🍻 Selber Bier Brauen

Europe suffered an unprecedented heatwave this June, with debilitating effects felt across various walks of life: thousands of deaths, particularly among the elderly, individuals and families suffering in “heat-trap” apartments, hospitals full and caught unprepared, school closures, and productivity losses. Temperatures soared to break records, with June 2026 recorded as the warmest ever June in Western Europe. But this heat wave was not an anomaly, with the World Health Organisation (WHO) describing it as a “dress rehearsal” for future summers, which will be even hotter. That the heatwaves are being caused by climate change is beyond doubt, but in Europe’s case the rate of warming is notable for being over twice the global average, making the effects of the rising temperature particularly challenging.

Adaptation measures are indispensable for coping with these soaring temperatures, which have cost lives and severely affected people’s well-being. According to one estimate, heat-related deaths in the European region in 2023 would have been around 80% higher in the absence of adaptation measures already in place. The EU Strategy on Adaptation to Climate Change, communicated by the European Commission in 2021, recognised the increasing frequency of climate and weather extremes including heatwaves, while also acknowledging that “[c]urrent [adaptation] measures mostly focus on awareness raising, institutional organisation or policy development, but actually rolling out physical solutions, such as creating more green spaces to reduce the impacts of heatwaves or adjusting sewerage systems to better cope with storm overflows, is lagging behind.” An integrated framework for European climate risk and resilience is expected from the European Commission later this year.

The discussion around climate adaptation has entered mainstream political discourse in Europe in the aftermath of the June heatwaves. For example, the lack of an appropriate adaptation plan in France triggered a no-confidence motion against the French government, the European Greens have proposed a heatwave action plan to make Europe “heat-proof” funded by the top five fossil fuel companies, and the candidate from the Social Democratic Party for the forthcoming Berlin senate elections has proposed planting more trees in concrete-heavy parts of Berlin as a reaction to the record temperatures.

What are the implications of this for climate litigation in Europe? Answering this question involves looking at how adaptation has featured in European litigation so far.

Human Rights for Both Mitigation and Adaptation

European courts have shown a proactive disposition in relation to states’ climate change mitigation responsibilities, with pro-climate litigants yielding successful outcomes in cases such as Urgenda, Neubauer, and Verein KlimaSeniorinnen. In these “government framework litigation” cases, courts have found that states’ failure to mitigate greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions in line with the Paris Agreement temperature goals could lead to the violation of rights guaranteed by constitutions and human rights systems.

However, rights-based litigation involving adaptation in Europe has until recently been notable by its absence. Or, rather, it has been present but under the radar in some of the key litigation cases. And the English NAP3 case, which is now being taken to Strasbourg, has seen the climate movement finally grasp the adaptation nettle. This, we argue, is a welcome move. While we understand the reluctance by some to embrace adaptation litigation for strategic reasons – because it diverts attention from mitigation as the primary focus – heatwave-induced suffering leads to a violation of rights such as the right to life, the right to health, and the right to livelihood. Government failure to take adequate climate adaptation measures is therefore something that should be challenged in court.

Adaptation and European Climate Litigation: From Latent to Patent

An examination of the courts’ observations on climate adaptation in mitigation-focussed climate litigation highlights that adaptation measures have only received somewhat latent, cursory mentions. However, some of these observations by the courts provide interesting clues for how they might deal with future adaptation-focused cases.

The 2019 judgment of the Netherlands Supreme Court in Urgenda is a landmark rights-based climate case, which has inspired many others in its wake. The challenge alleged violations of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) due to inadequate Dutch emission-reduction targets for the year 2020, and was therefore clearly a case with a strong mitigation focus. However, climate adaptation measures came up as part of the State’s defence, where it argued that the risks of climate change can be limited through adaptation and mitigation as complementary strategies, and that the petitioner Urgenda failed to “appreciate the adaptation measures that the State has taken or will take”. This argument was rejected by all three Courts. The Hague District Court noted that although adaptation measures could reduce the effects of climate change, they could not eliminate the danger of climate change, adding that “[m]itigation therefore is the only really effective tool.” (para 4.71). The Court of Appeal and the Supreme Court observed that the obligation of the State to reduce CO₂ emissions quicker than it had planned was not diminished by adaptation measures (para. 59 Court of Appeal, para. 7.5.2 Supreme Court). The Supreme Court also clarified that the obligation arising from Articles 2 and 8 of the ECHR to take appropriate measures to counter an imminent threat may encompass both mitigation and adaptation measures (para 5.3.1).

Even though adaptation was not directly at issue in the case, the Urgenda ruling makes it clear that an absence of adaptation measures could also give rise to a claim of the violation of rights guaranteed under the ECHR. This was an important place-marker.

In the 2024 ECHR KlimaSeniorinnen case, where the cause of action involved the violation of the rights of elderly women in the face of increasing and intensifying heatwaves, the litigants’ choice not to focus on adaptation measures was conspicuous. The applicants viewed the potential for adaptation as being “increasingly limited” (para. 335) and chose, therefore, to focus on the state’s responsibility to mitigate climate change. Ultimately, much turned on the applicants’ vulnerability due to their advanced age, particularly in order to decide issues of standing, with both the Swiss Government and the Court bringing into the discussion the distinction between measures required for the applicants and for the public as a whole. The Government argued that the effects of the heatwave suffered by the applicants “had not been sufficiently specific to them”. Consequently, the adaptation to heatwaves required on their part was “a common feature during heatwaves which affected the rest of the population as well” (para. 343). It also argued that Switzerland had already put various effective adaptation measures in place, which had reduced the mortality rates linked to heat (para. 361).

The Court relied on an IPCC Report to conclude that “without effective mitigation (which is at the centre of the applicants’ arguments in the present case…), adaptation measures cannot in themselves suffice to combat climate change” (para. 418). It acknowledged that the effective protection of individuals’ rights from the adverse effects on their life, health, well-being, and quality of life required that mitigation measures should be supplemented by adaptation measures, which should be “put in place and effectively applied in accordance with the best available evidence” (para. 552). However, while making its conclusions on the state’s positive obligations under Article 8, the Court restricted itself to mitigation measures and deemed it unnecessary to examine “whether the ancillary adaptation measures were put in place” (para. 555). It noted further that the applicants were not found to suffer from any critical medical condition “whose possible aggravation linked to heatwaves could not be alleviated by the adaptation measures available in Switzerland or by means of reasonable measures of personal adaptation given the extent of heatwaves affecting that country” (para. 533).

Two elements emerge from this analysis of the ECtHR’s judgment in KlimaSeniorinnen. First, the Court acknowledged that mitigation needed to be supplemented with adaptation to protect the rights guaranteed under the ECHR, but very consciously stopped short of including adaptation measures within the positive obligations of states in respect of climate change (even if the wide margin of appreciation would have equally applied to deciding on specific measures). Second, the Court also cast some of the responsibility for climate change adaptation in the face of heatwaves on individuals.

Adaptation was, in contrast, front and centre in Friends of the Earth and others v Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (2024) (the “NAP3” case). This was a High Court judicial review brought by Friends of the Earth (FoE) and two individuals – one whose house was at risk from sea-level rise and another, with disabilities, who lived in a care home and was confined to isolation in his air-conditioned room during heatwaves because the sociable common areas were too hot. The claimants were challenging the Government’s most recent “NAP3” national adaptation plan on the basis that it was too vague. On heat, the allegation was that NAP3 lacked long-term planning and funding for the health and social care sectors regarding systematic temperature monitoring and plans to adapt care homes, as well as the absence of appropriate funding for air conditioning. The judge rejected the challenge. Section 58 of the UK Climate Change Act 2008 imposes a duty on the government to set out objectives on adaptation and proposals and policies for meeting them. The claimants argued that these objectives needed to be “in the form of substantive, specific and measurable outcomes” (para. 72), hence their specific care home cooling claim. The judge rejected this, observing that the Act did not prescribe the ambition or specificity of the objectives (paras. 93-6). Nor was he convinced that KlimaSeniorinnen changed this.

While not wanting to dismiss the ECtHR’s remarks on adaptation as obiter (having been made in a mitigation case), he felt the Court would likely grant states a wider margin of appreciation in adaptation cases both in setting relevant objectives and, even more so, in setting out proposals and policies for meeting them (para. 105). In the end, he regarded adaptation as very different to mitigation because while the latter is rooted in an internationally agreed quantitative target of carbon neutrality by 2050, the former has no such equivalent (para. 103). Permission to appeal to the Court of Appeal was denied. Having exhausted their domestic remedies, the claimants took their challenge to the ECtHR in July 2025. We will therefore hear in due course whether the Strasbourg court agrees.

Looking Forwards

There is no doubt that combating the effects of climate change will require a combination of mitigation and adaptation actions by governments. Rights-based climate litigation on both is needed to hold them to account for their choices. The summer 2026 heatwaves have brought home just how much fundamental rights are affected by excessive heat. The forthcoming NAP3 ECtHR ruling could not be timelier, therefore. Both adaptation and heat have featured in climate litigation in the Global South, for example, in the Leghari case in Pakistan which had a strong focus on adaptation, an Indian High Court’s ruling directing the state to implement a “Heat Action Plan”, and most recently, in the Bonaire case where human rights violations were found on account of inadequate measures for both climate mitigation and adaptation. It is now time for adaptation to enter the mainstream in the Global North. For those who remain concerned by that prospect, we offer the following observations. First, there is an argument of consistency: if human rights are the basis for mitigation claims, including victims suffering from heat harms, then it seems odd to say that the law should not be directly addressing those harms via adaptation measures. Second, adaptation cases bring climate harms “home”: these are no longer only happening in distant places or time; they are happening here and now, in Europe. Finally, related to this, cases on adaptation may be more salient to the public because they do not involve abstract (albeit important) discussions on net-zero, percentage reductions, and carbon budgets. People may feel disengaged from that. But, as we have also seen in the aftermath of soaring temperatures this summer, everyone has a view on cooling.

The post Heatwaves and Legal Remedies appeared first on Verfassungsblog.

Gegen Mitglieder des Europäischen Parlaments (EP) wurde in der Vergangenheit mehrfach aufgrund mutmaßlicher Veruntreuung von EU-Geldern und Korruption ermittelt – man denke nur an die sog. Qatargate-Fälle oder an die Ermittlungen gegen die ehemalige EU-Abgeordnete Marine Le Pen, die am 07.07.2026 auch in zweiter Instanz verurteilt wurde. Die Immunität der Parlamentarier kann dabei ein Hindernis für die Ermittlungsbehörden darstellen. Zwei aktuelle Fälle unterstreichen dies: Am 19.05.2026 stimmte das EP im Verfahren 2025/2175(IMM), wie schon zuvor der Rechtsausschuss, gegen die Aufhebung der Immunität der deutschen EU-Abgeordneten Angelika Niebler. Am 02.07.2026 stimmte der Rechtsausschuss im Verfahren 2026/2000(IMM) erneut gegen die Aufhebung der Immunität, diesmal des bulgarischen Abgeordneten Ilhan Kyuchyuk – im Übrigen Vorsitzender dieses Ausschusses. Am 07.07.2026 bestätigte das EP die Entscheidung.

In beiden Verfahren kamen die Anträge auf Aufhebung der Immunität von der Europäischen Staatsanwaltschaft (EuStA). Die beiden Fälle weisen neben Gemeinsamkeiten auch Unterschiede auf. Deutlich wird dabei, dass das Verhältnis zwischen Europäischer Staatsanwaltschaft und Europaparlamentariern immer mehr zur Zerreißprobe wird. Um die Integrität des Parlaments als bedeutende Institution nicht zu gefährden, sollte das EP seine Abstimmungspraxis in Immunitätsangelegenheiten überdenken.

Die Gemeinsamkeiten der Verfahren

Gegen beide Abgeordnete wird von der Europäischen Staatsanwaltschaft (EuStA) ermittelt. Die EuStA wurde 2021 gegründet, vor wenigen Tagen ist mit Ungarn der 25. EU-Mitgliedsstaat beigetreten. Ihre Aufgabe ist die Untersuchung und Verfolgung von Straftaten zum Nachteil der finanziellen Interessen der Union. Sowohl Angelika Niebler als auch Ilhan Kyuchyuk werden der Veruntreuung von EU-Mitteln bezichtigt. Niebler wird insbesondere die vorschriftswidrige Beantragung von Reisekosten vorgeworfen. Parlamentarische Assistenten sollen zeitweise zu privaten Zwecken eingesetzt worden sein, zudem soll ein Assistent faktisch ausschließlich für ein anderes ehemaliges Mitglied des EP tätig gewesen sein (vgl. ausführlicher zu den Vorwürfen hier, S. 4). Gegen Ilhan Kyuchyuk lauten die Vorwürfe, es seien lokale Mitarbeitende zu Zwecken der Parteiarbeit statt für sein Mandat als Europaparlamentarier eingesetzt worden, insgesamt umfassen die Ermittlungen einen Zeitraum von mehr als zehn Jahren (ausführlicher hier). In beiden Fällen stellte die EuStA durch ihre Generalstaatsanwältin Laura Codruța Kövesi einen Antrag auf Aufhebung der Immunität.

Geregelt ist die Immunität der EU-Abgeordneten – inhaltlich unverändert seit 1957 – heute in Art. 9 des Protokolls (Nr. 7) über die Vorrechte und Befreiungen der Europäischen Union. Die Vorschriften sind damit gem. Art. 51 EUV Primärrecht. In Art. 9 heißt es: „Während der Dauer der Sitzungsperiode des Europäischen Parlaments a) steht seinen Mitgliedern im Hoheitsgebiet ihres eigenen Staates die den Parlamentsmitgliedern zuerkannte Unverletzlichkeit zu, b) können seine Mitglieder im Hoheitsgebiet jedes anderen Mitgliedstaats weder festgehalten noch gerichtlich verfolgt werden.“ Bei dem „eigenen“ Staat handelt es sich nach überzeugender Auffassung um den Staat, in dem der Parlamentarier gewählt wurde. In diesen Fällen wird somit auf die nationalen Regelungen verwiesen, die teilweise sehr unterschiedlich sind (vgl. ausführlich hier).

Sowohl bei Niebler als auch bei Kyuchyuk wurde im eigenen Staat ermittelt, somit gilt Art. 9 a) des Protokolls. Nach bulgarischem, sowie nach deutschem Verfassungsrecht greift die Immunität früh und schützt bereits vor der Aufnahme von strafrechtlichen Ermittlungen. Dass im Deutschen Bundestag in gängiger Praxis zu Beginn der Legislaturperiode bis zu dessen Ablauf die Durchführung von Ermittlungsverfahren wegen Straftaten, mit Ausnahme von Beleidigungen politischen Charakters, vorab genehmigt wird (vgl. hier), ist für das EP irrelevant, da die jeweilige nationale Rechtslage und nicht die nationale Parlamentspraxis zugrunde gelegt wird

Bemerkenswert ist, dass die bulgarische und deutsche Verfassungsrechtslage nicht unbedingt der Regel in den Mitgliedsstaaten entspricht. Einige Mitgliedsstaaten, beispielsweise Polen oder Ungarn kennen zwar ebenfalls eine umfassende Immunität. In Frankreich schützt die Immunität seit 1995 hingegen nicht mehr vor der bloßen Aufnahme von Ermittlungen (vertiefend hier). In Italien gab es im Jahr 1993 eine ähnliche Einschränkung, in Belgien 1997. Auch in Dänemark und Rumänien schützt die Immunität nicht vor der Aufnahme von Ermittlungen. Die Niederlande kennen eine Immunität von Abgeordneten überhaupt nicht. Eine Vereinheitlichung wurde mehrfach diskutiert, aber nie beschlossen. Vor dem Hintergrund einer gewissen Angleichung des Status der EU-Abgeordneten, insb. durch das Abgeordnetenstatut 2009 oder den 2012 verabschiedeten gemeinsamen Verhaltenskodex erscheint eine Vereinheitlichung auch bei den Immunitätsregelungen denkbar.

Der Blick in die Mitgliedsstaaten zeigt somit, dass eine bereits vor strafrechtlichen Ermittlungen schützende Immunität heute nicht mehr die Regel ist – ein Umstand, der als Vorbild für die Vereinheitlichung dienen könnte.

Jedoch ist dabei zu bedenken, dass starke Immunitätsvorschriften das Parlament als Institution, mittelbar aber natürlich auch seine Abgeordneten schützen. Diese werden dadurch insbesondere vor mutmaßlich politisch motivierten Ermittlungen geschützt, sog. fumus persecutionis. Der Verdacht auf einen solchen Fall wurde sowohl im Verfahren Niebler als auch im Verfahren Kyuchyuk geltend gemacht. Allerdings liegen beide Fallkonstellationen durchaus unterschiedlich.

Die Unterschiede der Verfahren

Im Fall der Abgeordneten Angelika Niebler kommen die Vorwürfe von einer ehemaligen Mitarbeiterin, die, sollte sich Niebler beispielsweise wegen des öffentlichen Drucks zum Rücktritt gezwungen sehen, aufgrund ihres Listenplatzes für Niebler in das Parlament nachrücken könnte. Der Verdacht eines politischen Hintergrundes der Vorwürfe rührt also daher, dass die ehemalige Mitarbeiterin selbst von einem Ausscheiden Nieblers profitieren könnte. Allerdings richteten sich die Argumente von Rechtsausschuss und Parlament gegen die Aufhebung der Immunität Nieblers vor dem Hintergrund des fumus persecutionis nicht gegen die EuStA selbst. Lediglich einer der genannten Gründe für die Ablehnung des Immunitätsgesuchs, nämlich angebliche Unstimmigkeiten „einschließlich eines offensichtlichen Mangels an Genauigkeit in Bezug auf die genauen in Rede stehenden finanziellen Beträge“ bezog sich auf den Antrag der EuStA. Die deutschen Immunitätsvorschriften des Grundgesetzes greifen bereits früh im Ermittlungsverfahren (s.o.) und verhindern damit bereits die Aufnahme vertiefter Ermittlungen und damit detaillierte Ermittlungsergebnisse. In einem solchen Fall, in dem die EuStA den Fall geprüft hat und zu dem Schluss gekommen ist, dass vertiefte Ermittlungen aufzunehmen sind, muss der Weg für diese Prüfung vom EP freigemacht werden. Für das Misstrauen, das die Abstimmung im Fall Niebler der EuStA gegenüber ausgedrückt hat, gibt es in dem Verfahren keinen ersichtlichen Anlass. Ein Schaden für das Ansehen des EP ist durch die Abstimmung jedenfalls bereits entstanden. Sie wurde in deutschen Medien als „rufschädigend“ für das Parlament bezeichnet, von Lobby Control im Vorfeld als „Schaden der Legitimität“.

Anders liegt der Fall Ilhan Kyuchyuk. Auch hier stammen die Vorwürfe Berichten zufolge von einem seiner Mitarbeitenden und auch im Fall von Kyuchyuk wurde mit der Figur des fumus persecutionis argumentiert, aber mit einer Besonderheit: In diesem Fall richtet sich die Kritik einer mutmaßlichen politischen Ermittlung auch gegen die EuStA selbst. Hintergrund ist, dass Teodora Georgieva, die bulgarische Delegierte Europäische Staatsanwältin, suspendiert worden war und durch das Kollegium der EuStA ein schweres Fehlverhalten festgestellt wurde. Daher argumentierten Rechtsausschuss und EP mit „grave doubts raised by the finding of serious misconduct on the part of the Bulgarian European Prosecutor – under whose supervision the investigation giving rise to the request for the waiver of immunity was made“, was, neben anderen Argumenten, zur Annahme eines fumus persecutionis führte.

Die EuStA hat sich nicht offiziell zu den Vorwürfen gegen Georgieva geäußert, vgl. jedoch die Berichte hierGeorgieva selbst gab an, unter Druck gesetzt zu werden sich bedroht zu fühlen, dazu hier und hier, und erhob wiederum selbst Vorwürfe gegen wichtige bulgarische Politiker, vgl. hier. Klar ist jedenfalls: Die internen Untersuchungen der EuStA gegen Georgieva haben schwerwiegendes Fehlverhalten festgestellt, sie bleibt suspendiert.

Die Unabhängigkeit der Europäischen Staatsanwaltschaft

Die EuStA hat eine hybride Struktur: Sie besteht gemäß der Verordnung 2017/1939 auf zentraler Ebene neben dem Kollegium (Art. 9) aus der Europäischen Generalstaatsanwaltschaft (Art. 11), den Europäischen Staatsanwälten (Art. 12) und den Ständigen Kammern (Art. 10). Auf dezentraler Ebene besteht sie aus den Delegierten Europäischen Staatsanwälten (Art. 13), die in den Mitgliedsstaaten angesiedelt sind und dort im Namen der EuStA handeln. Diese Struktur und insbesondere die Rolle der Delegierten Europäischen Staatsanwälte kann man durchaus für verbesserungswürdig halten, vertiefend bspw. hier, zu Bulgarien vgl. hier auf dem Verfassungsblog.

Die suspendierte Teodora Georgieva war die Europäische Staatsanwältin für Bulgarien. Sie beaufsichtigte somit die in Bulgarien mit den Verfahren betrauten Delegierten Europäischen Staatsanwälte und konnte diese anweisen (vgl. Art. 12 Abs. 1, Abs. 3). Die Vorwürfe gegen Georgieva stellen daher eine schwerwiegende Herausforderung für die EuStA dar und haben in der Ablehnung des Antrags auf Aufhebung der Immunität des Abgeordneten Kyuchyuk nun ihren Höhepunkt gefunden. Deutlich wird die Fragilität der EuStA und die Schwierigkeiten, die mit ihrer Struktur einhergehen. Um Bulgarien ist es dabei nicht ruhiger geworden. Kontroversen gab es jüngst um die Vorschlagslisten für die Nachfolge der suspendierten Teodora Georgieva, deren Amtszeit Ende Juli endet, vgl. vertiefend hier und hier, sowie eine aktuelle bulgarische Gerichtsentscheidung vom 07.07.2026. Das bulgarische Rechtssystem weist erhebliche Probleme auf, vgl. dazu auch diese Analyse auf dem Verfassungsblog.

Allerdings kann deshalb nicht unbedingt davon ausgegangen werden, dass die Entscheidung des EP zur Ablehnung des Antrags auf Aufhebung der Immunität überzeugt. Die Ermittlungen in Bulgarien wurden nicht von Teodora Georgieva selbst, sondern von den Delegierten Europäischen Staatsanwälten geführt. Diese werden zwar durch die Europäischen Staatsanwälte beaufsichtigt und angewiesen (vgl. Art. 12 Abs. 1, Abs. 3). Die Europäischen Staatsanwälte beaufsichtigen nach diesen Vorschriften allerdings „für die Ständige Kammer und im Einklang mit etwaigen von dieser gemäß Artikel 10 Absätze 3, 4 und 5 erteilten Weisungen“; sie können den Delegierten Europäischen Staatsanwalt zwar selbst anweisen, aber „im Einklang (…) mit den Weisungen der zuständigen Ständigen Kammer“. Die Ständigen Kammern bestehen aus drei Mitgliedern, die gerade nicht aus dem jeweiligen Staat des Europäischen Staatsanwaltes stammen (vgl. auch Art. 19 Abs. 2 der Geschäftsordnung der EuStA). Letztlich sind es also die Ständigen Kammern, die die wichtigen Verfahrensentscheidungen treffen, vgl. Art. 10 Abs. 3-5. Zwar ist der jeweilige Europäische Staatsanwalt gem. Art. 10 Abs. 9 in vielen dieser Entscheidungen stimmberechtigt – was sinnvoll ist, da die Mitglieder der Ständigen Kammern das nationale Recht nicht kennen (vertiefend hier S. 60). Er kann aber von den drei Mitgliedern aus jeweils einem anderen Mitgliedsstaat überstimmt werden und durch diese Struktur wird eine Unabhängigkeit der Entscheidungen gewährleistet. Den Antrag auf Aufhebung der Immunität stellt im Übrigen nicht der nationale Europäische Staatsanwalt, sondern ihn kann gem. Art. 29 Abs. 2 allein der Europäische Generalstaatsanwalt stellen.

Im konkreten Fall Ilhan Kyuchyuk ist zudem zu beachten, dass es, soweit ersichtlich, keine konkreten Hinweise zu einem Zusammenhang zwischen der Suspendierung von Georgieva und den Ermittlungen gegen Kyuchyuk gibt. Zudem wurden am 26.03.2025 erste Ermittlungen gegen Georgieva eingeleitet, ab diesem Zeitpunkt wurde sie suspendiert. Georgieva war somit zum Zeitpunkt des Antrags auf Aufhebung der Immunität am 24.11.2025 bereits seit mehreren Monaten suspendiert.

So schwerwiegend die Vorwürfe gegen Teodora Georgieva auch sein mögen, die Struktur der EuStA durch die Ständigen Kammern gewährleistet grundsätzlich ihre Unabhängigkeit und es existieren effektive interne Kontrollmechanismen der EuStA, was auch die Suspendierung zeigt. Stellt die Europäische Generalstaatsanwältin in Kenntnis der Geschehnisse und der Suspendierung Monate später dennoch den Antrag auf Aufhebung der Immunität, sollte der Weg für weitere Ermittlungen der EuStA auch in einem solchen Fall frei gemacht werden. Dass dies nicht getan wurde, überrascht allerdings nicht: Wenn die Parlamentarier schon im Verfahren von Angelika Niebler gegen die Aufhebung der Immunität Nieblers stimmten, lag es nahe, dass sie es im Verfahren gegen Ilhan Kyuchyuk vor dem Hintergrund der Vorwürfe gegen Teodora Georgieva ebenso wenig taten.

Fazit und Ausblick

Berichten zufolge fordern Stimmen des gesamten politischen Spektrums eine grundsätzliche Überprüfung der Immunitätsverfahren des EP. Änderungen des Protokolls Nr. 7 wären theoretisch denkbar. Allerdings wäre eine solche Änderung des Primärrechts (Art. 48 EUV) vor dem Hintergrund des Einstimmigkeitsprinzips kompliziert und langwierig. Kurzfristig sollte das EP seine Abstimmungspraxis in Immunitätsangelegenheiten überdenken, wenn die Anträge von der EuStA ausgehen und sich in diesen Fällen der Durchführung von Ermittlungsverfahren nicht entgegenstellen. Es ist für die Integrität des Parlaments als Institution von hoher Bedeutung, dass nicht der Eindruck entsteht, Ermittlungen wegen Veruntreuung von EU-Geldern verhindern zu wollen. Aktuell scheint es dafür jedoch am Vertrauen der Parlamentarier gegenüber der EuStA zu fehlen. Dieses Vertrauen muss wiederhergestellt werden. Auf den designierten Europäischen Generalstaatsanwalt, Andréas Ritter, dessen Amtszeit am 01.11.2026 beginnt, wird viel Arbeit zukommen.

The post Schädlicher Schutz? appeared first on Verfassungsblog.

In Prajwala v. Union of India, the Supreme Court held that victims of trafficking for commercial sexual exploitation (“CSE”) have a right to rehabilitation under Article 23 read with the right to dignity under Article 21.

While the judgment has been celebrated for its three-dimensional dignity framework, it is a missed opportunity to articulate a constitutional basis for protecting the rights of sex workers. The Court’s dignity framework – calibrated against objectification in trafficking – is insufficient alone to address persons who assert agency over their work. I argue that reading it alongside decisional autonomy fills the gap: it grounds the Court’s procedural safeguards for sex workers in enforceable constitutional rights while respecting the institutional boundary between judicial protection of persons and legislative determination of sex work policy.

The Limits of Dignity in Prajwala

In Prajwala, the Court observed that human trafficking law has traditionally been framed from a crime-control perspective: one that prioritises punishment of the perpetrator over the rights and needs of victims. In this view, since trafficking is a crime against society at large, the victim’s interests are subsumed within society’s interest in accurate prosecution. The victim, their rights, and their special needs are only incidentally, if at all, addressed.

Against this backdrop, the Court adopted a human rights approach: victims are rights-holders independent of the criminal justice system’s goals, and their rehabilitation is constitutionally mandated alongside punishment of the perpetrator. The Court relied primarily on the right to dignity under Article 21 to elaborate on the rights of trafficking victims. It held that while dignity is a malleable concept capable of supporting contrary positions, there exists a minimum content that cannot be derogated from.

Building on earlier jurisprudence, the Court identified three dimensions of dignity guaranteed to every person [para. 264]. First, inherent dignity: the intrinsic worth of every human being as an end in themselves. Second, dignity in its material dimension: access to the basic conditions necessary for a dignified life. Third, dignity as recognition: protection against the concrete harms caused by pervasive stigmatisation and social exclusion.

The Court held that trafficking violates inherent dignity by objectifying persons: the trafficked individual is reduced to their value to the buyer, stripped of intrinsic worth [para. 265]. The material dimension is implicated because the absence of basic conditions – shelter, livelihood, safety – creates the vulnerability that trafficking exploits [para. 272]. Finally, trafficking victims are particularly disadvantaged along the recognition dimension: their suffering is frequently treated as self-inflicted or undeserving of concern, resulting in social isolation and inaccessibility of legal assistance.

Reading Article 21 alongside the prohibition on trafficking under Article 23, the Court held that trafficking victims have a right to rehabilitation enforceable against the State, a right that extends beyond punishment and rescue. This framework informed the binding guidelines the Court laid down, exercising its jurisdiction under Article 142, which empowers it to pass orders necessary to do “complete justice”, covering the full spectrum from rescue to reintegration.

The Court did not, however, extend this framework to voluntary sex workers despite making two observations that closely track its own dignity analysis. First, it noted that the law fails to address the conditions of vulnerability and abuse in which sex work takes place: an observation that maps onto dignity in its material dimension [paras. 407, 408]. Second, it observed that society’s moral condemnation of sex workers as willing participants in indecent work produces concrete harms – isolation and inaccessibility of legal assistance – which is precisely what dignity as recognition is designed to address [para. 409].

This omission is especially curious given the Court’s own holding that the rights of sex workers can be protected independently of a right to sex work. The Court could have recognised sex workers’ right to dignity, particularly in its material and recognition dimensions, while leaving the status of sex work itself to the Legislature.

Autonomy as the Missing Constitutional Principle

The Court likely refrained from grounding sex workers’ claims in the right to dignity because its inherent dignity formulation was specifically calibrated to trafficking: it targets objectification – the reduction of a person to their value to the buyer. Applying that formulation to sex work as such would risk treating it as inherently involving self-commodification, without acknowledging the agency of persons who engage in it voluntarily. This would effectively endorse the abolitionist position – one the Court deliberately declined to take [para. 314].

Autonomy, an analytically distinct principle developed in Puttaswamy (9J) remedies this. Where inherent dignity concerns a person’s intrinsic worth as an end in themselves (a quality that exists independently of their relationships), autonomy is relational: it protects the individual’s choices from interference by the State or third parties. I argue that the two principles can coexist and, together, cover what neither covers alone.

In Puttaswamy, the judges converged on the autonomy principle as the basis of privacy. Chandrachud J. and Nariman J. both held that the right to privacy protects decisional autonomy over fundamental personal choices. Most significantly for present purposes, Chelameswar J. held that this autonomy encompasses “the freedom to choose either to work or not and the freedom to choose the nature of the work” – a formulation that applies directly to sex workers’ claims [para. 38].

The Puttaswamy court also addressed the relationship between privacy and dignity. Nariman J. held that privacy of choice is a prerequisite for the self-development encompassed by the right to dignity [para. 85]. Bobde J. went further, holding that the two rights are inextricably intertwined under Article 21 [para. 30].

In the context of sex work, however, dignity and decisional autonomy can pull in opposite directions. The Puttaswamy court leaves this tension unresolved. The question is therefore how courts should approach it – and the Prajwala judgment itself offers a framework.

The Prajwala Court observed [para. 317]:

“In all of us, agency and vulnerability coexist. What varies is the extent to which one bears upon the other, and this is determined largely by the circumstances of our lives. For a person who faces poverty, social exclusion, and the absence of livelihood alternatives, their vulnerability may significantly narrow the range of choices available to them. But it does not extinguish choice altogether. Acknowledging this co-existence has two important implications when it comes to those who engage in prostitution. First, viewing a woman who has entered prostitution voluntarily as an ‘agent’ does not mean that one becomes blind to the vulnerabilities that shaped and constrained her decision. Understanding her agency requires understanding the circumstances in which it was exercised, thereby necessitating measures in cases where agency is severely constrained. Secondly, viewing a trafficked or coerced woman as a ‘victim’ does not mean she is without agency. Even within conditions of exploitation and coercion, she retains the capacity to make decisions about her present and her future.”

This passage yields a workable constitutional test. The default position must be that where a person asserts voluntary engagement in sex work, their decisional autonomy is engaged and the State bears the burden of establishing that agency-diminishing circumstances were so severe as to negate meaningful choice. Only where that burden is discharged should inherent dignity override autonomy.

In this inquiry, the person’s own statement about voluntariness carries presumptive weight – rebuttable only where there is objective evidence of coercion or third-party control, assessed by a Magistrate rather than the police. The burden of producing such individualised evidence lies on the State; it may include documentary records or indicators of third-party control. This is grounded in Maneka Gandhi v. Union of India, where the Court held that under Article 21, any procedure affecting life or liberty must be fair, just, and reasonable. Where the State proposes to restrict liberty on the ground that a person’s apparent consent is not real, due process consequently requires that the person be heard on whether their agency was compromised. The right to be heard requires that the person’s account be genuinely weighed – it cannot be nullified by a blanket presumption that persons in sex work lack agency.

A possible objection is that recognising decisional autonomy in relation to sex work effectively endorses decriminalisation, resolving a contested legislative policy question by judicial fiat. This objection misreads the argument. First, the ITPA already permits sex work for personal benefit without third-party involvement (subject to the limited exceptions in Sections 7 and 8); the constitutional right operates within that existing legal space, not beyond it. Second, and more fundamentally, the right would attach to sex workers as persons – not to the activity of sex work – in line with the Court’s own framing. Recognising that a person has a constitutional right to make choices about their work is categorically different from recognising a right to sex work; the former constrains how the State may treat individuals, while the latter would constrain legislative authority over the activity itself.

It may be argued that decisional autonomy presupposes a choosing subject who is free from structural coercion – yet sex work in the Indian context takes place within conditions of extreme poverty, caste subordination, and patriarchal constraint. However, relational autonomy theory, which analyses how autonomy operates under conditions of structural constraint, holds that the presence of such conditions does not extinguish autonomy altogether.

Diana Meyers distinguishes three forms of autonomy. Programmatic autonomy – the most demanding – involves ownership of one’s major life decisions and overall life plan. Narrowly programmatic autonomy is the capacity to make autonomous decisions within a particular significant domain of one’s life. Episodic autonomy is the ability to identify one’s immediate wants and act on them in a specific situation. While programmatic autonomy may be systematically diminished by structural oppression, Meyers argues that narrowly programmatic and episodic autonomy survive because they depend on skills such as emotional perceptiveness and self-awareness that oppressive conditions do not necessarily destroy. The choice to engage in sex work reflects narrowly programmatic autonomy, as it involves evaluating economic options, assessing risk, and comparing alternatives within a significant but bounded domain of one’s life, which is precisely the kind of decision that Meyers’ framework is designed to recognise.

Constitutional Foundations and Future Challenges

Without a constitutional foundation in dignity and autonomy, the procedural safeguards in the Victim Protection Plan rest on the Court’s Article 142 directions alone – giving rise to the compliance problem that has historically plagued such directions. Two safeguards are particularly significant. First, citing Budhadev Karmaskar v. State of West Bengal (2022), the Court held that the non-interference principle requires police to determine whether a person is a voluntary sex worker before removing them during a rescue operation under Section 15 of the ITPA [para. 362 c.(iii)].

Second, the Court acknowledged that rescue operations are often conducted in time-sensitive conditions, making it likely that voluntary sex workers will be taken into custody. When such persons are produced before a Magistrate under Section 17, the Court held that a threshold determination must be made at the outset as to whether they are voluntary sex workers who do not wish to be subjected to further custody – if so, they should not be subjected to the more intrusive inquiry under Section 17(2) [para. 335].

As matters stand, these safeguards depend on compliance with Article 142 directions – a mechanism with a poor track record. Had the Court grounded sex workers’ claims in the right to dignity and decisional autonomy under Article 21, violations of these safeguards would be directly enforceable: sex workers could challenge non-compliance through writ petitions before the High Courts under Article 226 or the Supreme Court under Article 32. The constitutional foundation would convert the Court’s directions from aspirational guidelines into justiciable rights.

Recognition of dignity and decisional autonomy would also enable incremental constitutional challenges to the ITPA’s most problematic provisions. In Shakti Vahini v. Union of India (2018), the Court extended the decisional autonomy principle from Puttaswamy to intimate association, holding that an adult’s choice of life partner is constitutionally protected. The ITPA raises analogous concerns.

Section 4(1) penalises adults financially dependent on a sex worker, potentially criminalising dependent family members; Section 4(2) punishes persons who live with or habitually keep the company of a sex worker. Both provisions burden the relationships that surround a sex worker’s choices without distinguishing exploitative third-party control from legitimate supportive association – the same defect that led the Supreme Court of Canada in Bedford (2013) to strike down a comparable prohibition on living off the avails of prostitution, and one that the decisional autonomy principle, read through Shakti Vahini, equally condemns. Section 20, which enables the removal of sex workers from a locality on the sole basis of their occupation, raises a distinct but related concern: as Bhatia has argued, it targets persons for conduct that Article 21 protects.

Conclusion

The Prajwala judgment developed a powerful dignity framework for victims of trafficking but stopped short of articulating a constitutional basis for protecting sex workers. Reading dignity alongside decisional autonomy fills that gap: it grounds the Court’s procedural safeguards in enforceable constitutional rights and provides the foundation for incremental challenges to the ITPA’s most problematic provisions. More broadly, it demonstrates that the rights of sex workers can be constitutionally secured – as the Court itself affirmed – without the Court having to take a position on the right to sex work.

The post Dignity Without Autonomy appeared first on Verfassungsblog.