At the heart of Rabiat Akande's inspiring article, “An Imperial History of Race-Religion in International Law,” is the problematization of international law as an enabler of the othering of “non-Euro-Christian” religions.1 Akande employs “the imperial history of international law” to demonstrate that “racial and religious othering were mutually co-constitutive in the colonial encounter.”2 She rightly points out that “the legacy of that past survives in the continuing interplay of the racial and religious of the non-Euro-Christian other.”3 The focus of my essay is the post-colonial/settler colony4 and post-apartheid state that is South Africa. I argue that despite its highly acclaimed Constitution,5 which values international law and human rights, colonial and apartheid legacies still exist in South Africa, and come in the form of subjugating minority religions in favor of Christianity. In particular, I focus on the failure of the South African government in 2024 to pass legislation that would legally recognize Muslim marriages despite a constitutional obligation to do so.6 I argue that the government's non-recognition of Muslim marriages for almost three decades is a result of South Africa's colonial and apartheid legacies. South Africa's international and constitutional obligations law should be at the heart of the South African government's realization of fundamental rights when dealing with matters pertaining to religious freedom, especially as they relate to Muslim marriages.

Ongoing deep seabed mining negotiations evoke two competing visions of the ocean: as a vast (social) emptiness rich in wealth for the taking; or as a place where deep human connections exist despite arbitrary lines drawn to distribute states’ legal authority over it. The first tends to be the prevailing view, and the second is a challenger grounded on culture and identity. In this essay, I wish to unpack the roles of traditional knowledge and cultural heritage in deep seabed mining negotiations. I argue that attention to states’ broader international legal obligations requires the deep seabed mining regime to take heritage and identity more seriously than it does at present, and thus to provide better pathways for communities with cultural links to the ocean to be involved in deep seabed mining negotiations. In particular, I show that intangible cultural heritage, a form of cultural heritage largely absent from deep seabed mining negotiations thus far, provides more solid doctrinal and practical ground for the regime's engagement with culture and identity.

In this essay, I reflect on the challenges and opportunities in ensuring the genuine and meaningful participation of Indigenous peoples at the International Seabed Authority (ISA), with a view to giving due consideration to Indigenous peoples’ human rights and integrating their knowledge into international decisions on deep-seabed mining. The essay begins with an assessment of how the current limitations in transparency and public participation in the practice of the ISA1 constitute barriers for the participation of Indigenous peoples. I then argue that existing international human rights obligations require Indigenous peoples’ participation at the ISA and that entry points within the ISA regime already exist to comply with these obligations. I conclude by emphasizing the need to support meaningful participation by Indigenous peoples through social sciences expertise and the involvement of independent international human rights experts, to actively address any biases vis-à-vis Indigenous knowledge.

Digital evidence is rapidly emerging as a tool for migration authorities in refugee status determination (RSD)—the procedure for determining whether a person meets the criteria for protection as a “refugee.” Its growing popularity may be seen as a response to the relative dearth of “hard” evidence in asylum procedures, where decisions often hinge exclusively on the applicant's personal narrative and assessment of her credibility. In this essay, we critically examine the growing use of digital evidence in RSD by authorities and the human rights concerns that arise from some of these practices. We then move to outline some examples of how digital evidence might also present new opportunities for scholars, practitioners, and asylum seekers themselves, helping to substantiate claims and document underlying inequities in existing RSD practices. In the process, we seek to navigate a balance between the techno-solutionism that hails digital evidence as a panacea and those a priori dismissing digitization as techno-hype and inherently problematic.

In 2021, the French government commissioned two reports on episodes of extreme violence involving France's past: the Algerian War and the Rwandan genocide. Both reports grapple with how “the past haunts the present and the future,”3 a theme that is central to Karen Knop's scholarly legacy. In both reports, legal, historical, and archival expertise are positioned to redraw and recast relations of France to Africa. We argue that the reports’ focus on the role of a particular class of experts (namely archivist and historians, rather than lawyers) reflects France's current approach to narrating historical injustice, emphasizing public memory of violent pasts, rather than legal responsibility of the French state.

The use of digital evidence increases concurrently with increased digitalization of the larger world and of justice processes. This essay aims to address the use of digital evidence in interstate disputes and other disputes involving states. It focuses on the case law of two international arbitral bodies—the Permanent Court of Arbitration (PCA) and the International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes (ICSID)—and of the International Court of Justice (ICJ). The analysis discloses three main concerns when dealing with digital evidence: authorship, authenticity, and chain of custody. We propose that courts create permanent and ad hoc digital forensic expert committees to draft guidelines and perform a preliminary admissibility evaluation of digital evidence.

In this essay, I think with Karen Knop about the heuristic and critical potential of the framework of Foreign Relations Law (FRL) for Private International Law (PrIL). I apply the framework of FRL to the recognition of foreign marriages in Denmark to study how PrIL is operationalized by domestic authorities. FRL helps us see how PrIL's operationalization engages a wide array of legal fields, including Public International Law (PIL), domestic administrative law, and immigration law, as well as the domains of foreign service and foreign policy. In doing so, PrIL in this context draws upon all these fields’ rationales and implicit assumptions. I argue that a FRL perspective not only contributes to PrIL's theoretical self-reflection, but also enhances PrIL's capacity for subversiveness—“its ability to unsettle by showing a given legal system's assumptions and approaches to be a matter of choice rather than simply common sense.”1

South Africa is known historically for racial apartheid when people were classified as white, Indian, Colored, or Black/Native.1 Indians, Coloreds, and Blacks were discriminated against and denied rights afforded to whites. One example was the right to vote, which was withheld from anyone not classified as white.2 What is less well known is that other forms of discrimination also existed, including religion, culture, gender, and sexual orientation. These discriminations manifested in religious marriage laws. They also intersected in the domain of marriage through race and religion, resulting in what Rabiat Akande describes as “mutually imbricated religious and racial othering.”3 Akande's observation that “Euro-Christian foundations of the legal regime of religious liberty” excluded minority religions from legal protections in colonial settler situations resonates in South Africa.4 Apartheid South Africa adopted a colonial European Christianized approach to marriage, namely, the voluntary union of one man to one woman for the duration of the marriage.5 This definition of marriage was embedded within South Africa's common law and entrenched values of heteronormativity and monogamy, both of which are inherent in a Christian understanding of marriage. Consequently, same-sex marriages were excluded from legal protection.6 Similarly, customary marriages and Muslim, Hindu, and Jewish marriages were not legally recognized because they were potentially polygynous, which in South Africa was deemed immoral and contrary to the colonial and apartheid era notions of public policy.7 This essay focuses on the legal implications of Hindu marriages not being legally recognized in South Africa, and especially the disparate effect that this has on women. The essay thus adds a gendered dimension to Akande's arguments about religious discrimination.

I have been asked by the symposium editors to write about the participatory scope of the concept of common heritage of humankind for Indigenous peoples, local communities, and future generations. Leaning into the possibilities of the Unbound format, I approach the topic in an athwart way. With a focus on seabed mining, I begin with describing a recent occasion on which Indigenous leaders joined a meeting of the International Seabed Authority (ISA) to discuss the mining regime that is in progress. I tease out the meanings that may be drawn from this instance of participation, including the claims that it made to the ocean as common heritage. Next, I turn to the limits of such participation, given the set parameters of the regime. My overall argument, discussed in the final section, is that the real issue at stake is not the possible conceptual scope of the common heritage principle. Rather, its actualization has been such that the burden is effectively shifted to marginalized voices to seek goals that do not disturb the overarching seabed mining regime.