A Quest for justice: The ‘Ogoni Nine’ legal saga and the new Kiobel lawsuit against Shell. By Sara Martinetto

Editor's note: Sara Martinetto is an intern at T.M.C. Asser Institute. She has recently completed her LLM in Public International Law at the University of Amsterdam. She holds interests in Migration Law, Criminal Law, Human Rights and European Law, with a special focus on their transnational dimension.


On 29th June 2017, four Nigerian widows launched a civil case against Royal Dutch Shell (RDS), Shell Petroleum N.V., the Shell Transport and Trading Company, and its subsidiary Shell Petroleum Development Company of Nigeria (SPDC) in the Netherlands. Esther Kiobel, Victoria Bera, Blessing Eawo and Charity Levula are still seeking redress for the killing of their husbands in 1995 in Nigeria. They claim the defendants are accomplices in the execution of their husbands by the Abasha regime. Allegedly, the companies had provided material support, which then led to the arrest and death of the activists.  

In the light of this lawsuit, it is interesting to retrace the so-called ‘Ogoni Nine’ legal saga. The case saw the interplay between multiple jurisdictions and actors, and its analysis is useful to point out some of the main legal issues encountered on the path to hold corporations accountable for human rights abuses.

The ‘Ogoni Nine’

‘Ogoni Nine’ is the name given by the media to a group of Nigerian men – Saturday Dobee, Nordu Eawo, Daniel Gbooko, Paul Levera, Felix Nuate, Baribor Bera, Barinem Kiobel, John Kpuine, and Ken Saro Wiwa – who were arrested for the alleged murder of four people. On 10th November 1995, they were executed in Port Harcourt, Southern Nigeria. To understand what led to this episode, it is important to provide some historical context.

Royal Dutch Shell has been undertaking drilling operations in Nigeria since 1958, carried out through SPDC.[1] As explained by the UNEP environmental assessment report of 2011, both water and land were polluted by the extraction of oil and gas, causing massive environmental harm. This drove the inhabitants of Ogoniland, a region in the Niger Delta, to strongly oppose those activities. Thus, they created the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People (MOSOP), lead by Ken Saro-Wiwa:[2] in 1993, the movement counted more than 300 000 activists, half of the Ogoni population. They engaged in protests against the Nigerian government – which was accused of turning a blind-eye to Shell’s activities, since they provided for the majority of Nigeria’s export earnings[3] - and against companies extracting the oil, Shell amongst others.

In 1994, the ‘Ogoni nine’ were apprehended and held in military custody; no charges were pressed during their first eighteen months in prison. Eventually, a special military court tried them for the murder of four people, they were found guilty, and then hanged. The manner in which the trial was conducted caused the outrage of the international community and ultimately resulted in the suspension of Nigeria from the Commonwealth.

The Wiwa cases in the New York courts

The first attempt to seek justice for the execution of the nine members of MOSOP took place in 1996, when the son of Ken Saro-Wiwa filed three different lawsuits in a New York District court: one against Royal Dutch Petroleum, one against Shell Petroleum Development Company, and the last against Brian Anderson, the head of Nigerian operations at Royal Dutch Shell. The plaintiff alleged the complicity of Shell in the human rights violations perpetrated by the Nigerian government against MOSOP. In particular, the plaintiff claimed that the company provided material support both to the repression of Ogoni activists during protests and to the actual apprehension of the Ogoni Nine.[4]

Among other things, Shell was accused of offering transport, food and property to Nigerian troops, used to commit human rights abuses, which, according to the plaintiff, amounted to crimes against humanity. Therefore, the claims were brought both under the Alien Tort Statute (ATS), the Torture Victim Protection Act (TVPA), and the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) Act.

After thirteen years of legal battles, the parties reached a settlement: Shell paid 15.5 million dollars, covering compensation and legal expenses.[5] However, the company issued no admission of guilt or apologies: it submitted that the payment was given to “aid the process of reconciliation”.[6] Without a doubt, the extrajudicial settlement was a victory for the Ogoni people. However, the absence of a final ruling prevents an in-depth analysis of the multiple legal issues raised by the case.

Nevertheless, one aspect should be highlighted: the suit resisted numerous attempts by the defendant to have the case dismissed on jurisdictional ground. Specifically, the Court of Appeal, overruling the first instance’s dismissal, carried out an in-depth analysis on why the claim fell within the scope of US jurisdiction. It was found that Shell performed a variety of activities in the U.S. and that the claimant was also residing there. Therefore, there were no grounds to dismiss the case, neither under personal jurisdiction, nor under forum non conveniens. These conclusions remain particularly important, especially in the light of the following Kiobel case.

The Kiobel case and the Alien Tort Statute

In 2002, Esther Kiobel filed a civil claim against Shell under the Alien Tort Statute (ATS). This 1789 American Statute allows US District Courts to exercise civil jurisdiction on a claim brought by an alien alleging the violation of the law of nations. The plaintiff accused the defendant of aiding and abetting the Nigerian government to commit the violations of international law at hand in the Wiwa proceedings.

The case made it all the way to the Supreme Court, which famously held that the ATS was not applicable to the fact pattern. The 2013 decision of the Supreme Court was based on two main Arguments. First, the Court seemed unconvinced that the norms allegedly violated are “specific, universal and obligatory” as prescribed in Sosa v. Alvarez-Machain et al. Second – and most importantly – the conduct alleged by the plaintiff does not “touch and concern” the U.S. with a sufficient force, which will allow rebutting the presumption against extraterritorial application of the Statute.

The ruling of the Supreme Court attracted many comments and criticism: specifically, the concerns revolve around the interpretation of the ATS’ scope of application, and its possible impact on the outcome of other cases. Indeed, the application of the Statute turns out to be substantially limited by the narrow interpretation given in Kiobel. Regardless of the nationality of the parties, the Court seems to imply that the conduct should take place – at least partly – in the United States. Mere corporate presence is not considered to be enough of a link to ground jurisdiction of American courts.[7] In general, legal scholars are still debating some core questions, left unresolved by the Kiobel decision, related to the scope of the ATS.[8] In any event, the U.S. proved to be an inadequate forum to provide redress to the families of the ‘Ogoni Nine’.

The new Dutch lawsuit

A claim recently lodged in The Netherlands seeks to, at last, hold Shell accountable for the plight of the ‘Ogoni Nine’. Their widows are represented by Channa Samkalden – from the Amsterdam law firm Prakken D’Oliveira – which is managing the Dutch case with the support of Amnesty International.

An indication of what was about to happen came last October when Esther Kiobel petitioned a New York District Court to request discovery by the U.S. lawyers of the respondent. The documents requested were deemed necessary to seek redress for the violation of the applicants’ husbands “right to life, their right to a family life and their right to personal dignity and integrity”.

The new Writ of Summons refers to the “international jurisdiction of Dutch courts” under the Brussels I Regulation and the Dutch Code of Civil Procedure (CCP). The plaintiffs set out three different grounds for jurisdiction. Art. 4(1) and 63 Brussels I (recast Regulation) are used as a jurisdictional basis on RDS.[9] Jurisdiction on the non-Dutch defendant is instead grounded in art. 7(1) CCP, which provides for the possibility to attract multiple defendants to the same forum, where the claims against them are connected. Alternatively, jurisdiction over SPDC could also be established pursuant to art. 9(1) CCP, providing for the rule of forum necessitatis: i.e. Dutch courts have jurisdiction, provided that the claim is sufficiently connected to the Dutch legal sphere and that it is unacceptable to expect the claimant to submit the case to the judgment of a foreign court. The claimants submit that the Dutch parent companies wholly own SPDC, and that the defendants acted as a single entity when perpetrating the alleged conduct. Moreover, one cannot expect the claimants to file the lawsuit in Nigeria, given the involvement of the State apparatus in the events at issue. This argument is further reinforced by the fact that both Kiobel and Bera have been granted refugee status abroad.

To fully appraise the soundness and the chances of success of these jurisdictional grounds, it is necessary to take a step back and to look at the question through the lens of Private International Law (PIL).

Grounds for jurisdiction in PIL: between the European and the national level

Some scholars[10] had already anticipated that the failure to secure jurisdiction under the ATS in the Kiobel case was likely to result in a rekindled attention for PIL rules in business and human rights cases. As far as jurisdiction is concerned, the European PIL instrument par excellence is the Brussels I Regulation “on the jurisdiction, recognition, and enforcement of judgments in civil and commercial matters” within the EU.[11] In this framework, establishing jurisdiction over the parent company is fairly unproblematic. Art. 2 and 60 of the Regulation (transposed in art. 4 and 63 of the Recast) provide that defendants domiciled in a Member State can in principle be attracted in front of the courts of that Member States. This applies also to companies who are seated/have their central administration/have their principal place of business in that Member State.

However, the situation becomes more complex when foreign subsidiaries, especially if incorporated in States outside the EU, come into play. In the Kiobel case, the Dutch court claiming jurisdiction over SPDC is essential for the success of the case as the Nigerian subsidiary was at the heart of the events leading to the death of the ‘Ogoni Nine’. There are two potential grounds for an EU based court to have jurisdiction over non-EU based subsidiaries: the rule on multiple defendants based on related actions and the principle of forum necessitatis.[12] The latter is not provided for in the Brussels I regime. Hence, it is up to national legislation to include such a ground in their PIL. As far as the former is concerned, art. 6(1) Brussels I (art. 8(1) Recast) prescribe that a foreign defendant might faced court proceedings together with a domestic one when the claims against them “are so closely connected that it is expedient to hear and determine them together to avoid the risk of irreconcilable judgments”. The actual scope of application of this paragraph is sometimes hard to grasp. For instance, it is doubtful whether it could apply to non-EU based companies.[13] A negative answer will result in the need to resort to national rules of PIL. Thus, the possibility of Dutch courts having jurisdiction in a case involving a subsidiary such as SPDC will most likely hinge on Dutch rules regarding jurisdiction.

Two valuable precedents

An analysis of two recent cases – one in the UK and one in the Netherlands – can shed some light on the issue. In fact, both of them involved Shell and SPDC as defendants, and also invoked Brussels I as a ground to establish jurisdiction.

In the UK case, more than 40.000 individual claimants brought a class action against Shell over alleged environmental damages linked to oil spillage. On 26th January 2017, the High Court of Justice (Queen’s Bench Division) ruled that the claims should be heard in Nigeria. Although jurisdiction over the conduct of RDS could be established pursuant to art. 4 Brussels I Recast Regulation, the possibility to try SPDC was to be assessed under domestic PIL, and specifically, the CPR Practice Direction 6B. Paragraph 3.1(3) of the CPR Practice Direction 6B provides that a claim against multiple defendants could be served if (a) the issue between the claimant and the first defendant is a real issue, “which it is reasonable for the court to try”, and (b) the other defendant is a “necessary and proper party to the claim”. Thus, the English Court focused on verifying whether the claimant had a cause of action against the “anchor defendant” (i.e. RDS). Examining the evidence, the Court held that RDS had no duty of care over the extraction activities carried out by SPDC, and, hence, there was no legal claim that would tie the issue to UK jurisdiction (§118).

In a previous decision, the Dutch courts came to an opposite conclusion. Similarly, the three joint cases[14] concerned alleged negligence of RDS and SPDC with regard to the environmental damages caused in the Niger delta. On 18th December 2015, the Court of Appeal of The Hague held that Dutch courts have jurisdiction to hear the claim both against the parent company (pursuant to art. 2(1) and 60(1) Brussels I)[15] and SPDC (pursuant to both art. 6(1) Brussels I and art. 7(1) Dutch Code of Civil Procedure (CCP)). Art. 7(1) CCP prescribes that a defendant might fall under the jurisdiction of Dutch courts when jurisdiction is established against another defendant, “provided that the rights of action against the different defendants are connected with each other in such a way that a joint consideration is justified for reasons of efficiency”. Therefore, it resembles art. 6(1) Brussels I, and, moreover, the two norms were interpreted by the Court as linked and mutually reinforcing. As a result, the Court stated that the interest of having the claims against both companies heard together prevails over the allegations that the contentions against SPDC should be heard in Nigeria.

Comparing the two judgements, it appears that the two Courts have tackled the issue from two different angles, which reflect the wording of their domestic PIL. In particular, the Dutch Court deferred the question of whether the claims against the parent company were founded for a later phase of the proceeding, holding that it was too soon to determine whether these claims were bound “to fail from the outset”(§3.7). Moreover, the Court referred to the principle of perpetuatio fori. In other words, jurisdictional questions are solved at the outset of the proceeding. In the event claims against RDS proved unfounded on the merit, jurisdiction over SPDC would still stand.

Therefore, the ruling of The Hague Court of Appeal, and the regime provided in CPP by both art. 7(1) and 9 might prove to be a key element for the success of the new Kiobel lawsuit. Were the Dutch Court to find the claims against Shell and SPDC substantially interwoven (in the meaning of art. 7(1) CCP), arguably the need to hear the allegations against the two companies in the same proceeding would outweigh the reasons for having two separate judgements in the Netherlands and in Nigeria. In the alternative, art. 9 CCP, prescribing the principle of forum necessitatis, could still provide a jurisdictional ground on SPDC.

Conclusion

The new Kiobel case brings to the fore the strategies and opportunities available to victims seeking redress from multinational companies for human rights abuses. The strict interpretation of the ATS by the Supreme Court in the American edition of the Kiobel case has caused a geographical re-location of the complaints towards Europe and, in particular, The Netherlands where Shell is seated. In this regard, the jurisdictional regime stemming from private international law rules becomes crucial.

Notwithstanding the valuable ground provided by the Brussels I regime,[16] the national norms on PIL still play a predominant role, at least with regard to the establishment of jurisdiction over non-EU based subsidiaries. As the UK and Dutch cases show, these rules might be more or less flexible and entail diverse legal reasoning potentially leading to contradictory outcomes, and which will ultimately determine the possibility to have the case heard on the merit.

The 2015 precedent bodes well for the Dutch Court to assert jurisdiction in the new Kiobel case. Albeit this does not mean the Court will side with Kiobel and the other widows on substance. Winning on jurisdiction would be a first step, a key initial success necessary to be properly heard, but for the claimants there would still be a long and difficult road ahead before finding justice.  


[1] E. Hennchen, Ibid.

[2] NBC News, Shell settles human rights suit for $15.5 million, 6 August 2009

[3] BBC, 1995: Nigeria hangs human rights activists, 10 November 1995

[4] NBC News, Shell settles human rights suit for $15.5 million, 6 August 2009

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] S. H. Cleveland, After Kiobel, in  Journal of International Criminal Justice, 2014, 556

[8] See N. Bhuta, The Ninth Life of the Alien Torts Statute - Kiobel and After, in Journal of International Criminal Justice, 539-550; S. H. Cleveland, After Kiobel, in Journal of International Criminal Justice, 2014, 551-577

[9] Prescribing that a claim must in principle be lodged at a court located in the Member States where the defendant is domiciled. Regulation 1215/2012/EU (Brussels I)

[10]See G. van Calster, C. H. Luks, Extraterritoriality and Private International Law, in Recht in Beweging, 2012, 119-135 and G. van Calster, The Role of Private International Law in Corporate Social Responsibility, Erasmus Law Review, No.3, November 2014, 125-133.

[11] The Brussel Regimes now comprises Regulation 44/2001/EC (Brussels I), and was recast as Regulation 1215/2012/EU .

[12] The principle establishes that a State can exercise jurisdiction, when otherwise there will be no access to justice, due to the unavailability of an alternative forum.  F. J. Zamora Cabot, L. Heckendorn Urscheler, S. De Dycker, Implementing the U.N. Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights. Private International Law Perspectives, Schulthess Medias Juridiques, Geneva, 2017, 43

[13] F. J. Zamora Cabot, L. Heckendorn Urscheler, S. De Dycker, op. cit., 2017, 45 and 147

[14] Court of Appeal of the Hague, A.F. Akpan v. Royal Dutch Shell, plc; E. Dooh v. Royal Dutch Shell, plc; F.A. Oguru v. Royal Dutch Shell plc, 18 December 2015

[15] The two articles refer to the first versions of Brussels I Regulation 44/2001/EC; they are the equivalent of art. 4 and 63 of the recast Regulation.

[16] D. Lustig, Ibid.

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Doing Business Right Blog | Tackling Worker Exploitation by ‘Gangmasters’ in the UK and Australia - Part 2: From Labour Hire Licensing to Modern Slavery Laws – By Katharine Booth

Tackling Worker Exploitation by ‘Gangmasters’ in the UK and Australia - Part 2: From Labour Hire Licensing to Modern Slavery Laws – By Katharine Booth

Editor’s note: Katharine Booth holds a LLM, Advanced Programme in European and International Human Rights Law from Leiden University, Netherlands and a LLB and BA from the University of New South Wales, Australia. She is currently working at the Asser Institute in The Hague. She previously worked as a lawyer and for a Supreme Court Justice in Australia.


Both the UK and Australia have enacted legislation regulating the activities of ‘gangmasters’ or labour hire providers. Part 1 of this series of blog posts examines the circumstances that led to the enactment of labour hire licensing schemes in both the UK and Australia, and some key limitations of these laws.  Part 2 explores two issues closely connected to the business and human rights context. (1) Reform (in the UK) and potential reform (in Australia) of these laws in light of the increasing national and international recognition of modern slavery, human trafficking, labour exploitation and other human rights violations in corporate supply chains. Both the UK and Australia have enacted ‘modern slavery laws’ requiring certain companies to publish annual statements addressing human rights violations in their operations and supply chains. At the same time as the introduction of the UK Modern Slavery Act, the relevant gangmasters licensing authority (the Gangmasters Licensing Authority (GLA)) was empowered with broad ‘police-like’ powers to investigate offences under that Act. These powers have shifted the authority’s focus from the passive regulation of the gangmasters licensing scheme to the active enforcement of compliance with the Modern Slavery Act. (2) However, as currently enacted, modern slavery laws are not perfect. A key criticism of these laws is that they do not impose strong enforcement mechanisms (particularly financial penalties) on companies that fail to comply with their provisions. The imposition of penalties is central to ensuring that companies take note of the importance of eliminating slavery from their supply chains.

 

Licensing Schemes in Relation to Legislation Addressing Modern Slavery in Corporate Supply Chains

In recent years, there has been increasing national and international recognition of modern slavery, human trafficking, labour exploitation and other human rights violations in corporate supply chains. In response, some countries, including the UK and Australia, have enacted legislation to tackle these issues.

In March 2015, the UK Government passed the Modern Slavery Act 2015, which requires companies with a global annual turnover of £36 million or more to prepare and publish a modern slavery statement. Read this blog’s review of the Act here. Due to the increased focus on human rights violations in corporate supply chains, the role of the GLA was reviewed and the Gangmasters (Licensing) Act was amended through several provisions of the Immigration Act 2016. The GLA was renamed the Gangmasters and Labour Abuse Authority (GLAA) to reflect its new, broader role with respect to tackling labour market exploitation. The GLAA retained the GLA’s licensing and regulatory functions but was given police-style powers with respect to “labour market offences” alleged in any sector. This means that while the licensing of gangmasters is still limited to the sectors listed in the Gangmasters (Licensing) Act, the GLAA’s investigations are not similarly restricted and extend to, for example, other sectors where there has been concerns about exploitative activity, including car washes and nail salons.[1] The GLAA is able to investigate, search and arrest persons allegedly connected to worker exploitation and illegal activity under the Modern Slavery Act (including slavery, human trafficking, forced labour and illegal labour provision), and to search for and seize evidence and to investigate offences under the National Minimum Wage and Employment Agencies Acts. The focus of the GLAA and the UK Government more generally has shifted from the passive licensing of gangmasters to the active disruption and dismantling of slavery and human trafficking in the UK more broadly.

The GLAA has actively exercised its new investigative and enforcement powers. In May 2019, GLAA officers arrested three men on suspicion of  modern slavery and human trafficking offences following an operation in Birmingham. It was alleged that the suspects organised for several people to work at a logistics company through a recruitment agency before controlling their finances. In September 2019, in an operation connected to the May arrests, the GLAA detained and questioned a Romanian national upon her arrival in the UK. Three months later, as a result of a joint GLAA and National Crime Agency investigation, two gangmasters who exploited 41 Romanian workers by, among other things, controlling their wages, forcing them to live in sub-standard housing, and giving them false identities, were gaoled. A GLAA Senior Investigating Officer stated in relation to the  investigation: “While protecting vulnerable workers from abuse will always remain our number one priority, disrupting the criminal behaviour which causes this exploitation is also a fundamental part of our work which we take extremely seriously.” This demonstrates both the GLAA’s focus on protecting vulnerable (often migrant) workers and the increased scope of the GLAA’s new policing powers.

The GLAA is also collaborating with supranational institutions to strengthen its response to abusive recruitment practices that trick workers into modern slavery and forced labour. In January 2017, the GLAA and International Labour Organization (ILO) signed a Letter of Intent to strengthen their cooperation in relation to the prevention and elimination of forced labour. According to a GLAA press release, cooperation between the GLAA and ILO would contribute to raising awareness on the Modern Slavery Act’s transparency provisions, which align with the ILO Protocol to the Forced Labour Convention, which provides that the measures to be taken for the prevention of forced or compulsory labour include supporting due diligence by both the public and private sectors to prevent and respond to risks of forced or compulsory labour. The Modern Slavery Act’s provisions, however, have been criticised on the basis that they do not require companies to take steps to eliminate modern slavery in their supply chains, but rather require only that companies publish a modern slavery statement. As LeBaron and Rühmkorf state, “The Act therefore leaves companies discretion not to deal with forced labour or slavery in their supply chains at all, since companies can be compliant with the law without taking any steps to prevent or address forced labour, so long as they publish a statement.” Other weaknesses of these laws will be discussed below. Despite these weaknesses, however, collaboration between the GLAA and the ILO indicates the growing importance of eradicating modern slavery and human trafficking in corporate supply chains.

Unlike in the UK, the scope of the Australia labour hire licensing laws has not been similarly expanded. There are two main reasons for this. First, compared to the Gangmasters (Licensing) Act, the Australian laws are relatively recent. Second, in the past couple of years there has also been a shift away from State-based labour hire licensing schemes to Federal legislation focused on tackling modern slavery and other human rights abuses in corporate supply chains. In 2018, the Federal Government passed the Modern Slavery Act 2018, which applies to all Australian States and Territories and generally requires businesses with over AU$100 million per annum global consolidated revenue to publish an annual statement on the risks of modern slavery in their operations and supply chains. For this blog’s review of the Act, click here.

The Federal Act was implemented following a parliamentary inquiry into the nature and extent of modern slavery in the supply chains of businesses operating in Australia and whether legislation equivalent to the UK’s Modern Slavery Act should be implemented. The inquiry’s final report recommended for such legislation to be implemented, and also for the Federal Government to establish a uniform national labour hire licensing scheme to address worker exploitation. Such legislation is not supported by the current majority government but may be introduced following the next parliamentary election in 2022, as the current Opposition party has committed to establishing a national labour hire licensing scheme. If or when this occurs, rather than establishing a separate body to investigate allegations of modern slavery and labour exploitation, as is the case in the UK, the Fair Work Ombudsman (FWO) (an existing statutory office) was recommended by the inquiry’s final report to be empowered to do so. Indeed, a single labour inspectorate to protect the labour rights of all workers in the UK was recommended by Oxfam in its report on protecting workers employed by gangmasters. Therefore, the FWO, which already has some police-like powers to investigate alleged violations of Commonwealth workplace laws, appears best placed to regulate such a scheme, if or when national legislation is implemented.

 

Ensuring Corporate Compliance Through Strong Enforcement Mechanisms

In the UK and three Australian States, gangmasters or labour hire providers have been subject to increasing regulation in recent years. As discussed in Part 1 of this series of blog posts, in both countries, the enactment of gangmasters licensing legislation was due to flashpoints of public awareness of the exploitation of migrant workers – the Morcombe Bay cockling disaster in the UK and the exploitation of migrant labour in fresh produce stocked by major supermarkets in Australia. The laws, as originally enacted, are generally similar. The Gangmasters (Licensing) Act originally empowered the GLA with the licensing and oversight of a national licensing scheme. The Australian laws similarly empowered statutory bodies to oversee State-based licensing schemes. The laws have been amended (in the UK) or enacted (in Australia) in the context of an increasing national and international focus on modern slavery and other human rights violations in corporate supply chains. In the UK, the GLA was renamed the GLAA and conferred considerably more policing powers to enforce the newly enacted Modern Slavery Act. Around a year after the enactment of the Queensland, Victorian and South Australian licensing laws, the Federal Government introduced their own modern slavery laws.

As we have seen, however, in both countries the focus has shifted from licensing schemes towards modern slavery laws. This shift is perhaps due to the recognition that the effectiveness of the licensing schemes is limited, in that they do not impose obligations on companies higher up in supply chains to ensure that workers employed by gangmasters are not subject to exploitation. These companies potentially have considerable leverage to encourage labour users further down their supply chains to take steps to ensure that they contract with gangmasters that do not exploit their workers.

Indeed, the UK and Australian Modern Slavery Acts target these companies, requiring them to produce annual statements detailing the steps that they have taken to eliminate labour and human rights abuses from their operations and supply chains. However, while these laws target these companies, neither provide penalties for corporate non-compliance with their provisions. (It should be noted, however, that the UK Act sets down criminal penalties and/or fines for persons convicted of slavery, servitude, forced or compulsory labour and human trafficking.) As LeBaron and Rühmkorf note:

“In legal terms, the [UK] Modern Slavery Act amounts to little more than an endorsement of existing voluntary CSR reporting without any legally binding standards, and there are no government sanctions for failure to combat modern slavery or failure to report about the company’s policies.”

Similarly, Justine Nolan and Fiona McGaughey argue that the Australian Act’s absence of penalties “means enforcement is effectively left to NGOs which could use the public repository to ‘name and shame’ companies, and to shareholders or investors who could put pressure on the companies to comply with their reporting obligations.” Under the Australian Act, if a business required to issue a modern slavery statement fails to do so, the relevant Minister may only publish information about that failure to comply. No other penalties, criminal, civil or administrative (i.e. fines), are enshrined in either law to ensure companies comply with their provisions. Accordingly, neither the UK nor Australian Modern Slavery Acts include strong enforcement mechanisms imposing penalties on companies that do not comply with reporting requirements.

By comparison, the labour hire licensing laws in the UK and Australia do. The Gangmasters (Licensing) Act provides criminal and civil penalties for both operating as an unlicensed gangmaster (10 years in prison and/or a fine) and labour users entering into an agreement with an unlicensed gangmaster (6 months in prison and/or a fine). In Queensland, for instance, providing labour hire services without a licence and entering into a business arrangement with an unlicensed provider has a maximum penalty of 3 years imprisonment or a fine. 

To ensure the effectiveness of the UK and Australian Modern Slavery Acts, significant financial penalties should be introduced into their provisions for companies that refuse to take part in their reporting and compliance regime, or otherwise that do not comply with their provisions.  Furthermore, as recommended by the Human Rights Law Centre in its submission on the Australian Modern Slavery Act:

“… it would be preferable for any legislation to include a range of civil and criminal penalties applicable to both the corporate entities and to senior executives, with the possibility of escalating consequences for repeat offenders or companies that deliberately turn a blind eye to forced labour in their supply chains.”

Money talks. Strong enforcement mechanisms – particularly significant financial penalties – must be incorporated into the UK and Australian Modern Slavery Acts to work towards the eradication of slavery and other labour and human rights violations from corporate supply chains. Of course, simply penalising companies that do not comply with their current reporting requirements will not eliminate slavery in supply chains. Notably, there is an international trend towards governments requiring companies to undertake mandatory human rights due diligence to identify actual or potential human rights impacts that the business may cause or contribute to, or which may be directly linked to its operations, products or services, and to eliminate those impacts from their supply chains. Modern slavery statements are a first step in the direction of increasing corporate transparency. However, the imposition of significant financial penalties on companies that fail to comply with the law and, further, requiring companies to undertake mandatory human rights due diligence, are significant leaps towards the eradication of modern slavery from corporate supply chains


[1] See Director of Labour Enforcement, ‘United Kingdom labour market enforcement strategy 2018/19’ (May 2018) https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/705503/labour-market-enforcement-strategy-2018-2019-full-report.pdf; Department for Business, Energy & Industrial Strategy, ‘United Kingdom labour market enforcement strategy 2018/19: Government response’ (December 2018)

https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/765124/dlme-strategy-government-response.pdf.

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