Written by Bastian Brunk, research assistant at the Humboldt University of Berlin and doctoral candidate at the Institute for Comparative and Private International Law at the University of Freiburg.

 

In April of 2020, EU Commissioner Didier Reynders announced plans for a legislative initiative that would introduce EU-wide mandatory human rights due diligence requirements for businesses. Only recently, Reynders reiterated his intentions during a conference regarding “Human Rights and Decent Work in Global Supply Chains” which was hosted by the German Federal Ministry of Labour and Social Affairs on the 6. October, and asseverated the launch of public consultations within the next few weeks. A draft report, which was prepared by MEP Lara Wolters (S&D) for the European Parliament Committee on Legal Affairs, illustrates what the prospective EU legal framework for corporate due diligence could potentially look like. The draft aims to facilitate access to legal remedies in cases of corporate human rights abuses by amending the Brussels Ibis Regulation as well as the Rome II Regulation. However, as these amendments have already inspired a comments by Geert van Calster, Giesela Rühl, and Jan von Hein, I won’t delve into them once more. Instead, I will focus on the centre piece of the draft report – a proposal for a Directive that would establish mandatory human rights due diligence obligations for businesses. If adopted, the Directive would embody a milestone for the international protection of human rights. As is, the timing could simply not be better, since the UN Guiding Principles (UNGPs) celebrate their 10th anniversary in 2021. The EU should take this opportunity to present John Ruggie, the author of the UNGPs, with a special legislative gift. However, I’m not entirely sure if Ruggie would actually enjoy this particular present, as the Directive has obvious flaws. The following passages aim to accentuate possible improvements, that would lead to the release of an appropriate legal framework next year. I will not address every detail but will rather focus on the issues I consider the most controversial – namely the scope of application and the question of effective enforcement.

 

General Comments

 

To begin with a disclaimer, I believe the task of drafting a legal document on the issue of business and human rights to be a huge challenge. Not only does one have to reconcile the many conflicting interests of business, politics, and civil society, moreover, it is an impossible task to find the correct degree of regulation for every company and situation. If the regulation is too weak, it does not help protect human rights, but only generates higher costs. If it is too strict, it runs the risk of companies withdrawing from developing and emerging markets, and – because free trade and investment ensure worldwide freedom, growth, and prosperity – of possibly inducing an even worse human rights situation. This being said, the current regulatory approach should first and foremost be recognised as a first step in the right direction.

 

I would also like to praise the idea of including environmental and governance risks in the due diligence standard (see Article 4(1)) because these issues are closely related to each other. Practically speaking, the conduct of companies is not only judged based on their human rights performance but rather holistically using ESG or PPP criteria. All the same, I am not sure whether or not this holistic approach will be accepted in the regulatory process: Putting human rights due diligence requirements into law is difficult enough, so maybe it would just be easier to limit the proposal to human rights. Nonetheless, it is certainly worth a try.

 

Moving on to my criticism.

 

Firstly, the draft is supposed to be a Directive, not a Regulation. As such, it cannot impose any direct obligations on companies but must first be transposed into national law. However, the proposal contains a colourful mix of provisions, some of which are addressed to the Member States, while others impose direct obligations on companies. For example, Article 4(1) calls upon Member States to introduce due diligence obligations, whereas all other provisions of the same article directly address companies. In my eyes, this is inconsistent.

 

Secondly, the Directive uses definitions that diverge from those of the UNGPs. For example, the UNGPs define “due diligence” as a process whereby companies “identify, prevent, mitigate and account for” adverse human rights impacts. This seems very comprehensive, doesn’t it? Due diligence, as stipulated in the Directive, goes beyond that by asking companies to identify, cease, prevent, mitigate, monitor, disclose, account for, address, and remediate human rights risks. Of course, one could argue that the UNGP is incomplete and the Directive fills its gaps, but I believe some of these “tasks” simply redundant. Of course, this is not a big deal by itself. But in my opinion, one should try to align the prospective mechanism with the UNGPs as much as possible, since the latter are the recognised international standard and its due diligence concept has already been adopted in various frameworks, such as the UN Global Compact, the OECD Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises, and the ISO 26000. An alignment with the UNGP, therefore, allows and promotes coherence within international policies.

 

Before turning to more specific issues, I would like to make one last general remark that goes in the same direction as the previous one. While the UNGP ask companies to respect “at minimum” the “international recognized human rights”, meaning the international bill of rights (UDHR, ICCPR, ICESCR) and the ILO Core Labour Standards, the Directive requires companies to respect literally every human rights catalogue in existence. These include not only international human rights documents of the UN and the ILO, but also instruments that are not applicable in the EU, such as the African Charter of Human and People’s Rights, the American Convention of Human Rights, and (all?) “national constitutions and laws recognising or implementing human rights”. This benchmark neither guides companies nor can it be monitored effectively by the authorities. It is just too ill-defined to serve as a proper basis for civil liability claims or criminal sanctions and it will probably lower the political acceptance of the proposal.

 

Scope of Application

 

The scope of application is delineated in Article 2 of the Directive. It states that the Directive shall apply to all undertakings governed by the law of a Member State or established in the territory of the EU. It shall also apply to limited liability undertakings governed by the law of a non-Member State and not established within EU-territory if they operate in the internal market by selling goods or providing services. As one can see, the scope is conceivably broad, which gives rise to a number of questions.

 

First off, the Directive does not define the term “undertaking”. Given the factual connection, we could understand it in the same way as the Non-Financial Reporting Directive (2014/95/EU) does. However, an “undertaking” within the scope of the Non-Financial Reporting Directive refers to the provisions of the Accounting Directive (2013/34/EU), which has another purpose, i.e. investor and creditor protection, and is, therefore, restricted to certain types of limited liability companies. Such a narrow understanding would run counter to the purpose of the proposed Directive because it excludes partnerships and foreign companies. On the other hand, “undertaking” probably does mean something different than in EU competition law. There, the concept covers “any entity engaged in an economic activity, regardless of its legal status” and must be understood as “designating an economic unit even if in law that economic unit consists of several persons, natural or legal” (see e.g. CJEU, Akzo Nobel, C-97/08 P, para 54 ff.). Under EU competition law, the concept is, therefore, not limited to legal entities, but also encompasses groups of companies (as “single economic units”). This concept of “undertaking”, if applied to the Directive, would correspond with the term “business enterprises” as used in the UNGP (see the Interpretive Guide, Q. 17). However, it would ignore the fact that the parent company and its subsidiaries are distinct legal entities, and that the parent company’s legal power to influence the activities of its subsidiaries may be limited under the applicable corporate law. It would also lead to follow-up questions regarding the precise legal requirements under which a corporate group would have to be included. Finally, non-economic activities and, hence, non-profit organisations would be excluded from the scope, which possibly leads to significant protection gaps (just think about FIFA, Oxfam, or WWF). In order to not jeopardise the objective – ensuring “harmonization, legal certainty and the securing of a level playing field” (see Recital 9 of the Directive) – the Directive should not leave the term “undertaking” open to interpretation by the Member States. A clear and comprehensive definition should definitely be included in the Directive, clarifying that “undertaking” refers to any legal entity (natural or legal person), that provide goods or services on the market, including non-profit services.

 

Secondly, the scope of application is not coherent for several reasons. One being that the chosen form of the proposal is a Directive, rather than a Regulation, thus providing for minimum harmonisation only. It is left to the Member States to lay down the specific rules that ensure companies carrying out proper human rights due diligence (Article 4(1)). This approach can lead to slightly diverging due diligence requirements within the EU. Hence, the question of which requirements a company must comply with arises. From a regulatory law’s perspective alone, this question is not satisfactorily answered. According to Article 2(1), “the Directive” (i.e. the respective Member States’ implementation acts) applies to any company which has its registered office in a Member State or is established in the EU. However, the two different connecting factors of Article 2(1) have no hierarchy, so a company must probably comply with the due diligence requirements of any Member State where it has an establishment (agency, branch, or office). Making matters worse (at least from the company’s perspective), in the event of a human rights lawsuit, due diligence would have to be characterised as a matter relating to non-contractual obligations and thus fall within the scope of the new Art. 6a Rome II. The provisions of this Article potentially require a company to comply with the due diligence obligations of three additional jurisdictions, namely lex loci damni, lex loci delicti commissi, and either the law of the country in which the parent company has its domicile (in this regard, I agree with Jan von Hein who proposes the use not of the company’s domicile but its habitual residence as a connecting factor according to Article 23 Rome II) or, where it does not have a domicile (or habitual residence) in a Member State, the law of the country where it operates.

 

That leads us to the next set of questions: When does a company “operate” in a country? According to Article 2(2), the Directive applies to non-EU companies which are not established in the EU if they “operate” in the internal market by selling goods or providing services. But does that mean, for example, that a Chinese company selling goods to European customers over Amazon must comply fully with European due diligence requirements? And is Amazon, therefore, obliged to conduct a comprehensive human rights impact assessment for every retailer on its marketplace? Finally, are states obliged to impose fines and criminal sanctions (see Article 19) on Amazon or the Chinese seller if they do not meet the due diligence requirements, and if so, how? I believe that all this could potentially strain international trade relations and result in serious foreign policy conflicts.

 

Finally, and perhaps most controversially in regard to the scope, the requirements shall apply to all companies regardless of their size. While Article 2(3) allows the exemption of micro-enterprises, small companies with at least ten employees and a net turnover of EUR 700,000 or a balance sheet total of EUR 350,000 would have to comply fully with the new requirements. In contrast, the French duty of vigilance only applies to large stock corporations which, including their French subsidiaries and sub-subsidiaries, employ at least 5,000 employees, or including their worldwide subsidiaries and sub-subsidiaries, employ at least 10,000 employees. The Non-Financial Reporting Directive only applies to companies with at least 500 employees. And the due diligence law currently being discussed in Germany, will with utmost certainty exempt companies with fewer than 500 employees from its scope and could perhaps even align itself with the French law’s scope. Therefore, I doubt that the Member States will accept any direct legal obligations for their SMEs. Nonetheless, because the Directive requires companies to conduct value chain due diligence, SMEs will still be indirectly affected by the law.

 

Value Chain Due Diligence

 

Value chain due diligence, another controversial issue, is considered to be anything but an easy task by the Directive. To illustrate the dimensions: BMW has more than 12,000 suppliers, BASF even 70,000. And these are all just Tier 1 suppliers. Many, if not all, multinational companies probably do not even know how long and broad their value chain actually is. The Directive targets this problem by requiring companies to “make all reasonable efforts to identify subcontractors and suppliers in their entire value chain” (Article 4(5)). This task cannot be completed overnight but should not be impossible either. For example, VF Corporation, a multinational apparel and footwear company, with brands such as Eastpack, Napapijri, or The North Face in its portfolio, has already disclosed the (sub?)suppliers for some of its products and has announced their attempt to map the complete supply chain of its 140 products by 2021. BASF and BMW will probably need more time, but that shouldn’t deter them from trying in the first place.

 

Mapping the complete supply chain is one thing; conducting extensive human rights impact assessments is another. Even if a company knows its chain, this does not yet mean that it comprehends every potential human rights risk linked to its remote business operations. And even if a potential human rights risk comes to its attention, the tasks of “ceasing, preventing, mitigating, monitoring, disclosing, accounting for, addressing, and remediating” (see Article 3) it is not yet fulfilled. These difficulties call up to consider limiting the obligation to conduct supply chain due diligence to Tier 1 suppliers. However, this would not only be a divergence from the UNGP (see Principle 13) but would also run counter to the Directive’s objective. In fact, limiting due diligence to Tier 1 suppliers makes it ridiculously easy to circumvent the requirements of the Directive by simply outsourcing procurement to a third party. Hence, the Directive takes a different approach by including the entire supply chain in the due diligence obligations while adjusting the required due diligence processes to the circumstances of the individual case. Accordingly, Article 2(8) states that “[u]ndertakings shall carry out value chain due diligence which is proportionate and commensurate to their specific circumstances, particularly their sector of activity, the size and length of their supply chain, the size of the undertaking, its capacity, resources and leverage”. I consider this an adequate provision because it balances the interests of both companies and human rights subjects. However, as soon as it comes to enforcing it, it burdens the judge with a lot of responsibility.

 

Enforcement

 

The question of enforcement is of paramount importance. Without effective enforcement mechanisms, the law will be nothing more than a bureaucratic and toothless monster. We should, therefore, expect the Directive – being a political appeal to the EU Commission after all – to contain ambitious proposals for the effective implementation of human rights due diligence. Unfortunately, we were disappointed.

 

The Directive provides for three different ways to enforce its due diligence obligations. Firstly, the Directive requires companies to establish grievance mechanisms as low-threshold access to remedy (Articles 9 and 10). Secondly, the Directive introduces transparency and disclosure requirements. For example, companies should publish a due diligence strategy (Article 6(1)) which, inter alia, specifies identified human rights risks and indicates the policies and measures that the company intends to adopt in order to cease, prevent, or mitigate those risks (see Article 4(4)). Companies shall also publish concerns raised through their grievance mechanisms as well as remediation efforts, and regularly report on progress made in those instances (Article 9(4)). With these disclosure requirements, the Directive aims to enable the civil society (customers, investors and activist shareholders, NGOs etc.) to enforce it. Thirdly, the Directive postulates public enforcement mechanisms. Each Member State shall designate one or more competent national authorities that will be responsible for the supervision of the application of the Directive (Article 14). The competent authorities shall have the power to investigate any concerns, making sure that companies comply with the due diligence obligations (Article 15). If the authority identifies shortcomings, it shall set the respective company a time limit to take remedial action. It may then, in case the company does not fulfil the respective order, impose penalties (especially penalty payments and fines, but also criminal sanctions, see Article 19). Where immediate action is necessary to prevent the occurrence of irreparable harm, the competent authorities may also order the adoption of interim measures, including the temporary suspension of business activities.

 

At first glance, public enforcement through inspections, interim measures, and penalties appear as quite convincing. However, the effectiveness of these mechanisms may be questioned, as demonstrated by the Wirecard scandal in Germany. Wirecard was Germany’s largest payment service provider and part of the DAX stock market index from September 2018 to August 2020. In June of 2020, Wirecard filed for insolvency after it was revealed that the company had cooked its books and that EUR 1.9 billion were “missing”. In 2015 and 2019, the Financial Times already reported on irregularities in the company’s accounting practices. Until February 2019, the competent supervisory authority BaFin did not intervene, but only commissioned the FREP to review the falsified balance sheet, assigning only a single employee to do so. This took more than 16 months and did not yield any results before the insolvency application. While it is true that the Wirecard scandal is unique, it showcased that investigating malpractices of large multinational companies through a single employee is a crappy idea. Public enforcement mechanisms only work if the competent authority has sufficient financial and human resources to monitor all the enterprises covered by the Directive. So how much manpower does it need? Even if the Directive were to apply to companies with more than 500 employees, in Germany alone one would have to monitor more than 7.000 entities and their respective value chains. We would, therefore, need a whole division of public inspectors in a gigantic public agency. In my opinion, that sounds daunting. That does not mean that public enforcement mechanisms are completely dispensable. As Ruggie used to say, there is no single silver bullet solution to business and human rights challenges. But it is also important to consider decentralised enforcement mechanisms such as civil liability. In contrast to public enforcement mechanisms, civil liability offers victims of human rights violations “access to effective remedy”, which, according to Principle 25, is one of the main concerns of the UNGP.

 

So, what does the Directive say about civil liability? Just about nothing. Article 20 only states that “[t]he fact that an undertaking has carried out due diligence in compliance with the requirements set out in this Directive shall not absolve the undertaking of any civil liability which it may incur pursuant to national law.” Alright, so there shouldn’t be a safe harbour for companies. But that does not yet mean that companies are liable for human rights violations at all. And even if it were so, the conditions for asserting a civil claim can differ considerably between the jurisdictions of the Member States. The Directive fails to achieve EU-wide harmonisation on the issue of liability. That’s not a level playing field. This problem could be avoided by passing an inclusive Regulation containing both rules concerning human rights due diligence and a uniform liability regime in case of violations of said rules. However, such an attempt would probably encounter political resistance from the Member States and result in an undesirable delay of the legislative process. A possible solution could be to only lay down minimum requirements for civil liability but to leave the ultimate drafting and implementation of liability rules to the Member States. Alternatively, the Directive could stipulate that the obligations set out in Articles 4 to 12 are intended to determine the due care without regard to the law applicable to non-contractual obligations. At least, both options would ensure that companies are liable for any violation of their human rights due diligence obligations. Is that too much to ask?

On 20 October 2020, the European Parliament adopted – with a large margin – a resolution with recommendations to the Commission on a civil liability regime for artificial intelligence (AI). The text of this resolution is available here; on other issues of AI that are part of a larger regulatory package, see the Parliament’s press release here. The draft regulation (DR) proposed in the resolution is noteworthy from a choice-of-law perspective because it introduces new, specific conflicts rules for artificial intelligence (AI) (on the general issues of AI and PIL, see the conference report by Stefan Arnold here). With regard to substantive law, the draft regulation distinguishes between legally defined high-risk AI systems (Art. 4 DR) and other AI systems involving a lower risk (Art. 8 DR). For high-risk AI systems, the draft regulation would introduce an independent set of substantive rules providing for strict liability of the system’s operator (Art. 4 DR). Further provisions deal with the amount of compensation (Art. 5 DR), the extent of compensation (Art. 6 DR) and the limitation period (Art. 7 DR). The spatial scope of those autonomous rules on strict liability for high-risk AI systems is determined by Article 2 DR, which reads as follows:

“1.        This Regulation applies on the territory of the Union where a physical or virtual activity, device or process driven by an AI-system has caused harm or damage to the life, health, physical integrity of a natural person, to the property of a natural or legal person or has caused significant immaterial harm resulting in a verifiable economic loss.

2. Any agreement between an operator of an AI-system and a natural or legal person who suffers harm or damage because of the AI-system, which circumvents or limits the rights and obligations set out in this Regulation, concluded before or after the harm or damage occurred, shall be deemed null and void as regards the rights and obligations laid down in this Regulation.
3. This Regulation is without prejudice to any additional liability claims resulting from contractual relationships, as well as from regulations on product liability, consumer protection, anti-discrimination, labour and environmental protection between the operator and the natural or legal person who suffered harm or damage because of the AI-system and that may be brought against the operator under Union or national law.”

The unilateral conflicts rule found in Art. 2(1) DR would prevail over the Rome II Regulation on the law applicable to non-contractual relations pursuant to Art. 27 Rome II, which states that the Rome II Regulation shall not prejudice the application of provisions of EU law which, in relation to particular matters, lay down conflict-of-law rules relating to non-contractual obligations. Insofar, it must be noted that Art. 2(1) DR deviates considerably from the choice-of-law framework of Rome II. While Art. 2(1) DR reflects the lex loci damni approach enshrined as the general conflicts rule in the Rome II Regulation (Art. 4 Rome II), one must not overlook the fact that product liability is subject to a special conflicts rule, i.e. Art. 5 Rome II, which is considerably friendlier to the victim of a tort than the general conflicts rule. Recital 20 Rome II states that “[t]he conflict-of-law rule in matters of product liability should meet the objectives of fairly spreading the risks inherent in a modern high-technology society, protecting consumers’ health, stimulating innovation, securing undistorted competition and facilitating trade”. In order to achieve these purposes, the Rome II Regulation opts for a cascade of connections, starting with the law of the country in which the person sustaining the damage has his or her habitual residence when the damage occurred, provided that the product was marketed in that country (Art. 5(1)(a) Rome II). If that connection fails because the product was not marketed there, the law of the country in which the product was acquired governs, again provided that the product was marketed in this state (Art. 5(1)(b) Rome II). Finally, if that fails as well, the Regulation returns to the lex loci damni under Art. 5(1)(c) Rome II, if the product was marketed there. This cascade of connections is evidently influenced by the desire to protect the mobile consumer from being confronted with a law that may be purely accidental from his point of view because it has neither a relationship with the legal environment that he is accustomed to (his habitual residence) nor to the place where he decided to expose himself to the danger possibly emanating from the product (place of acquisition). The rule reflects the presumption that most consumers will be affected by a defective product in the country where they are habitually resident. Insofar, Art. 2(1) DR is, in comparison with the Rome II Regulation, friendlier to the operator of a high-risk AI system than to the consumer.

Even if one limits the comparison between Art. 2(1) DR and the Rome II Regulation to the latter’s general rule (Art. 4 Rome II), it is striking that the DR does not adopt familiar approaches that allow for deviating from a strict adherence to lex loci damni. Contrary to Art. 4(2) Rome II, where the person claimed to be liable and the person sustaining damage both have their habitual residence in the same country at the time when the damage occurs, Art. 2 DR does not allow to apply the law of that country. Moreover, an escape clause such as Art. 4(3) or Art. 5(2) Rome II is missing in Art. 2 DR. Finally yet importantly, Art. 2(2) DR bars any party autonomy with regard to strict liability for a high-risk AI system, which deviates strongly from the liberal approach found in Art. 14 Rome II.

Apart from the operator’s strict liability for high-risk AI systems, the draft regulation would introduce a fault-based liability rule for other AI systems (Art. 8 DR). In principle, the spatial scope of the latter liability rule would also be determined by Art. 2 DR as already described. However, unlike the comprehensive set of rules on strict liability for high-risk systems, the draft regulation’s model of fault-based liability is not completely autonomous. Rather, the latter type of liability contains important carve-outs regarding the amounts and the extent of compensation as well as the statute of limitations. Pursuant to Art. 9 DR, those issues are left to the domestic laws of the Member States. More precisely, Art. 9 DR provides that

“Civil liability claims brought in accordance with Article 8(1) shall be subject, in relation to limitation periods as well as the amounts and the extent of compensation, to the laws of the Member State in which the harm or damage occurred.”

Thus, we find a lex loci damni approach with regard to fault-based liability as well. Again, all the modern approaches codified in the Rome II Regulation – the cascade of connecting factors for product liability claims, the common habitual residence rule, the escape clause, and party autonomy – are strikingly absent from the draft regulation.

Moreover, the draft regulation, in principle, limits its personal scope to the liability of the operator alone (as legally defined in Art. 3(d)–(f) DR). Recital 9 of the resolution explains that the European Parliament “[c]onsiders that the existing fault-based tort law of the Member States offers in most cases a sufficient level of protection for persons that suffer harm caused by an interfering third party like a hacker or for persons whose property is damaged by such a third party, as the interference regularly constitutes a fault-based action; notes that only for specific cases, including those where the third party is untraceable or impecunious, does the addition of liability rules to complement existing national tort law seem necessary”. Thus, for third parties, the conflicts rules of Rome II would continue to apply.

At first impression, it seems rather strange that a regulation on a very modern technology – artificial intelligence – should deploy a conflicts approach that seems to have more in common with Joseph Beale’s First Restatement of the 1930’s than with the modern and differentiated set of conflicts rules codified by the EU itself at the beginning of the 21st century, i.e. the Rome II Regulation. While the European Parliament’s resolution, in its usual introductory part, diligently enumerates all EU regulations and directives dealing with substantive issues of liability, the Rome II Regulation is not mentioned once in the Recitals. One wonders whether the members of Parliament were aware of the European Union’s acquis in the field of private international law all. In sum, compared with Rome II, the conflicts approach of the draft regulation would be a regrettable step backwards. It remains to be seen how the relationship between the draft regulation and Rome II will be designed and fine-tuned in the further course of legislation.

(This is another version of views for the recent Chinese case on international commercial arbitration provided by Chen Zhi, a PhD candidate in the University of Macau, Macau, PRC)

On 6 August 2020, Guangzhou People’s Intermediate Court (“Guangzhou court”) handed down a ruling on a rare case concerning the enforcement of an award rendered by International Commercial Court of Arbitration (“ICC”) in China,[1] which have given rise to heated debate by the legal community in China. This case was thought to be of great significance by many commentators because it could open the door for enforcement of arbitral awards issued by foreign institution with seat of proceeding in China, and demonstrates the opening-up trend for foreign legal service.
[1]Brentwood Industries Inc. v. Guangdong Faanlong Co, Ltd and Others 2015 Sui Zhong Min Si Fa Chu No.62?

Backgrounds of the facts
The plaintiff, Brentwood Industries, Inc. a USA based company, entered into a Sale and Purchase Agreement (“SPA”) along with a Supplementary Agreement with three Chinese companies (collectively, “Respondents”) in April 2010. Article 16 of Sale and Purchase Agreement provided as follow:
Any dispute arising out of or in connection with this contract shall be settled by amicable negotiation between the parties. If such negotiations fail to resolve the dispute, the matter shall be referred to the Arbitration Commission?sic?of International Chamber of Commerce for arbitration at the project site in accordance with international practice. The award thereof shall be final and binding on the Parties. The costs of the arbitration shall be borne by the losing party, unless the Arbitration Commission?sic?decides otherwise. The language of the arbitration shall be bilingual, English and Chinese.

According to Article 3 of Supplementary Agreement, the project site was in Guangzhou.
On 29 May 2011, Brentwood submitted an application to Guangzhou Court, seeking for nullification of the arbitration clause in SPA. The Guangzhou Court handed down a judgement in early 2012 rejecting Brentwood’s application and confirming the validity of the arbitration clause.
Because the ICC does not have an office in Guangzhou, Brentwood subsequently commenced an arbitration proceeding before Arbitration Court of International Chamber of Commerce Hong Kong Office on 31 August of 2012. In the course of proceeding, all three respondents participate in the arbitration presenting their written defenses, and among them, one respondent also raised objection of jurisdiction of the ICC Court to handle the case. The ICC Court decided that the jurisdiction issue shall be addressed by a sole arbitrator after giving all parties equal opportunities to present their arguments. Hence, with the consensus of all parties, the ICC Court appointed a sole arbitrator on 10 January of 2013.

On 3rd April 2013, the case management conference was held in Guangzhou and each party appeared and agreed upon the Term of Reference. After exchange of written submissions and hearing (all attended by all parties), the arbitrator rendered Final Award with the reference No. 18929/CYK (the Final Award) on 17 March 2014.

Enforcement proceeding and judgment
Brentwood sought to enforce the Final Award before the Guangzhou Court, mainly on the basis of non-domestic award as prescribed in Article 1(1) of the “New York Convention on the Recognition and Enforcement of Foreign Arbitral Awards of 1958, which China is a signatory party (“New York Convention”). To increase its options in obtaining enforcement, Brentwood also invoked the Arrangement on Reciprocal Enforcement of Arbitral Awards Between SPC and Hong Kong Special Administrative Region Government, in the event the court regards the award as Hong Kong award because conducted by the ICC Hong Kong Office.
The Respondents raised their own objections respectively, which can be summarized to four main points:
(1) non-domestic award under New York Convention was not applicable to the PRC because it had declared reservation on this matter;
(2) the arbitration clause was invalid because the ICC Court was not an arbitration institutions formed in accordance with Article 10 of the PRC Arbitration Law (revised in 2017);
(3) there are substantive errors in the Final Award;
(4) the arbitrator exceeded its power in the Final Award.

The Guangzhou Court ruled that the arbitration clause was valid and its validity had been confirmed in previous case by the same court. As for the nationality and enforceability of the Final Award, the court opined that it shall be regarded as a domestic award which can be enforced in accordance to Article 273 of Civil Procedural Law (revised in 2012), and stipulated that the awards by foreign-related arbitration institutions in China were enforceable before competent intermediated courts. Based on the above reasoning, the court stated that Brentwood had invoked the wrong legal basis, and it refused to amend its claim after the court asked clarification multiple times. Hence, the court concluded that the case shall be closed without enforcing the Final Award, while Brentwood had the right to file a new enforcement proceeding with correct legal basis.

China’s Stance to domestic award by foreign institutions
There is no law directly applicable to awards issued by foreign institution with seat in China. The current legislation divided awards into three categories:
(1) domestic award rendered by Chinese arbitration institutions, which is governed by the Arbitration Law and Civil Procedure Law.
(2) foreign-related award made by Chinese institutions, which is enforceable under Article 273 of Civil Procedure Law.
(3) awards made offshore, which are governed by international conventions (i.e. New York Convention), judicial arrangements and Supreme People Court’s judicial interpretation depending on the place of arbitration.

The problem arises mainly because of the conflict between Chinese law and international conventions. Unlike the common practice in international arbitration across the world, which decides the nationality of award and competent court for remedies thereof based on the seat of arbitration proceeding, Chinese law traditionally relied upon the nationality of arbitration institutions instead. The term “arbitration seat” was not embedded in the legislation framework until the SPC’s Interpretation on Application of Arbitration Law in 2006, and Supreme People’s Court only begins to decide the nationality of award based on the seat since 2009.[2]
Due to the lacuna in law, there is no remedy for such China seated foreign award, and therefore parties may face enormous legal risks: on one hand, such award cannot be enforced by any Chinese court if the losing party refuse to perform it voluntarily, on the other hand, the party who is dissatisfactory with the award or arbitration proceeding has no way to seek for annulment of the award.
In 2008, Ningbo Intermediate Court ruled on a controversial case concerning the enforcement of an ICC award rendered in Beijing,[3] granting enforcement by regarding the disputed award as “non-domestic” award as prescribed in the last sentence of the Article 1(1) of New York Convention, under which the member states may extend the effect of Convention to certain type of award which is made inside its territory while is not considered as domestic for various reasons. It shall be noted that the method used by Ningbo Court is problematic and have given rise to heavy criticisms,[4] because China had filed the reservation set out in Article 1(3) of New York Convection confirming that it will apply the Convention to the “recognition and enforcement of awards made only in the territory of another Contracting State”. In other words, said non-domestic award approach shouldn’t be use by Chinese courts.
With this respect, the approach employed in Brentwood seems less controversial because it does not concern a vague and debatable concept not included in current law. Moreover, by deciding the nationality of award based on the seat of arbitration instead of the base of institution, the Guangzhou Court is actually promoting the reconciliation of Chinese law with New York Convention.

[2]See Article 16 of SPC’s Interpretation on Several Questions in Application of Arbitration Law Fa Shi 2006 No.7, see also SPC’s Notice on Matters of Enforcing Hong Kong Award in Continental China Fa 2009 No. 415. As cited in Gao Xiaoli, The Courts Should Decide the Nationality of Arbitral Award by Seat Instead of Location of Arbitration Institution, People’s Judicature (Volume of Cases), Vol.2017 No. 20, p. 71.
[3] Duferco S.A. v. Ningbo Art & Craft Import & Export Corp. 2008 Yong Zhong Jian No.8.
[4] Author Dong et al, Does Supreme People’s Court’s Decision Open the Door for Foreign Arbitration Institutions to Explore the Chinese Market?, available at http://arbitrationblog.kluwerarbitration.com/2014/07/15/does-supreme-peoples-courts-decision-open-the-door-for-foreign-arbitration-institutions-to-explore-the-chinese-market/

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Brentwood decision does not appear out of thin air, but contrarily, it is in line with the opening-up trend in the judicial practice of commercial arbitration in China started in 2013. At that time, the Supreme People’s Court ruled on the landmark Longlide case by confirming the validity of arbitration agreement which require arbitration proceeding conducted by foreign arbitration in China.[5]This stance has been followed and further developed by the First Intermediate Court of Shanghai in the recent Daesung Industrial Gases case,[6]. In this case, a clause providing “arbitration in Shanghai by Singapore International Arbitration Center” was under dispute by two respondents who alleged that foreign based institutions were prohibited from managing arbitration proceeding in China. However the court viewed this assertion as lacking of legal basis in Chinese law, and was contradictory to the developing trend of international commercial arbitration in the PRC.
In addition, local administrative authorities have shown firm stance and laudable attempt to promote the opening-up policy by attracting foreign institutions to carry out business in China. In late 2019, the justice department of Shanghai adopted new policies permitting foreign arbitration bodies to setup branch and carry out business in Lingang Free Trade Pilot Zone, and to set up detailed rules for registration and supervision in this regard.[7] On 28 August of 2020, the State Council agreed to a new proposal jointly by the Beijing government and the Ministry of Commerce on further opening up service industry, allowing world-renowned offshore arbitration institutions to run business in certain area of Beijing after registration at the Beijing justice department and the PRC Justice Ministry. This goes even further than Shanghai’s policy by stipulating that competent authorities shall support preservations for arbitration proceeding, increasing the reach of foreign institution on local justice system.[8]
Nevertheless, there are still lots of works to be done for the landing of foreign institutions:
First, as the lacuna in the law still exists, the judicial policy will continue to be “uncertain, fraught with difficulty and rapidly evolving” in this regard, as described by the High Court of Singapore. [9] Because Article 273 of Civil Procedural Law does not contain award by foreign institution stricto senso, and Guangzhou Court applied it only on analogous basis, this approach is more likely to be an expedient measure by taking into account surrounding circumstances (i.e. the validity of arbitration clause in dispute had been confirmed by the court itself, and all respondents had actively participated in the arbitration proceeding), instead of corollary of legal terms. Further, albeit the decision in Brentwood case is consistent with SPC’s opening-up and arbitration friendly policy, no evidence shows its legal validity was endorsed by SPC like that in Longlide case. Therefore, it is doubtful whether this approach will be employed by other courts in future.
Second, even though the validity and enforceability issues have been settled, the loophole in law concerning auxiliary measures (i.e. interim relief, decision of jurisdiction, etc.) and annulment proceeding remains unsolved, which will probably be another obstruction for foreign institution to proceed with arbitration proceeding in Continental China. The above mentioned proposal by Beijing government provides a good example in this respect, while this problem can only be fully settled through revision of law.

Third, the strict limitations on the content of arbitration agreement remain unchanged. Arbitration agreements providing ad hoc proceeding is still invalid by virtue of the law. Moreover referring dispute without foreign-related factor to foreign institutions is also unacceptable under current judicial policy, even for exclusively foreign-owned enterprises. These limitations have been heavily criticized by legal practitioners and researchers over the years, however whilst the above issues have been formally lifted, the arbitration agreement shall be well drafted in terms of both arbitration institution and the seat of arbitration.

[5] Longlide Packaging Co. Ltd. v. BP Agnati S.R.L. (SPC Docket Number: 2013-MinTa Zi No.13).
[6] Daesung Industrial Gases Co., Ltd.&Another v. Praxair (China) Investment Co., Ltd 2020 Hu 01 Min Te No.83.
[7] See: Measures for the Establishment of Business Bodies by Offshore Arbitration Institutions in the New Lingang Area of the Pilot Free Trade Zone of China (Shanghai) available at http://sfj.sh.gov.cn/xxgk_gfxwj/20191020/3fbcd61ef43147379c5841e28bdf6007.html
[8] See Article 8 of State Council’s Instruction on the Work Plan for the Construction of a National Demonstration Zone for Expanding and Opening Up Beijing’s Services Industry in a New Round of Comprehensive Pilot Project?available at http://www.gov.cn/zhengce/content/2020-09/07/content_5541291.htm?trs=1
[9] BNA v BNB [2019] SGHC 142 para.116.

Written by Giesela Rühl, Humboldt-University of Berlin

 

The protection of human rights in global supply chains has been high on the agenda of national legislatures for a number of years. Most recently, also the European Union has joined the bandwagon. After Commissioner for Justice Didier Reynders announced plans to prepare a European human rights to due diligence instrument in April 2020, the JURI Committee of the European Parliament has now published a Draft Report on corporate due diligence and corporate accountability. The Report contains a motion for a European Parliament Resolution and a Proposal for a Directive which will, if adopted, require European companies – and companies operating in Europe – to undertake broad mandatory human rights due diligence along the entire supply chain. Violations will result, among others, in a right of victims to claim damages.

The proposed Directive is remarkable because it amounts to the first attempt of the European legislature to establish cross-sectoral mandatory human rights due diligence obligations coupled with a mandatory civil liability regime. However, from a private international law perspective the Draft Report attracts attention because it also contains proposals to change the Brussels Ia Regulation and the Rome II Regulation. In this post I will briefly discuss – and criticize – the proposed changes to the Rome II Regulation. For a discussion of the changes to the Brussels Ia Regulation I refer to Geert Van Calster’s thoughts on GAVC.

Victims’ unilateral right to choose the applicable law

The proposed change to the Rome II Regulation envisions the introduction of a new Article 6a entitled “Business-related human rights claims”. Clearly modelled on Article 7 Rome II Regulation relating to environmental damage the proposal allows victims of human rights violations to choose the applicable law. However, unlike Article 7 Rome II Regulation, which limits the choice to the law of the place of injury and the law of the place of action, the proposed Article 6a allows victims of human rights violations to choose between potentially four different laws, namely

1) the law of the country in which the damage occurred, i.e. the law of the place of injury,

2) the law of the country in which the event giving rise to damage occurred, i.e. the law of the place of action,

3) the law of the country in which the parent company has its domicile or, where the parent company does not have a domicile in a Member State,

4) the law of the country where the parent company operates.

The rationale behind the proposed Article 6a Rome II Regulation is clear: The JURI Committee tries to make sure that the substantive provisions of the proposed Directive will actually apply – and not fall prey to Article 4(1) Rome II Regulation which, in typical supply chain cases, leads to application of the law of the host state in the Global South and, hence, non-EU law. By allowing victims to choose the applicable law, notably the law  of the (European) parent company, the JURI Committee takes up recommendations that have been made in the literature over the past years.

However, a right to choose the applicable law ex post – while certainly good for victims – is conceptually ill-conceived because it results in legal uncertainty for all companies that try to find out ex ante what their obligations are. Provisions like the proposed Article 6a Rome II Regulation, therefore, fundamentally impair the deterrence function of tort law and increase compliance costs for companies because they have to adjust their behaviour to four – potentially – different laws to avoid liability. It is for this reason that choice of law rules that allow one party to unilaterally choose the applicable law ex post have largely (even though not completely) fallen out of favour.

Alternative roads to European law

The proposed Article 6a Rome II Regulation, however, does not only fail to convince conceptually. It also fails to convince as regards to the purpose that it seeks to achieve. In fact, there are much better ways to ensure that European standards apply in supply chain cases. The most obvious way is to simply adopt the envisioned European instrument in the form of a Regulation. Its provisions would then have to be applied as international uniform law by all Member State courts – irrespective of the provisions of the Rome II Regulation. However, even if the European legislature prefers to adopt a European instrument in the form of a Directive – for political or competence reasons –, no change of the Rome II Regulation is necessary to ensure that it is applied throughout Europe. In fact, its provisions can simply be classified as overriding mandatory provisions in the meaning of Article 16 Rome II Regulation. The national provisions implementing the Directive will then apply irrespective of the otherwise applicable law.

In the light of the above, application of European human rights due diligence standards can be ensured without amending the Rome II Regulation. It is, therefore, recommended that the JURI Committee rethinks – and then abandons – the proposed Article 6a Rome II Regulation.

 

Note: This post is also available via the blog of the European Association of Private International Law.