Einmal im Leben eine totale Sonnenfinsternis sehen? Die nÀchsten Termine und Orte weltweit
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NZZFeed Titel: Wissenschaft - News und HintergrĂŒnde zu Wissen & Forschung | NZZ Einmal im Leben eine totale Sonnenfinsternis sehen? Die nĂ€chsten Termine und Orte weltweit
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BILDSTRECKE - Impressionen der Fussball-WM 2026
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Fussballer beflĂŒgeln einander oder reissen sich gegenseitig in den Abgrund. Emotionen springen vom einen auf den anderen Spieler und plötzlich wird aus dem scheinbar sicheren Sieger ein Verlierer. Eine Dechiffrier-Anleitung fĂŒr Zuschauer.
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| â1 | https://www.corteidh.or.cr/docs/opiniones/soc_1_2023_es.pdf |
|---|---|
| â2 | https://corteidh.or.cr/tablas/OC-32-2025/ |
| â3 | Please refer to paras 279 to 281 of the Advisory Opinion No. 32, and my Opinion on the matter. |
| â4 | Idem. |
| â5 | Please refer to Advisory Opinion No. 32, para 285. |
| â6 | https://www.corteidh.or.cr/docs/opiniones/seriea_23_esp.pdf |
| â7 | Please refer to section A.2. (V) and subsection B.1.2. (VI) of the Advisory Opinion No. 32, and my Opinion on it. |
| â8 | https://cdn.climatepolicyradar.org/navigator/NLD/2015/urgenda-foundation-v-state-of-the-netherlands_fcb4bfb035f824ccd4567dc2a9974d92.pdf |
| â9 | https://cdn.climatepolicyradar.org/navigator/DEU/2020/neubauer-et-al-v-germany_6bfdedbaccd23b316c5f7139d5f7bdc4.pdf |
| â10 | https://cdn.climatepolicyradar.org/navigator/COL/2018/future-generations-v-ministry-of-the-environment-and-others_a72e323ba06bc8dbdd68cd13292c305f.pdf |
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Since Trump was re-elected to the US Presidency, individually and collectively we proposed reviving the European Defence Community (EDC) treaty as a way to integrate European defence for a brave new era. Events since November 2024 have confirmed our conviction that Europe should take its defence seriously. Our colleague Robert SchĂŒtze has criticized our proposal, and despite our prior response, he remains unconvinced. So weâll have to agree to disagree. Nevertheless, we still believe that it is important to clarify our standpoint. After all, the discussion is anything but academic, and it goes beyond a formalist legal analysis, as legislation has been tabled in both houses of the Italian Parliament with a view for Italy to belatedly ratify the EDC treaty, and some political momentum is building on this planâespecially in Italy.
The 1952 EDC treaty is not dead. It was signed by 6 States, and duly ratified by 4 of themâand there was never an official decision by the contracting parties to abandon this treaty.
First, to insist on an implicit decision to terminate the EDC treaty resulting from the establishment, in 1954, of the Western European Union (WEU) misses the point. After the French Parliamentary Assembly postponed the ratification of the EDC in 1954, the important decision taken by the US, eager to accelerate German rearmament in view of the Cold War, was the inclusion of West Germany into NATO. That decision, which was completed through a Protocol to the NATO treaty, required automatically the modification of the 1948 Brussels treaty creating the Western Union (WU) â a mutual defence pact between the UK, France and the Benelux, which still identified Germany as the main threat to peace. This was done through a Protocol to the Brussels Treaty on WEU, which in its new Article III specified that NATO would be the organization dealing with military issues. As such, the WEU was nothing more than a revision of the WU, purging it of its anti-German traits, given Germanyâs admission into NATO. So, the WEU was in no way a substitute for the EDC, and in that reading, it never implied a replacement thereof.
Second, one may downplay the fact that member states never explicitly decided to abandon the EDC treaty. And still, we have evidence that when States really want to abandon agreements in European integration, they do so in plain wordsâas the European Council did in 2007 after the failure of the Constitutional Treaty in France and the Netherlands. SchĂŒtze insists that âthe European Council, which forms part of an autonomous legal organization independent of the Member States,â could not withdraw the consent of the member states that signed the Constitutional Treaty. But that, again, misses the point. Of course, in 2007 the European Council was not an EU institution â it only became one when the Lisbon Treaty entered into force in 2009. So, the European Council was then acting as an international diplomatic body, perfectly capable of expressing the intention of its members. This confirms that indeed when States want to ditch a still-born treaty, they know how to do soâexplicitly.
Finally, there is the claim that if the EDC Treaty was still valid it would be illegal in Germany, given the more recent case law of the BVerfG. It is international law 101, though, that a domestic problem can, in principle, not be invoked against international law obligations. Article 46 of the Vienna Convention (VCLT) confirms that âA State may not invoke the fact that its consent to be bound by a treaty has been expressed in violation of a provision of its internal law regarding competence to conclude treaties as invalidating its consent unless that violation was manifestâ, which occurs when âit would be objectively evident to any State conducting itself in the matter in accordance with normal practice and in good faith.â We donât even need to add here that Germanyâs own Constitutional Court actually upheld the original EDC ratification, which, arguably, weakens the case for manifest violation. Of course, nobody can contest that a state may invoke the rebus sic stantibus clause under Article 62 VCLT to terminate its consent and withdraw from a treaty. But if Germany or the Benelux wanted to do that with regard to the EDC, they would need to take an affirmative action to do so. Thus, from a public international law point of view, the EDC treaty is still there â it has not entered into force obviously, but it could.
One may insist on a perception that the EDC treaty would violate EU law. Our response remains: No, that is not the case.
SchĂŒtze maintains that because Article 42 and 46 TEU ask each Member State âto develop its defence capacities through the development of its national contributions and participationâ the EDC then is illegal because it created a common army by merging national armies. But this is non sequitur. The provisions of the EU treaties do not require member states to keep national armies. They simply exclude an EU competence in the field of defence, reserving the matter to the member states. This means that EU states are of course sovereignly free to organize defence as they see fit, including by pooling their armed forces with other members if they so wish. In fact, Article 42(3) TEU is clear by saying that âthose member states which together establish multinational forces may also make them available for the common security and defence policyâ. This is exactly what the EDC would beâa multinational force created by the (initially six) member states that concluded the EDC treaty.
Then there is the argument that the conclusion of inter-se intergovernmental agreements between groups of member states âcan constitutionally be done, once the Pringle criteria are fulfilled, in those parts of the EU Treaties that are themselves supranationalâ but not in areas which are intergovernmental. The exact opposite is true. In areas of EU law which are supranational, member states have much less room for maneuver to conclude inter-se agreements. In areas which remain intergovernmental, States have a much wider remit to conclude treaties outside the EU legal order, as a vast body of literature and treaty practice confirms. Of course, the Pringle criteria apply also in this area, but there is really nothing in the EDC treaty that conflicts with primary law, and surely not the possible involvement of the ECJâwhich is barred from having jurisdiction on the CSDP, but could well be given oversight on the EDC.
Finally, there is the argument that the EDC would violate EU secondary law, especially the EU Defence Procurement Directive (DPD) and now EDIRPA. This is not the case. The DPD is a rather inconsequential piece of legislation, designed to encourage the creation of a more integrated EU defence market: it ultimately leaves to member states maximum freedom in how much they wish to open up their defence market to foreign competition. And the DPD is itself subjected to Article 346(1)(b) TFEU according to which âany member state may take such measures as it considers necessary [âŠ] connected to the production of or trade in arms, munitions and war materielâ. If defence procurement is a matter that the treaties leave to the sovereign member states, why on earth could a group of member states not decide in their sovereignty to integrate for real their defence procurement, e.g. by shifting authority to a common supranational agency â just as the EDC foresees?
We donât need to be concerned about limits in the EU treaties that do not exist. EU primary law in defence essentially does one thingâit leaves power to the member states, which are then free to integrate it through separate agreements (also of a federal, supranational type). To claim that EU law imposes on member states to keep national armies, or prohibits them from integrating their defence forces through other means would simply be a misreading of text, history and purpose.
When lawyers turn to political arguments against the EDC, we are outside the realm of legal reasoning anyway, so we will remain brief on this. SchĂŒtze questions the âpolitical wisdomâ of reviving the EDC given its connection to NATO; on the other hand, he claims that we should move towards a European defence union that is more autonomous, democratic and pragmatic than the EDC, along the lines of proposals made by the European Parliament and some members of the EU Commissionâtwo institutions which incidentally have no legal authority under the current EU treaties to make proposals in the field defence.
On the first point, we are conscious of the issue as it is just obvious. Note, though, that the fact that the EDC is connected to NATO actually makes reviving the 1952 treaty an attractive proposition for most current European states (including Germany), which are eager to keep going the transatlantic relationship. Connection to NATO, however, was and remains a liability of the EDC especially in France, which is wary of subjecting its armed forces to an organization where the Supreme Allied Commander (SACEUR) is a US general. Yet, there is no legal requirement in the NATO treaty for SACEUR to be an American. This made sense as long as the US did the heavy lifting in NATO. But as the US increasingly steps down its commitment, it is well conceivable that a European could take the role. In fact, we would like to propose that European NATO states should decide to appoint a French general as the next SACEUR. That would remove the biggest obstacle to serious discussion on the EDC in France, and change the narrative.
On the second point, we share a pro-European stance on the issue, but we also see what is going on in the real world of defence in Europe today. It is always helpful for academics to get away from their books and libraries â from time to time â for a reality check. And what is obvious for anyone who wants to see is that there isnât more Europe in defence, but rather less Europe. With all the academic enthusiasm for the increasing role of the Commission in defence industrial policy, the truth is that the European defence market is becoming more fragmented, rather than more integrated. Just look at Article 4(3) of the SAFE regulation. Â It allows member states receiving EU funds to use all the money for purely national projects, as opposed to cooperative ones, for the first full year. The ambitious Franco-German project for a future joint aircraft combat system has been scrapped, after having been brain-dead for quite some time. The most significant defence-related decision taken by the EU since Trumpâs re-election has been to lift EU fiscal rules to allow member states to spend more â on their armed forces.
It seems quite clear what is on the agenda today: not some dream-like implementation of Article 42 TEU, which allows the European Council, unanimously, and following national ratifications, to establish a âcommon defenceââa prospect that by the way SchĂŒtze himself acknowledges would not be legal in Germany nowadays, given recent BVerfGâs insistence on preserving âmilitary sovereignty ⊠as a fundamental aspect of German statehoodâ. The truth is that what is happening is national rearmament, with Germany alone dominating the process, and projected to have by the end of the decade an army larger than the French and British forces combined. Easy to overlook for German observers, but this has a hegemonic dynamic that is causing increasing unease in neighboring countries, not least given polls indicating that the extreme right AfD could seize power as soon as the next federal election. In fact, in the US voices exist that point to a scenario in which Germany may soon want its own nuclear deterrentâsomething that would conflict with two treaties (the Non-Proliferation Treaty and the 2+4 Treaty), but which could become inevitable if NATO is withered and no pan-European solution is quickly put in place.
This takes us back to the EDC. Remember: The EDC created a common army, with a common budget, a common defence procurement, and a common government (with a bicameral legislature, a collective executive and a court), linked to NATO, the UK and open to the accession of new member states. And, once more: this wasnât a draft starting point, to be ground down to something ârealistâ: The EDC treaty has already been negotiated. It was signed. And it was ratified by 2/3 of its signatory States. And serious efforts are ongoing to ratify the treaty also in Italy.
We do not support the idea of reviving the EDC because this is the best of all worlds. If we were to start from scratch, we would surely come up with something different. But politics is not an academic seminar. This moment in time, arguably the most dangerous and the most insecure in Europe since the end of WW II, calls for answers, not for another round of questions and another layer of academic concerns. Turning to the EDC is currently the best among several imperfect alternatives to make progress on European defenceâsurely preferable to uncoordinated national rearmament. And, arguably the most important point: Turning to the EDC and taking its legacy seriously makes us realize how far we were able to come in the past.
The post Reviving the EDC Treaty is Legally Feasible, and Preferable to the Ongoing National Rearmament appeared first on Verfassungsblog.
The Hertie School has prohibited its 2026 graduating cohort from displaying Palestinian solidarity symbols at their 22 June ceremony at the Berliner Philharmonie â including any depiction of historical Palestine âin the colours or shape of the watermelonâ â and required students to sign a declaration accepting these terms as a condition of entry, as publicised on TableMedia, X and LinkedIn. While universities possess a legitimate interest in protecting the ceremonial character of graduation events, categorical restrictions on peaceful symbolic expressions â particularly those not included in the taxonomy that German authorities have designated as prohibited â are arguably not proportionate. While a (private) university can regulate conduct at its ceremony to maintain its main purpose, restrictions on freedom of expression cannot be absolute. The more concrete and content-oriented a restriction on displaying symbols and political expression is, the stronger the legal justification it must provide.
How do freedom of expression and other constitutional guarantees under the Basic Law apply in this dispute? While Hertie School is a state-recognised and accredited private university, and a graduation ceremony is not an entirely public forum, the constitutional guarantees, mutatis mutandis, nevertheless apply for at least the following three reasons: First, since the Bundesverfassungsgerichtâs (BVerfG) landmark LĂŒth judgment (1958), fundamental rights operate not merely as defensive rights against the state but as a constitutional value order that âradiatesâ into private-law relationships. According to the thus developed doctrine of human rights obligationsâ indirect effect (âmittelbare Drittwirkungâ), Hertieâs contractual autonomy â including its authority to set conditions of entry â must be exercised in light of Article 5 of the Basic Law (GG)âs guarantee of freedom of expression. Second, the Berliner Philharmonie is not a privately owned ballroom or conference centre: it is a foundation established under Berlin public law and forms part of the cityâs funded cultural infrastructure. Third, the BVerfGâs Fraport judgment (2011) established that entities operating publicly accessible space cannot treat private-law house rights as a constitutional escape hatch. While a graduation ceremony is not an airport terminal, the judgmentâs underlying logic stands: the public character of a space and the institutional significance of the event mean that fundamental rights do not simply dissolve in a puff of smoke because the contractor is a private entity.
Surely, a private university retains latitude to protect the integrity and dignity of a ceremony. Content-neutral rules prohibiting organised disruptions, chanting during speeches, stage occupations or large banners which obstruct visibility or fundamentally alter the character of the event would be permissible under both German constitutional doctrine and ECtHR jurisprudence. They afford organisers significant room to preserve the purpose of an event against conduct that prevents it from proceeding as intended.
These concerns are not theoretical. At a 2024 commencement ceremony at Central European University in Vienna, graduates interrupted speeches to accuse university leadership of complicity in genocide, repeatedly disrupting proceedings to the point where the ceremony could not continue as planned. Whatever one thinks of the underlying claims, universities have a legitimate interest in ensuring that the academic milestone celebrated by one part of a cohort is not appropriated as a platform by another. Had Hertieâs guidelines confined themselves to regulating conduct of that kind, the minimal restrictions of the constitutional rights would likely be proportionate.
The dispute becomes more serious when students are required, as they were in the present case, to sign a declaration accepting the applicable rules as a condition of entry to the ceremony. That requirement changed the picture: it shifted the organiserâs intervention from regulating conduct inside the event to gatekeeping participation in a ceremony marking the completion of a state-recognised degree â something students have earned and around which they hold legitimate expectations of attendance.
More importantly, it conditioned participation upon acceptance of restrictions that rest on the institutionâs overly narrow interpretation of contested political meaning. The BVerfGâs Stadionverbot decision (2018) is instructive: The Court recognised that exclusion from events with significant consequences for social participation requires a non-arbitrary, objective justification (âsachlicher Grundâ). A private law contract does not insulate a decision to exclude from this sort of scrutiny.
While graduation is not a football match, the principle holds: exclusion from an academic ritual demands justification within the sphere of proportionality. It must address and justify how the specifically prohibited conduct of displaying the concrete symbols disrupts the ceremony: how is a graduating student â or their parent or cousin waving a Palestinian flag, wearing a BDS badge or an unobtrusive symbol on their blouse â concretely obstructing the proceedings or fundamentally altering the character of the event? Is restricting that conduct â silent and symbolic â proportionate to pursuing the legitimate objective of non-disruption?
Such expression constitutes classic political speech protected by Article 5 GG and Article 10 ECHR. We may dislike the message or find it offensive. Yet constitutional protection is not reserved for messages that enjoy consensus. In its canonical judgment in Handyside v UK, the ECtHR famously observed that freedom of expression protects not only information and ideas that are favourably received but also those that âoffend, shock or disturbâ. The proposition has become a constitutional commonplace across Europe precisely because controversial political speech, and with it, symbols, is usually the speech most in need of protection.
Palestinian solidarity symbols, like much of the iconography of national liberation movements, will always be politically contested. Constitutional law requires caution before suppressing them. Political symbolism is, in principle, protected, and any ban requires a context-specific and proportionate justification. The guidelines communicated to Hertieâs graduating students, however, merely designate maps depicting a pre-1948 Palestine as inherently anti-Semitic because they supposedly deny Israelâs right to exist. Whether that interpretation is anti-Semitic to some, or not to others, really isnât the question. Where a symbol admits of multiple meanings â as symbols tend to â doctrine does not permit defaulting to the most harmful reading. Categorical prohibitions require justifications that the guidelines do not provide.
A similar asymmetry of interpretation runs through Germanyâs parallel struggle over the slogan âFrom the river to the seaâŠâ. After the Federal Ministry of the Interior listed the phrase as a characteristic (Kennzeichen) of Hamas when it banned the terror organisation in November 2023, criminal and administrative courts continuously disagree over what the slogan denotes. The VG MĂŒnster (2023) and, on appeal, the Hessische VGH (2023) held that the phrase admits of readings ranging from a demand for Palestinian self-determination to, at the extreme, a call for Israelâs destruction â and that this plurality of meaning, protected by the BVerfGâs longstanding rule against assigning ambiguous statements their most incriminating reading, precluded its prohibition. The LG Berlin I (2025) reached the opposite conclusion twice, holding that Article 5 GG must ârecedeâ once a âverbal formulaâ has been designated the identifying slogan of a banned organisation, regardless of what an individual speaker meant by it. The OLG DĂŒsseldorf (2025) became the first appellate court to endorse this approach; jurisprudence is inconsistent thus far (2026) and awaits further clarification by the Bundesgerichtshof.
The parallel to the Hertie Schoolâs guidelines is evident â one assigns a single, authoritative meaning to an utterance or image with a demonstrable plurality of possible meanings, thus foreclosing the inquiry that a constitutional doctrine would otherwise demand. For example, a chant used since the 1970s by both Palestinians and Israeli leftists, or a T-shirt declaring loyalty to the cause of the Boycott, Divest and Sanction (BDS) movement. The map is the starkest example: depending on context, it can serve as a statement of historical geography, a mnemonic of the Nakba, a claim to self-determination, a vision of a single state, or a blueprint for a Holy Land confederation â yet Hertieâs guidelines proceed on the basis of a single interpretation.
If after years of litigation and conflicting rulings, German courts still cannot agree what the slogan âFrom the river to the seaâŠâ necessarily denotes, an instruction sheet handed to graduating students a fortnight before a ceremony is unlikely to settle what a map of historic Palestine means either.
Where universities designate a symbol or slogan as harmful, they remain obliged to explain why restrictions on expression are necessary and proportionate where meaning itself is contested. The ECtHRâs judgment in Baldassi v. France (2020) provides a useful illustration. The Court considered the conviction of activists who had called for a BDS-style boycott of Israeli products. While the Court did not endorse the activistsâ views, it held that their conduct formed part of political expression on a matter of public interest and was therefore entitled to the heightened protection ordinarily afforded by Article 10 ECHR. It also attached significance to the absence of anti-Semitic language, hate speech or incitement to hatred.
The judgment does not prevent institutions from criticising boycott campaigns. It does, however, caution against treating support for boycotts of Israel as inherently anti-Semitic or as automatically falling outside the protection of freedom of expression. Like political symbols, political slogans or historical maps require contextual assessment rather than categorical classification. The legal bottom line is that universities may protect ceremonies against disruption but need to transparently justify any categorical restrictions on symbols. If there is more than one way of interpreting them, they remain protected under the constitutional guarantee of the freedom of speech.
The BVerfGâs underlying concern in Fraport was that constitutional guarantees lose practical significance if publicly accessible spaces could be transformed into rights-free zones. In Appleby v UK â the leading case on how human rights operate in privately owned spaces â the ECtHR recognised that the relationship between property rights and expressive freedoms cannot always be resolved by reference to ownership alone. While the Court stopped short of recognising a general right to exercise free speech on private property, it accepted that exclusion from privately owned spaces may, in certain circumstances, violate the rights under the Convention.
The graduation dispute sits in a particular hybrid public-private setting, where private organisational autonomy intersects with institutions embedded in the public sphere. Hence, where public institutions and private entities are intersecting, fundamental freedoms cannot simply disappear at the entrance. The more a restriction targets the content of expression (rather than anticipating a disruption of an event as such), the stronger the justification required. This conclusion should not be controversial. It is one of the basic features of liberal constitutionalism and one that a school dedicated to the study of public policy ought to be especially well-placed to defend.
The dispute highlights a broader challenge that increasingly confronts German cultural institutions, universities and foundations as they face pressure to distinguish between anti-Semitism, anti-Zionism, Palestinian nationalism or patriotism and criticism of Israeli government policy regarding, inter alia, its conduct under international humanitarian and criminal law. They simultaneously seek to protect Jewish students and prevent anti-Semitism (as they should), preserve academic freedom as well as institutional neutrality, and avoid becoming platforms for geopolitical conflict. These are all legitimate objectives. The danger lies in pursuing those goals through expansive definitions of impermissible political expression. If every contested symbol, T-shirt slogan or chant can be reclassified as discrimination or hateful speech, constitutional balancing becomes unnecessary and the outcome is determined before the analysis begins.
It is therefore appropriate that the dispute should arise in the Berliner Philharmonie. A graduation ceremony, like a concert, depends upon orderly conduct and mutual respect. Yet constitutional democracy is not an exercise in perfect harmony. Its defining feature is the capacity to accommodate competing voices without silencing them. The challenge is therefore not how to eliminate every dissonance from public life but how to ensure that, in our search for harmony, we do not end up hearing only a single tune.
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