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Feed Titel: Transition News
Transition News: Das Motto der Demonstration am 2. August in Berlin ist «Weltfrieden». Ist es denn ĂŒberhaupt noch sinnvoll, weiterhin seine Meinung auf die StraĂe zu bringen?
Christiane Tan: Zu demonstrieren ist zum einen wichtig, um der Ohnmacht zu entkommen, um etwas zu tun, um seine Meinung auch fĂŒr sich selbst auf die StraĂe zu bringen. Und andererseits ist es ganz heilsam und gut, sich mit anderen, die den gleichen Wunsch haben, zu verbinden. In einer Welt, die immer chaotischer und undurchschaubarer wird, gilt es, Kontakt zu sich selbst und Kontakt zu anderen herzustellen.
Auf der StraĂe kann ich mit Menschen zusammenkommen, die das Gleiche wollen. Es geht in diesen Zeiten tatsĂ€chlich um Kontakt, um Verbindung zwischen den einzelnen Seelen, aber auch zwischen den Völkern. Nur so können wir Weltfrieden realisieren. Denn Frieden ist die Grundvoraussetzung fĂŒr eine Welt, in der sich jeder optimal entfalten kann.
Was meinen Sie mit «Kontakt»?
In dem Moment, wo wir wirklich in Kontakt sind â das gelingt mal mehr und mal weniger gut â, ist es gar nicht möglich, Waffen einzusetzen oder zu kĂ€mpfen, weder im Kleinen noch im GroĂen.
Wenn wir uns den Konflikt in PalĂ€stina und Israel ansehen, dann tendieren wir immer dazu, uns fĂŒr eine Seite zu entscheiden oder eine Lösung zu projizieren. Aber es geht eigentlich darum, die Menschen vor Ort zu verstehen und sich zu fragen, was es bedeutet, wenn dir eine Bombe auf den Kopf fĂ€llt oder dein Haus und deine Familie zerstört. Wenn wir damit in Kontakt gehen, wird jedem klar, dass Krieg unertrĂ€glich ist. Und dass das in einer Welt, die so schön sein kann, keinen Platz hat.
In Griechenland, Frankreich und Italien streiken Hafenarbeiter und verladen keine RĂŒstungsgĂŒter nach Israel. Andere verkaufen ihre Aktien und investieren nicht mehr in Unternehmen, die an Kriegen und AufrĂŒstung verdienen. Aber was können diejenigen unternehmen, die weder Firmenanteile besitzen noch irgendwie mit Kriegswaffen zu tun haben?
Was wirklich jeder machen kann: mit den Themen, die die Menschen in Kriegsgebieten bewegen, in Kontakt zu gehen, ohne das auf die politische Ebene zu projizieren. Das heiĂt, sich nicht mit den Regierungen, sondern mit den Betroffenen auseinandersetzen und sie zu fragen: Was braucht Ihr, damit eine Lösung stattfinden kann? Was sind Eure BedĂŒrfnisse? Was sind die Schmerzen der PalĂ€stinenser, der Ukrainer, der Russen? Dann wird auch klar, dass wir Kommunikation und ein Miteinander brauchen. Dass wir jemanden brauchen, der den Schmerz und nicht immer nur die politischen Lösungen erkennt.
Was heiĂt Frieden fĂŒr Sie?
FĂŒr mich persönlich bedeutet Frieden, dass jeder zuerst mal in sich selbst schaut. Wo tut es weh? Wo sind Triggerpunkte? Wo ist das, was im Unfrieden in einem selber ist? Und das dann auf die groĂe BĂŒhne zu projizieren. Denn es ist ja im Kleinen so wie im GroĂen. Wenn man sich mit seinen eigenen GefĂŒhlen, Angehörigen und Ahnen im Konflikt befindet, dann wird auch klar, dass sich das auf der groĂen WeltenbĂŒhne widerspiegelt.
All diese Dinge, die so erdrĂŒckend sind und gegen jede Art von Frieden passieren â da braucht es von uns allen ein klares Nein.
Die Wehrpflicht soll in Deutschland durch die HintertĂŒr wieder eingefĂŒhrt werden. Sie haben selbst zwei Kinder. Was sagen die dazu?
Meine Kinder, die gerade schön heranwachsen, mein Mann und ich sind uns total einig, dass es auch da ein ganz klares Nein braucht â und das schon jetzt. Zum Beispiel kann jeder an sein Einwohnermeldeamt schreiben, damit es die Daten nicht an die Bundeswehr weiterleitet â so kann man wenigsten deren Werbeanschreiben an die Jugendlichen einen Riegel vorschieben.
Wie kam es eigentlich zur GrĂŒndung von «Wir sind Viele»?
Die meisten von uns waren schon im FrĂŒhling 2020 auf dem Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz in Berlin bei den SpaziergĂ€ngen zur Wahrung der Grundrechte dabei, die «Nicht-Ohne-Uns!» initiiert hatte. Und als dann die groĂen August-Demos stattfanden, fand auch Querdenken Berlin zusammen. Im Laufe dieses ersten «Corona»-Jahres wurden in Berlin sehr viele Initiativen gegrĂŒndet, die sich â auch durch Ă€uĂere EinflĂŒsse â bald wieder in Auflösung befanden. Um alle in dasselbe Boot zu holen, haben wir «Wir sind Viele» gegrĂŒndet, und Querdenken Berlin wurde ein Teil davon. Es ging darum, möglichst viele Berliner Initiativen zusammenzufĂŒhren.
«Wir sind Viele» organisiert inzwischen seit mehreren Jahren Demonstrationen zur Einhaltung der Grundrechte, fĂŒr gesundheitliche Selbstbestimmung und fĂŒr Frieden. Welche Bedeutung hat dieser Termin Anfang August fĂŒr Sie?
Die Grundvoraussetzung fĂŒr eine bessere Welt ist erst mal Frieden. Die Waffen mĂŒssen schweigen, damit wir ĂŒberhaupt zur Ruhe kommen. Deshalb veranstalten wir hier in Berlin viele Friedensdemos, Friedensfeste und auch jeden Montag eine Mahnwache fĂŒr Weltfrieden. Ich glaube, dass es sich bei den ganzen Sachen, die wir erleben, um Symptome derselben Ursache handelt.
Und inzwischen ist es zur Tradition geworden, dass sich die Bewegung am ersten Augustwochenende versammelt. Am 1. August 2020 hat Michael Ballweg eine GroĂdemo initiiert, die von seinem Team in Stuttgart, Querdenken 711, organisiert wurde. Im Jahr 2021 wurde die Augustdemonstration kurzfristig verboten, dennoch sind Hunderttausende gekommen und haben sich die StraĂen Berlins sozusagen friedlich erobert. Durch die unrechtmĂ€Ăige Verhaftung von Michael Ballweg und seinen absolut unrechten GefĂ€ngnisaufenthalt von neun Monaten, hat dann das Team von «Wir sind Viele» die Augustdemonstration in den Jahren 2022 und 2023 organisiert. 2024 gab es eine Kooperation von Querdenken Stuttgart und unserer Initiative. Und da Michael Ballweg jetzt im Juli mehrere Gerichtstermine hat, liegt in diesem Jahr die Organisation der Demonstration wieder komplett in den HĂ€nden von «Wir sind Viele».
Wie hÀngen Krieg und «Corona» denn zusammen?
Wie ich schon gesagt habe, fĂŒr mich ist «Corona» ein Symptom dafĂŒr, dass gewisse Machtstrukturen einen GroĂteil der Menschheit beherrschen wollen und immer wieder in die Angst treiben, um uns von unserem Inneren, von einander und uns letztlich von unserer Kraft zu trennen â die Kraft der Menschheitsfamilie. Und Krieg ist ja nichts anderes, als uns immer wieder zu spalten.
Bei «Corona» wurden die Menschen voneinander getrennt, bis in die Familien hinein â es gibt, die einen, die nicht an diesem Experiment teilnehmen wollten, und die anderen, die teilgenommen haben. Derzeit hat jeder eine Meinung zum Gaza-Konflikt oder zum Ukraine-Krieg, und das Ăbergeordnete ist kaum vorhanden, also zu sagen: Es gibt gar keine richtige Position, sondern wir sind alle eins. Und jeder hat das Recht, in Frieden so zu leben, wie er möchte, wenn er dabei niemanden einschrĂ€nkt.
Die Verbindung zwischen Krieg und «Corona» ist, dass diese Themen uns immer wieder spalten und uns Menschen, Familien, Völker durch Angstmache auseinandertreiben.
«Wir sind Viele» nimmt als Initiative auch an FriedensmÀrschen teil, die von anderen Gruppen organisiert werden. Wie sind denn die Erfahrungen mit der «alten» Friedensbewegung?
Es gibt immer wieder AnnĂ€herungen und auch immer wieder die alten Muster der Angst â Angst, das Falsche zu tun oder sich mit dem Falschen zu verbĂŒnden. Das ist ein groĂer Prozess, mal triften wir ein bisschen mehr auseinander, aber dann kommen wir doch wieder zusammen.
Welche BefĂŒrchtungen kommen dabei zum Vorschein?
Im konkreten Fall geht es um die Angst, mit den Falschen gesehen zu werden. Unser Framing als «Nazis» wirkt. Die Fragen, die sich dabei stellen: Wie geht man mit Rechts und Links um? Sind Menschen rechts oder links, die der Friedensbewegung angehören? Ist das alles korrekt? Da gibt es groĂe Bedenken auf Seiten der «alten» Friedensbewegung, die ja zuerst durch «Corona» und dann durch jedes neue Thema â Ukraine, Gaza, Israel â erneut gespalten wurde. Und diese Spaltungen fĂŒhren immer wieder zu Angst, Unsicherheit und Misstrauen.
Wenn wir dann zusammenkommen und das Thema Frieden auf den Punkt bringen, kommen sofort Angst und BefĂŒrchtungen hoch: Hat der vielleicht eine rechtsradikale Vergangenheit? Wer darf wirklich mit wem? Wo sind die Grenzen?
Die «alte» Friedensbewegung hat ihren Ursprung ganz klar in linken Kreisen. Wenn wir in diesen alten Begriffen «links» und «rechts» denken, dann sind wir alle links. Wir, als Teil der neuen Friedens- und Demokratiebewegung, wurden aber als «rechts» geframed. Dazu kommt, dass sich die AfD vermehrt unserer Themen angenommen hat. Und so besteht bei einigen groĂe Angst und Unsicherheit, mit den Falschen das Richtige zu tun.
Aber die Fragen, die wir uns alle stellen mĂŒssen: Kann man mit den Falschen das Richtige tun? Und wie viel Vertrauen dĂŒrfen wir wieder zueinander haben? Und wo sind unsere eigenen roten Linien? Gibt es diese Kategorien «rechts» und «links» noch? Gibt es ĂŒberhaupt solche Einteilungen? Gibt es falsche Menschen?
Pazifisten werden schon sehr lange diffamiert, denken wir nur an Begriffe wie «Peacemonger» oder «Peacenik». Wie gehen Sie damit um?
Ich glaube, da hat jeder seine eigenen Strategien. Ich begegne Verleumdungen inzwischen nicht mit Angst, sondern eher mit Humor. Letztlich zeigen solche Diffamierungen ja, dass das System Angst vor Menschen wie uns hat. Und ich glaube, Humor ist ein ganz guter Weg, damit umzugehen.
Aber das ist natĂŒrlich ein schmerzhafter Prozess gewesen. Auch ich habe durch diese Diffamierungen und Unterstellungen viele Menschen verloren. Mittlerweile amĂŒsieren mich solche Verleumdungen und prallen komplett ab.
Wie sieht das Programm fĂŒr die Augustdemonstration 2025 aus?
Im Vordergrund steht auf jeden Fall ein groĂer Umzug, der die Verbindung, die Freude und den Frieden in die Stadt hineintrĂ€gt, so wie es die letzten Jahre sehr gut gelungen ist. Eingerahmt wird die Demonstration durch eine Auftakt- und Schlusskundgebung mit Musik- und RedebeitrĂ€gen. Aber das Programm auf der BĂŒhne soll immer mehr in den Hintergrund treten, weil es nicht die Zeit der groĂen Redner oder Retter ist, sondern es geht wirklich um die Kraft der Menschen und um die Kraft der Verbindung. Das soll am 2. August in Berlin absolut im Vordergrund stehen.
Wer ist bei dieser Demo fĂŒr Weltfrieden willkommen?
Es ist jeder willkommen, der fĂŒr bedingungslosen Frieden steht. Und bedingungslos heiĂt fĂŒr uns tatsĂ€chlich, dass es bei Gaza oder der Ukraine nicht darum geht, eine Meinung zu vertreten oder auf der einen Seite zu stehen. Sondern es geht darum, dass in den Kriegsgebieten erst mal Frieden herrscht und dass keine Menschen mehr getötet werden. Einfach Frieden â ohne zu wissen, wie die Lösung aussieht.
Das Interview fĂŒhrte Sophia-Maria Antonulas.
Das Oberverwaltungsgericht (OVG) MĂŒnster hat entschieden, dass die StadtbĂŒcherei MĂŒnster Warnhinweise von zwei politisch umstrittenen BĂŒchern entfernen muss. Die betreffenden Aufkleber bezeichneten die Werke als «umstritten» und betonten, sie wĂŒrden «im Sinne der Meinungs- und Informationsfreiheit zur VerfĂŒgung gestellt». Diese Einordnung, so das Gericht, stelle eine unzulĂ€ssige inhaltliche Bewertung durch eine öffentliche Institution dar und greife in die Grundrechte der Autoren ein. Das berichtete letzte Woche der Newsletter des Schweizer Buchhandels.
Gegen die Praxis geklagt hatte unter anderem der Journalist und Buchautor Gerhard Wisnewski, dessen Werk «Verheimlicht â Vertuscht â Vergessen 2024» betroffen war. Auch das Buch «Putin â Herr des Geschehens?» des ehemaligen Schweizer Nachrichtendienstlers Jacques Baud war mit einem entsprechenden Hinweis versehen worden.
Ein erster Antrag Wisnewskis auf einstweilige VerfĂŒgung war im April 2025 vom Verwaltungsgericht MĂŒnster abgelehnt worden. Die Richter sahen in der Kennzeichnung einen gerechtfertigten Eingriff im Rahmen des nordrhein-westfĂ€lischen Kulturgesetzbuchs, das öffentlichen Bibliotheken die Förderung der demokratischen Willensbildung als Aufgabe zuweist.
Das OVG MĂŒnster widersprach dieser Auslegung nun klar: Der Hinweis verletze sowohl die Meinungsfreiheit als auch das allgemeine Persönlichkeitsrecht des Autors. Es sei nicht Aufgabe von Bibliotheken, BĂŒcher zu kommentieren oder inhaltlich einzuordnen. Ihre Rolle bestehe allein darin, eine Auswahl zu treffen â nicht aber darin, die Nutzer in ihrer Meinungsbildung zu lenken.
«Bibliotheksnutzer sind mĂŒndige StaatsbĂŒrger. Ihnen muss eine ungehinderte Information ermöglicht werden, ohne dass sie durch behördliche Hinweise gelenkt werden», heiĂt es in der Entscheidung.
Das Urteil ist rechtskrĂ€ftig und nicht anfechtbar. Es dĂŒrfte Signalwirkung haben: Auch andere Bibliotheken, die Ă€hnlich verfahren, mĂŒssen kĂŒnftig auf derartige Kennzeichnungen verzichten.
Trotzdem bleibt die Diskussion um politische Einordnung in Bibliotheken aktuell. Der Berufsverband «Information Bibliothek», dem rund 5200 Mitglieder angehören, hatte sich zuletzt dafĂŒr ausgesprochen, sogenannte «rechte» BĂŒcher entweder mit Warnhinweisen zu versehen oder sie durch Werke mit alternativer Perspektive zu flankieren.
Wie sich dieses Spannungsfeld kĂŒnftig entwickelt, bleibt abzuwarten. Das Gericht hat jedenfalls klargestellt: Die Entscheidung, was gelesen wird â und wie es bewertet wird â liegt bei den Leserinnen und Lesern.
Anmerkung: Dieser Artikel wurde am 14. Juli aktualisiert.
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Feed Titel: Verfassungsblog
Als Vertreterinnen und Vertreter der universitĂ€ren â insbesondere rechtswissenschaftlichen â Forschung und Lehre sowie der Justiz protestieren wir nachdrĂŒcklich gegen die Art und Weise, wie im Rahmen der Richterwahl zum Bundesverfassungsgericht in der Politik und in der Ăffentlichkeit mit Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf umgegangen wurde. Dieser Umgang ist geeignet, die Kandidatin, die beteiligten Institutionen und mittelfristig ĂŒber den Verfall der angemessenen Umgangskultur die gesamte demokratische Ordnung zu beschĂ€digen.
ZunĂ€chst ist zu betonen, dass Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf eine hoch angesehene Staatsrechtslehrerin ist. Das ist in Fachkreisen völlig unstreitig. Alle ĂuĂerungen, die ihre wissenschaftliche Reputation in Frage stellen, sind daher schlicht unzutreffend und unsachlich. Das schlieĂt es selbstverstĂ€ndlich nicht aus, dass man einzelne ihrer juristischen Positionen kritisieren oder andere Meinungen vertreten kann. Darstellungen aber, die diese Positionen als von vornherein abseitig oder radikal einordnen, sind jedenfalls durch Unkenntnis der rechtswissenschaftlichen Diskussion geprĂ€gt. ĂuĂerungen einzelner Bundestagsabgeordneter, ihre UniversitĂ€t möge aufgrund dieser Positionen MaĂnahmen gegen Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf ergreifen, stellen einen Angriff auf die Wissenschaftsfreiheit selbst dar.
Im Rahmen des Nominierungsprozesses können zwar selbstverstĂ€ndlich sowohl die â hier aber ohne Zweifel bestehende â fachliche Qualifikation als auch einzelne zuvor geĂ€uĂerte Ansichten der Kandidatinnen und Kandidaten zum Gegenstand gemacht und kritisiert werden. Umso wichtiger ist es dann aber, dass im Zuge dieses Prozesses die beteiligten Personen und Institutionen nicht beschĂ€digt werden. Im Richterwahlausschuss eine Kandidatin zunĂ€chst zu bestĂ€tigen, um dann gegenĂŒber ideologisierten Lobbygruppen und mit Unwahrheiten und Diffamierungen gespickten Kampagnen zurĂŒckzurudern, zeugt zumindest von fehlendem politischem RĂŒckgrat und mangelnder interner Vorbereitung. Dass dann ausgesprochen unglaubhafte PlagiatsvorwĂŒrfe als Vorwand fĂŒr eine Vertagung herhalten mĂŒssen und dadurch eine weitere BeschĂ€digung der Kandidatin in Kauf genommen wird, ist ein Angriff auf das Ansehen der Wissenschaft und ihrer Vertreterinnen und Vertreter.
Das Bundesverfassungsgericht und die deutsche Staatsrechtslehre haben ihr hohes â auch internationales â Ansehen nicht zuletzt durch die wohl einzigartige Verbindung von Verfassungspraxis und Verfassungsrechtswissenschaft gewonnen. Dies setzt aber voraus, dass Rechtswissenschaftler und Rechtswissenschaftlerinnen, die sich an dieser Praxis beteiligen sollen, von der Politik vor HerabwĂŒrdigung geschĂŒtzt werden. Im Fall von Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf ist dies den dafĂŒr verantwortlichen Personen und Institutionen bisher nicht gelungen.
Beck, Susanne, Prof.âin Dr. LL.M. (LSE), UniversitĂ€t Hannover
Huster, Stefan, Prof. Dr., Ruhr-UniversitÀt Bochum
Thiele, Alexander, Prof. Dr., Business & Law School Berlin
The post Stellungnahme zur Causa âFrauke Brosius-Gersdorfâ appeared first on Verfassungsblog.
The Trump Administration has repeatedly pushed for the adoption or licensing of Elon Muskâs satellite company Starlink in trade negotiations. But as Muskâs strategic use of his satellite service reveals, corporate control over critical infrastructure inevitably translates into political power. Power that companies may wield in alignment with, or in opposition to, state interests.
The solution, however, may not lie in stronger state oversight alone, but in democratizing corporations themselves.
In the wake of the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the degradation of its communications infrastructure, Elon Musk offered his Starlink satellite services to the Ukrainian government and public, free of charge. In the middle of a planned attack against Russian forces in 2022, however, the SpaceX CEO disabled Starlink access in a geofenced area to thwart the attack, forcing Ukrainian armed forces to retreat as their communications malfunctioned. He even tweeted that he had spoken directly to Russian President Vladimir Putin about a peace plan. The incident showed that while we are not used to thinking of corporations as political actors, or satellite company CEOs as negotiators of international war, companies and businessmen clearly have a form of political power.
After the Ukraine incident, it is perhaps understandable that other countries have been somewhat wary of inking deals with Starlink. In response, the US appeared to throw its incredible might behind the company. Leaked State Department documents showed that Secretary of State Marco Rubio pushed officials to demand regulatory approvals for satellite services during trade talks, often mentioning Starlink by name. One such case: after President Trump imposed 50% tariffs on Lesotho, the country approved the first ever satellite internet service license to Starlink.
While part of this may be due to the previous alliance between Trump and Musk, it also reflects how useful it is for the US government when American companies control global critical infrastructure upon which other states might depend.
But while satellite dependency may be enough to turn the tide of a battle, it is nothing compared to the truly frightening reliance on cloud computing providers. A handful of American tech giants control the technical architecture upon which both the public internet and private computing infrastructure rely. It has come to be colloquially known as âthe cloudâ. The collapse of a major cloud provider could have far-reaching consequences, potentially disrupting access to medical records in hospitals, halting the operations of ports and railroads, interfering with financial market infrastructure, and wiping out critical data across businesses, utilities, and public agencies. According to estimates, a three- to six-day outage at one of the top providers could result in up to $15 billion in damages (see here).
As the headline of a recent Politico feature noted: âTrump can pull the plug on the internet, and Europe canât do anything about it.â Of course, no one wants Trumpâs finger on this button. But as Musk and his satellites make clear, it is not just the US president that has control over critical infrastructure for countries around the world: itâs American companies and CEOs.
What should we make of the power of these Silicon Valley technology corporations? For many commentators, the political power they wield seems new and unprecedented, either because of the enormous scale of the corporations or because of the uniqueness of their technology. Satellites, for instance, orbit above states territory and airspace: the Ukrainian government could not simply march upon and seize control of the infrastructure, in the same way that state governments might have been able to nationalize and conscript trains or telegraph stations. And although the cloud has its physical manifestation in earthly data centers, because of its architecture and data flows it too seems untethered from territory and traditional methods of state power and territoriality. Legal scholar Jennifer Daskal has even argued that we should understand the cloud as âunterritorialâ.
And yet, despite the distinctiveness of the technology, the relationship of dependency between corporations, states and societies is centuries old. Corporations that went out in search of profit often ended up buying or building imperial infrastructures that states or societies depended upon, using it for their own advantage in order to negotiate concessions. We might think of the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company in Iran, for instance. Even the current internet cables are laid over telegraph lines built by consortiums originally intended to connect empires. And while we may think of states as the primary actors in empire-building, in reality corporations were both its engines and executors (Stern, 2025).
More often than not, of course, the interests of corporations and the states that chartered them are aligned, as Trumpâs support of Starlink global expansion demonstrates. But these relationships can also rupture. The American Revolution, most famously, saw companies-turned-colonies rebel against their home state to establish their own. And it was not inevitable that the most famous of all imperial companies, the British East India, would eventually be annexed by the British state. In that way, the Musk-Trump break-up may also parallel the history of empire.
Muskâs willingness to take power to its breaking point often shows the latent capacities underlying corporations and computer infrastructure all along. For example, in his role as head of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), Musk and his college-age team attempted to seize the computer infrastructure of dozens of federal agencies. What if Musk or Trump could push a button and turn off Treasury payments? The control of computer infrastructure might allow them the technical ability to do so, even when Congress has legally appropriated the budget.
While DOGEâs computer coup might seem especially outrageous, it is not just societies but state governments around the world that have increasingly pushed to migrate government systems âto the cloudâ â from Europe to Brazil to New Zealand. Former UK Home Secretary Priti Patel, for instance, came under questions by Parliament for her decision to contract the sensitive infrastructure of British spy agenciesâ with Amazon Web Services (AWS). Not only European or international industries, but also governments themselves are dependent on American companies. Like the Ukrainian military, states around the world may find pleading their only remaining option if companies decide to switch these critical infrastructures off.
In both policy and scholarly discourse, worries about âdigital sovereigntyâ have abounded for decades. In Europe, for instance, the Snowden revelations prompted fears about the ways in which American companies must comply with US laws and demands to turn over data on European citizens. But this also extends to other types of control: after the ICC issued an arrest warrant for Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu, for instance, the top prosecutor found that the Microsoft-hosted email account of the office had been suspended. And as Musk reveals, this is not just about American state power: it is about corporations.
For all the push towards increased state regulation, the role of corporations in both global history and empire specifically shows that there is no âsolutionâ to the problem of corporate power. Corporations are political actors with political power and ought to be treated as such. One implication of this insight is that, like states, corporations ought to be democratized, with CEOs no longer allowed to run their companies as petit-monarchs. This would, of course, require a fundamental reimagining of the corporate demos to avoid an imperial corporate democracy.
But if we do not treat corporations as political, rather than economic or business actors, we will end up depending on their infrastructures and believing their assurances that they will always be trustworthy and fair towards their customers. Then it will truly be Starlink and AWS who are running our wars.
The post Starlink, the Cloud, and Corporate Dependency appeared first on Verfassungsblog.
PÄcurar is yet another version of the familiar cat-and-mouse game between anticorruption agencies and corrupt public officials: some public officials quietly amass real estate, luxury cars, financial investments, or cash, and â once confronted by anticorruption agencies to explain the difference from their declared legal income â rely on whimsical excuses. On 24 June 2025, the ECtHR held that wealth may be taken away if public officials cannot explain that very difference.
The decision increases legislatorsâ and practitionersâ legal certainty when it comes to asset declarations and confiscation. First, undeclared wealth is in itself enough reason for civil confiscation. Second, the calculation is straightforward: incoming and outgoing cash flows are compared for short subperiods, and all subperiods in which legal income is lacking are aggregated into one confiscation total. And third, audits of asset declarations and confiscation of wealth can cover the entire time in office, which may be many years.
The PÄcurar case originates from Romania. When asked to explain the difference between their wealth and their declared income, the Romanian public official relied on all sorts of excuses both familiar and implausible: it was a private loan (§ 101); a family member (often abroad) gifted me money (§ 16); I sold a car years ago for a good price but I forgot to whom (§ 16); guests at the last family celebration put a lot of envelopes with cash in the gift basket (§ 13); we have a profitable agricultural business (§ 13) â a convenient lie as in many countries small farms are unregistered (Hoppe/KalniĆĆĄ, p. 31). High level officials would not even shy away from explaining income from picking wild mushrooms or strawberries. By now, inspectors, journalists, and civil society watchdogs investigating public wealth disclosures respond to these stories with little more than an eye-roll.
International stakeholders often underestimate the time and effort required to address the explanations â often implausible or outright false â offered by public officials. In the PÄcurar case, more than ten witnesses were heard (§§ 32-33) as well as expert statements, and âdocuments [were] gathered from various authoritiesâ (§§ 43-44). As the public official could contest any evidence in âadversarial proceedingsâ (§ 150) and had âample opportunity to participate in the proceedings from the outsetâ, the confiscation of unexplained wealth did not place an unfair burden of proof on him (Article 6 ECHR; § 156).
The Court also rejected the public officialâs complaint that the confiscation violated the protection of his property (Article 1 Protocol 1 ECHR), referring in large part to its reasoning related to fair trial (§ 195). However, the Court drew an important distinction: the confiscation did not serve to âprevent the illicit acquisition of property through criminalâ acts but to âpreserve integrity in public office by ensuring that declarations of assets and interests are correctly filled in and submittedâ (§ 193). Therefore, the anticorruption agency did not have to show a link between the property and a criminal offence. The confiscation applied exclusively to public officials and only in cases where their wealth could not be explained.
Romanian law defines unexplained wealth as a difference between âchanges in assets during the exercise of public duties and functions and the income earned during the same periodâ (Article 18 Law no. 176/2010). Neither term is precise: incomes earned are also loans received, or savings at the beginning of the period (as already clarified by another section of the ECtHR in 2021, see here). As for assets, it is not important whether there are more or fewer. Assets can be (legally) received for free, e.g., in case of an inheritance. What counts is whether the public official spent money (cf. § 197), whether on assets, holidays, or private education. Furthermore, savings at the end of the period need to be justified by legal income as well (as the ECtHR rightly noted already in 2021, § 31 footnote 1). Therefore, unexplained wealth is not about income and assets, but about âcomparing incoming and outgoing financial flowsâ, as a methodology published in 2013 first suggested, followed by the UNODC (2019, p. 17); the Basel Institute (2019, p. 47); the ECtHR (2021); several international vetting commissions (2023, Annex); as well as the World Bank (2023, p. 53).
The PÄcurar case illustrates just how far identifying unexplained wealth of public officials has progressed. Ten years ago, the ECtHR struggled to navigate a tangle of numbers to calculate a total for criminal confiscation. The defendant had argued that inflation in Bulgaria made it impossible to compare the wealth of different years. The ECtHR lacked the analytical clarity to see through this flawed argument, effectively caving in when it assumed that âgalloping inflation [âŠ] rendered any assessment of the actual amounts received and spent very difficultâ (12655/09, § 48). This observation contradicts logic, and in case of cash, even physical laws: amounts spent stay the same, no matter what the inflation is; the same is true for income earned. Therefore, if, e.g., one earns in one year 10,000 Bulgarian Lev, but spends 30,000 Lev, the question remains as to where the missing 20,000 Lev come from. Inflation does not affect this calculation at all.
By comparison, the ECtHR in 2021 approved calculations of illicit enrichment for every year, correctly comparing the savings at the beginning of the year plus all incoming cash flows with all outgoing cash flows during the year plus savings at the end of the year (§ 31 footnote 1). The Court accurately disregarded inflation, even though in Albania, it totalled more than 3,000% between 1990 and 2020. In PÄcurar, the inflation in Romania exceeded 300% between 2000 and 2010, but the Court, correctly, ignored this.
The annual calculations approved by the ECtHR in the case at hand (§ 14) and in the 2021 decision have one more decisive advantage: they allow identifying more unexplained wealth than if doing a single calculation over a long period of time, e.g. 10 years. If the public official cannot explain a luxury expenditure in year 2 with her legal income, a loan received in year 9 might level out that expenditure if all 10 years are calculated together. With a yearly calculation (or even shorter periods), it remains visible that her expenditure in year 2 remains unexplained.
In this regard, the ECtHR (and Romanian authorities) interpreted the national law in the right way: âduring the exercise of public dutiesâ (Article 18 Law no. 176/2010) does not mean that one must (or even should) make one calculation for the entire period. This wording only defines the time span for which to look for unexplained wealth. Nothing captures this better than the wording of Moldovaâs International Vetting Commission for judges: âThe amounts of unjustified wealth in the periods in which it existed [âŠ] will be totalledâ (Article 12 Rules).
The public official complained that âhe had been expected to prove the source of income received some fifteen years earlierâ (§ 161). The ECtHR rejected this argument, noting that the official âwas aware of the legal obligation to declare his assets as long as he occupied a position as a public servant,â which necessarily included the verification of the declared data and the duty to provide explanations when required (§ 174). The Court had already endorsed financial audits going back some 15 years in the context of extraordinary vetting (2021, § 351). The rationale of the present case would allow going further still, even though it concerns only ordinary vetting, to cover any time in the past during which the official was obliged to submit declarations. The ECtHR shows limited sympathy for complaints about missing documentation from the distant past: the Court understands that this places officials
âin a somewhat difficult position to justify the lawful nature of the financial sources owing to the passage of time and the potential absence of supporting documentsâ.
However, the Court rightly emphasises that it was the officials themselves who failed to properly declare their finances in the first place (2021, § 351).
For some time, countries facing significant corruption challenges have voiced concerns over a double standard â arguing that they are subjected to stricter anti-corruption measures than some âoldâ EU Member States (Bachmann, p. 116). The ECtHR, however, justifies this differential treatment in constitutional terms: the more pressing âthe fight against corruption in the public sectorâ, the more likely it is that a strict countermeasure will meet the test of proportionality (§ 197). To evaluate this proportionality, the Court draws on reform recommendations by GRECO, OECD, and the European Commission (§ 186).
The judgment reflects a broader trend: dismissing corrupt public officials or taking away their unexplained wealth is often easier than securing a criminal conviction or proving a link to a specific offence (Kosovo, 2024). This ruling completes the ECtHRâs endorsement of civil law instruments in the fight against corruption by fully disconnecting confiscation from any link to a crime. It backs up states with similar mechanisms, such as Armenia, while reform-averse states, such as Bosnia and Herzegovina (p. 5-6) or Montenegro can no longer credibly invoke human rights as a barrier to effectively addressing unexplained wealth. Legislators should add civil confiscation to the menu of sanctions and should make sure to extend this tool to cover family members (as foreseen and applied, e.g., in Ukraine) if unexplained wealth is registered under their name.
The author would like to thank Vera Devine, Valts KalniĆĆĄ, Sviatoslav Tkachuk, Serhii Voloshyn, and David Wellstein for their comments on a draft of this blog post.
The post Assets Without Alibi appeared first on Verfassungsblog.
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Als Vertreterinnen und Vertreter der universitĂ€ren â insbesondere rechtswissenschaftlichen â Forschung und Lehre sowie der Justiz protestieren wir nachdrĂŒcklich gegen die Art und Weise, wie im Rahmen der Richterwahl zum Bundesverfassungsgericht in der Politik und in der Ăffentlichkeit mit Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf umgegangen wurde. Dieser Umgang ist geeignet, die Kandidatin, die beteiligten Institutionen und mittelfristig ĂŒber den Verfall der angemessenen Umgangskultur die gesamte demokratische Ordnung zu beschĂ€digen.
ZunĂ€chst ist zu betonen, dass Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf eine hoch angesehene Staatsrechtslehrerin ist. Das ist in Fachkreisen völlig unstreitig. Alle ĂuĂerungen, die ihre wissenschaftliche Reputation in Frage stellen, sind daher schlicht unzutreffend und unsachlich. Das schlieĂt es selbstverstĂ€ndlich nicht aus, dass man einzelne ihrer juristischen Positionen kritisieren oder andere Meinungen vertreten kann. Darstellungen aber, die diese Positionen als von vornherein abseitig oder radikal einordnen, sind jedenfalls durch Unkenntnis der rechtswissenschaftlichen Diskussion geprĂ€gt. ĂuĂerungen einzelner Bundestagsabgeordneter, ihre UniversitĂ€t möge aufgrund dieser Positionen MaĂnahmen gegen Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf ergreifen, stellen einen Angriff auf die Wissenschaftsfreiheit selbst dar.
Im Rahmen des Nominierungsprozesses können zwar selbstverstĂ€ndlich sowohl die â hier aber ohne Zweifel bestehende â fachliche Qualifikation als auch einzelne zuvor geĂ€uĂerte Ansichten der Kandidatinnen und Kandidaten zum Gegenstand gemacht und kritisiert werden. Umso wichtiger ist es dann aber, dass im Zuge dieses Prozesses die beteiligten Personen und Institutionen nicht beschĂ€digt werden. Im Richterwahlausschuss eine Kandidatin zunĂ€chst zu bestĂ€tigen, um dann gegenĂŒber ideologisierten Lobbygruppen und mit Unwahrheiten und Diffamierungen gespickten Kampagnen zurĂŒckzurudern, zeugt zumindest von fehlendem politischem RĂŒckgrat und mangelnder interner Vorbereitung. Dass dann ausgesprochen unglaubhafte PlagiatsvorwĂŒrfe als Vorwand fĂŒr eine Vertagung herhalten mĂŒssen und dadurch eine weitere BeschĂ€digung der Kandidatin in Kauf genommen wird, ist ein Angriff auf das Ansehen der Wissenschaft und ihrer Vertreterinnen und Vertreter.
Das Bundesverfassungsgericht und die deutsche Staatsrechtslehre haben ihr hohes â auch internationales â Ansehen nicht zuletzt durch die wohl einzigartige Verbindung von Verfassungspraxis und Verfassungsrechtswissenschaft gewonnen. Dies setzt aber voraus, dass Rechtswissenschaftler und Rechtswissenschaftlerinnen, die sich an dieser Praxis beteiligen sollen, von der Politik vor HerabwĂŒrdigung geschĂŒtzt werden. Im Fall von Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf ist dies den dafĂŒr verantwortlichen Personen und Institutionen bisher nicht gelungen.
Beck, Susanne, Prof.âin Dr. LL.M. (LSE), UniversitĂ€t Hannover
Huster, Stefan, Prof. Dr., Ruhr-UniversitÀt Bochum
Thiele, Alexander, Prof. Dr., Business & Law School Berlin
The post Stellungnahme zur Causa âFrauke Brosius-Gersdorfâ appeared first on Verfassungsblog.
The Trump Administration has repeatedly pushed for the adoption or licensing of Elon Muskâs satellite company Starlink in trade negotiations. But as Muskâs strategic use of his satellite service reveals, corporate control over critical infrastructure inevitably translates into political power. Power that companies may wield in alignment with, or in opposition to, state interests.
The solution, however, may not lie in stronger state oversight alone, but in democratizing corporations themselves.
In the wake of the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the degradation of its communications infrastructure, Elon Musk offered his Starlink satellite services to the Ukrainian government and public, free of charge. In the middle of a planned attack against Russian forces in 2022, however, the SpaceX CEO disabled Starlink access in a geofenced area to thwart the attack, forcing Ukrainian armed forces to retreat as their communications malfunctioned. He even tweeted that he had spoken directly to Russian President Vladimir Putin about a peace plan. The incident showed that while we are not used to thinking of corporations as political actors, or satellite company CEOs as negotiators of international war, companies and businessmen clearly have a form of political power.
After the Ukraine incident, it is perhaps understandable that other countries have been somewhat wary of inking deals with Starlink. In response, the US appeared to throw its incredible might behind the company. Leaked State Department documents showed that Secretary of State Marco Rubio pushed officials to demand regulatory approvals for satellite services during trade talks, often mentioning Starlink by name. One such case: after President Trump imposed 50% tariffs on Lesotho, the country approved the first ever satellite internet service license to Starlink.
While part of this may be due to the previous alliance between Trump and Musk, it also reflects how useful it is for the US government when American companies control global critical infrastructure upon which other states might depend.
But while satellite dependency may be enough to turn the tide of a battle, it is nothing compared to the truly frightening reliance on cloud computing providers. A handful of American tech giants control the technical architecture upon which both the public internet and private computing infrastructure rely. It has come to be colloquially known as âthe cloudâ. The collapse of a major cloud provider could have far-reaching consequences, potentially disrupting access to medical records in hospitals, halting the operations of ports and railroads, interfering with financial market infrastructure, and wiping out critical data across businesses, utilities, and public agencies. According to estimates, a three- to six-day outage at one of the top providers could result in up to $15 billion in damages (see here).
As the headline of a recent Politico feature noted: âTrump can pull the plug on the internet, and Europe canât do anything about it.â Of course, no one wants Trumpâs finger on this button. But as Musk and his satellites make clear, it is not just the US president that has control over critical infrastructure for countries around the world: itâs American companies and CEOs.
What should we make of the power of these Silicon Valley technology corporations? For many commentators, the political power they wield seems new and unprecedented, either because of the enormous scale of the corporations or because of the uniqueness of their technology. Satellites, for instance, orbit above states territory and airspace: the Ukrainian government could not simply march upon and seize control of the infrastructure, in the same way that state governments might have been able to nationalize and conscript trains or telegraph stations. And although the cloud has its physical manifestation in earthly data centers, because of its architecture and data flows it too seems untethered from territory and traditional methods of state power and territoriality. Legal scholar Jennifer Daskal has even argued that we should understand the cloud as âunterritorialâ.
And yet, despite the distinctiveness of the technology, the relationship of dependency between corporations, states and societies is centuries old. Corporations that went out in search of profit often ended up buying or building imperial infrastructures that states or societies depended upon, using it for their own advantage in order to negotiate concessions. We might think of the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company in Iran, for instance. Even the current internet cables are laid over telegraph lines built by consortiums originally intended to connect empires. And while we may think of states as the primary actors in empire-building, in reality corporations were both its engines and executors (Stern, 2025).
More often than not, of course, the interests of corporations and the states that chartered them are aligned, as Trumpâs support of Starlink global expansion demonstrates. But these relationships can also rupture. The American Revolution, most famously, saw companies-turned-colonies rebel against their home state to establish their own. And it was not inevitable that the most famous of all imperial companies, the British East India, would eventually be annexed by the British state. In that way, the Musk-Trump break-up may also parallel the history of empire.
Muskâs willingness to take power to its breaking point often shows the latent capacities underlying corporations and computer infrastructure all along. For example, in his role as head of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), Musk and his college-age team attempted to seize the computer infrastructure of dozens of federal agencies. What if Musk or Trump could push a button and turn off Treasury payments? The control of computer infrastructure might allow them the technical ability to do so, even when Congress has legally appropriated the budget.
While DOGEâs computer coup might seem especially outrageous, it is not just societies but state governments around the world that have increasingly pushed to migrate government systems âto the cloudâ â from Europe to Brazil to New Zealand. Former UK Home Secretary Priti Patel, for instance, came under questions by Parliament for her decision to contract the sensitive infrastructure of British spy agenciesâ with Amazon Web Services (AWS). Not only European or international industries, but also governments themselves are dependent on American companies. Like the Ukrainian military, states around the world may find pleading their only remaining option if companies decide to switch these critical infrastructures off.
In both policy and scholarly discourse, worries about âdigital sovereigntyâ have abounded for decades. In Europe, for instance, the Snowden revelations prompted fears about the ways in which American companies must comply with US laws and demands to turn over data on European citizens. But this also extends to other types of control: after the ICC issued an arrest warrant for Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu, for instance, the top prosecutor found that the Microsoft-hosted email account of the office had been suspended. And as Musk reveals, this is not just about American state power: it is about corporations.
For all the push towards increased state regulation, the role of corporations in both global history and empire specifically shows that there is no âsolutionâ to the problem of corporate power. Corporations are political actors with political power and ought to be treated as such. One implication of this insight is that, like states, corporations ought to be democratized, with CEOs no longer allowed to run their companies as petit-monarchs. This would, of course, require a fundamental reimagining of the corporate demos to avoid an imperial corporate democracy.
But if we do not treat corporations as political, rather than economic or business actors, we will end up depending on their infrastructures and believing their assurances that they will always be trustworthy and fair towards their customers. Then it will truly be Starlink and AWS who are running our wars.
The post Starlink, the Cloud, and Corporate Dependency appeared first on Verfassungsblog.
PÄcurar is yet another version of the familiar cat-and-mouse game between anticorruption agencies and corrupt public officials: some public officials quietly amass real estate, luxury cars, financial investments, or cash, and â once confronted by anticorruption agencies to explain the difference from their declared legal income â rely on whimsical excuses. On 24 June 2025, the ECtHR held that wealth may be taken away if public officials cannot explain that very difference.
The decision increases legislatorsâ and practitionersâ legal certainty when it comes to asset declarations and confiscation. First, undeclared wealth is in itself enough reason for civil confiscation. Second, the calculation is straightforward: incoming and outgoing cash flows are compared for short subperiods, and all subperiods in which legal income is lacking are aggregated into one confiscation total. And third, audits of asset declarations and confiscation of wealth can cover the entire time in office, which may be many years.
The PÄcurar case originates from Romania. When asked to explain the difference between their wealth and their declared income, the Romanian public official relied on all sorts of excuses both familiar and implausible: it was a private loan (§ 101); a family member (often abroad) gifted me money (§ 16); I sold a car years ago for a good price but I forgot to whom (§ 16); guests at the last family celebration put a lot of envelopes with cash in the gift basket (§ 13); we have a profitable agricultural business (§ 13) â a convenient lie as in many countries small farms are unregistered (Hoppe/KalniĆĆĄ, p. 31). High level officials would not even shy away from explaining income from picking wild mushrooms or strawberries. By now, inspectors, journalists, and civil society watchdogs investigating public wealth disclosures respond to these stories with little more than an eye-roll.
International stakeholders often underestimate the time and effort required to address the explanations â often implausible or outright false â offered by public officials. In the PÄcurar case, more than ten witnesses were heard (§§ 32-33) as well as expert statements, and âdocuments [were] gathered from various authoritiesâ (§§ 43-44). As the public official could contest any evidence in âadversarial proceedingsâ (§ 150) and had âample opportunity to participate in the proceedings from the outsetâ, the confiscation of unexplained wealth did not place an unfair burden of proof on him (Article 6 ECHR; § 156).
The Court also rejected the public officialâs complaint that the confiscation violated the protection of his property (Article 1 Protocol 1 ECHR), referring in large part to its reasoning related to fair trial (§ 195). However, the Court drew an important distinction: the confiscation did not serve to âprevent the illicit acquisition of property through criminalâ acts but to âpreserve integrity in public office by ensuring that declarations of assets and interests are correctly filled in and submittedâ (§ 193). Therefore, the anticorruption agency did not have to show a link between the property and a criminal offence. The confiscation applied exclusively to public officials and only in cases where their wealth could not be explained.
Romanian law defines unexplained wealth as a difference between âchanges in assets during the exercise of public duties and functions and the income earned during the same periodâ (Article 18 Law no. 176/2010). Neither term is precise: incomes earned are also loans received, or savings at the beginning of the period (as already clarified by another section of the ECtHR in 2021, see here). As for assets, it is not important whether there are more or fewer. Assets can be (legally) received for free, e.g., in case of an inheritance. What counts is whether the public official spent money (cf. § 197), whether on assets, holidays, or private education. Furthermore, savings at the end of the period need to be justified by legal income as well (as the ECtHR rightly noted already in 2021, § 31 footnote 1). Therefore, unexplained wealth is not about income and assets, but about âcomparing incoming and outgoing financial flowsâ, as a methodology published in 2013 first suggested, followed by the UNODC (2019, p. 17); the Basel Institute (2019, p. 47); the ECtHR (2021); several international vetting commissions (2023, Annex); as well as the World Bank (2023, p. 53).
The PÄcurar case illustrates just how far identifying unexplained wealth of public officials has progressed. Ten years ago, the ECtHR struggled to navigate a tangle of numbers to calculate a total for criminal confiscation. The defendant had argued that inflation in Bulgaria made it impossible to compare the wealth of different years. The ECtHR lacked the analytical clarity to see through this flawed argument, effectively caving in when it assumed that âgalloping inflation [âŠ] rendered any assessment of the actual amounts received and spent very difficultâ (12655/09, § 48). This observation contradicts logic, and in case of cash, even physical laws: amounts spent stay the same, no matter what the inflation is; the same is true for income earned. Therefore, if, e.g., one earns in one year 10,000 Bulgarian Lev, but spends 30,000 Lev, the question remains as to where the missing 20,000 Lev come from. Inflation does not affect this calculation at all.
By comparison, the ECtHR in 2021 approved calculations of illicit enrichment for every year, correctly comparing the savings at the beginning of the year plus all incoming cash flows with all outgoing cash flows during the year plus savings at the end of the year (§ 31 footnote 1). The Court accurately disregarded inflation, even though in Albania, it totalled more than 3,000% between 1990 and 2020. In PÄcurar, the inflation in Romania exceeded 300% between 2000 and 2010, but the Court, correctly, ignored this.
The annual calculations approved by the ECtHR in the case at hand (§ 14) and in the 2021 decision have one more decisive advantage: they allow identifying more unexplained wealth than if doing a single calculation over a long period of time, e.g. 10 years. If the public official cannot explain a luxury expenditure in year 2 with her legal income, a loan received in year 9 might level out that expenditure if all 10 years are calculated together. With a yearly calculation (or even shorter periods), it remains visible that her expenditure in year 2 remains unexplained.
In this regard, the ECtHR (and Romanian authorities) interpreted the national law in the right way: âduring the exercise of public dutiesâ (Article 18 Law no. 176/2010) does not mean that one must (or even should) make one calculation for the entire period. This wording only defines the time span for which to look for unexplained wealth. Nothing captures this better than the wording of Moldovaâs International Vetting Commission for judges: âThe amounts of unjustified wealth in the periods in which it existed [âŠ] will be totalledâ (Article 12 Rules).
The public official complained that âhe had been expected to prove the source of income received some fifteen years earlierâ (§ 161). The ECtHR rejected this argument, noting that the official âwas aware of the legal obligation to declare his assets as long as he occupied a position as a public servant,â which necessarily included the verification of the declared data and the duty to provide explanations when required (§ 174). The Court had already endorsed financial audits going back some 15 years in the context of extraordinary vetting (2021, § 351). The rationale of the present case would allow going further still, even though it concerns only ordinary vetting, to cover any time in the past during which the official was obliged to submit declarations. The ECtHR shows limited sympathy for complaints about missing documentation from the distant past: the Court understands that this places officials
âin a somewhat difficult position to justify the lawful nature of the financial sources owing to the passage of time and the potential absence of supporting documentsâ.
However, the Court rightly emphasises that it was the officials themselves who failed to properly declare their finances in the first place (2021, § 351).
For some time, countries facing significant corruption challenges have voiced concerns over a double standard â arguing that they are subjected to stricter anti-corruption measures than some âoldâ EU Member States (Bachmann, p. 116). The ECtHR, however, justifies this differential treatment in constitutional terms: the more pressing âthe fight against corruption in the public sectorâ, the more likely it is that a strict countermeasure will meet the test of proportionality (§ 197). To evaluate this proportionality, the Court draws on reform recommendations by GRECO, OECD, and the European Commission (§ 186).
The judgment reflects a broader trend: dismissing corrupt public officials or taking away their unexplained wealth is often easier than securing a criminal conviction or proving a link to a specific offence (Kosovo, 2024). This ruling completes the ECtHRâs endorsement of civil law instruments in the fight against corruption by fully disconnecting confiscation from any link to a crime. It backs up states with similar mechanisms, such as Armenia, while reform-averse states, such as Bosnia and Herzegovina (p. 5-6) or Montenegro can no longer credibly invoke human rights as a barrier to effectively addressing unexplained wealth. Legislators should add civil confiscation to the menu of sanctions and should make sure to extend this tool to cover family members (as foreseen and applied, e.g., in Ukraine) if unexplained wealth is registered under their name.
The author would like to thank Vera Devine, Valts KalniĆĆĄ, Sviatoslav Tkachuk, Serhii Voloshyn, and David Wellstein for their comments on a draft of this blog post.
The post Assets Without Alibi appeared first on Verfassungsblog.