La disputa se encuentra en la intersección del artículo 78 de la CADH y las reglas de consentimiento estatal a los tratados en virtud de la Convención de Viena sobre el Derecho de los Tratados (CVDT). El párrafo 1 del artículo 78 permite la denuncia de la Convención con un año de antelación, después de lo cual se extinguirá la obligación. En septiembre de 2012, Hugo Chávez anunció la retirada de Venezuela, que se hizo efectiva en septiembre de 2013. Posteriormente, el gobierno de Maduro insistió en que Venezuela ya no estaba sujeta a la jurisdicción de la Corte IDH. Sin embargo, en julio de 2019, el gobierno interino de Guaidó depositó un instrumento de adhesión ante la Organización de Estados Americanos (OEA), que pretendía restaurar la membresía de Venezuela en la Convención y su aceptación de la jurisdicción de la Corte en virtud  del artículo 62. Por lo tanto, la excepción preliminar en Chirinos Salamanca requería que la Corte decidiera si estos actos concurrentes —la denuncia de Maduro y la adhesión de Guaidó— tenían efecto legal vinculante.

Artículo 46 de la Convención de Viena sobre el Derecho de los Tratados establece que un Estado no puede invocar el derecho interno para invalidar su consentimiento en obligarse por un tratado a menos que la violación de las normas internas sea “manifiesta” y se refiera a normas de importancia fundamental. El razonamiento de la Corte reflejó este principio, ya que consideró que el instrumento de readhesión de Guaidó era formalmente válido en el plano internacional porque fue depositado en poder del Secretario General de la OEA, quien lo aceptó sin reservas. Este razonamiento se hace eco de la jurisprudencia anterior de la Corte IDH, como Opinión Consultiva OC-26/20, donde la Corte subrayó que la denuncia de la CADH no puede socavar la eficacia de la protección de los derechos humanos ni privar a las personas de las garantías ya garantizadas por el tratado.

Las tensiones de liderazgo interno crearon una dificultad más profunda para la aplicación legal internacional: Maduro ejercía un control de facto sobre el Estado venezolano, mientras que Guaidó reclamaba legitimidad en virtud de los artículos 233 y 333 de la Constitución venezolana y era reconocido por numerosos Estados. La Corte evitó tomar una posición sobre qué demandante representaba a Venezuela, eludiendo así el problema tradicional de reconocimiento con el  que el derecho internacional ha luchado durante mucho tiempo. En cambio, se basó en el  principio pro persona, también conocido como cláusula de favorabilidad, consagrado en el artículo 29 de la CADH, que requiere interpretar el tratado de la manera más efectiva que proteja los derechos individuales. Al priorizar la protección de los derechos humanos sobre el reconocimiento político, la Corte neutralizó efectivamente el dilema de interpretación legal para este caso.

Aplicando retroactivamente los principios jurídicos internacionales, la Corte determinó que Venezuela seguía obligada por la Convención y sujeta a su jurisdicción de supervisión a pesar de la controvertida condición de sus gobiernos. Invocando el artículo 7(2)(a) de la CVDT, la Corte sostuvo que, “de conformidad con el derecho internacional positivo, el Presidente ‘Interino’, que fue designado por la Asamblea Nacional de Venezuela, estaba facultado para celebrar tratados con los Estados que le otorgaron reconocimiento, incluidos los tratados multilaterales… como en el caso de la OEA”. El artículo 7, apartado 2, letra a), establece que se considera que los Jefes de Estado, los Jefes de Gobierno y los Ministros de Relaciones Exteriores representan a su Estado en virtud de sus funciones, sin necesidad de presentar plenos poderes cuando realicen actos relacionados con la celebración de un tratado. Además, la conclusión de la Corte también es consistente con la naturaleza colectiva de la CADH. El artículo 1 obliga a los Estados partes a respetar y garantizar los derechos de todas las personas bajo su jurisdicción, y  el artículo 62 establece la jurisdicción obligatoria de la Corte. La Corte IDH ha sostenido reiteradamente que los Estados no pueden disminuir unilateralmente sus obligaciones de manera que priven a las personas de la protección de sus derechos, como se ha visto en casos como Ivcher Bronstein vs. Perú y Gelman vs. Uruguay.

Las implicaciones del fallo son de gran alcance. En primer lugar, refuerza la doctrina de que los tratados de derechos humanos difieren de los tratados recíprocos ordinarios y no pueden ser terminados o suspendidos de manera que frustren su objeto y propósito protector. En segundo lugar, ilustra un enfoque pragmático de las disputas de reconocimiento: en lugar de decidir qué gobierno es legítimo, la Corte ancló su razonamiento en la continuidad de las obligaciones en virtud del derecho internacional de los derechos humanos.

Sin embargo, este enfoque también plantea la pregunta más profunda: ¿debería confundirse la aplicación de los tratados de derechos humanos con el reconocimiento de los gobiernos? Al tratar la adhesión de Guaidó como efectiva porque preservaba la protección de los derechos, la Corte corría el riesgo de difuminar la línea entre las decisiones de reconocimiento, normalmente reservadas para los estados y los órganos políticos, y el razonamiento legal internacional. Una posible consecuencia es que los tribunales pueden parecer que confieren legitimidad indirectamente, incluso cuando insisten en que no se pronuncian sobre el reconocimiento. Otro riesgo es que los Estados que se enfrentan a gobiernos en disputa puedan explotar esta doctrina, invocando la continuidad del tratado de forma selectiva para promover reclamaciones políticas.

Aún así, la decisión de Chirinos Salamanca afirma que Venezuela sigue siendo responsable bajo la CADH y sujeta a la jurisdicción de la Corte. Al basar su razonamiento en el carácter especial de los tratados de derechos humanos, la Corte salvaguardó la continuidad del “compromiso con el pleno respeto y garantía de los derechos humanos” en Venezuela a pesar de la profunda inestabilidad política. Esto es particularmente severo dado que Venezuela ha sufrido durante mucho tiempo abusos contra los derechos humanos, intensificados por la dictadura de Maduro.

El fallo subraya una lección clave para el derecho internacional de los derechos humanos y otros Estados: las obligaciones perduran incluso cuando la autoridad estatal está fragmentada, y la protección de las personas no puede ser rehén de disputas sobre la legitimidad gubernamental.

The dispute sits at the intersection of Article 78 of the ACHR and rules of state consent to treaties under the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties (VCLT). Article 78(1) permits denunciation of the Convention with one year’s notice, after which obligations terminate. In September 2012, Hugo Chávez announced Venezuela’s withdrawal, which became effective in September 2013. Maduro’s government thereafter insisted that Venezuela was no longer subject to the jurisdiction of the IACtHR. However, in July 2019, Guaidó’s interim government deposited an instrument of accession with the Organisation of American States (OAS), purporting to restore Venezuela’s membership in the Convention and its acceptance of the Court’s jurisdiction under Article 62. The preliminary objection in Chirinos Salamanca therefore required the Court to decide whether these competing acts—the denunciation by Maduro and the accession by Guaidó—had binding legal effect.

Article 46 of the VCLT provides that a state may not invoke internal law as invalidating its consent to be bound by a treaty unless the violation of internal rules is “manifest” and concerns rules of fundamental importance. The Court’s reasoning reflected this principle, as it treated Guaidó’s instrument of re-accession was formally valid on the international plane because it was deposited with the OAS Secretary General, who accepted it without reservation. This reasoning echoes prior IACtHR jurisprudence, such as Advisory Opinion OC-26/20, where the Court stressed that denunciation of the ACHR cannot undermine the effectiveness of human rights protections or deprive individuals of guarantees already secured under the treaty.

The domestic leadership tensions created a deeper difficulty for international legal application: Maduro exercised de facto control over the Venezuelan state, while Guaidó claimed legitimacy under Articles 233 and 333 of the Venezuelan Constitution and was recognised by numerous states. The Court avoided taking a position on which claimant represented Venezuela, thereby sidestepping the traditional recognition problem that international law has long wrestled with. Instead, it relied on the pro persona principle, also known as the favourability clause, enshrined in Article 29 of the ACHR, which requires interpreting the treaty in a way that most effectively protects individual rights. By prioritising human rights protection over political recognition, the Court effectively neutralised the legal interpretation quandary for this case.

Applying international legal principles retroactively, the Court found that Venezuela remained bound by the Convention and subject to its supervisory jurisdiction despite the contested status of its governments. Invoking Article 7(2)(a) of the VCLT, the Court held that, “in accordance with positive international law, the ‘Interim’ President, who was appointed by the National Assembly of Venezuela, was empowered to conclude treaties with the States that granted him recognition, including multilateral treaties…as in the case of the OAS.” Article 7(2)(a) establishes that that Heads of State, Heads of Government, and Ministers for Foreign Affairs are considered as representing their State by virtue of their functions without needing to produce full powers when performing acts relating to the conclusion of a treaty. Further, the Court’s conclusion is also consistent with the collective nature of the ACHR. Article 1 obliges states parties to respect and ensure rights to all persons within their jurisdiction, and Article 62 establishes the compulsory jurisdiction of the Court. The IACtHR has repeatedly held that states cannot unilaterally diminish their obligations in ways that deprive individuals of rights protections, as seen in cases such as Ivcher Bronstein v. Peru and Gelman v. Uruguay.

The implications of the ruling are far-reaching. First, it reinforces the doctrine that human rights treaties differ from ordinary reciprocal treaties and cannot be terminated or suspended in a manner that frustrates their protective object and purpose. Second, it illustrates a pragmatic approach to recognition disputes: rather than adjudicating which government is legitimate, the Court anchored its reasoning in the continuity of obligations under international human rights law.

However, this approach also raises the deeper question, should the application of human rights treaties be conflated with the recognition of governments? By treating Guaidó’s accession as effective because it preserved rights protection, the Court risked blurring the line between recognition decisions, normally reserved for states and political organs, and international legal reasoning. One possible consequence is that courts may appear to confer legitimacy indirectly, even when they insist that they are not ruling on recognition. Another risk is that states facing contested governments might exploit this doctrine, invoking treaty continuity selectively to advance political claims.

Still, the Chirinos Salamanca decision affirms that Venezuela remains accountable under the ACHR and subject to the Court’s jurisdiction. By grounding its reasoning in the special character of human rights treaties, the Court safeguarded the continuity of “commitment to full respect for and guarantee of human rights” in Venezuela despite profound political instability. This is particularly stark given that Venezuela has long-suffered from human rights abuses, intensified by Maduro’s dictatorship.

The ruling underscores a key lesson for international human rights law and other states: obligations endure even when state authority is fragmented, and the protection of individuals cannot be held hostage to disputes over governmental legitimacy.

The IHL framework for civilian detention: Scope and limitations

While IHL allows States to restrict a civilian’s liberty or to put them under internment, provided that specific grounds and procedures are verified, the scope and detail of these provisions vary depending on the type of conflict. In general, internment is considered a form of non-criminal deprivation of liberty based on security reasons.

IHL contains several provisions regulating the internment of civilians in international armed conflicts (IAC) under the IV Geneva Convention and Additional Protocol I. Non-international armed conflicts (NIAC) have fewer provisions, as seen in Common Article 3 and Additional Protocol II. This has prompted discussions about applying IHRL to complement the protection of persons deprived of liberty in NIAC (see, e.g., the Commentaries to Common Article 3).

The right to personal liberty and the notion of “deprivation of liberty” under the Inter-American Human Rights System

Article 7 of the American Convention on Human Rights enshrines the right to personal liberty and prohibits arbitrary arrests or imprisonment.  The American Declaration of the Rights and Duties of Man contains the right to liberty in Article I and protection from arbitrary arrest in Article XXV.  The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) has adopted the Principles and Best Practices on the Protection of Persons Deprived of Liberty in the Americas, a soft law document that expands on the rights of persons deprived of liberty and the duties of States towards them. Deprivation of liberty is defined to include “any form of detention, imprisonment, institutionalization, or custody of a person in a public or private institution which that person is not permitted to leave at will, by order of or under de facto control of a judicial, administrative or any other authority, for reasons of humanitarian assistance, treatment, guardianship, protection, or because of crimes or legal offense”.  This broad definition means provisions regarding persons deprived of liberty can be applied to people detained or interned during an armed conflict.

The Inter-American Court of Human Rights (IACtHR) has established criteria to determine whether deprivation of liberty is arbitrary. In the Case of Yvon Neptune vs. Haiti, the IACtHR stated that such restrictions must follow four requirements: (i) a legitimate purpose, (ii) appropriateness to achieve the objective, (iii) necessity, and (iv) proportionality. The American Convention does not contain a list of legitimate motives to deprive a person of their liberty (Case of Vélez Loor vs. Panama); therefore, it is key to address the question of arbitrariness through an analysis of the aforementioned requirements. In the Case of Pacheco Teruel et al. vs. Honduras, the IACtHR remarked that the State must prove, on a case-by-case basis, that sufficient motives exist, and that mere suspicion is not sufficient. To guarantee that detention is not arbitrary, the Inter-American System establishes two obligations: informing detention reasons, and promptly bringing detainees before a judge or authorized officer (Case of Gómez-Paquiyauri Brothers vs. Peru)

Both the American Convention and the American Declaration establish rights and guarantees for detained persons. Regarding the right to be informed about the reasons for the detention, the IACtHR has specified two guarantees: (i) information about factual and legal grounds when detention takes place, using simple language; and (ii) written notification of criminal charges (Case of J vs. Peru). With respect to the right to be brought promptly before a judge or authorized officer, the IACtHR has affirmed that the detained person shall attend in person and the judge must personally listen to them (Case of Espinoza Gonzáles vs. Peru).

Regarding collective detention, the IACtHR has stated that a collective arrest is allowed only when the causes of arrest are individualized for each person (Case of Servellón-García et al. vs. Honduras)

Situations of emergency, suspension of rights, and non-derogable rights

Article 27 of the American Convention allows States to suspend their obligations “in time of war, public danger, or other emergency that threatens the independence or security of a State Party”; however, suspension must be temporary, proportional, non-discriminatory, and consistent with international law.

Additionally, the American Convention establishes rights that cannot be suspended or derogated. Although personal liberty is not listed, it refers to essential judicial guarantees, which are key when addressing the rights of people deprived of liberty.

The IACtHR in its Advisory Opinion on Judicial Guarantees in States of Emergency identified that the rights established in Article 7.6 (personal liberty), Article 8 (fair trial), and Article 25.1 (judicial protection) as non-derogable. States must guarantee access to competent courts for detention review; competent, independent, and impartial tribunals; presumption of innocence; charge notification; defense rights; and effective recourse, among others. Habeas corpus is essential for the protection of persons deprived of liberty (Advisory Opinion on Habeas Corpus in Emergency Situations). The IACtHR has affirmed that the prohibition of arbitrary deprivation of liberty cannot be suspended (Case of Rodríguez Vera et al. vs. Colombia) and has reiterated that no absolute suspension of the right to a judicial review is allowed (Case of J vs. Peru; Case of Espinoza Gonzáles vs. Peru).

The IACHR has expanded on personal liberty and non-derogable guarantees in its thematic reports. In the “Report on Terrorism and Human Rights” and “Towards the closure of Guantanamo”, the IACHR stated that, in a situation of emergency, a pretrial or administrative detention can be prolonged only for a strictly necessary period and must comply with essential guarantees, including legal grounds, information, legal counsel, and judicial review.

Having established this framework, the second part will examine how the Inter-American Human Rights System addresses both IHL and IHRL and explore the specific synergies between these frameworks regarding detention.

The UN Special Rapporteur on the independence of judges and lawyers has underlined the systemic threat involved in increasing executive or legislative control over courts. While laws that alter how judges are appointed or removed are not necessarily indicative of capture, such changes should be interpreted as autocratic when they undermine courts’ ability to check political power or increase the influence of political affiliations in their daily work. The proposal creates both kinds of risks.

Replacing all judges with popularly elected ones

A first risk of judicial capture arises as the proposal mandates the immediate removal of more than 1,500 federal judiciary members— including Supreme Court justices, federal judges, and magistrates – and their replacement with new ones to be elected by popular vote. The reform also provides that each of the 31 states and Mexico City should establish their own rules for electing approximately 5,000 local judges. The removal alone undermines the guarantee of tenure. Invoking the United Nations Basic Principles on the Independence of the Judiciary, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights (IACtHR) has established that any removal from office must be based on permitted grounds, such as when judges have reached retirement age, their term of mandate has ended, or for serious misconduct or incompetence. None of those grounds appears to be applicable here, raising suspicion that the President’s motives are more about securing a politically inflected judiciary.

Even if overriding the principle of irremovability (and creating a serious disruption in active judicial processes) could be ultimately justified on grounds of institutional reform, electing judges might not be compatible with international human rights standards. While international law does not establish specific procedures for designating judges, it does mandate that their selection should be made exclusively based on their personal merits and professional qualifications. The judicial function must be guided by integrity and quality, not political endorsement. Notably, the UN Human Rights Committee has observed that electing judges for fixed terms does not ensure their independence.

Moreover, electing judges poses an enhanced risk in the Mexican context due to a significant problem with criminal organisations. The proposal states that public or private financing for judicial campaigns will be prohibited. However, it does not state how candidates will gain public support. It has been argued (see here and here) that such a measure would make candidates vulnerable to external pressures, not just from political parties or interest groups but also from organised crime.

Establishing a Disciplinary Court

A second risk of judicial capture arises with the establishment of a popularly elected Disciplinary Court. This Court would be exclusively responsible for the oversight and discipline of all federal judicial officials, and its decisions would be final. The proposal grants the executive and legislative branches the power to pre-select candidates who will run for the Court’s popular election. This design again fails the international human rights test. Any disciplinary system must be insulated from political interference and inspire confidence in the judicial official facing a disciplinary proceeding. In contrast, the pre-selection and popular election of members of the Disciplinary Court increases the possibility of appointment based on their political affiliation.

Additionally, the disciplinary grounds for sanctioning judges are vague and open-ended (eg “acts contrary to the public interest”) and thus incompatible with inter-American standards, which require those grounds to be clearly established in law under objective criteria. Such broad discretion cannot provide the breathing space that judges need to check political power and protect minority rights.

In sum, the President’s proposal poses serious risks of autocratisation through judicial capture. Even if not approved, the proposal itself signals the erosion of judicial independence as a democratic value in public discourse. It showcases the impact of derogatory rhetoric against the judiciary, which was pervasive during the current administration and has now become widespread. This should set off alarm bells not only in the country but also throughout the Americas. While the international community has recently expressed concerns about the proposal, there is a need for further mobilisation to prevent an expansion of this much-anticipated autocratic wave in the region.

Unfortunately, the law has posed a number of issues because it does not contain criteria that differentiates between mere drug users and drug traffickers. Each judge can determine the limit of narcotics that can be considered for personal use, leading to significant discrepancies in judgments and a tendency to consider poor, black individuals as traffickers. For this reason, there is an urgent need for objective criteria to differentiate drug users from traffickers. Moreover, Brazilian law contradicts itself since, despite this mitigation in punishment for use of drugs, possession of drugs is still punishable by imprisonment.

To resolve this interpretative gap, the Supreme Federal Court of Brazil has been adjudicating, since 2015, Extraordinary Appeal No. 635,659. This case will determine the constitutionality of criminalising the possession of small quantities of cannabis for personal use through police investigations and criminal proceedings. The Court is also expected to establish clearer rules for the application of the law, defining the quantity of cannabis that can be considered for personal use.

Currently, five out of the eleven Supreme Court justices have voted in favour of decriminalising the possession of small quantities of cannabis, while three justices have voted against it. The idea of setting a quantity limit to differentiate between a user and a trafficker, however, has been supported by all eight justices who have voted on the matter. Currently, there is no consensus on what that quantity should be; it is to be defined by the justices once the trial has concluded. Although the judgment has evolved over the last year, there is currently no set timeline for when the final judgment will be made.

As a point of comparison, Chile, Colombia, Ecuador, Paraguay, Peru, Uruguay, and Venezuela, all situated in Latin America, do not regard the use of cannabis as a criminal offence. They have already established, within their legislation, the quantity threshold that distinguishes a user from a drug dealer. Outside the Americas, the same happened in Portugal, a nation that has exerted significant historical and cultural influence on Brazil due to its colonial heritage.

This case is of the utmost importance, as the Brazilian judicial system continues to classify individuals possessing small amounts of drugs as traffickers. Over the last 20 years, this has led to a significant increase in the prison population, primarily affecting the poor, homeless, black people, women, and people living in low-income areas.

It can be concluded that a one-size-fits-all criminal punishment for the simple possession of a small amount of illegal drugs often has disproportionate negative effects, stigmatising the user and hindering prevention and harm reduction efforts. Additionally, these measures exacerbate structural racism and hinder the research and development of medicinal uses for these substances, all while not effectively combating drug use. It is essential to cease the classification of casual drug users as criminals, in accordance with the legislator’s intent and the country’s latest regulations, which allow, with certain authority and in limited situations, the medicinal use and distribution of cannabis by the public health system.

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In particular, the advisory proceedings at the ITLOS – concluding on 25 September 2023 – compel closer attention to the relationship between advisory opinions and climate justice. Climate justice involves looking at climate change and its impacts through a human rights lens, recognising that the distribution of the impacts of climate change are unequal.

Indeed, human rights considerations are central to these advisory opinions, as climate change threatens the enjoyment of rights such as the right to life, to private and family life, to self-determination, and to a healthy environment. During the ITLOS proceedings, States such as Chile and Bangladesh outlined how the detrimental effects on the ocean impact the human rights of their populations. In this vein, Chile argued that the Tribunal must take international human rights law obligations into consideration in their advisory opinion. The questions asked of the ICJ in the request for an advisory opinion also reference State obligations under the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), requiring the Court to address these obligations in the context of climate change.

The IACtHR’s advisory opinion will focus specifically on climate change and human rights, with jurisdiction over the American Convention on Human Rights, the Escazú Agreement, and other human rights and environmental treaties that apply to its member states. The questions posed to the IACtHR include clarification of the differentiated obligations of States to protect the rights of future generations from the impacts on climate change. This advisory opinion follows the landmark 2017 advisory opinion of the IACtHR, where the right to a healthy environment was recognised by the Court, alongside the intersection of human rights with the environment.

Although each of the upcoming advisory opinions has a different scope, the underlying notion is clear: international law and human rights are being utilised as a powerful tool to advance climate justice across the globe. Through advisory opinions, prominent international courts and tribunals have the opportunity to interpret and clarify obligations in the context of climate change and climate justice. Moreover, advisory opinions allow for broad participation of States, distinct from other forms of climate change litigation. This reflects the global cooperation needed to achieve climate justice. Importantly, climate-vulnerable States can participate in advisory opinions on an equal footing with other States, including major polluters. This was clearly demonstrated by the ITLOS proceedings which, as argued elsewhere, gave those States a ‘louder voice, both individually and collectively’ than they might enjoy in other political settings.

It is also worth noting the potential drawbacks of utilising advisory opinions to advance climate justice. Firstly, these opinions have no binding force. Although they have political heft which can lead States into compliance, in the context of an issue as polarising as climate change, it is unclear whether they are sufficiently compelling. Secondly, issues remain with how far these courts and tribunals can interpret human rights obligations as they relate to climate change. Judges cannot ‘create’ law in their opinions, and thus are limited to existing human rights law, which remains underdeveloped in the context of climate change and climate justice.

Nevertheless, the upcoming advisory opinions of the ITLOS, ICJ, and IACtHR present significant opportunities to further the understanding of State obligations under human rights law, which will contribute to the advancement of global climate justice. For those most vulnerable to the climate crisis, these opinions may offer hope for the future.

Want to learn more?

• Read: Will Ireland Constitutionalise Environmental Human Rights and the Rights of Nature as a Response to the Biodiversity Crisis?
• Read: Ecocentrism and the Right to a Healthy Environment: To What Extent Can Human Rights Protect Non-Human Life?
• Read: What’s next in Climate Litigation before the European Court of Human Rights? Duarte Agostinho and Others v Portugal and 32 other States
• Read: The Paris Agreement as a Human Rights Treaty: PSB et al. v Brazil

In Duarte Agostinho, six children and young people, all residing in Portugal, filed an action against Portugal and 32 other States for their joint failure to cut greenhouse gas emissions in line with the 2015 Paris Agreement. They argue that climate change effects, such as wildfires, impacted their physical and mental health; their right to life; and, as children will disproportionately suffer from climate change effects over the course of their lifetime, their right to non-discrimination. In its communication to the parties, the Court also asked whether the prohibition of ill-treatment and the right to property were violated. Before addressing the merits of the case, the Court will likely examine in detail the issues of extra-territorial jurisdiction and exhaustion of domestic remedies.

Extra-territorial jurisdiction for climate harm

The applicants argue that the 32 States (in addition to Portugal, which exercises territorial jurisdiction) exercise extra-territorial jurisdiction, since they cause climate impacts abroad. The Court may adopt a nuanced approach to extra-territoriality tailored to climate cases, drawing inspiration from the Inter-American Court of Human Rights (IACtHR), which developed such standards in its Advisory Opinion OC-23/17, requiring a causal link between the human rights violation committed abroad and the acts in the territory of the State of origin. Recently, the United Nations Committee on the Rights of the Child (CRC) applied this standard in Sacchi et al., v Argentina, and held that the respondent States had jurisdiction over transboundary climate harm, although some applicants lived outside their territorial boundaries. While this rather broad interpretation could possibly extend jurisdiction to harm unrelated to climate change, some kind of causality-based jurisdiction standard makes sense for climate cases, considering their transboundary nature. The Duarte Agostinho case thus presents an opportunity for the ECtHR to clarify the scope of extra-territorial jurisdiction for climate harm.

Exhaustion of domestic remedies

Unlike the two climate cases already heard by the Court, the Duarte Agostinho applicants have not exhausted domestic remedies in any of the 33 States. They argue that as children and youth they face financial and other barriers to access grievance mechanisms and that domestic courts would not respond in time to meet the 1.5°C target set out in the 2015 Paris Agreement. In contrast to the Swiss case, which was also brought by an association that could offset some of the presumably high legal costs, the Duarte Agostinho applicants argued their case in their individual capacities (with the help of the Global Legal Action Network, GLAN).

As such, the Court will need to carefully examine whether an exception to the rule of exhaustion of domestic remedies applies. In principle, applicants must bring their case before all domestic courts to enable them to review their complaints. In certain circumstances, applicants may be exempt from this requirement, such as when doing so would be unreasonable or impose a disproportionate burden. In examining this case, the Court might scrutinise—as the CRC did in Sacchi et al., rejecting the case precisely for non-exhaustion of domestic remedies—whether and to what extent, if at all, the applicants could have pursued remedies in Portugal and the 32 other States. The Court might also consider the availability and efficiency of the remedies and the length of the proceedings in the different States. Finally, it may exceptionally accept barriers of access to justice faced by groups especially vulnerable to climate change impacts, such as children. The Court’s finding in relation to each of these factors has significant implications for the ability to challenge future climate harms in international dispute forums on the grounds of human rights violations.

Want to learn more?

• Read: The Paris Agreement as a Human Rights Treaty: PSB et al. v Brazil 
• Read: Another ‘Green Reading’ of Article 8 of the ECHR in Pavolv & Ors v Russia
• Read: Appraising the Limitations of Linking Climate Reparations to Human Rights
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International and regional law: Developing a right to self-determined gender identity

The notion of self-determined gender identity has received widespread global support over the past two decades. Under frameworks for the recognition of legal gender identity, a few States have shifted from medico-legal criteria for recognition to those based on an individual’s self-determined gender identity. This is in line with the groundbreaking Yogyakarta Principles (YPs), a set of soft international law principles that have had a significant impact on legal gender recognition reform. Under the YPs, the recognition of gender identity is based on an individual’s internal and individual experience of gender. Importantly, it emphasises their personal sense of their body, which may or may not involve modification of bodily appearance.

The right to self-determined gender identity has also been considered by regional human rights courts. In a 2017 Advisory Opinion, the Inter-American Court recognised the right to a self-determined gender identity under the American Convention on Human Rights, emphasising that recognition should not be subject to medical certification or requirements.

Global trends

The right to legal gender identity is recognised in over 67 jurisdictions around the world. The ambit and extent of recognition differs from one jurisdiction to another.  In particular, the requirements for recognition vary considerably: the majority of States with gender recognition laws maintain the medico-legal approach. The current call to action instead highlights the barriers and human rights violations faced by transgender persons, which include access to healthcare, education, housing and participation in public life.

The cross-regional group led by Argentina comprises states as diverse as India, Greece, Ireland, Brazil and Uruguay. It also includes countries such as Malta and Australia which have some of the most progressive gender recognition laws. The Malta approach to gender recognition fully recognises the right to self-determined gender identity. Under Malta’s Gender Identity, Gender Expression and Sex Characteristics Act, individuals wishing to amend their legal gender identity are only required to make a declaration in front of a notary. They are not required to undertake any medical procedures, nor are they required to submit proof of any psychological or physical diagnosis such as gender dysphoria. In 2017, the Maltese government also introduced the possibility of an “X-marker” on ID cards and passports, thus signifying a shift away binary models (male-female) of gender classification.

The South African context

The cross-regional alliance provides an opportunity to reflect on the South African framework. South Africa’s Alteration of Sex Description and Sex Status Act of 2003 remains an example of pathologised gender identity. The Act requires medical diagnosis or certification and requires the alteration of sexual characteristics. These pathologised requirements are further compounded by the reported difficulties in accessing healthcare services and misinterpretations of the Act which have resulted in officials requesting proof of surgery, although this is not a statutory requirement.

Depathologising gender identity is firmly on the United Nations’ human rights agenda. The South African legislature needs to respond to the call made by the cross-regional group in order to better protect the rights of transgender South Africans. In doing so, this would set the foundation for improving access to healthcare services, education, housing and other socio-economic rights that remain unevenly distributed between cisgender and transgender populations.

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• Read: The Forgotten I in LGBTQIA+: ECtHR Turns its Back on Intersex People
• Read: Kenya’s Landmark Supreme Court Decision on Non-Discrimination for Sexual Minorities
• Read: New Frontiers of LGBTQ+ Liberation
• Read: Hungarian Bill Obliterates Gender Recognition Rights
• Read: Welfare as a Human Right: An Intersectional Approach to Trans Rights in India

La Opinión Consultiva No. 29 (2022) se refirió por primera vez específicamente al concepto de violencia obstétrica, ejercida contra las mujeres embarazadas que se encuentran en condiciones de detención durante el parto, post-parto y lactancia. Se aplican los estándares de la Convención Belém de Pará en cuanto a las obligaciones de los estados de prevenir este tipo de violencia en el ámbito penitenciario, de garantizar el contacto de las mujeres en situación de parto con el personal de salud y con los familiares de manera sencilla y culturalmente aceptable, del acceso a la justicia como asimismo canales de denuncia. Sin embargo, debido a que estos estándares solo afectan a las mujeres detenidas, no atienden adecuadamente a la mayoría de las mujeres embarazadas.

Más recientemente, en el caso Brítez Arce vs Argentina (2022) la Corte finalmente profundizó el concepto de violencia obstétrica. Cristina Brítez Arce, embarazada de nueve meses, llegó al hospital en 1992 con molestias lumbares, fiebre y pérdida de líquidos por sus genitales. Se le realizó una ecografía que indicó que el feto había muerto, por lo que se realizó una inducción del parto. Cristina murió en el hospital unas horas después. Según el certificado de defunción, la víctima falleció ese mismo día debido a un paro cardiorrespiratorio no traumático. Sin embargo, pudo comprobarse que fue debido al tratamiento y diagnóstico negligente del hospital.

En base a estos hechos, la Corte sostuvo que los Estados tienen la obligación de brindar servicios de salud adecuados, especializados y diferenciados durante el embarazo y el parto en un plazo razonable, antes y después del parto, a fin de garantizar el derecho a la salud de la madre y prevenir la mortalidad materna (párr. 68 y ss.). Principalmente, señaló que el Estado tiene la obligación de garantizar el acceso a la información en salud, especialmente sobre salud reproductiva y materna durante todas las etapas del embarazo, la cual debe estar basada en evidencia científica, emitida sin prejuicios, libre de estereotipos y discriminaciones. Además, se debe acordar previamente un plan de parto con la institución de salud que atenderá el parto. Asimismo, el Estado debe garantizar el derecho al contacto materno-infantil (párr. 73 y ss.).

En suma, la Corte sostuvo que la violencia obstétrica, prohibida por diferentes instrumentos de derechos humanos, constiuye una forma de violencia de género ejercida por las personas encargadas de la atención de la salud sobre las mujeres embarazadas, durante el acceso a los servicios durante el embarazo, el parto y el postparto (párr. 75). Esto se manifiesta mayoritariamente, aunque no exclusivamente, en un trato deshumanizado, irrespetuoso, abusivo o negligente hacia las mujeres embarazadas; en la negativa de tratamiento e información completa sobre el estado de salud y los tratamientos adecuados; en intervenciones médicas forzadas o coaccionadas, y en la tendencia a patologizar los procesos reproductivos naturales. Tales manifestaciones en el contexto de la atención de la salud durante el embarazo, el parto y el puerperio tienen el potencial de poner en peligro la vida de las mujeres y violan inequívocamente las obligaciones del Estado en materia de derechos humanos (párr. 81). Los estándares establecidos por la Corte IDH en el caso Brítez Arce vs. Argentina son, por lo tanto, un paso positivo en la lucha para garantizar el derecho humano de las mujeres a vivir libres de violencia obstétrica.

¿Querer aprender más?

• Watch: Shaping the Future of Safe Childbirth
• Read: Obstetric Violence as a Violation of Human Rights: CEDAW’s Second Decision a Welcome Addition but Not Enough 
• Read: The Violence of Care: Obstetric Violence during Covid-19
• Read: Ockenden and Beyond: The Potential for a Human Rights Approach to Tackling Obstetric Violence
• Read: The Husband’s Stitch: A Violation of Patients’ Bodily Autonomy

Advisory Opinion No. 29 (2022) referred for the first time specifically to the concept of obstetric violence against pregnant women who are in conditions of detention during childbirth, postpartum and breastfeeding. The case applies the standards of the Belem do Pará Convention, addressing state obligations to prevent this type of violence in prison settings, to guarantee contact with health personnel and family members of women in labor (in a culturally acceptable manner), and to guarantee access to justice and adequate reporting channels. Yet because these standards only affect women in detention, they do not adequately cater to the majority of pregnant women.

More recently, in Brítez Arce v Argentina (2022) the Court seriously developed the concept of obstetric violence. Cristina Brítez Arce, who was nine months pregnant, arrived at hospital in 1992 with lumbar discomfort, fever, and fluid loss. An ultrasound was performed, which indicated a  dead fetus, for which she was admitted in order to induce labor. However, Cristina died in hospital a few hours later. According to the death certificate, the victim died due to non-traumatic cardiorespiratory arrest. However, it could be proven that it was due to the hospital’s negligent treatment and diagnosis.

On the basis of these facts, the Court held that states have the obligation to provide adequate, specialised, and differentiated health services during pregnancy and childbirth (within a reasonable period before and after childbirth), in order to guarantee the mother’s right to health and to maternal deaths [68]. Moreover, the state has an obligation to guarantee accessibility of health information, especially relating to reproductive and maternal health during all stages of pregnancy, and this must be evidence-based, issued without bias, and free of stereotypes and discrimination. In addition, a birth plan must be agreed in advance with the health facility that assists in the birth. The state must also guarantee the right to mother-child contact [73].

In sum, the Court held that obstetric violence is prohibited by numerous human rights instruments and constitutes a form of gender-based violence exercised by those in charge of health care of pregnant people, during access to services that take place during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum [75]. It is typically – though not exclusively – illustrated by dehumanising, disrespectful, abusive or negligent treatment of pregnant women; the refusal of treatment or of complete information about the woman’s state of health and suitable treatments; forced or coerced medical interventions; and the tendency to pathologise natural reproductive processes. Such manifestations in the context of health care during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum have the potential to endanger women’s lives, and unequivocally breach the state’s human rights obligations [81]. The IACoHR’s ruling in Brítez Arce v Argentina is therefore a welcome step forward in the fight to secure women’s human right to live free of obstetric violence.

Want to learn more?

• Watch: Shaping the Future of Safe Childbirth
• Read: Obstetric Violence as a Violation of Human Rights: CEDAW’s Second Decision a Welcome Addition but Not Enough 
• Read: The Violence of Care: Obstetric Violence during Covid-19
• Read: Ockenden and Beyond: The Potential for a Human Rights Approach to Tackling Obstetric Violence
• Read: The Husband’s Stitch: A Violation of Patients’ Bodily Autonomy