Another fascinating guest post by Andrew Jillions on the politics of trust in the context of the highly controversial, yet widespread, practice of granting diplomatic assurances. Enjoy!

(Photo: DVIDS)
Diplomatic assurances and the politics of trust
The recent decision preventing the UK from returning Abu Qatada to face trial in Jordan for terrorist related crimes has sparked a lot of discussion – especially in the popular presses – about how sovereignty simply doesn’t mean what it used to. Bad Foreign Men are being granted a privileged status over the Good British People, at the behest of Unelected European Judges.
Lost in this ridiculous narrative – a narrative that conveniently serves David Cameron’s larger purposes of reforming the European Court of Human Rights– is the potential it has to undermine the prohibition on torture. Crucially, the Court wasn’t worried that Abu Qatada would be tortured himself. In coming to this conclusion, the ECHR gave a greenlight to the institutionalization of ‘diplomatic assurances’ (DAs). For anyone concerned about the force of the norms prohibiting torture, this is a worrying legacy. Quite the contrary to Cameron’s Daily Mail spin, this strengthens states’ already expansive powers to decide on security deportations and, crucially, gives states the power to legitimately contract around the principle of non-refoulement.
Re-balancing rights and security
The idea behind diplomatic assurances is that some states – such as Jordan, in the Abu Qatada case – are known to be less than fully compliant with their international human rights obligations. At various times, the governments of these states have been accused of torture and other ill-treatment. States’ right to return an individual to their country of origin or to respond to an extradition request is not absolute; the question that needs to be asked and answered before the removal can take place is whether the individual is or will be at high risk of having their fundamental human rights violated once they’ve been removed. This is the principle of non-refoulement, which prohibits return when there is a clear threat of torture and other serious violations of basic human rights.
The argument is that this creates a direct tension between human rights and national security norms. Non-refoulement restricts that most basic sovereign power to decide who is allowed in and who has to get out. When you place counter-terrorism at the centre of the policy-making universe these restrictions on border security look immediately obsolete, a cosmopolitan throwback that gives terrorists far too much legal power. Non-refoulement becomes a weapon primed for ‘lawfare’. If human rights obligations present a barrier to effective action, diplomatic assurances are a possible doorway through this barrier.
There has always been a place for diplomatic assurances in exceptional circumstances. The current debates are over whether they have a place in everyday deportation practices. Rather than challenging the principle of non-refoulement head on, diplomatic assurances imply that both human rights and security objectives can be met. The key security objectives – getting rid of security risks or undesirables – could be achieved by signing bilateral memorandums of understanding (MOUs) where states that have a history of abuse agree not to torture. MOUs ‘enhance’ diplomatic assurance by getting rid of the need to get case-by-case assurances; having that background, principled agreement that anyone sent now or in the future will not be subjected to torture is seen to be enough. This one promise averts all future risks of individuals being tortured. Everyone goes home a winner.

Abu Qatata (Photo: BBC)
Trust and trustworthiness
This happy state of affairs has some gaps in it. For a start, as Amnesty International points out, the very fact that a country feels the need for diplomatic assurances shows that they are worried about the risks that individual would face on return. The UK does not use or seek diplomatic assurances in sending people back to Australia or Brazil. So why go through the rigmarole of getting diplomatic assurances from Libya, Algeria, or Jordan?
The obvious answer is that the individuals in question are seen to face a serious risk. In the normal course of events, the obligations of non-refoulement should be triggered. Which is where the government wants to be able to say: ‘but we have a diplomatic assurance that negates our initial suspicions!’ Which in turn begs the questions: what about the ‘promises’ these states have made under treaty and customary international law? How much weight can a promise from a serial human rights abuser carry?
The answer – at least the answer that the courts have accepted – seems to be: rather a lot. Continue reading →