces in the DRC responsible, and if peacekeepers fulfilled their mandate, President Kabila and his government would find their impunity greatly curbed and the opportunities to repress democracy interrupted. No longer would their rule be immune to the civil rights and democratic processes that are essential to a lasting peace.

This is a guest post by Cheryl Strauss Einhorn. Cheryl is an adjunct professor at Columbia Business School. Burundi, Gambia, and now South Africa have all recently announced their intentions to withdraw from what they deride as a “biased” International Criminal Court (ICC). The permanent tribunal responsible for investigating crimes against humanity, genocide, and war crimes that was created in 1998. It’s the latest indignity to the court that has been weakened not only by misaligned incentives that enable it to bring cases globally and yet rely mostly upon member states to enforce its actions, but also by the cozy relationship that has emerged between the ICC’s members and its cases. Thirty-four of its 123 members are African states and all thirty-one individuals that the office of the prosecutor has charged with crimes since the ICC began operating in 2002 are African. Since the court doesn’t have a police force, its supranational mission has fallen largely to its African member states to execute, meaning that the ICC needs those countries to carry out arrests even as they need, as sovereign nations, to conduct foreign policy initiatives that may involve the individuals being accused of a crime. That’s proven to be an unrealistic expectation. A year ago President Omar Hassan al-Bashir of Sudan, whom the ICC indicted for charges of crimes against humanity and genocide related to the Darfur conflict dating back to 2003, attended an African Union summit in South Africa, where he could have been arrested–and indeed a South African high court judge forbid him from leaving the country pending a hearing on whether to hand him over to the ICC. But back in 2015, South Africa’s President Zuma visited Sudan to reinforce political, economic, and social relations between the two countries which already have sixteen bilateral agreements in a number of fields including trade, agriculture, defense, policing, arts and culture, social development, and scientific cooperation. Result: Bashir was let go. South Africa is not alone in shirking enforcement duty for the ICC. Bashir has evaded arrest for years; in 2013, ICC-member Nigeria also declined to arrest Bashir when he attended a conference there. But again, Sudan and Nigeria have had a long history of economic, cultural and social ties. Sudan was offering scholarships for Nigerian students to study at its universities back then, but now ties are even closer. In August they announced that they’d work together to diversify their economies away from being so dependent upon oil revenues, partnering to build capacity in the film industry. More than five million Nigerians live in Sudan today. The court’s predicament is further complicated by its inefficiency, only five individuals have been tried in fourteen years. Yet by some estimates, the court’s activities have cost at least $1.5 billion. Thus the ICC doesn’t just suffer from the fact that major countries like the United States, China, and Russia have refused to subject themselves to the ICC’s jurisdiction. There are endemic problems in supranational bodies that must rely upon member nations to behave uneconomically in order for the organization to function. Yes, of course not all decisions should be made based upon economic factors–especially those related to genocide and war crimes–but evidence suggests that the ICC is having a hard time operating in its current form. Incentives drive behavior and when an incentive is behaviorally salient, organizations, like countries, are responsive to incentive-based cues. What may make the African nations change their behavior? As of now, it appears that the answer is nothing, for they’ve decided the value proposition of belonging to the ICC isn’t strong enough and so they’ve decided to drop out and move on.

Media indicates that sub-Saharan African opinion is as astonished as everybody else at Donald Trump’s presidential victory. As appears to be true in much of the rest of the world, African opinion makers do not welcome it. The New York Times cites a Nigerian political science professor as saying that most Nigerians believe that a Trump administration will focus little on international issues. It also quotes Kenyan columnist Mafdharia Gaitho as saying, “If Trump wins, God forbid, then we will have to reassess our relations with the United States.” These views accord with what I am hearing. Africa featured not at all in the presidential campaign except with slight reference to jihadi radicalism—and even that was centered on Libya, not part of sub-Saharan Africa. U.S. trade ties mostly involve importing African primary products, especially petroleum and minerals, and limited investment in “frontier” markets. There is a concessionary trade agreement between the United States and Africa, the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA), but it was recently renewed and has little consequence for the U.S. economy. The U.S. does have assistance programs in Africa, notably in health and girl-child education. And the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) is an important legacy of the previous Republican president, George W. Bush. There is also a security relationship with a few African countries, notably Kenya and Djibouti, but they are small. Over the long term, Africa is of immense importance to U.S. interests with respect to climate change, disease, and a host of potential security issues. Africa is prominent in international organizations such as the UN General Assembly or the World Trade Organization where each country has one vote. And, of course, Africa is central to the broad U.S. agenda of promoting democracy, human rights, and the rule of law. But, these are long term, not short term issues, and candidate Trump has shown little interest in them. Hence, Africa is unlikely to be near the top of the Trump administration’s policy agenda. International relations are shaped by people as well as policies. Under President Obama, about 70 percent of ambassadors were career diplomats, and in Africa all were, with two exceptions: South Africa and Tanzania. Similarly, the Assistant Secretary of State for Africa is a career foreign service officer. All ambassadors submit a letter of resignation on inauguration day; past practice is that those from career officers are not accepted. Some from “political appointees” may be, and most are when there is a change in party. A president can appoint anyone he likes as an ambassador, so long as the proposed appointee is an American citizen, can survive the security clearance process, and wins Senate confirmation. So, should he choose to do so, President Trump could change wholesale the personnel that shape and conduct U.S. policy toward Africa. This, however, is unlikely, given that a new administration will have a very full plate. At least for a year or two, the Africa policy of the new administration is likely to be characterized by continuity. But, then the election results along with Brexit show the limitations of prediction. It also remains to be seen how Africa’s leadership will respond to a Trump administration.

The following is a guest post by Theresa Lou, research associate in the International Institutions and Global Governance program. After Burundian lawmakers voted overwhelmingly to withdraw from the International Criminal Court (ICC) on October 12, South Africa and Gambia quickly followed suit and declared their own decisions to leave the court. This isn’t the first time that member nations have threatened to withdraw from the court, but none has ever followed through. This time, however, the ICC’s future seems less certain. Other ICC members, such as Kenya and Uganda, may seek to “capitalize on the momentum,” as Indiana University Professor David Bosco told the New York Times, prompting concerns that the ICC will soon face an African exodus. In an article just published by Foreign Affairs, I argue that despite the ICC’s flaws—such as limited political will and uneven membership—it remains crucial to combating impunity, especially among high-level officials that have committed unspeakable crimes. To abandon the ICC would be to betray victims of atrocities everywhere.

South Africa’s Jacob Zuma administration’s notice to the United Nations of its intention to withdraw from the International criminal Court (ICC) has been received with consternation by civil society organizations such as Amnesty International. However, it is unclear, even unlikely, that the Zuma administration can take such a step without a parliamentary vote. It is also unclear whether parliament would go along. The administration’s move should be seen in the context of South African domestic politics, and as an effort for a politically weakened Zuma to shore up his ‘African’ credentials domestically. Meanwhile, the South African Constitutional Court will rule in November whether the Zuma administration broke domestic and international law by failing to turn over Sudan’s Omar al-Bashir to ICC jurisdiction as required when he visited South Africa for an African Union Summit. (The Court’s ruling will be based on the law at the time of al-Bashir’s visit; South Africa’s moves to withdraw from the ICC will be irrelevant.) The Zuma administration’s ‘respectable’ argument for withdrawal is that the ICC has failed to ‘consult’ on the issue of whether head-of-state immunity trumps an ICC indictment. (Head of state immunity would, of course, emasculate the ICC and largely defeat the purpose of its establishment.) Led by Kenya’s Uhuru Kenyatta and other African heads of state of dubious reputation, claims are regularly made that the ICC is ‘biased’ against Africa and hold Africans to a higher standard than elsewhere. At the most recent African Union (AU) summit, Kenya proposed “… a roadmap for the withdrawal of African nations” from the ICC. Though this proposal failed to pass, the AU interministerial committee is likely to present reform demands at the next meeting of ICC members. Just days before the South African announcement, Burundi became the first African nation to announce its withdrawal from the ICC. Accordingly, Zuma’s moves to withdraw from the ICC will be welcomed by the likes of Sudan’s al-Bashir, Kenya’s Kenyatta, Burundi’s Pierre Nkurunziza, and Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe—but not necessarily by South African public opinion. Following a string of scandals and court decisions against him, Zuma is a wounded political figure. The African National Congress’s poor performance in the August local government elections increases his vulnerability. South African civil society, well-organized and articulate, will ensure that administration efforts to withdraw from the ICC is vetted first by parliament and then by the courts. South Africa was one of the founders of the ICC, and the Treaty of Rome has been incorporated into South African domestic law. Hence, withdrawal would be difficult.

The following is a guest post by Megan Roberts, associate director of the International Institutions and Global Governance program at the Council on Foreign Relations. Today the UN General Assembly formally approved António Guterres as the United Nation’s ninth secretary-general (SG). His coronation came surprisingly swiftly, after the Security Council briefly set aside toxic negotiations over Syria to unanimously recommend Guterres to succeed Ban Ki-moon, who steps down at the end of this year. Guterres was an unexpected choice. Prior to the campaign, the consensus in Turtle Bay was that the time had come for the UN’s first female secretary-general, ideally hailing from Eastern Europe, the only region never to have held the post. As a Western European man, Guterres seemed to have the odds stacked against him. Guterres also had a reputation as a formidable political figure, having served as prime minister in Portugal and subsequently as UN High Commissioner for Refugees. In the latter capacity he regularly spoke truth to power in the face of a growing global refugee crisis. In short, Guterres’s profile suggested he might be more of a general and less the secretary that the permanent Security Council members typically seek in an SG. Guterres’ success in clinching the nomination is due in no small part to the new secretary-general selection process established this year. Thanks to pressure from civil society (notably the “1 for 7 Billion” campaign), the president of the General Assembly, and small and mid-sized member states, the United Nations instituted a formal, public nomination process. For the first time, official candidates had to submit a resume and a vision statement and then take the hot seat in a two-hour public hearing with the UN’s 193 member states. These reforms fundamentally changed the SG selection process, and gave Guterres the chance to emerge as an early frontrunner before deliberations began in the Security Council. To be sure, the council tried to revert to business as usual. Following the General Assembly hearings, it closed the curtain to conduct secretive consultations and hold private hearings with each candidate, leaving observers to rely on twenty-first century smoke signals, mainly in the form of leaks on social media, to see which way the wind was blowing. Yet, although the council sought to reestablish its ownership of the selection process, the campaign underway had already developed a momentum of its own that shaped its deliberations. More broadly, the open General Assembly process established a precedent likely to have lasting implications for Guterres’s tenure as SG, for the United Nations, and for leadership selection at other international institutions. Legacies for the Secretary-General Guterres was selected in a process of unprecedented transparency and scrutiny, and the qualities for which he was chosen are likely to influence how future candidates will be judged. Two qualities in particular are worth emphasizing: the set of skills needed to succeed and the importance of public pledges. This year candidates had to impress not only the Security Council but also the General Assembly. By many accounts, Guterres outshone his competitors in this newly public campaign, winning over diplomats as the most qualified person for the job. His performance also shifted the race’s momentum away from the early frontrunner, Irina Bokova of Bulgaria, whose General Assembly interview left many diplomats unimpressed. The more open process also gave member states and civil society the chance to draw out pledges from the candidates on issues ranging from conflict prevention to climate change. When civil society advocated for a feminist SG, Guterres and his other male competitors promised to increase the number of women in the organization, particularly at the highest echelons. Ambassadors also pressed candidates to ensure that senior appointments were made on merit rather than to appease important member states. Having now made commitments on a range of issues, Guterres will be publically held to these pledges—and his failure to implement them could weigh on considerations for his reappointment. Implications for the United Nations and Other International Institutions Changes in the SG selection process this year not only altered the race’s momentum, they also gave a greater voice to the General Assembly—which in the past had simply rubber-stamped the Security Council’s preferred candidate. As even permanent members concede, the wider consultation process increased the prospect of a strong secretary-general and raised the diplomatic cost of appointing an unfit candidate, or one that would only be accountable to Security Council members.  The members of the General Assembly, as well as civil society, can be expected to push for even greater transparency next time around, as well as measures to strengthen the independence of the SG. The process also raises questions about the future of the UN’s regional groupings, given the failure of Eastern Europe to secure the SG position. Although regional rotation has always been an informal rule, many worried that Russia might upend the race in its final stages, despite Guterres having won five consecutive informal straw polls. In fact, Russia quickly endorsed Guterres once the Security Council moved to differentiated ballots that would have revealed a veto. This fed rumors that Moscow had struck a deal with Guterres that would guarantee senior posts to Russian nationals. In response, Russian Ambassador Vitaly Churkin admitted to discussing senior staffing with Guterres, but stated firmly that no back room deals were made. He added that the Security Council and the wider UN membership had simply committed to select the best possible candidate, regardless of nationality or gender. The episode suggests that a more open process had encouraged Security Council members to look more closely at the candidates’ resumes than their passports. Finally, the formal, open nomination process meant that the influence of domestic politics was more transparent than in the past. Bulgaria’s approach stands out in this regard: After agonizing over two female Bulgarian candidates, Sofia reversed its nomination late in the race, as Russia and Germany traded public barbs about rumored meddling in the decision. There is a sense that Bulgaria’s public and prolonged waffling harmed the campaigns of both of its candidates. Similarly, a gambit by former Australian Kevin Rudd, who announced that he was seeking his government’s backing, backfired when current prime minister Malcolm Turnbull refused to nominate Rudd due to questions about his “suitability,” in a public rebuke that reverberated in both Canberra and New York. The new SG selection process played an important role in Guterres’s selection, and it will likely have lasting impact on the choice of future secretaries-general, as well as on how the UN itself operates. With luck, this move toward greater transparency will reverberate when it comes to selecting leaders in other international institutions, too. These nascent initiatives should be nurtured, even when the initial changes are imperfect, incomplete, or disruptive. International organizations, particularly the United Nations, need leaders able to breathe new life into bodies battered by scandals and charges of irrelevance. Open, merit-based selection processes are the best way to find candidates up to the task.

The EU Investigates the Panama Papers Six months after the first Panama Papers leak, revelations about the global shell company business continue. The latest tranche of documents from the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ) detail over 175,000 Bahamian companies, many linked to European Union (EU) politicians. Having just opened a Panama Papers-inspired inquiry into whether the European Commission or European governments were applying their own laws on tax-avoidance and financial transparency, the new data illuminates potential test cases—including the former EU commissioner for competition policy and current UK home secretary. Reporters and the named politicians will be asked to speak at upcoming hearings that could lead to reforms. Boeing Wins, but Global Trade May Lose The United States won the latest round in a twelve-year trade dispute between the world’s two biggest aircraft manufacturers: U.S.-based Boeing and its European competitor, Airbus. Last week the World Trade Organization (WTO) found that the European Union (EU) provided up to $22 billion in illegal subsidies to Airbus, costing Boeing billions of dollars in sales. Worse, the subsidies continued even after a 2011 WTO ruling ordered them to stop. After an appeals process, the United States can impose up to $10 billion in annual retaliatory tariffs. If it does, it will increase the already rising Western protectionism that has led the WTO to cut its 2016 global trade forecast, down from 2.8 to 1.7 percent. Och-Ziff Pays for Bribery with Money, not Jail Time The largest publicly-traded U.S. hedge fund, Och-Ziff, reached a settlement with the U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ) in one of the DOJ’s biggest Foreign Corrupt Practices Act cases to date. The financial firm admitted to bribing senior government officials in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC)— where it bought mines on the cheap and then sold them for millions in profits—as well as in Chad, Libya, and Niger. At $412 million, the DOJ and SEC fines are some of the heftiest ever; still no one from Och-Ziff will face criminal charges. The DOJ has yet to make good on its 2015 pledge to bring individual criminal charges for corporate wrong doing. As the Och-Ziff case shows, issuing fines is often easier than holding executives accountable for corruption.  

Patrick Lin, Ph.D., is the director of the Ethics + Emerging Sciences Group at California Polytechnic State University, San Luis Obispo, where he is an associate philosophy professor. When cyberattacks come from abroad, there’s special panic. We often imagine them to be the opening volleys of a cyberwar that could escalate into a kinetic war. For that reason, hacking back—or cyber-counterattacking—is presumed to be too dangerous to allow. The legal case against hacking back is that the use of force is a power reserved only for governments, not private individuals and companies. The moral case is that it invites retaliations that can strain political and economic relationships or worse. But this is too quick. A deeper ethical analysis reveals reasons why hacking back may not be as problematic as believed. Consider this analogy: Imagine that state-sponsored parties—maybe explorers or military reconnaissance—from two adversarial nations cross paths in unclaimed or contested territory, such as the Arctic region. Nationalism runs high, words are said, and shots are exchanged. Some people are killed. Is this the beginning of a war? On the face of it, this would seem to violate international laws of armed conflict. As declared by the United Nations Charter, article 2(4): “All Members shall refrain in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the Purposes of the United Nations.” And it is within the natural rights of the attacked nation to defend itself. As declared by the UN Charter, article 51: “Nothing in the present Charter shall impair the inherent right of individual or collective self-defence if an armed attack occurs against a Member of the United Nations, until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to maintain international peace and security.” Firing back, of course, may exacerbate the conflict and draw the two nations into war, and this is a worst-case scenario that we would be right to guard against. But does hacking back really create a risk like this? Like the Arctic, cyberspace is a borderland of sorts, too. Cyberspace is an ephemeral, unfamiliar domain that slips between a purely informational world and the physical world. If so, then it’s unclear that a cyberconflict threatens territorial integrity that requires armed defense, because the borders of cyberspace are hard to locate in the first place, even if it has clear physical roots. If cyberspace is something like a contested frontier, then the following legal case is relevant. In the International Court of Justice case of Nicaragua vs. United States of America in 1984, the court’s judgment distinguished an armed attack from a “mere frontier incident” (para. 195). This means that a frontier incident cannot trigger UN Charter’s article 51 to justify a counterattack and escalation. But that does not mean the victim cannot counterattack at all, only that the state can’t invoke its right to self-defense. Personal self-defense could justify a counterattack, even if a state’s sovereignty isn’t at stake. The frontiersmen involved—the settlers, traders, explorers, or military scouts—would understandably want to defend their own lives, as well as deter future attacks, by returning fire at things that shoot at them. Even without appealing to self-defense, it may be enough to observe that frontier incidents are an inherent risk to frontiers. Bad things happen here, and pushing back is one of those unfortunate, but reasonable and natural, responses. It would be better if frontiers were governed by law, but that’s the nature of frontiers. This lines up with the idea that “gray zones” of conflicts can exist: attacks short of war but still aggressive. The rules and borders of the cyber frontier are still unclear, as are its governing authorities. While these are still being sorted out, we may arguably treat cyberattacks as frontier incidents, which are not necessarily escalatory. At least when they don’t harm physical things clearly within a state’s territory—such as causing equipment to fail or even explode—hacking and counter-hacking aren’t as serious as an armed attack or act of war. In a larger discussion, the Ethics + Emerging Sciences Group at Cal Poly just published a new report where we consider other analogies for cyberattacks, such as seeing it as a public health problem, like fighting a virus outbreak. These also suggest that hacking back could be ethically and legally allowed. Until there is clear law that forbids it, and until authorities can reliably defend our systems, hacking back may become the “new normal”, if it becomes more prevalent. It’s simply an assumed risk of living in the cyber frontier. But it’s easy to forget this risk under the comfortable blanket of Facebook likes and cat videos. Settling on new lands has never been easy, and we must never forget where we are.

Dominique Lazanski lives and works in London. She has over 16 years of experience working in the Internet industry. She is writing in a personal capacity and her views do not necessarily reflect those of her employer.  This fall, the future of the digital economy is at stake. From October 24 to November 3, a United Nations conference held by the International Telecommunication Union (ITU) will determine how countries—especially developing countries—shape regulation for current and future technologies at the World Telecommunication Standardization Assembly (WTSA-16) in Hammamet, Tunisia. The choices made in Tunisia will affect tech development everywhere, and the globe’s poorest have the most to lose. Last year, as part of the sustainable development goals (SDGs), world leaders at the UN agreed to work toward providing universal and affordable internet access in developing countries by 2020. Well developed, well thought out standards are essential to meet that goal. Unfortunately, the current ITU is not the best venue for developing standards that will shape the future of our internet-connected devices, and through them, our increasingly internet-connected lives. In recent years, many countries have used the ITU as a forum to get an international seal of approval on national standards that they are unable to get past multistakeholder standards setting bodies. Rather than playing to its traditional strengths and building on past successes, the ITU today is seeking to expand its scope across a wide variety of new areas from internet of things (IoT) platforms to mobile app security to anti-theft mechanisms for mobile handsets. Not only does this needlessly duplicate existing standards work—it often results in conflicting guidance that is technologically a generation behind. The ITU is even breaking from its usual technology-neutral stance by backing a specific, proprietary technology, Digital Object Architecture (DOA), which assigns a unique identifier to each digital object to track everything from mobile handsets to IoT devices. This threatens to kill off the diverse ecosystem of coexisting or competing identifiers that we already have. In addition, a number of governments are proposing central databases using this system to register every connected device and everyone who uses those devices. And now the ITU is hosting a conference whose outcome will set the rules for the next phase of the world’s digital revolution. If the ITU were to create detrimental, binding standards rules at WTSA-16 would provide a global blueprint for bad regulation across member states. This October, mobile money, counterfeit and stolen devices, over the top content, IPv6 numbering, and the internet of things will all be at the top of the agenda. Unfortunately, in a forum where only governments have a vote, short-term politics too often trumps long-term thinking. And the countries with the most to gain economically and technically from flexible and agile standards are the very same countries that tend to support binding and counterproductive ITU standards. In the face of these dangers, countries committed to the current open digital world need to come to Tunisia and defend it, not just for their sake but on behalf of all those who will otherwise live with the consequences. Still, even the WTSA-16 is not the end. We need a long term solution.  It is well past the time to accept that standards development has evolved away from multinational and intergovernmental institutions in favour of organisations where all can participate on an equal footing.  Such standards development organizations (SDOs) are more nimble than the ITU, and can take advantage of rapid technological advancements. The foundations for today’s digital revolution were not laid according to a UN plan, but through a much more open process of standards development. Right now, standards for the internet, mobile technologies, and the internet of things are being developed in numerous, and global, standards development organisations and other groups include the Internet Engineering Task Force, the 3rd Generation Partnership Project, the Institute of Electrical and Electronics Engineers, and the European Telecommunications Standards Institute. These and many other forums are open to governments and industry along with technical experts and any others who wish to participate. Today, about four billion people are still waiting for access to the Internet. Satisfying their demand, and meeting the SDG targets, will require technology experts and users to bring real world considerations, use cases, factors, data, and aspirations to the standards-making table. And it is vital that policymakers understand how standards can have profound global consequences. Connecting those who are unconnected deserves everyone’s attention. It could be slowed, if not stymied, without full national and multistakeholder support at WTSA-16.

President Barack Obama used his eighth and final address to the UN General Assembly to share his noble vision of a world order in which equality, liberty, and unity trump injustice, oppression, and division. Part sermon, part pep-talk, the speech exuded an unflinching faith in liberal ideals and a progressive optimism that humanity can surmount any economic, political, and ecological challenges it faces. All that is required, the president suggested, is that leaders and citizens listen to the better angels of their nature. The big-picture speech contained little guidance about how to resolve intractable problems, from mass migration to North Korea’s nukes. But it was an eloquent effort, delivered by a reasonable man living in unreasonable times. Its biggest flaw was in ignoring the practical difficulties and inherent trade-offs of applying such high-minded ideals to a fallen world. The president began by identifying “the paradox that defines our world today.” By all measures, global integration has made the world more prosperous and less violent than ever before. Since the end of the Cold War, extreme poverty has declined dramatically, the information revolution has expanded access to knowledge, and individual freedom has spread to more countries. Equally impressive, “Our international order has been so successful that we now take it as a given that great powers no longer fight world wars.” And yet around the globe, people are more anxious about their future and uncertain about their fates. They have lost trust in institutions and are divided into rival communities. The root of this angst, Obama suggested, is a battle of “competing visions.” The first outlook believes that continued global integration will generate human progress. This hopeful outlook “recognize[s] our common humanity” and the imperative of working together to achieve shared goals. The second is a dark, backward-looking worldview that would exploit, oppress, and divide the Earth’s inhabitants. The world must move forward, Obama declared. But it also needs “a course correction.” He identified four big priorities: Make globalization work for all. The first task is to “make sure the global economy works for all people, not just those at the top.” Channeling his inner Bernie Sanders, the president criticized an international economic system in which the top one percent of humanity holds as much wealth as the other 99 percent. Contemporary capitalism busts unions and deprives workers of decent wages, even as it permits titans of finance to stash $8 trillion in offshore havens. The way to fix this system is not to retreat into the “failed models of the past”, by embracing mercantilism or beggar-thy-neighbor trade and monetary policies. Rather, Obama insisted, nations must make the global economy “more inclusive and sustainable.” The way to do so is by respecting workers’ rights, investing in citizens, strengthening social safety nets, combating corruption, strengthening financial regulations, and fighting global warming. Choose Freedom. The second great challenge is to spread democratic governance. The world faces a “growing contest between authoritarianism and liberalism,” the president declared, adding, “I am not neutral in that contest.” Obama criticized those nations (including, implicitly, China) that embrace “free markets” but reject “free societies.” He acknowledged that democracy is a work in progress. But the story of the United States—and indeed his own life story—shows that nations dedicated to liberty can correct mistakes and extend freedom to all of their citizens. The president rejected the notion that democratic aspirations are limited to particular nations or cultures. “I believe that spirit is universal.” Around the world, he has seen young people yearning “for freedom, and dignity, and the opportunity to control their own lives.” Reject division and walls. The president’s third injunction was that nations must condemn any form of fundamentalism, racism, or nationalism that divides people, whether domestically or internationally. Around the world, too many societies permit discrimination on the basis of tribe and ethnicity. “The world is too small, we are too packed together, for us to… resort to those old ways of thinking,” Obama declared. The Middle East is a case in point. Too often, leaders in that region maintain power through persecution and oppression, eliminating public space for debate and “encouraging a mindset of sectarianism and bloodletting that will not be easily reversed.” The president pleaded with his fellow leaders to do a better job “tamping down rather than encouraging a notion of identity that leads us to diminish others.” Defend global rules. Finally, the president appealed to all nations to “strengthen international cooperation rooted in the rights and responsibilities of nations.” In the end, international security depends on the willingness of governments to support and defend a rules-based world order. “We are all stakeholders in this international system,” the president said, and it was incumbent each nation to “invest in institutions” from UN peacekeeping to the nonproliferation regime. He was “proud” that the United States, for all its flaws, had been “a force for good,” choosing to embed its power in international law and institutions. The lesson of the American experience was clear: “[W]e can only realize the promise of [the UN’s] founding—to replace the ravages of war with cooperation—if powerful nations like my own accept constraints.” What the president’s speech lacked was sufficient acknowledgment of how difficult it is to realize such noble goals in an often crooked world—or when liberal aspirations clash with more pedestrian but pressing interests. Consider this passage, shortly after discussing the struggle for human liberty and dignity in the Middle East. “So those of us who believe in democracy, we need to speak out forcefully.” And yet Obama’s own administration, like many before, has applied democracy promotion selectively—promoting it in Myanmar, for example, while cozying up to authoritarians like President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi of Egypt, when the logic of geopolitics prevails. At other points, the president’s high-mindedness verged on naiveté. Most jarring was his observation about the ongoing wars in the Middle East—including in Syria, where the United States has remained on the sidelines as more than 400,000 have died in a bloody sectarian war. “Across the region’s conflicts,” Obama declared, “we have to insist that all parties recognize a common humanity and that nations end proxy wars that fuel disorder.” It is not hard to imagine how Bashar al-Assad or Vladimir Putin would react to such wishful thinking. A hallmark of Obama foreign policy—and a recurrent theme of his UN addresses—has been the tension between idealism and realism. This year, the president veered strongly toward idealism, turning the UN lectern into a bully pulpit—with an emphasis on “pulpit.” Toward the end of his speech, he almost seemed to concede as much: “Time and again, human beings have believed that they finally arrived at a period of enlightenment, only to repeat, then, cycles of conflict and suffering,” he noted. “Perhaps that’s our fate.”