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Has the Battle Just Begun for Collective Action against Big Tech Companies?
Julia Hörnle, Professor of Internet Law, CCLS, Queen Mary University of London[1]
It is now well known that internet users are widely tracked and profiled by a range of actors and the advancements in data science mean that such tracking and profiling is increasingly commercially profitable[2]. This raises difficult questions about how to balance the value of data with individual privacy. But since there is no point in having privacy (or data protection) rights if no redress can be found to vindicate them, it is even more important to investigate how internet users can obtain justice, if their privacy has been infringed. Given the power of Big Tech Companies, their enormous financial resources, cross-jurisdictional reach and their global impact on users’ privacy, there are two main litigation challenges for successfully bringing a privacy claim against Big Tech. One is the jurisdictional challenge of finding a competent court in the same jurisdiction as the individual users.[3] Secondly, the challenge is how to finance mass claims, involving millions of affected users. In privacy claims it is likely that there is significant user detriment, potentially with long-term and latent consequences, which are difficult to measure. This constellation provides a strong argument for facilitating collective redress, as otherwise individual users may not be able to obtain justice for privacy infringements before the courts. In privacy infringement claims these two challenges are intertwined and present a double-whammy for successful redress. Courts in a number of recent cases had to grapple with questions of jurisdiction in consumer collective redress cases in the face of existing provision on consumer jurisdiction and collective redress, which have not (yet) been fully adapted to deal with the privacy challenges stemming from Big Tech in the 21st century.
In Case C-498/16 Max Schrems v Facebook Ireland[4] the Court of Justice of the EU in 2018 denied the privilege of EU law for consumers to sue in their local court[5] to a representative (ie Max Schrems) in a representative privacy litigation against Facebook under Austrian law. By contrast, courts in California and Canada have found a contractual jurisdiction and applicable law clause invalid as a matter of public policy in order to allow a class action privacy claim to proceed against Facebook.[6] In England, the dual challenge of jurisdiction and collective actions in a mass privacy infringement claim has presented itself before the English Courts, first in Vidal-Hall v Google before the Court of Appeal in 2015[7] and in the Supreme Court judgment of Google v Lloyd in November 2021[8]. Both cases concerned preliminary proceedings on the question of whether the English courts had jurisdiction to hear the action, ie whether the claimant was able to serve Google with proceedings in the USA and have illustrated the limitations of English law for the feasibility of bringing a collective action in mass-privacy infringement claims.
The factual background to Vidal- Hall and Lloyd is the so-called “Safari workaround” which allowed Google for some time in 2011-2012 to bypass Apple privacy settings by placing DoubleClick Ad cookies on unsuspecting users of Apple devices, even though Safari was trying to block such third party cookies, used for extensive data collection and advertising. The claimants alleged that this enabled Google to collect personal data, including sensitive data, such as users’ interests, political affiliations, race or ethnicity, social class, political and religious beliefs, health, sexual interests, age, gender, financial situation and location. Google additionally creates profiles from the aggregated information which it sells. The claim made was that Google as data controller had breached the following data protection principles set out in the Data Protection Act 1998 Schedules 1 and 2: 1st (fair and lawful processing), 2nd (processing only for specified and lawful purposes) and 7th (technical and organizational security measures). In particular, it was alleged that Google had not notified Apple iPhone users of the purposes of processing in breach of Schedule 1, Part II, paragraph 2 and that the data was not processed fairly according to the conditions set out in Schedules 2 and 3.
Vidal-Hall[9] concerned the first challenge of jurisdiction and in particular whether the court should allow the serving of proceedings on the defendant outside the jurisdiction under the Civil Procedure Rules[10]. For privacy infringement, previous actions had been brought under the cause of action of breach of confidence[11], which is a claim in equity and, thus it was unclear whether for such actions jurisdiction lies at the place of where the damage occurs. The Court of Appeal held that misuse of private information and contravention of the statutory data protection requirements was a tort and therefore, if damage had been sustained within England, the English courts had jurisdiction and service to the USA (California) was allowed.
The second hurdle for allowing the case to proceed by serving outside the jurisdiction was the question of whether the claimant was limited to claiming financial loss or whether a claim for emotional distress could succeed. The Court of Appeal in Vidal-Hall decided that damages are available for distress, even in the absence of financial loss, to ensure the correct implementation of Article 23 of the (then) Data Protection Directive, and in order to comply with Articles 7 and 8 of the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the EU. The Court therefore found that there was a serious issue to be tried and allowed service abroad to proceed, at which point the case settled.
The more recent English Supreme Court judgment in Lloyd concerned the second challenge, collective redress. As pointed out by Lord Leggatt in the judgment, English procedural law provides for three different types of actions: Group Litigation Orders (CPR 19.11), common law representative actions, and statutory collective proceedings under the Competition Act 1998. Their differences are significant for the purposes of litigation financing in two respects: first the requirement to identify and “sign-up” claimants and secondly, the requirement for individualized assessment of damages. Since both these requirements are expensive, they make collective redress in mass privacy infringement cases with large numbers of claimants impractical.
Group actions require all claimants to be identified and entered in a group register (“opt-in”) and are therefore expensive to administer, which renders them commercially unviable if each individual claim is small and if the aim is to spread the cost of litigation across a large number of claimants.
English statutory law in the shape of the Competition Act 1998 provides for collective proceedings before the Competition Appeal Tribunal in competition law cases only.[12] Since the reforms by the Consumer Rights Act in 2015, they can be brought under an “opt-in” or “opt-out” mechanism. Opt-out means that a class can be established without the need for affirmative action by each and every member of the class individually. The significance of this is that it is notoriously difficult (and expensive) to motivate a large number of consumers to join a collective redress scheme. Human inertia frequently prevents a representative claimant from joining more than a tiny fraction of those affected. For example, 130 people (out of 1.2-1.5 million) opted into the price-fixing case against JJB Sports concerning replica football shirts.[13] Likewise, barely 10,000 out of about 100,000 of Morrison’s employees joined the group action against the supermarket chain for unlawful disclosure of private data on the internet by another employee.[14] Furthermore, s.47C (2) of the Competition Act obviates the need for individual assessment of damages, but limits the requirement to prove damages to the class as a whole, as an aggregate award of damages, as held by Lord Briggs in Merricks v Mastercard[15]. However no such advanced scheme of collective redress has yet been enacted in relation to mass privacy infringement claims.
While the Supreme Court held that Mr Lloyd’s individual claim had real prospect of success, the same could not necessarily be said of everyone in the class he represented. This case was brought as a representative action where Mr Lloyd represented the interests of everyone in England and Wales who used an iPhone at the relevant time and who had third party cookies placed by Google on their device. One of the interesting features of representative actions is that they can proceed on an opt-out basis, like the collective actions under the Competition Law Act. Common law representative actions have been established for hundreds of years and have now been codified in CPR Rule 19.6: “Where more than one person has the same interest in a claim by or against one or more of the persons who have the same interest as representatives of any other person who have that interest”. Thus representative actions are based on the commonality of interest between claimants. The pivotal issue in Lloyd was the degree of commonality of that interest and in particular, whether this commonality must extend to the losses, which claimants have suffered, and proof of damages.
Lord Leggatt in Lloyd emphasized the spirit of flexibility of representative actions. Previous caselaw in the Court of Appeal had held that it was possible for claimants to obtain a declaration by representative action, which declares that they have rights which are common to all of them, even though the loss and amount of damages may vary between them.[16] He held that a bifurcated approach was permissible: a representative action can be brought seeking a declaration about the common interests of all claimants, which can then form the basis for individual claims for redress. Lord Leggatt held that, depending on the circumstances, a representative action could even be brought in respect of a claim for damages, if the total amount of damages could be determined for the class as a whole, even if the amount for each individual claimant varied, as this was a matter which could be settled between the claimants in a second step. He held that, therefore, a representative action can proceed even if a claim for damages was an element of the representative action, as in Lloyd.
Lord Leggatt found that the interpretation of what amounts to the “same interest” was key and that there needed to be (a) common issue(s) so that the “representative can be relied on to conduct the litigation in a way which will effectively promote and protect the interests of all the members of the represented class.”[17] The problem in Lloyd was that the total damage done to privacy by the Safari workaround was unknown.
Lord Leggatt saw no reason why a representative action for a declaration that Google was in breach of the Data Protection Act 1998, and that each member was entitled to compensation for the damage suffered as a consequence of the breach, should fail. However, commercial litigation funding in practice cannot fund actions seeking a mere declaration, but need to be built on the recovery of damages, in order to finance costs. In order to avoid the need for individualised damages, the claim for damages was formulated as a claim for uniform per capita damages. The problem on the facts of this case was clearly that the Safari workaround did not affect all Apple users in the same manner, as their internet usage, the nature and amount of data collected, as well as the effect of the data processing varied, all of which required individualised assessment of damages.
For this reason, the claimant argued that an infringement of the Data Protection Act 1998 leads to automatic entitlement to compensation without the need to show specific financial loss or emotional distress. This argument proved to be ultimately unsuccessful and therefore the claim failed. The Court examined Section 13 of the Data Protection Act 1998, entitling the defendant to compensation for damage, but the court held that each claimant had to prove such damage. The level of distress varied between different members of the represented class, meaning that individual assessment was necessary.
The claimant sought to apply the cases on the tort of misuse of private information by analogy. In this jurisprudence the courts have allowed for an award of damages for wrongful intrusion of privacy as such, without proof of distress in order to compensate for the “loss of control” over formerly private information.[18] Lord Leggatt pointed out that English common law now recognized the right to control access to one’s private affairs and infringement of this right itself was a harm for which compensation is available.
However in this particular case the claim had not been framed as the tort of misuse of private information or privacy intrusion, but as a breach of statutory duty and Lord Leggatt held that the same principle, namely the availability of damages for “loss of control” did not apply to the statutory scheme. He pointed out that it may be difficult to frame a representative action for misuse of private information, as it may be difficult to prove reasonable expectations of privacy for the class as a whole. This may well be the reason that the claim in this case was based on breach of statutory duty in relation to the Data Protection Act. Essentially the argument that “damages” in Section 13 (1) included “loss of control” over private data was unsuccessful. Both Article 23 of the Data Protection Directive and Article 13 made a distinction between the unlawful act (breach of data protection requirements) and the damage resulting, and did not conceive the unlawful act itself as the damage. Furthermore, it was not intended by the Directive or the Act that each and every contravention led to an entitlement to damages. He held that “loss of control” of personal data was not the concept underlying the data protection regime, as processing can be justified by consent, but also other factors which made processing lawful, so the control over personal data is not absolute.
Furthermore, it did not follow from the fact that both the tort of misuse of private information and the data protection legislation shared the same purposes of protecting the right to privacy under Article 8 of the European Convention of Human Rights that the same rule in respect of damages should apply in respect of both. There was no reason “why the basis on which damages are awarded for an English domestic tort should be regarded as relevant to the proper interpretation of the term “damage” in a statutory provision intended to implement a European directive”.[19] He concluded that a claim for damages under Section 13 required the proof of material damage or distress. He held that the claim had no real prospect of success and that therefore no permission should be given to serve proceedings outside the jurisdiction (on Google in the US).
This outcome of Lloyd raises the question in the title of this article, namely whether the cross-border battle on collective actions in mass privacy infringement cases against Big Tech has been lost, or whether on the contrary, it has just begun. One could argue that it has just began for the reason that the facts underlying this case occurred in 2011-2012, and therefore the judgment limited itself to the Data Protection Act 1998 (and the then Data Protection Directive 1995/46/EC). Since then the UK has left the EU, but has retained the General Data Protection Regulation[20] (“the UK GDPR”) and implemented further provisions in the form of the Data Protection Act 2018, both of which contain express provisions on collective redress. The GDPR provides for opt-in collective redress performed by a not-for-profit body in the field of data protection established for public interest purposes.[21] This is narrow collective redress as far removed from commercial litigations funders as possible. Because of the challenge of financing cross-border mass-privacy infringements claims, this is unlikely to be a practical option. The GDPR makes it optional for Member States to provide that such public interest bodies are empowered to bring opt-out collective actions for compensation before the courts.[22] These provisions unfortunately do not add anything to common law representative actions or group actions under English law. As has been illustrated above, representative actions can be brought on an “opt-out” basis, but have a narrow ambit in that all parties must have the same interest in the claim and Lloyd has demonstrated that in the case of distress this communality of interest may well defeat a claim. For group actions the bar of communality is lower, as it may encompass “claims which give rise to common or related issues of fact or law”[23]. But clearly the downside of group actions is that they are opt-in. Therefore, while English law recognizes collective redress, there are limitations to its effectiveness.
The Data Protection Act 2018 imposes an obligation on the Secretary of State to review the provision on collective redress, and in particular, consider the need for opt-out collective redress, and lay a report before Parliament. This may lead to Regulations setting out a statutory opt-out collective redress scheme for data protection in the future.[24] This Review is due in 2023.
Thus, the GDPR and the Data Protection Act 2018 have not yet added anything to the existing collective redress. It can only be hoped that the Secretary of State reviews the collective redress mechanisms in relation to data protection law and the review leads to a new statutory collective redress scheme, similar to that enacted in respect of Competition Law in 2015, thereby addressing the challenge of holding Big Tech to account for privacy infringement.[25]
However the new data protection law has improved the provision of recoverable heads of damage. This improvement raises the question, if the issues in Lloyd had been raised under the current law, whether the outcome would have been different. The Data Protection Act 2018 now explicitly clarifies that the right to compensation covers both material and non-material damage and that non-material damage includes distress.[26] Since non-material damage is now included in the Act, the question arises whether this new wording could be interpreted by a future court as including the privacy infringement itself (loss of control over one’s data). Some of the arguments made by Lord Leggatt in Lloyd continue to be relevant under the new legislation, for example that the tort of statutory breach is different from the tort of misuse of private information and that not each and every (minor) infringement of a statute should give raise to an entitlement for damages. Nevertheless it is clear from the new Act that non-material damage is included and that non-material damage includes distress, but is wider than distress. This means that claimants should be able to obtain compensation for other heads of non-material damage, which may include the latent consequences of misuse of personal information and digital surveillance. There is much scope for arguing that some of the damage caused by profiling and tracking are the same for all claimants. A future representative action in an equivalent scenario may well be successful. Therefore, the battle for collective action against Big Tech companies’ in privacy infringement cases may just have begun.
[1] J.hornle@qmul.ac.uk
[2] Shoshana Zuboff The Age of Surveillance Capitalism (2018)
[3] See further J. Hörnle, Internet Jurisdiction Law & Practice (OUP 2021)
[4] ECLI:EU:C:2018:37; discussed further in J. Hörnle fn 1 Chapter 8
[5] Ie the courts of the consumer’s domicile, if the business directed their activities to that state, Art 17 and Art 18 (1) Brussels Regulation on Jurisdiction (EU) 1215/2021
[6] In Re Facebook Biometric Information Privacy Litigation 185 F.Supp.3d 1155 (US District Court N.D. California 2016) and Douez v Facebook [2017] SCC 33; discussed further in J. Hörnle fn 1 Chapter 8
[7] [2016] QB 1003
[8] [2021] 3 WLR 1268
[9] [2015] 3 WLR 409 (CA)
[10] CPR PD 6B para.3.1(9)
[11] Campbell v MGN Ltd [2004] 2 WLR 1232 (HL)
[12] Section 47B
[13] The Consumers Association v JJB Sports Plc [2009] CAT 2
[14] Various Claimants v WM Morrisons Supermarkets Plc [2017] EWHC 3113 (QB)
[15] [2021] Bus LR 25, para 76
[16] David Jones v Cory Bros & Co Ltd (1921) 56 LJ 302; 152 LT Jo 70
[17] Paras 71-74
[18] by Mann J affirmed in the Court of Appeal Gulati v MGN Ltd [2017] QB 149
[19] Para 124
[20] Regulation (EU) 2016/679, L119, 4 May 2016, p. 1–88
[21] Art 80 (1)
[22] Arts 79 and 80 (2) in relation to effective judicial remedies
[23] CPR Part 19- Group Litigation Orders, Rules 19.10, 19.11
[24] ss. 189-190
[25] The current government, however seems to march in the opposite direction, see Consultation on reform of data protection law https://www.gov.uk/government/consultations/data-a-new-direction
[26] S. 168 (1)
Court of Justice of the EU on the recognition of parentage
After the Coman judgment of 2018, the Grand Chamber of the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) has again rendered a judgment in the field of free movement of citizens that is of importance for private international law. Like in Coman, the judgment in V.M.A. of 14 December 2021 concerned a non-traditional family of which the members sought to make use of their right to free movement in the EU under the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU) and Directive 2004/38. The Charter of Fundamental Rights of the EU (Charter) was also pertinent, particularly its Article 7 on respect for private and family life, Article 9 on the right to marry and the right to found a family, Article 24 on the rights of the child, and Article 45 on freedom of movement and of residence.
While Coman concerned the definition of “spouse” under Article 2 of the Directive, in V.M.A. the CJEU addressed the definition of “direct descendants” in the same provision.
Two women, V.M.A., a Bulgarian national, and K.D.K., a national of the United Kingdom, were married and lived in Spain. A daughter, S.D.K.A., was born in Spain. Her Spanish birth certificate indicated V.M.A. as “mother A” and K.D.K. as “mother”. V.M.A. applied to the Sofia municipality for a birth certificate for S.D.K.A. in order to obtain a Bulgarian identity document for her. She submitted a legalised and certified translation into Bulgarian of the extract from the civil register of Barcelona.
The Sofia municipality refused this application, due to the lack of information on S.D.K.A.’s biological mother and because the reference to two mothers was contrary to Bulgarian public policy.
The Administrative Court of the City of Sofia, to which V.M.A. appealed the municipality’s decision, posed four questions to the CJEU. It sought to know whether Articles 20 and 21 of the TFEU and Articles 7, 24 and 45 of the Charter oblige Bulgaria to recognise the Spanish birth certificate despite its mentioning two mothers and despite the fact that it was unclear who the biological mother of the child was. It also questioned EU Member States’ discretion regarding rules for the establishment of parentage. A further relevant point was Brexit and the fact that the child would not be able to get EU citizenship through the other mother, who is a UK citizen.
The Grand Chamber ruled as follows:
Article 4(2) TEU, Articles 20 and 21 TFEU and Articles 7, 24 and 45 of the Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union, read in conjunction with Article 4(3) of Directive 2004/38/EC of the European Parliament and of the Council of 29 April 2004 on the right of citizens of the Union and their family members to move and reside freely within the territory of the Member States amending Regulation (EEC) No 1612/68 and repealing Directives 64/221/EEC, 68/360/EEC, 72/194/EEC, 73/148/EEC, 75/34/EEC, 75/35/EEC, 90/364/EEC, 90/365/EEC and 93/96/EEC, must be interpreted as meaning that, in the case of a child, being a minor, who is a Union citizen and whose birth certificate, issued by the competent authorities of the host Member State, designates as that child’s parents two persons of the same sex, the Member State of which that child is a national is obliged (i) to issue to that child an identity card or a passport without requiring a birth certificate to be drawn up beforehand by its national authorities, and (ii) to recognise, as is any other Member State, the document from the host Member State that permits that child to exercise, with each of those two persons, the child’s right to move and reside freely within the territory of the Member States.
The CJEU thus obliges Bulgaria, through EU law, to recognise the Spanish birth certificate. The CJEU is not concerned with the issue of a birth certificate in Bulgaria, but rather with the identity document (the requirements under national law for the identity document cannot be used to refuse to issue such identity document – see para 45).
The parentage established lawfully in Spain has the result that the parents of a Union citizen who is a minor and of whom they are the primary carers, be recognised by all Member States as having the right to accompany that child when her right to move and reside freely within the territory of the Member States is being exercised (para 48)
The CJEU refers to the identity document as the document that permits free movement. This wording seems, on a first reading, to be broader than the ruling in Coman, where the CJEU ruled on the recognition of the same-sex marriage only for purposes of the right to residence. However, in para 57 the Court seems to include the Coman limitation: Such an obligation does not require the Member State of which the child concerned is a national to provide, in its national law, for the parenthood of persons of the same sex, or to recognise, for purposes other than the exercise of the rights which that child derives from EU law, the parent-child relationship between that child and the persons mentioned on the birth certificate drawn up by the authorities of the host Member State as being the child’s parents.
But I’m sure much debate will follow about the extent of the obligation to recognise. As readers might be aware, the European Commission earlier this year set up an Expert Group on the Recognition of Parentage between Member States.
The Hidden Treasure Trove of Conflicts of Law: the Case Law of the Mixed Courts of the Colonial Era
Guest post by Willem Theus, PhD Researcher (KULeuven, cotutelle with UCLouvain)
The history of private international law (or ‘conflict of laws’) is incomplete. Private international law textbooks have always referred to the essentials of the history of our discipline.[1] However, these essentials are often solely based on the history of conflict of laws in the West and on the works of western authors such as Huber, Von Savigny and Story. It is undoubtedly true that these authors played an important role and that the “modern” conflict of laws finds it origin in 19thcentury Europe, when the split between private and public international law occurred.[2] This is however only one part of history.
Conflict of laws systems have been around much longer and are definitely not uniquely western. They were already present in the very first civilizations, with some rules of that ancient history still resembling our present-day rules.[3]Conflict of laws is “the body of law that aims to resolve claims involving foreign elements”.[4] A state or international border is therefore not required to have a conflict of laws system,[5] only different jurisdictions and laws (i.e. legal pluralism[6]) are. A distinction could therefore be made between “external” (i.e. crossing an international State border) conflict of laws or private international law and “internal” conflict of laws (i.e. within one State).[7] Both the historical research and the contemporary study of our field should arguably reflect much more on precolonial and/or non-western conflict of laws systems and on the unique linkage between the national (or “internal”) and international (or “external”) spheres. This is especially so given that “external” conflict of laws rules seem to sometimes guide “internal” conflict of laws cases.[8] I offer one historical example to highlight the new perspectives that such a widening of scope could offer.
In a not so distant and colonial past, there were multiple “internationalized” or mixed courts in various regions and nations. The last such mixed court only closed its doors in 1980.[9] In general, mixed courts were local courts that employed a mixed (read mostly Western) bench, bar and legal system to deal with legal conflicts that had a mixed or “foreign” element, i.e. conflicts not exclusively related to one local or foreign resident population.[10] Those exclusively local or intra-foreigner -of the same nationality- legal conflicts were often dealt with by various local or consular courts. The mixed or “foreign” element was however often widely interpreted and therefore quickly kicked in, leading to overlapping jurisdictions in many instances and therefore to a conflict of laws system.
An example of such a set-up is the Tangier International Zone (1923-1956), a treaty-based multinational run zone, which remained under the Sovereignty of the Sultan of Morocco. It had various multinational institutions with local involvement. In the Zone, five different legal systems co-existed, each with their own courts. These were the American Consular Court, the Special Tribunal of the State Bank of Morocco, the Moroccan Sharia courts, the Moroccan Rabbinical courts and the Mixed Court. The latter dealt with all cases that had a “foreign” element (except American as they went to the aforementioned American Consular Court).[11] Both “internal” and “external” conflict of law systems in fact overlap here. Indeed the Mixed Court and the two Moroccan courts were “local” courts with the judges being formally appointed by the Sultan, whereas the American Consular Court was in essence an ad hoc American court in Tangier. The Special Tribunal was some sort of early investment protection court with very limited jurisdiction.
Naturally, in such a set-up conflict of laws cases were frequent, as illustrated by the Toledano-case which came before the Mixed Court. In 1949 a dispute between the heirs of the large inheritance of a Tangerine Jew, Isaac Toledano, broke out. The key question concerned the nationality of Isaac – and as such the questions of jurisdiction and applicable law. During his lifetime Isaac had become a Spanish citizen by naturalization, yet he had seemingly always lived in Morocco. Had he somehow lost his Moroccan citizenship? If so, the mixed courts would have jurisdiction and Spanish law would apply, leading his inheritance to be divided under all his children, including his married daughters. If not, the rabbinical courts of Tangier and rabbinical law would apply, leading to his inheritance to only go to his sons and unmarried daughters. On appeal the court overturned the judgment of first instance that held that he had retained his Moroccan nationality. He was deemed to be Spanish and therefore Spanish law was to be applied.[12]
Such jurisdictional caselaw is only a part of this conflict of laws treasure trove. The caselaw of the mixed courts seemingly encompasses all types of conflict of laws questions and many other legal questions. I have to say seemingly, as the caselaw of the mixed courts has in recent times barely been studied and their archives (if known at all) are scattered throughout the globe. A closer look could undoubtedly open up new perspectives to conflict of laws, and some of these mixed courts’ experiences and case-law could perhaps help to guide ever-recurring questions of personal status matters regarding foreigners. The Emirate of Abu Dhabi has for example reintroduced special personal status provisions for non-Muslim foreigners as reported on conflictoflaws recently. The courts also offer new perspectives for public international law as certain mixed courts acted as “true” international courts when interpreting their treaties. An example is the Court of Appeal of Mixed Court of Tangier going against the International Court of Justice in 1954 when it held that it alone had the authority to provide authoritative interpretations of the Zone’s constitutive treaties.[13] The Mixed Courts could even open new perspectives to EU-law as many early key EU lawyers and judges have ties to certain Mixed Courts.[14] Much work is therefore still to be done. This piece is a call to arms for just that.
[1] Hatzimihail, N.E. (2021) Preclassical Conflict of Laws. Cambridge University Press 51-52.
[2] For an overview of this period see: Banu, R. (2018). Nineteenth Century Perspectives on Private International Law. Oxford University Press
[3] Yntema, Hessel E. (1953). The Historic Bases of Private International Law. The American Journal of Comparative Law, vol. 2, no. 3, 301. Yntema refers to the following text found in a Fayoum Papyri: “Contracts between Greeks-who had established colonies in Egypt (red.)-and Egyptians, if in Greek form, should be tried before the chrematists, the Greek courts; if in Egyptian form, before the laocrites, the native courts, in accordance with the laws of the country.”
[4] Okoli, C.S.A. (2020). Private International Law in Nigeria. Hart, 3.
[5] Okoli, Op.cit., 3-7; Yntema. Op.cit., 299
[6] For a good overview of the different meanings of this term see: Benda-Beckmann, B. & Turner, B. (2018). Legal Pluralism, Social Theory, and the State. Journal of Legal Pluralism and Unofficial Law, 50(3), 255–274
[7] This distinction is not new and is used in legislation. See for example: Non-application of This Regulation to Internal Conflicts of Laws. (2016). In A. Calvo Caravaca, A. Davì, & H. Mansel (Eds.), The EU Succession Regulation: A Commentary (pp. 521-529). Cambridge University Press.
[8] Okoli Op.cit, 3.
[9] Pacific Manuscripts Bureau, Collection MS 1145: Judgements of the Joint Court of the New Hebrides. Retrieved from <https://asiapacific.anu.edu.au/pambu/catalogue/index.php/judgements-of-joint-court-of-new-hebrides> accessed 13 December 2021. It was known as a ‘Joint’ Court and not ‘Mixed’ as there were only two powers involved: France and the UK. Although in French it was still referred to as a Tribunal Mixte. Mixed Courts mostly existed in countries that were not-directly colonized, yet still under heavy Western influence such as Siam, China and Egypt. They were mostly founded due to western distrust for the local legal systems and build forth on the principle of personal jurisdiction (and the connected later principle of extraterritoriality and the connected Capitulations and Unequal Treaties).
[10] Erpelding, M. (2020). Mixed Courts of the Colonial Era. In Hélène Ruiz Fabri (ed), Max Planck Encyclopedia of International Procedural Law. Oxford University Press.
[11] Erpelding, M & Rherrousse, F. (2019) The Mixed Court of Tangier. In Héne Ruiz Fabri (ed), Max Planck Encyclopedia of International Procedural Law. Oxford University Press, paras 22-24.
[12] de Radigues de Chenneviere, C. (5 April 1949). ‘Procès Toledano’. Tangier, P 452/717, AF-12-A-3 (Diplomatic Archives of the Kingdom of Belgium)
[13] Grawitz, M. (1955). Arrêt du 13 août 1954. Annuaire français de droit international, 1(1), 324–328
[14] Erpelding, M. (2020). International law and the European Court of Justice: the Politics of Avoiding History, Journal of the History of International Law, 22(2-3), 446-471.
News
Praxis des Internationalen Privat- und Verfahrensrechts (IPRax) 5/2024: Abstracts
The latest issue of the „Praxis des Internationalen Privat- und Verfahrensrechts“ (IPRax) features the following articles: Read more
Virtual Workshop (In English) on September 10: Nieve Rubaja on International Surrogancy Agreements From the Latin American Perspective. An Overview.
On Tuesday, September 10, 2024, the Hamburg Max Planck Institute will host its monthly virtual workshop Current Research in Private International Law at 2:00 pm – 3:30 pm (CEST). Nieve Rubaja (University of Buenos Aires) will speak, in English, about the topic
International Surrogacy Agreements From the Latin American Perspective. An Overview.
The media, judicial cases and administrative constraints show that surrogacy is a reality in Latin American countries. Regulation on this subject matter has become a need in order to protect the human rights involved, especially the rights of the children born. Over the last decades, legal systems in Latin America have been transversely affected by the emergence and progressivity of human rights. In addition, there are more than 20 countries in the region and each of them has its own historical, social and cultural shades; therefore, human rights have been a key factor for the unification of some conceptions in the region. This imprint impacts on surrogacy regulation (and bills) both for domestic and for cross-border cases. The few countries which provide rules regarding cross-border surrogacy cases choose a recognition approach. According to this, the legal parentage established abroad must be recognised in the forum if it is compatible with their international public policy, taking into account the best interest of the child. Among Latin American countries Argentina, Brazil, Mexico and El Salvador have designated representatives to participate in the Working Group on the Parentage/Surrogacy Project of the Hague Conference of Private International Law, which brings an opportunity to include Latin American voices. This meeting aims at providing an overview of the comparative analysis carried out considering the distinctive features of the region.
The presentation will be followed by an open discussion. All are welcome. More information and sign-up here.
If you want to be invited to these events in the future, please write to veranstaltungen@mpipriv.de.
RIDOC 2024: Call for Abstracts
RIDOC 2024: Rijeka Doctoral Conference has been announced by the RIDOC2024-Call.
Interested doctoral students and candidates in law or law-related areas may apply by sending the abstract accompanied by their CV to ridoc@pravri.uniri.hr.
Important dates:
20 September 2024 – application deadline
15 October 2024 – information on acceptance by the Programme Committee
13 December 2024 – conference presentation
RIDOC conferences have been organised by the University of Rijeka, Faculty of Law since 2016, regularly featuring sessions on private international law.