In this chapter, Sir Malcolm Evans examines the role and legitimacy of international human rights mechanisms of dispute settlement. This chapter argues that the relationship between international dispute settlement and the work of the United Nations human rights treaty bodies is demonstrated by a series of cases brought by Qatar against the United Arab Emirates before both the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and the UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD). This chapter explores some of the tensions which have been revealed concerning the interplay between the work of the CERD Committee and that of the ICJ and how each responded to them. It notes that the multifaceted and sui generis nature of their work means that they do not operate in a single ‘conceptual space’ and that the nature of the treaty bodies, their role and function, and the environment in which they work need to be borne in mind if their work is to be properly appreciated, understood, and engaged with.

This is not an easy book to classify and, despite the very best attempts of the editors, one may wonder if it appropriately labelled an ‘introduction’ to anything, let alone an introduction to ‘Christianity and International Law’. This inevitably sounds like a damning criticism—but it is not intended as such. Rather, and as the editorial introduction makes clear enough, what exactly is meant by both ‘Christianity’ and ‘International Law’—let alone ‘Christianity and International Law’ (cf 11) - for these purposes, remain somewhat inchoate. In a sense, however, this appears to be a part of what this book is about. Rather than being an ‘introduction’ to a discrete field of investigation, the book is the field of investigation. And it is in this sense that it may be understood as forming an ‘introduction’; as being an introductory exploration into the many and varied ways in which Christian thinking has contributed to...

In the concluding chapter of this collection of 12 contributions arising out of a conference held in Stockholm in 2018, Victoria Enkvist observes that ‘When approaching the matter of religion, it is important to understand that the answer will probably differ depending on the question you raise. The horizon of understanding and the possible outcomes that we expect are actually as important as the questions themselves’ (194). Against this background, it is worth reflecting on the title of this collection (as does Pamela Slotte in the first chapter) before considering its content. That title asserts— and there is no question mark—that the freedom of religion is an ambiguous right in the contemporary European legal order. Slotte notes that international human rights law ‘simultaneously constrains and enables’ religious life (5), thus rendering its relation to that freedom ambiguous and asks ‘who is best equipped with the contextual sensibility that is called for?’ (13). This is not a question which most of the rest of the contributors appear to have any difficulty wrestling with—or indeed wrestling with at all. It is difficult to avoid the general impression that the starting point for most of what follows is how best to constrain the stirrings of religious freedom in a secularized Swedish society from which it has been largely expunged.

This fascinating book looks at the experiences of a number of prominent figures who exercised their freedom of religion by changing their faith in post-revolutionary France. This might seem somewhat esoteric, but the generic issues that it highlights are of enduring relevance and have contemporary resonance. Much of the modern debate concerning freedom of religion and belief is couched in rights language and focused on the right to act in accordance with one’s beliefs. The experiences recounted in this book focus on those who sought to cross religious boundaries, their personal struggles, and the consequences of their decisions for themselves, for their families, for their friends, and for the religious communities concerned. Of course, such accounts could be given of converts in any age and in any country. But, as the author makes clear, post-revolutionary France presents a fascinating confluence of circumstances. Following a long history of intolerance, religious liberty was endorsed by the 1814 constitution, while at the same time Catholicism was undergoing a revival and was re-established as the official state religion. As Paris emerged as the leading intellectual and cultural capital in Europe, it attracted those interested in exploring new ideas, philosophies, and faiths. Debates concerning the relationship between the church and state, and the individual and the church, took on great importance.

There is an inherent tension between the often aspirational international commitments which states assume and the practical reality of applying them in a particular factual context. This is exacerbated by the more general tension which pervades international law, that of balancing state sovereignty with legal duties. This tension is well known to political theory and, ever since its first case focusing on Article 9, Kokkinakis v. Greece, 1 is well attested in the jurisprudence of the European Court of Human Rights concerning the freedom of religion or belief. Rather than seeing this tension as a hermeneutic tool through which to understand and better secure the implementation of that freedom, it has tended to be seen as a problem which needs to be addressed, if not eliminated. In order to do so, two contrasting techniques can be found in the jurisprudence relating to Article 9, which we shall call the “first” and “second” generation approaches. The first generation approach focused on the universality of the right, seeking to find a way of resolving the inherent tension by reference to broadly construed and generally applicable overarching principles, couched in the language of neutrality. The second generation approach is focused on subsidiarity, in the guise of the margin of appreciation, and has attained prominence through the 2013 Brighton Declaration and the resulting 15th Protocol to the ECHR and, at the time of writing, in the 2018 Copenhagen Declaration.2 However, little attempt has been made to

Religion and Public Policy: Human Rights, Conflict, and Ethics Edited by Sumner B Twiss , Marian G Simion and Rodney L Petersen Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2015, xl + 372 pp (hardback £65) ISBN: 978-1-107-09036-1 - Volume 20 Issue 1

The Kokkinakis case is probably the most widely cited judgement of the European Court of Human Rights concerning the freedom of religion or belief. Yet the constant repetition of its key passages tends to obscure the very real, and controversial, developments which have taken place in the Court’s jurisprudence. This article outlines this practice and explores its implications. It concludes that “quoting Kokkinakis ” runs the risk of have a negative impact upon our understanding of Article 9 of the echr today and its famous ‘mantra’ should be replaced by a more up to date and accurate statement of the conceptual underpinnings of that article.

BACKGROUND AND PURPOSE:Epidemiological studies on the extent of the interaction and/or influence of stroke severity on clinical outcomes are important. The aim of the present study was to investigate the putative (and degree of) impact of initial stroke severity in predicting the overall functional outcome, in-hospital placement, and mortality in acute ischemic stroke (AIS) in comparison with age, admission to the stroke unit and thrombolytic treatment. MATERIALS AND METHODS:The John Hunter Hospital acute stroke register was used to collect a retrospective cohort of AIS patients being assessed for reperfusion therapy and admitted between January 2006 and December 2013. Univariate and multivariate logistic regression and receiver operating characteristics analyses were used to assess associations with functional outcome, in-hospital placement, and mortality at 90 days. RESULTS:608 AIS patients with complete datasets were included in the study. On univariate analysis, initial stroke severity showed the strongest independent association to the risk of death within 90 days (Odds ratio (OR) =1.15; P < 0.001; 95% confidence interval (CI) = [1.11, 1.18]); age was a less significant independent influence (OR = 1.02; P = 0.049; 95% CI = [1.00, 1.03]). Multivariate logistic regression analysis demonstrated that initial stroke severity independently predicted the 90 day mortality (OR = 1.16; 95% CI = [1.12, 1.2]; P < 0.0001) and unfavorable outcome (OR = 1.16; 95% CI = [1.13, 1.2]; P < 0.0001). Higher National Institute of Health Stroke Scale at admission was significantly associated with longer in-hospital placement (P < 0.0001). CONCLUSIONS:In this acute stroke cohort, initial stroke severity had a major impact on the likelihood of death following an AIS and appears to be the dominant influence on the overall stroke outcome and in-hospital placement.

The title of this book ought to give its readers a clue that its content is likely to depart from the traditional approaches to maritime boundary delimitation found in other works on the subject—and readers will not be disappointed in this. Whether at the end of this lengthy and broad-ranging—the less charitable might say ‘rather rambling’—work one is better able to undertake an exercise of maritime delimitation may be doubted. However, this is not the author’s aim. The purpose of the work is to better understand the nature of the process and to locate that process within broader trends which the author considers to be at work within the international community more generally. This, it is contended, will assist in our understanding of maritime boundary delimitation and how it ought to be undertaken. The ‘ought’ is important. The author does not really ground the work in the case law and state practice as such—though these are, of course, presented and drawn on throughout in a manner which demonstrates deep familiarity with them. Rather than present and analyse these materials in order to extract principles from them, the author draws on them to demonstrate and illuminate the overarching theory. Whilst that theory is said to be firmly reflected in those materials, finding that reflection does require a fair degree of exegetical extrapolation. This is not to suggest that many elements of the emergent theory are not attractive and persuasive. It is, however, important not to approach this book in the expectation that it will provide an account of the lex lata: this is definitely lex ferenda territory—and refreshingly so.

It is best to approach these two works together, not only because they share a common hand but also because in combination they make a more rounded contribution to the debate which they address, this, ultimately, being the nature of the relationship between law and religion in Europe. Although both works have their origins in research and in seminars held some time ago now, the themes they address are as pertinent as ever and they make a stimulatingly provocative contribution to the ever-expanding literature. Perhaps this is epitomized by the monograph—A Secular Europe—the very title of which makes clear its central thrust and is, perhaps, best reflected in its final sentence which is that ‘secular law should be regarded as the tool to build a framework within which religious and non-religious people are able to live together’ (196). The idea is that law can provide a ‘secular’ framework within which competing claims can all find ‘space’. As such, the secular Europe cannot have a preference for any worldview or standpoint and all voices must be heard, ‘taking different interests into account and mediating between them’ (91). There should be a ‘marketplace of religion’ which promotes diversity, avoids religious monopoly, and in which the state is to be neutral by keeping a ‘principled’ distance’ (118). This basic idea, though contestable, is hardly contentious. The author advances the proposition that the role of the state should be to provide a legal framework which does not project any particular worldview but which is open to the influences of those who do, to the extent that this is compatible with its continuing role as the provider of the open space within which diversity can flourish. To adapt the author’s metaphor, if there is to be a marketplace of religion, then it must be in the marketplace and not in the town hall.