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Ende März hat der Gesetzgeber das Vaterschaftsanfechtungsrecht reformiert und die Rechte leiblicher Väter aus Art. 6 Abs. 2 S. 1 GG gestärkt. Er kommt damit den Forderungen des BVerfG aus dem Urteil vom 9. April 2024 nach (dazu schon hier). Ob er dabei zu weit gegangen ist, wird rechtspolitisch lebhaft diskutiert.

Hier soll es um ein Problem gehen, das bislang wenig Aufmerksamkeit erfahren hat: Der Gesetzgeber ermöglicht leiblichen Vätern, die die rechtliche Vaterschaft eines anderen Mannes erfolglos angefochten haben, ein Wiederaufnahmeverfahren, wenn die sozial-familiäre Beziehung zwischen dem Kind und dem rechtlichen Vater endet (§ 185a FamFG n.F. i.V.m. § 1600 Abs. 4 BGB n.F.). Ein vergleichbares Recht steht leiblichen Vätern, die innerhalb der Frist von zwei Jahren ab Kenntnis der relevanten Umstände auf eine Anfechtung verzichtet haben, nicht zu. Das hat gravierende Konsequenzen: Der Gesetzgeber fordert leibliche Väter geradezu heraus, auch offensichtlich aussichtslose Anfechtungsverfahren einzuleiten, um sich die Möglichkeit der Wiederaufnahme zu sichern. Verzichten sie darauf – z.B. um das Kind bzw. die Beziehung des Kindes zum rechtlichen Vater nicht zu belasten –, können sie auch später nicht mehr anfechten. Darin liegt eine Inkohärenz, die sowohl das Gleichheitsgebot als auch das Elterngrundrecht verletzt.

Unklare Vorgaben des BVerfG

Dass der Gesetzgeber die zweite Chance nur nach einem erfolglosen Anfechtungsverfahren gewährt, beruht auf Unklarheiten im Urteil vom 9. April 2024. Das BVerfG hat die Unangemessenheit der bisherigen Regelungen im Kern auf zwei Gründe gestützt (vgl. Rn. 89):

Zum einen schloss eine sozial-familiäre Beziehung des rechtlichen Vaters zum Schluss der letzten Tatsacheninstanz die Anfechtung durch den leiblichen Vater stets aus – unabhängig von einer Beziehung des leiblichen Vaters zum Kind oder seinem frühzeitigen und konstanten Bemühen um die rechtliche Vaterschaft. Dem trägt nun § 1600 Abs. 3 BGB n.F.Rechnung. In den in Satz 2 genannten Konstellationen ist eine Anfechtung durch den leiblichen Vater nur noch ausgeschlossen, wenn der Fortbestand der rechtlichen Vaterschaft für das Wohl des Kindes erforderlich ist.

Zum anderen – und das ist hier entscheidend – waren leibliche Väter früher durchgängig mit der Anfechtung ausgeschlossen, sobald eine sozial-familiäre Beziehung zwischen dem rechtlichen Vater und dem Kind bestand. Nach Ablauf der Zweijahresfrist oder nach einem erfolglosen Anfechtungsverfahren blieben sie „selbst dann ausgeschlossen […], wenn eine sperrende sozial-familiäre Beziehung des Kindes zum rechtlichen Vater mittlerweile nicht mehr vorliegt“ (Rn. 89).

In manchen Passagen der Entscheidung scheint das BVerfG dabei nur an Konstellationen zu denken, in denen die Beziehung zum rechtlichen Vater „nach erfolgloser erster Anfechtung“ wegfällt (Rn. 78; ähnlich Rn. 84). Man könnte deswegen meinen, dass das Gericht nur für diesen Fall eine zweite Chance verlangt.

In anderen Passagen bezieht es sich jedoch generell auf den Wegfall der sozial-familiären Beziehung – unabhängig davon, ob der leibliche Vater zunächst erfolglos fristgerecht ein Anfechtungsverfahren eingeleitet hat (etwa Rn. 81, 89). Vor allem in den Randnummern 96 ff. stützt das BVerfG die Unverhältnismäßigkeit darauf, dass dem leiblichen Vater „die Vaterschaftsanfechtung“ selbst dann verwehrt bleibt, wenn die sperrende Beziehung des Kindes zum rechtlichen Vater weggefallen ist. Mit dem Ziel, Rechtssicherheit und Statusbeständigkeit bzw. -klarheit zu gewährleisten, könne man das nicht rechtfertigen. Denn es bestünden in einer solchen Konstellation keine hinreichenden verfassungsrechtlichen Gegenpositionen: Der Wechsel in der abstammungsrechtlichen Zuordnung berühre das Kindeswohl „regelmäßig nicht wesentlich“, weil zum rechtlichen Vater keine aktuelle Beziehung mehr bestehe (Rn. 96). Umgekehrt erhalte „das Kind bei einer (erneuten) Vaterschaftsanfechtung durch den leiblichen Vater“ eine rechtliche Zuordnung, die „die rechtliche Vaterschaft nunmehr mit seiner Abstammung in Deckung bringen würde“ (Rn. 96).

Was das BVerfG hier mit dem Klammerzusatz („erneuten“) meint, ist unklar. Einerseits könnte man ihn als Klarstellung ansehen, dass sich das Gericht nur auf eine zweite Anfechtung bezieht. Andererseits könnte das BVerfG auch lediglich darauf hinweisen wollen, dass es in der Praxis zwar meist um eine erneute Anfechtung gehen wird, die Überlegungen aber auch bei einer erstmaligen Anfechtung wegen Wegfalls der sozial-familiären Beziehung greifen sollen. Für Letzteres spricht jedenfalls der weit gefasste Leitsatz 5, wonach generell ein solcher Wegfall berücksichtigt werden können muss. Die enge Lesart des Gesetzgebers widerspricht dieser Vorgabe.

Lösungsvorschlag im Referentenentwurf

Der Referentenentwurf sah dementsprechend eine „zweite Chance“ nicht nur in § 185a FamFG‑E
vor, sondern auch in Form einer Hemmung der Anfechtungsfrist (§ 1600b Abs. 4 S. 3–5 BGB-E). Solange eine sozial-familiäre Beziehung zum rechtlichen Vater besteht, sollte die Frist gehemmt sein. Die Hemmung sollte spätestens zwei Jahre nach dem Wegfall der sozial-familiären Beziehung enden (§ 1600b Abs. 4 S. 5 BGB-E).

Mehrere Verbände haben dies kritisiert (etwa das DIJuF auf S. 5 f. und generell zur zweiten Chance der djb auf S. 8): Es sei schwer zu ermitteln, wann eine sozial-familiäre Beziehung „wegfalle“. Bei jeder Krise zwischen rechtlichem Vater und der Mutter drohe eine Anfechtung durch den leiblichen Vater. Damit fehle Rechtssicherheit für alle Beteiligten. Leibliche Väter könnten zudem pauschal behaupten, dass sie nur aus Rücksicht auf ihre Kinder zunächst nicht angefochten hätten, und dann den bestmöglichen Zeitpunkt für eine Anfechtung abwarten (so der Kinderschutzbund auf S. 5).

Schon der Regierungsentwurf hat die geplante Hemmung daher gestrichen. § 1600b Abs. 1 S. 2 Hs. 2 BGB n.F. stellt klar, dass das Vorliegen einer sozial-familiären Beziehung den Lauf der Anfechtungsfrist nicht hindert.

Verfassungswidrige Inkohärenz

Damit hat der Gesetzgeber eine Inkohärenz geschaffen, die gegen Art. 3 Abs. 1 und Art. 6 Abs. 2 S. 1 GG verstößt. Leibliche Väter, die zunächst auf eine Anfechtung verzichten, generell schlechter zu stellen als solche, die erfolglos angefochten haben, lässt sich nicht rechtfertigen.

Zuzugeben ist der Kritik an der zunächst geplanten Hemmung, dass diese zu Rechtsunsicherheit geführt hätte. Das betrifft allerdings jede Form der zweiten Chance. Eben eine solche fordert das BVerfG jedoch. Dessen Argumentation kann man durchaus kritisieren. Die Annahme, nach dem Wegfall einer sozial-familiären Beziehung sprächen keine erheblichen Interessen des Kindes gegen einen Wechsel des rechtlichen Vaters, erscheint zu pauschal. Zu denken ist nur an Auswirkungen auf das Sorgerecht, den Unterhalt und das Erbrecht (dazu auch schon hier). Bedenklich ist deswegen auch die Reichweite, mit der § 185a FamFG eine „zweite“ Chance zulässt. Bis zu fünf Wiederaufnahmeverfahren sind trotz der Fristen in § 185a Abs. 2 FamFG möglich (Oldenburger, NJW 2026, 1177, 1181). Dass das BVerfG eine derart weitreichende Regelung verlangt, lässt sich seinem Urteil nicht entnehmen.

Zumindest die mit der zweiten Chance generell verbundenen Unsicherheiten und die Statusbeständigkeit wiegen aus Sicht des BVerfG jedoch nicht schwer genug, um leiblichen Vätern eine Anfechtung bei Wegfall der sozial-familiären Beziehung ganz zu verwehren. Dass das BVerfG seine Auffassung grundlegend ändern wird, ist unwahrscheinlich. Legt man sie zugrunde, macht es aber keinen Unterschied, ob der leibliche Vater zunächst erfolglos angefochten hat oder nicht.

Vor diesem Hintergrund lässt sich die Ungleichbehandlung – in Form der Bevorzugung von Männern, die bereits einmal erfolglos angefochten haben – nicht rechtfertigen. Man könnte zwar argumentieren, dass leibliche Väter, die innerhalb der Anfechtungsfrist kein Interesse an der rechtlichen Vaterschaft zeigen, keinen Schutz verdienen. Der Verzicht auf eine Anfechtung muss aber nicht auf Desinteresse beruhen. Wie einleitend schon bemerkt, kommen dafür anerkennenswerte Gründe in Betracht. Zumindest für solche Fälle müsste der Gesetzgeber einen Schutz bieten, der dem des § 185a FamFG vergleichbar ist. Um festzustellen, ob die Inaktivität auf Desinteresse beruhte, könnte man z.B. fordern, dass leibliche Väter innerhalb der Zweijahresfrist erklären, ob sie sich eine spätere Anfechtung bei Wegfall der sozial-familiären Beziehung vorbehalten möchten. Alternativ wurde eine konsensuale notarielle Erklärung der Beteiligten vorgeschlagen (Oldenburger, NJW 2026, 1177, 1180 Fn. 22).

Leiblichen Vätern, die Verantwortung für das Kind übernehmen und primär aus Rücksicht auf die übrigen Beteiligten zunächst von einer Anfechtung absehen möchten, diese Möglichkeit zu nehmen, greift in unverhältnismäßiger Weise in Art. 6 Abs. 2 S. 1 GG ein. Dies dürfte sich schon aus den oben dargestellten Erwägungen des BVerfG (Rn. 96 ff.) ergeben. Selbst wenn man das aus dem Urteil nicht herauslesen wollte, würde sich die Unverhältnismäßigkeit jedenfalls aus der Inkohärenz der Neuregelung ergeben. Über Bedeutung und Reichweite des „Kohärenzgebots“ besteht zwar bekanntlich seit Jahrzehnten Streit. Der Rechtsprechung des BVerfG lässt sich aber nicht erst seit der Nichtraucherschutzentscheidung entnehmen, dass Inkohärenzen zur Unverhältnismäßigkeit führen können. Wenn der Gesetzgeber legitime Ziele durch Ausnahmen relativiert, können die Ziele nur in eingeschränktem Maße gefördert werden. Dadurch „sinkt das Ausmaß des angestrebten Nutzens“, was im Rahmen der Angemessenheitsprüfung zu berücksichtigen ist (Payandeh, AöR 136 [2011], 578, 607).

Eben das zeigt sich hier sehr deutlich: Die jetzige Regelung ist nur in geringem Maße geeignet, Rechtssicherheit zu schaffen, weil leibliche Väter sich die zweite Chance des § 185a FamFG auch mit offensichtlich aussichtslosen Anfechtungsverfahren offenhalten können. Mit den Wiederaufnahmeverfahren können sie dann sogar mehrfach versuchen, trotz einer bereits rechtskräftigen Entscheidung die Vaterschaft eines anderen Mannes erneut anzufechten. Die Neuregelung fordert leibliche Väter sogar noch heraus, frühzeitig Anfechtungsverfahren einzuleiten. Das kann die Beteiligten mehrfach mit derartigen Verfahren belasten. Der Gesetzgeber nimmt leiblichen Vätern so die Möglichkeit, im Einvernehmen mit der Mutter und dem rechtlichen Vater zunächst von einer Anfechtung abzusehen.

Ausblick

Es bedarf nach alledem einer Neuregelung, die leiblichen Vätern eine zweite Chance grundsätzlich unabhängig davon einräumt, ob sie zuvor schon einmal erfolglos angefochten haben. Den Bedenken hinsichtlich Rechtssicherheit und Statusbeständigkeit könnte der Gesetzgeber auf anderem Wege begegnen. Zunächst könnte er die Kriterien für den Wegfall einer sozial-familiären Beziehung – auch in der Gesetzesbegründung – konkreter und kindeswohlorientiert beschreiben (zu möglichen Umständen siehe die Stellungnahmen des Caritasverbandes und des DIJuF). Darüber hinaus sollte man die Möglichkeiten einer mehrmaligen „zweiten“ Chance stärker begrenzen. Schließlich sollte der Gesetzgeber darüber nachdenken, ob die Anfechtung wirklich ausnahmslos ex tunc wirken sollte oder ob nicht auch eine sukzessive Vaterschaft in Betracht kommt (zuletzt dafür auch Franck, FamRZ 2025, 1340, 1343; Gössl, ZRP 2025, 248, 250; von Scheliha, S. 5). Diese und weitere offene Fragen – etwa die Co-Mutterschaft – müssen umfassend geregelt werden, um Familien nicht unter rechtlichen Damoklesschwertern allein zu lassen. Eine grundlegende Abstammungsreform duldet deswegen keinen weiteren Aufschub.

The post Einfach mal anfechten appeared first on Verfassungsblog.

As Péter Magyar and his new Tisza government took office on 9 May, ending sixteen long years of autocratic capture in Hungary, the crowds outside the Parliament danced and cheered. The new parliamentarians sang the European Anthem while the European flag was once again raised on the Parliament building. Now the new government under Prime Minister Magyar has a constitutional supermajority and a massive democratic mandate. But unlike Orbán’s supermajority, Magyar’s supermajority still has to confront veto players.

The President of Hungary must sign all laws and constitutional amendments for them to enter into force. And President Tamás Sulyok has indicated that he believes “the rule of law” (something he was not too picky about before now) means that the formal rules must be followed. Nothing becomes law without his signature – including constitutional amendments – and, as a Fidesz ally, he has suddenly become a convert to the principle of checks and balances. Amendments to the law on the presidency made in December 2025 made it nearly impossible for the Parliament to impeach the president so the obvious lawful route to removing him has been put out of reach.

Other veto points lurk beyond that. The Constitutional Court has been packed with Fidesz loyalists and they stand ready to declare unconstitutional any change to the current order. While the power to veto the substance of constitutional amendments was removed from the Constitutional Court in 2013 (though it may still review amendments for procedural flaws in their enactment), the power to declare laws unconstitutional remains in the hands of this Court. The Supreme Court (Kúria) is led by a president with extraordinary powers who has deployed them in the service of the Orbán government.

Joint control over the presidency and the peak courts therefore establishes a Fidesz wall of resistance to the dismantling of the NER, the System of National Cooperation entrenched under Orbán. And that doesn’t yet take into account Orbán’s minions who still control virtually all key government offices that would be necessary to enforce a radically new government program.

Péter Magyar understands the challenges of removing state officials with long terms of office who are supposed to be independent of government. He has therefore called for the national president, the presidents of the Supreme Court and Constitutional Court, the Prosecutor General, chief media regulator and others to step down, urging them to recognize the democratic will of the new government. So far none have resigned. It appears that Magyar will be in the unenviable position of either having to govern alongside those determined to block his electoral mandate or finding a way to remove them with a legal workaround.

What can a leader in such a position do? Magyar could prematurely fire the occupants of these veto points with statutory (and sometimes even constitutional) terms of office, claiming that their initial appointment violated the rule of law because the appointments were made in violation of Article C(2) of the Basic Law that bars anyone from acting “with the aim of . . . exclusively possessing [power].” (Of course, these Fidesz loyalists actually did dismantle constitutional government in Hungary so there is ample evidence of motive.) Alternatively, Magyar could also simply ignore the presidential signature requirement or adverse Constitutional Court decisions and declare that laws and constitutional amendments passed with his constitutional supermajority are valid anyway. Both strategies have their problems, not least with the Venice Commission which has taken a highly formalist stance on other political transitions. In a more legal route, Magyar could convene a constituent assembly outside the existing constitutional order to rewrite the constitution on a clean slate and put it to public referendum, bypassing the veto players. Time, however, is of the essence.

Rumors are swirling around Budapest about what all sides might do in this conflict. Some say that the Magyar government is planning to amend the Constitution to remove the president without his signature while rumors are that Sulyok will refer any such amendment to the Constitutional Court which will then (against its own jurisdictional limitations) declare such an amendment unconstitutional. If either event happens, Hungary would be plunged into the middle of a constitutional crisis.

The Hungarian government, however, has another speedier more lawful option to realize its democratic mandate without lurching into one of these extreme scenarios: Using European law as an interim constitution to evade the roadblocks left in place by the Orbán government.

European Law Over All: An Option for Evading National Veto Players

In its long-standing insistence that EU law has primacy over national law – even national constitutional law – the Court of Justice has created a number of tools that pro-democratic reformers could use to eliminate the veto points within their national legal orders in order to comply with EU law.

First, the ECJ has dealt with obstructionist national courts before. In its Grand Chamber decision in Eurobox Promotion, the ECJ held that decisions of the Romanian Constitutional Court must be disapplied by national authorities when those decisions violate EU law. A direct application of Eurobox to cases in Hungary where the high courts block the enforcement of EU law would allow – and, in fact, require – the new government to set aside obstructive court judgments without waiting for the court to change its mind. For example, the IS case, finding that national judges in Hungary may not be disciplined for referring cases to the ECJ, resulted in the Commission’s insistence that Hungary remove the legal barriers that stood in the way of reference cases. While Orbán government passed the relevant statute to appease the Commission, the case law of the Supreme Court (Kúria) discouraging reference cases persists. Under the Eurobox decision, these cases could and should be disapplied without first requiring the national court to overturn them. Future decisions of the packed Hungarian Constitutional Court that block the implementation of EU law can be similarly disapplied. To reinforce the point, the new government could issue an order stipulating that this is the case to put everyone on notice.

In addition, the ECJ has also addressed the problem of national officials and agencies that refuse to enforce EU law. Their decisions, too, should not have legal effect given their conflicts with EU law. As the ECJ noted in the Garda Síochána case, the obligation to disapply contrary national law applies not only to courts but also to all state officials and it applies to decisions made by bodies other than courts:

38 As the Court has repeatedly held, that duty to disapply national legislation that is contrary to EU law is owed not only by national courts, but also by all organs of the State – including administrative authorities – called upon, within the exercise of their respective powers, to apply EU law . . .

50 It follows from the principle of primacy of EU law, as interpreted by the Court . . . that bodies called upon, within the exercise of their respective powers, to apply EU law are obliged to adopt all the measures necessary to ensure that EU law is fully effective, disapplying if need be any national provisions or national case-law that are contrary to EU law. This means that those bodies, in order to ensure that EU law is fully effective, must neither request nor await the prior setting aside of such a provision or such case-law by legislative or other constitutional means.

 If the new Hungarian government now adopts measures to bring national law into alignment with EU law and the national president vetoes this law, leaving in place legal rules that violate EU law, then all other state bodies should set aside not only the offending law, but also the veto that blocks the enforcement of EU law. They should then proceed as if the new law were valid. A presidential veto that stands of the way of enforcing EU law should not have legal force.

And then of course there is the pathbreaking decision of the ECJ in the recent Commission v. Hungary case, finding among other things that Article 2 TEU may operate as a free-standing and legally enforceable principle of EU law. Though (as stated in para. 551),

. . . only manifest and particularly serious breaches of one or more values common to the Member States may give rise to a finding, in the context of an action for failure to fulfil obligations, that there has been a failure by a Member State to fulfil legally binding obligations under Article 2 TEU, . . .

Hungary under sixteen long years of the Orbán government has certainly challenged many of the Article 2 TEU principles – democracy, rule of law and rights. The new government may therefore find appeals to Article 2 TEU helpful as a framework for constitutional change that would bring the country closer to those values. And it would be a framework in which the government could disapply the vetoes that would otherwise block them.

Given this authority in EU law, it may not be necessary to unpack the Constitutional Court, remove the heads of other courts or even remove the national president immediately in order to make substantial changes in Hungary’s legal system. If the holdover loyalists of the Orbán regime persist in obstructing the alignment of Hungarian law with EU law, their vetoes can simply be ignored. Of course, this doesn’t help when it comes to vetoes of laws and constitutional amendments that are not under the European legal umbrella, which is why European law can only provide an interim constitution.

European Law as Interim Constitution

Between decisions of the European Court of Justice and the European Court of Human Rights, in addition to conditions set by the European institutions that must be met for Hungary’s EU funding to be restored, Hungary already has a long to-do list that it must tackle. If Péter Magyar were to prioritize those items, he could rely on the primacy of EU law and the binding effect of ECtHR judgments to accomplish a rewrite-in-practice of some of the worst elements of the Orbán constitutional regime.

First, fighting corruption is one of the highest priorities of the Magyar government, not least because the unfreezing of EU funds depends on establishing a credible anti-corruption framework. Magyar has indicated that Hungary will join the European Public Prosecutor’s Office and has already issued an executive order to this effect. Joining the EPPO would give the Hungarian government a spare set of prosecutors to probe the substantial corruption of the Orbán regime so that Magyar would not have to engage in immediate reform of the national prosecution service, which has persistently avoided investigating Orbán and his inner circle of increasingly wealthy friends. In fact, the EPPO might also investigate the Hungarian prosecution service.

Hungary is also in violation of EU-mandated changes to the judiciary established as part of the freezing of funds under various conditionality regimes. If the EU-mandated changes were actually enforced with regard to judicial independence, they could greatly improve the Supreme Court. For example, the EU had demanded that the Supreme Court regularize a system for the randomized assignment of cases to avoid having politically sensitive cases deliberately assigned to politically friendly judges. The Orbán government passed the relevant law but the Supreme Court has not complied with it. In addition, as mentioned above, the Supreme Court has not abolished the case law binding on the lower courts that discourage them from sending reference cases to the ECJ. The new government should insist that the Court follow the law that was already put in place to respond to EU legal requirements and disapply the cases that don’t. The new government could even announce to the bar, the NGOs and pro-democratic Hungarian judges that it welcomes reference cases.

Could Hungary use European court judgments to replace some of the key players now blocking change? Hungary remains in non-compliance with the Baka judgment of the European Court of Human Rights which found the dismissal of the then-president of the Hungarian Supreme Court to be a violation of his free speech rights since he was fired for criticizing the judicial reforms. If Baka were unlawfully fired in the first place, could he now be reinstated as the president of the Court, requiring the current president to stand aside? (He remains a judge on that court, even if not its president.) If so, he could speed enforcement of reforms at the Supreme Court.

In addition, the ECJ judgment finding that the data protection supervisor had been unlawfully fired early in Orbán’s term might be enforced by reinstating András Jóri, removing the Orbán loyalist who replaced him and who has held the office ever since. A new data protection supervisor could begin to issue opinions, backed by the ECtHR judgment in the Szabó and Vissy case which is also not enforced, dismantling Orbán’s surveillance state.

Putting good people into those offices as a result of enforcing the European courts’ decisions could begin to roll back the changes that the European courts already said were unlawful. If the people whose jobs were unlawfully terminated could not be restored, then perhaps the illegality of their ouster could justify the replacement of those who had unlawfully taken their places with someone lawfully appointed. A new president of the Supreme Court and a new data protection supervisor could both be elected by Magyar’s two-thirds parliament.

The Magyar government may well look to European law to assist it in removing other legal effects of Orbán’s democracy-destroying laws. Hungary could informally ask the Commission to bring infringement actions against Hungary covering violations that the Hungarian government would want to remedy in order for the ECJ to establish that the reforms would be required by EU law. If that fails, Article 259 TFEU allows a member state of the EU to bring another member state to the Court of Justice to enforce EU law. The Article 259 TFEU route would allow the case to proceed if the Commission fails to see the point.

As one example of how infringement actions might be used, Péter Magyar has put freeing the competition authority from political control high on his list. If the Commission (or a friendly state) brought an infringement action against Hungary complaining about the independence of its competition authority, could the Magyar government be justified in firing the current occupants and installing new ones – or perhaps establishing a parallel institution with stronger guarantees of independence – if the ECJ were to find that the present competition authority were not independent?

A European Constitutional Court for Hungary

When the last rendszerváltás (regime change) occurred in Hungary in 1989, the Constitutional Court was the most significant new institution created to guide Hungary’s transition into a new democratic order. That new court sat on top of the existing legal system to weed out old statutes not compliant with the new legal order and to ensure that all constitutional actors honored the new constitution. That Constitutional Court in Hungary has now been captured, but perhaps the new rendszerváltás could proceed in a similar way, by establishing a new court on the top of the existing legal system – including on top of the existing Constitutional Court – to bring the Hungarian legal system into compliance with both EU and ECHR law.

This new European Constitutional Court, the Európai Alkotmánybíróság, could complete the task of nullifying and removing from the books statutes, cases and decisions that fail to comply with European law. It could even restore the actio popularis jurisdiction that once allowed the original Constitutional Court to speedily review laws for compliance with the then-new constitution and that could now be used to reviews laws for compliance with European law. Of course, establishing such a national court would normally require a constitutional amendment that could be blocked by presidential veto. But if the veto stood in the way of enforcing EU law in Hungary, it could be set aside. The added value of a new court is that it could apply clear European Union and European human rights law without the long detours to Luxembourg and Strasbourg.

The details of all of these proposals would have to be worked out, as there are complicated technical questions to be considered about just how European law overrides national law and what its detailed effects are. But in attempting to comply with European law by setting aside conflicting national law, the new Magyar government would be honoring its commitments to the “rule of law writ large”, a conception of the rule of law that extends to harmonizing national law with its transnational commitments.

European law in its various forms could therefore be a useful crutch for the Magyar government to lean on as Hungary recovers from its bout of autocratic capture. It could assist in avoiding constitutional crises as the Fidesz forces dig in to thwart the Magyar government’s democratic mandate. European law could act as an immediate interim constitution, providing guidance for a new Hungarian transition until such time as the new Hungarian government can replace the Orbán constitution with one more fitting its proud place in Europe.

The post Hungary’s European Rebirth appeared first on Verfassungsblog.

Geography stands first, and it is unrelenting. The Strait of Hormuz places a fundamental constraint on U.S. and Israeli efforts to subdue Iran through overwhelming military force.

The natural chokepoint of navigation played no role, at least officially, in the outbreak of the war. It is now a key factor in ending hostilities. The future regime of navigation in Hormuz and the Persian Gulf will necessarily be part of any long-term peace settlement in the region.

Freedom of navigation is the foundational principle of public international law, as designed by the Western world in the early 17^th century. Reflecting on potential options for the post-war freedom of navigation regime in the Persian Gulf could contribute, not only to a lasting peace in the region, but also to a reconfiguration of the international legal order.

Drawing inspiration from inland water transport law, I suggest approaching the Persian Gulf and the Strait of Hormuz not only as a trade route but as a natural unity that gives rise, de facto, to a form of regional solidarity. The shift from a purely trade-oriented to a nature-based approach would align with other recent initiatives, such as the Biodiversity Beyond National Jurisdiction (BBNJ) agreement.¹⁾ It would also better address the contemporary challenges of achieving sustainable peace and development, both in the region and globally.

Geography

The Persian Gulf is a semi-enclosed sea comprising eight riparian countries (Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Qatar, United Arab Emirates, Oman). It is slightly more than 1000 km long and around 400 km wide. There is no high sea in the Gulf. Its waters are either a territorial sea or an exclusive economic zone (EEZ) of a coastal state.

To the Northwest, the Tigris and Euphrates merge, about 200 km before reaching the Persian Gulf, into the Shatt al’Arab, a vital waterway shared between Iran and Iraq. To the Southeast, the Strait of Hormuz, about 200 km long and 34 to 80 km wide, connects the Persian Gulf to the Gulf of Oman and the Indian Ocean. The Strait lies entirely within the territorial waters of its two coastal states, Iran and Oman. It is intensely used for international navigation, with 80 to 130 ships transiting every day in normal times, representing about 20% of the world’s oil and LNG supply. These figures immediately dropped to below 10 ships a day with the outbreak of the war.

The Current Freedom of Navigation Regime

In the Shatt al’Arab, navigation is governed by the 1975 Algiers agreement concluded between Iran and Iraq (Art. 7). Freedom of navigation is granted to vessels of both riparian countries, including state vessels and warships, as well as third-country merchant vessels, on an equal and non-discriminatory basis. Either of the two riparian countries can also authorise foreign warships visiting its ports to enter the Shatt al’Arab, unless these ships belong to a country in a state of belligerency with either of the two riparian countries.

In the Persian Gulf, freedom of navigation is not suspended during armed conflict, including vis-à-vis warships belonging to a country in conflict with a riparian country: the US Navy stationed in Bahrain may move freely in the Persian Gulf despite the war launched against Iran. Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), a coastal state may only require a foreign ship to leave its territorial sea immediately if it deems its passage is not innocent (art. 30), and suspend the innocent passage altogether, for all foreign vessels including merchant vessels, if it considers it essential for the protection of its security (art. 25(3)). Coastal states do not have these rights in the Strait of Hormuz. Transit remains unimpeded (art. 38), including in case of a “threat or use of force against the sovereignty, territorial integrity or political independence of States bordering the strait” (art. 39(1)(b)). Despite the open war with Iran, US and Israeli aircraft and warships, including submarines operating underwater, may transit the Strait of Hormuz, and commercial navigation may not be suspended.

Iran does not challenge the current freedom of navigation regime except on this specific point. When UNCLOS was adopted, Iran and Oman immediately expressed reservations about unimpeded transit in the Strait, reasserting their right to suspend transit for security reasons. Oman eventually ratified the Convention, therewith accepting all UNCLOS provisions, including on unimpeded transit. Iran did not and maintains its claim for a right to suspend transit when its security is threatened.

UNCLOS is silent about the status of the seas in time of war. During an international armed conflict, it must be read in conjunction with the applicable jus in bello. The paragraphs below refer to the San Remo Manual, an authoritative restatement of customary international law applicable to armed conflicts at sea.

Naval warfare may be conducted, not only in the belligerents’ territorial sea, EEZ and continental shelves, but also in the EEZ of neutral states (§10). Even if freedom of navigation, including innocent passage and unimpeded transit, persist pursuant to UNCLOS, warships and aircraft of the adverse party become legitimate targets. Belligerents may also establish exclusion navigation zones (§§105-107), capture and seize merchant vessels flying the flag of the enemy (§135) and intercept, visit, search, and, if necessary, divert neutral vessels or aircraft to verify their status and compliance with neutrality (§§118-147). Blockades are also authorised and regulated (§§93-104).

Inevitably, an international armed conflict profoundly disrupts freedom of navigation, regardless of the parties’ interpretation of UNCLOS rules. The swift withdrawal of war-risk coverage in the region by P&I clubs, a development that effectively paralyses maritime navigation, also illustrates this state of affairs.

That said, Iran never declared a full closure of the Strait even during armed conflict. In previous crises, Iran has at times threatened to close the Strait but has never implemented its threats. Restrictions seem to have consistently focused on aircraft and warships of a belligerent party as well as related merchant vessels.

Four Scenarios for the Post-War Regime

In my view, four scenarios may be envisaged for the future of FREEDOM OF NAVIGATION in the region.

Restoring the Status Quo Ante

Under the first scenario, freedom of navigation would be reasserted in accordance with UNCLOS. Differences of interpretation would remain. The world’s navies, acting separately or in multinational operations, would enforce the general understanding of freedom of navigation.

This enforcement role is currently fulfilled, in part, by the US Navy’s Fifth fleet, based in Bahrain, which conducts so-called Freedom of Navigation Operations, where a warship deliberately transits without asking permission. Since the tensions that followed the US unilateral withdrawal from the 2015 nuclear agreement with Iran, the International Maritime Security Construct is also present to secure and escort merchant vessels.

However, any escort involving the US Navy seems unrealistic in the immediate aftermath of this conflict unless a solid peace settlement is reached. It could otherwise be perceived by Iran as a threat to its peace and security, reinforcing, rather than reducing, the risk of attacks on merchant vessels. In the laws of war, a merchant ship escorted by an enemy warship may be attacked as a legitimate target.²⁾ The US operation “Project Freedom”, launched on 4 May to escort merchant vessels, was in fact swiftly suspended.

In the absence of US naval involvement, neutral powers would need to take over the task of protecting merchant vessels. France and the United Kingdom have launched an initiative to that end, gathering about 40 neutral countries with a genuine interest in freedom of navigation in the region. Once hostilities cease, a coalition force could be deployed to escort merchant vessels and even engage in demining operations.

Such an option, while potentially necessary, would nonetheless remain insufficient. These operations reduce the risks of attacks but do not fully eliminate them. They are very costly and eventually do not substantially lower transport costs for the shipping industry.

Unilateral Assertion of Sovereignty

Under the second scenario, Iran would assert its sovereignty over the Strait as a form of retaliation. It has diverted the Strait’s maritime routes into its territorial waters and conditioned passage to prior authorisation and the payment of a toll, allegedly imposed to ensure security. The change of operation was officialised with the adoption of a statute. This action, together with other Iranian statements, could indicate that Iran plans to maintain this regime after the war – an outcome that would, in effect, hold freedom of navigation in the Gulf hostage to the will of a single state.

External Hegemonic Control

The third scenario concerns the United States, which has expressed its intention to unilaterally take control over the Strait. This would be consistent with a broader US pattern such as its posture regarding the Panama channel, the Arctic maritime routes, and the proposed acquisition of Greenland. Were it to materialise, such a move would mark a new colonial era, with an external force imposing its hegemonic power over countries that would have no say. Far from stabilising the region, this would be a recipe for endless conflict.

Regional Cooperation Around a Shared Natural Commons

At first glance, the path of regional cooperation does not look promising. Existing multilateral structures are cracking under the impact of the war³⁾, and the positions of the riparian countries are growing increasingly divergent. The current turmoil, however, underscores an inescapable truth: the Gulf’s riparian countries share the same risks and cannot act in isolation to counter them. Aware of this interdependence, they seem to be willing to maintain relations despite mutual distrust.

The geographical reality can give rise to a de facto sense of “community” that could in turn lay the foundation for a legal system of solidarity. In such a system, the Strait of Hormuz would not only be viewed as a trade route. It would be primarily a geographical feature belonging to a wider natural unity, to be regulated as such. This regulation could encompass the technical dimensions of freedom of navigation – routing schemes and navigational aides, exclusion zones, infrastructure, and pollution management – applicable in both peacetime and wartime. It could also extend beyond navigation and cover matters related to natural resources management (fisheries and minerals), climate change mitigation and other domains in which UNCLOS already encourages regional cooperation. Even imposing a toll could be discussed in such a forum, as long as it is collectively designed, for the benefit of the Gulf. The toll could, for instance, serve to internalise external costs of pollution generated by shipping, to maintain the infrastructure in the Gulf, or to help the region transition into a green economy.

This model is not new. In the early nineteenth century, a similar governance model was imposed on the Rhine River. The first international organisation of the modern era was created on the understanding that the river is not merely a trade route but a natural and indivisible entity, giving rise to a de facto “community of interest” among riparian states. Since then, riparian countries have managed matters relating to FREEDOM OF NAVIGATION collectively through a dedicated institution. Its functions are primarily technical, and riparian states participate on an equal footing in the governance structure. This institution survived three wars, including two world wars, during which member states were enemies. The Rhine navigation has greatly contributed to the prosperity of the region, which remains one of the wealthiest in Europe.

The Gulf region deserves better than a status quo ante or short-term imperialist or nationalist options, which would all fail to ensure sustainable peace and growth in the region.

In today’s world, where the main challenges requiring international action are tied to climate change, nature should occupy a more central role in international law. Governance models structured around natural entities would constitute a step in the right direction. Such models already exist and have demonstrated their effectiveness. The Persian Gulf could provide an appropriate setting in which to revive and test this approach once again.

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