Editor's note: Before joining the Asser Institute as an intern, Alexandru Tofan pursued an LLM in Transnational Law at King’s College London where he focused on international human rights law, transnational litigation and international law. He also worked simultaneously as a research assistant at the Transnational Law Institute in London on several projects pertaining to human rights, labour law and transnational corporate conduct.

The recent indictment of the French multinational company ‘Lafarge’ for complicity in crimes against humanity marks a historic step in the fight against the impunity of corporations.  It represents the first time that a company has been indicted on this ground and, importantly, the first time that a French parent company has been charged for the acts undertaken by one of its subsidiaries abroad.  Notably, the Lafarge case fuels an important debate on corporate criminal liability for human rights violations and may be a game changer in this respect.  This article analyses this case and seeks to provide a comprehensive account of its background and current procedural stage.

BACKGROUND

Lafarge is a French-based corporation that became one of the largest cement companies in the world after its merger with Swiss giant Holcim.  The corporate group now has activity in over 80 countries, employing tens of thousands.  Nevertheless, as it currently stands, eight of Lafarge’s former executives, including two CEOs, stand accused of criminal offences for their dealings in the company.  Importantly, on 28 June 2018 the corporate entity was charged with complicity in crimes against humanity and financing of a terrorist enterprise.  These indictments spring from the company’s infamous operations in Syria, which continued for a while during the civil war that tore apart the country. 

Lafarge began its operations in northern Syria in 2007 through the acquisition of a factory plant between the cities of Al-Raqqah and Manbij.  This plant became active in 2010 and was run by Lafarge Cement Syria – a subsidiary owned almost entirely by the French parent company.  The Syrian conflict erupted one year after the plant's opening and it unsurprisingly foreshadowed high security risks both for the factory and its employees. Expectedly, the rapid deterioration of the situation on the ground gradually forced the relocation of most multinationals and international bodies operating within Syria’s borders.  Lafarge Cement Syria did not relocate.  It solely repatriated its international staff, with the local Syrian employees being allowed to continue working in the factory.  As the plant became more and more immersed in Islamic State (IS) territory, the Syrian employees were obliged to cross dangerous checkpoints to access the factory.  Seemingly unconcerned with the risk to which it was exposing its employees, Lafarge threatened that failure to come to the plant would result in salary suspension and even redundancy.  This approach did not cease when the employees voiced concerns that they were facing high risks of death and kidnapping.  Nor did it cease when kidnappings actually started to occur.  Further, Lafarge did not put in place any evacuation plan.  Despite reassurances from the company that there would be evacuation buses, the employees had to fend for themselves when ISIS attacked and captured the plant.

THE CASE

On 21 June 2016, the French newspaper ‘Le Monde’ published an investigation in which it sketched out the connections and financial relationship between Lafarge and the Islamic State.  These accusations were met with a quick response by the French parliament, which concluded in a report from 13 July 2016 that no connection, whether direct or indirect, could be established between Lafarge and the financing of Daesh.[1] Nevertheless, in October 2016, the French Ministry of Finance filed a complaint against Lafarge claiming that it had breached the sanctions imposed by the EU against the regime of al-Assad and the ban on trading with terrorist organisations in Syria.  Following several additional complaints by former employees, a preliminary investigation was opened by the French authorities in October 2016.  As this preliminary investigation continued, the Swiss giant Holcim admitted in March 2017 that Lafarge had financed armed groups in Syria by recognising that ‘unacceptable practices had been employed to maintain the activity and security of its plant’.  This was subsequently corroborated by the former executive Director-General of Operations, Christian Herrault, who stated that the company had bowed to racketeering.

In June 2017, a judicial investigation was launched into the matter triggered by a joint complaint filed by French NGO Sherpa and the European Centre for Constitutional and Human Rights.  At first, this investigation disregarded the two counts of financing terrorism and crimes against humanity lodged against Lafarge as a legal person, and instead focused on the individuals involved.  In November 2017, the Parisian headquarters of Lafarge were raided by the customs police.  The minutes from that search described the atmosphere at the company’s headquarters as a ‘climate of permanent tension’ and a ‘situation of latent conflict’.  On 2 December 2017, the first indictments were released, targeting Frédéric Jolibois (the Director of the plant since the summer of 2014), Bruno Pescheux (his predecessor) and Jean-Claude Veillard (the Director of Security).  Three more indictments followed on 8 December 2017, targeting Bruno Lafont (the former CEO of Lafarge between 2007 and 2015), Christian Herrault (the former Director-General of Operations) and Éric Olsen (the Director of Human Resources at the time of the allegations). These indictments alleged that these individuals were suspected of financing terrorism and endangering other people’s lives. Another indictment followed in April 2018 regarding Sonia Artinian who was Lafarge’s Director of Human Resources between September 2013 and July 2018. She is accused of having endangered the lives of others and is given the status of assisted witness.

In an ordinance dated 18 April 2018, the judges in charge of the investigation returned to the accusations against Lafarge as a legal person, which were initially disregarded by the Parisian Prosecutor.  The judges concluded that the liability of Lafarge SA for financing terrorism and complicity in crimes against humanity deserved to be investigated.[2]  This marks a crucial development in the Lafarge affair.  In sum, the judges opened up, for the first time around the world, the possibility of holding a corporation criminally responsible for its alleged complicity in the commission of crimes against humanity.  Building on the momentum generated by this decision, Sherpa and the ECCHR filed a legal note in mid-May 2018 claiming that it is inevitable at this stage of the proceedings to indict Lafarge for complicity in crimes against humanity and financing terrorism. The two NGOs argued that the crimes committed by the Islamic State in north-eastern Syria between 2013 and 2015 amounted to crimes against humanity and that Lafarge became liable as an accomplice by neglectfully managing its employees’ security and by financing the IS. The complaint claimed that the corporation ought to be held responsible for crimes against humanity under Article 212-1 and Article 461-2 of the French Criminal Code (FCC), financing terrorist enterprises under Article 421-2-2 of the FCC, the deliberate endangerment of other people under Article 223-1 of the FCC,  exploitative and forced labour as well as undignified working conditions under Articles 225-13 and 225-14-2 of the FCC, and negligence under Article 121-3 of the FCC. 

Following these developments, the corporation was called for a hearing before the investigative judges on 5 June 2018, which was postponed on Lafarge’s request. Nonetheless, on 28 June 2018, nearly two years after Le Monde’s revelations, the French investigating judges indicted Lafarge. The historic indictment accuses Lafarge of complicity in crimes against humanity under Articles 212-1 and 461-2 of the FCC, the financing of a terrorist enterprise under Article 421-2-2 of the FCC, endangerment of other people’s lives under Article 223-1 of the FCC and the breach of an embargo (the latter stemming from the original investigation of the Ministry of Finance).  The rationale behind the judges’ decision to try Lafarge for crimes against humanity is grounded in the idea that the corporation could not have ignored the reality of the IS’ deeds and that it facilitated them in full awareness.  As such, Lafarge stands formally accused of having funnelled several million euros to the IS and other militant groups in order to maintain its operations in Syria by paying taxes and by buying raw materials from them. Notably, Lafarge is suspected of having sold cement directly to the IS. Marie-Laure Guislain, a lawyer with Sherpa, stated that if this direct sale is proven, it should be considered a supplementary act of complicity since Lafarge would in effect have facilitated the construction of roads, galleries, bunkers, and places for torture and the commission of other crimes. After the hearing on 28 June, Lafarge Holcim released a communiqué stating that it would appeal the charges, which ‘[...] do not fairly reflect the responsibility of Lafarge’. The company has now been placed under judicial supervision with a bond of €30 million and is awaiting trial. It is also noteworthy that the two NGOs requested that Lafarge open a compensation fund for all the former employees and their families.

LOOKING FORWARD

The indictment of Lafarge is a game changer in the discussion on corporate criminal liability for human rights violations. It marks the first time worldwide that a corporation is indicted for the financing of terrorist enterprises and for complicity in crimes against humanity. It is also the first time in France that a parent company is being held responsible for the actions undertaken by one of its subsidiaries abroad. Nevertheless, despite this unquestionable novelty, Lafarge’s indictment is by no means a totally unexpected development. Since there is currently no international criminal court with jurisdiction over legal persons, corporate criminal liability cannot be pursued at the international level. Rather, this process must necessarily begin at the national level through the practice of domestic courts and actors.  The US Supreme Court might have been right in stating in the Jesner et al. v Arab Bank, PLC case that the international community had not yet taken the step towards a universal, specific and obligatory standard of corporate liability for offences in violation of human rights protections. Yet the Lafarge case is clearly a first step in that direction. Its value lies in its potential to set an important precedent for all multinationals that engage in economic activity around armed conflicts and which are therefore at a high risk of contributing to human rights violations.

[1]           In French: “Selon Le Monde, le groupe Lafarge aurait ainsi payé à Daech diverses taxes en échange de la circulation de ses marchandises et de ses salariés et se serait approvisionné en matières premières [...] Les éléments auxquels le Rapporteur a pu avoir accès ne confirment en rien ces accusations. Rien ne permet d’établir que le groupe, ou ses entités locales, ont participé, directement ou indirectement, ni même de façon passive, au financement de Daech”. See here at page 90.

[2]          In French: Les deux associations, avec 11 anciens salariés, avaient été les premières à lancer une plainte pour «financement du terrorisme» contre Lafarge, qui a fusionné avec le Suisse Holcim en 2015, en visant aussi la «complicité de crimes contre l'humanité et de crimes de guerre».

Si le parquet de Paris avait écarté ces deux qualifications à l'ouverture de l'instruction en juin 2017, les juges estiment que ces faits ont «vocation à être instruits», selon une ordonnance du 18 avril dont a eu connaissance l'AFP.

Editor’s note: Shamistha Selvaratnam is a LLM Candidate of the Advanced Masters of European and International Human Rights Law at Leiden University in the Netherlands. Prior to commencing the LLM, she worked as a business and human rights solicitor in Australia where she specialised in promoting business respect for human rights through engagement with policy, law and practice.

Since the release of the first draft of the BHR Treaty (from herein referred to as the ‘treaty’), a range of views have been exchanged by commentators in the field in relation to the content of the treaty (a number of them are available on a dedicated page of the Business and Human Rights Resource Centre’s website). While many have stated that the treaty is a step in the right direction to imposing liability on businesses for human rights violations, there are a number of critiques of the first draft, which commentators hope will be rectified in the next version.

This second blog of a series of articles dedicated to the proposed BHR Treaty provides a review of the key critiques of the treaty. It will be followed by a final blog outlining some recommendations for the working group’s upcoming negotiations between 15 to 19 October 2018 in Geneva.

Critiques of the Treaty

Scope

As stated in the first blog post, the treaty applies to ‘business activities of a transnational character’. This aspect of the treaty has been criticised by many for being too limited as it makes a distinction between businesses that have activities abroad and those that do not, and it only imposes obligations on States to implement the treaty requirements with respect to the former.[1] By doing so, the treaty does not align with the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs) and suggests that all businesses should not be held equally responsible.

Larry Catá Backer, Professor at Pennsylvania State University, comments that the limitation of the scope of the treaty detracts from the assertion in the preamble that human rights are ‘universal, indivisible, interdependent and inter-related’ as the scope is ‘defined in a way to effectively protect local business …from effective compliance with thew high values’. [2] He notes that cynics may see this as ‘an effort to protect the local economies of certain states’ and perhaps a confirmation that ‘only certain states and their citizens [are] mature enough to undertake the burdens of legal responsibility, in this case for human rights.’[3]

The Business & Human Rights Resource Centre’s experience has shown that ‘allegations of corporate abuse are made against both national and international companies and national laws currently too often provide no adequate protection or remedy from either source of abuse.’[4] Accordingly, if the scope of the treaty is not altered, it will effectively deprive victims of human rights violations committed by businesses with exclusively domestic activities from obtaining redress under the treaty.

With respect to the definition of ‘business activities of a transnational character’, Professor John Ruggie notes that it is unclear and unnecessarily narrow such that it will be difficult to operationalise as it is ‘nowhere defined in the law or the social sciences’.[5] Accordingly, there may be difficulties in ‘monitoring and attributing legal liability’, particularly given the complex nature of global supply chains. [6] He also states that it could ‘exclude state-owned enterprises (SOEs) engaged in transnational business activity whose mission is not strictly profit-driven’.[7] As Professor Baker notes, ‘SOEs occupy an increasingly important place in the global economic order’ and the lack of clarity as to whether covered by the scope of the treaty is ‘troublesome’.[8]

Scale

The treaty has been criticised for its scale, that is, ‘the magnitude of the task at hand in seeking to regulate transnational business enterprises or ‘activities’.’ [9] Despite the lack of clarity surrounding the definition of ‘business activities of a transnational character’, it would capture a large number of businesses and their operations and activities. Professor Ruggie notes that it should be ensured that the ‘instrumentalities for monitoring and provisions for attributing legal liability are up to the magnitude of the task.’ [10] Surya Deva, Associate Professor of the School of Law of the City University of Hong Kong, notes that the number of entities captured could not be ‘regulated effectively by each state acting alone’; therefore, he suggests that States take collective action under the treaty. [11] 

Imposition of obligations on businesses

To date, the international legal personality of corporations and the ability to hold corporations responsible for human rights violations under international law is not settled. Accordingly, the treaty does not impose human rights obligations directly on businesses; instead it seeks to indirectly impose obligations on businesses by providing States with the primary responsibility to adopt legislation that is consistent with the treaty requirements.[12] Professor Nicolás Carrillo-Santarelli, Professor of Law at La Sabana University, notes that ‘this approach coincides with the archetype of international law dealing with non-state conduct indirectly, through the mediation of required domestic law and State action’.[13] It has been argued that the treaty ‘fail[s] to genuinely innovate beyond existing principles of public international law’ and, as a result, give corporations the ability to continue to ‘hide their failure to act behind the alleged shortcomings of states’.[14] Associate Professor Deva argues that the treaty ‘should state explicitly the obligation of businesses to respect of internationally recognised human rights’, and that the treaty, as currently drafted, ‘will not work’ as the treaty provides for legal liability but does not clearly impose a corporate obligation to respect human rights.[15]

Notably, the preamble of the treaty states that all businesses shall respect human rights, regardless of their ‘size, sector, operational context, ownership and structure’, which Professor Carrillo-Santarelli considers could suggest that the direct corporate obligations exist because the word ‘shall’ has a ‘strong obligation connotation’.[16] He also points out that it could be read that ‘all corporations … are under binding responsibilities to respect human rights.’[17] However, on the face of the treaty, it is unclear. Nonetheless, ratification of the treaty may be viewed as ‘expression of certain opinio juris on the existence of corporate duties that are implicitly and indirectly’ in the treaty.[18]

Intersection with investment law

Another critique of the treaty is how it deals with trade and investment treaties. Pursuant to article 13(3), the treaty does not have any primacy over existing State obligations under relevant treaties.[19] Accordingly, victims of human rights abuses that arise in the context of those trade and investment treaties will not be able to rely on the treaty. As noted by Carlos Lopez, the treaty pays ‘scant attention to the role of the State and the need for accountability and remedy in that context’.[20] Nonetheless, pursuant to article 13(6), new trade and investment treaties must not contain any provisions that conflict with the implementation of the treaty and should “[uphold] human rights in the context of business activities by parties benefiting from such agreements.”

Due diligence

The treaty has been praised for including an article on prevention of human rights violations which imposes a prescriptive list of measures to be undertaken by businesses in order to conduct due diligence (for example, reporting publically and periodically on non-financial matters). Associate Professor Deva argues that, in addition to ensuring that the due diligence process in the treaty aligns with the UNGPs, it should also be informed by best practice recommendations, for example, the European Coalition for Corporate Justice’s Position Paper on the ‘Key Features of Mandatory Human Rights Due Diligence Legislation’, to ensure that consistent processes are implemented by businesses.[21]

Nonetheless, the due diligence article (article 9) have been critiqued because it departs from the human rights due diligence process set out in the UNGPs. The UNGPs defines the parameters of human rights due diligence and sets out a four-step process to be carried out by businesses. Businesses should ‘identify, prevent, mitigate and account for how they address their adverse human rights impacts’.[22] While the treaty broadly covers each of these steps (for example, It requires businesses to identify and assess human rights violations), it goes further than the UNGPs and requires businesses to undertake a number of other measures, including reflecting due diligence requirements in their contractual relationships. In practice, this diversion may cause confusion for businesses that have implemented due diligence processes that align with the UNGPs.

Further, the ability for State Parties to exempt small and medium-sized businesses from the due diligence requirements in the treaty (article 9(5)) has been criticised on the basis that it ‘may be abusively taken advantage of by developing or other States in order to favor the “impunity” of abuses perpetrated or assisted by ‘strategic’ corporations or in ‘strategic sectors’.’ [23]

Separately, Professor Ruggie notes that a very high standard is imposed with respect to prevention of harm – the treaty requires businesses “to prevent” harm, which is ‘an extremely tall order for any due diligence requirement, which typically is expressed as “seek to prevent,” suggesting a standard of conduct.’[24] This language is reflected in article 13 of the UNGPs, which calls on businesses to ‘seek to prevent or mitigate adverse human rights impacts’ and, accordingly, use of this language in the treaty would align it with the UNGPs.

Legal liability

As stated in the first blog post, article 10.6 of the treaty provides three grounds upon which businesses may be held civilly liable for human rights violations in connection with their activities, namely:

a. to the extent it exercises control over the operations; or

b. to the extent it exhibits a sufficiently close relation with its subsidiary or entity in its supply chain and where there is strong and direct connection between its conduct and the wrong suffered by the victim; or

c. to the extent risk have been foreseen or should have been foreseen of human rights violations within its chain of economic activity. 

This article has been criticised due to its lack of clarity, particularly with the use of the following words and phrases: ‘control’, ‘sufficiently close’, ‘strong and direct connection’ and ‘foreseen’.[25] None of these words or phrases are defined in the treaty, and no guidance is provided on how they should be interpreted. Doug Cassel, Professor Emeritus of Law at the University of Notre Dame, has stated that the language needs to be ‘made more precise … to avoid clashing with entrenched national law doctrines that limit piercing of the corporate veil.’[26]

With respect to criminal liability, as Professor Carrillo-Santarelli notes, it is disappointing that State Parties would only be required, pursuant to article 10(8), to ‘provide measures under domestic law to establish criminal liability for all persons with business activities of a transnational character’, as violations of human rights are violations regardless of whether they are committed through domestic or transnational business activities. [27] Further, it is unclear from the face of the treaty as to whether businesses will be held criminally liable under the treaty, or only individuals. Nadia Bernaz, Associate Professor of Law of Wageningen University, notes that if the treaty does not include corporate criminal liability, there is a greater likelihood that it will be accepted.[28] However, she also argues that ideally international corporate criminal liability for international crimes should be included in the treaty, particularly given that the treaty does not impose direct corporate liability.[29]

Rights of victims

While the treaty’s focus on the rights of victims is likely to be viewed as its ‘key positive feature’, Professor Backer argues that the definition of the term ‘victims’ may ‘cause some concern’. [30] ‘Victims’ are defined to mean ‘persons who individually or collectively alleged to have suffered harm, including physical or mental injury’ (article 4). Professor Backer claims that this definition could ‘appear to divide the world between victims … and everyone else’ and that it seems to ‘incapacitate’ victims as a class because it suggests that they are ‘not individuals who can act but who must be guided and protected like children’.[31] He suggests that victims should be identified as ‘individuals to which certain rights vest’, that is, as rights holders.[32] 

Additionally, commentators have also criticised article 8(5)(d) which states that ‘in no case shall victims be required to reimburse any legal expenses of the other party to the claim.’ Professor Lopez notes that this article ‘may be seen as an incentive to frivolous litigation’.[33] Professor Carrillo-Santarelli agrees with Professor Lopez’s comment and adds that article 8(5)(d) along with article 8(6) (which states that ‘States shall not require victims to provide a warranty as a condition for commencing proceedings’) ‘could be taken advantage of to smear the reputation of some corporations when there are no grounds.’[34]

Enforcement

The treaty does not establish any sort of international enforcement or complaint mechanism to provide victims with redress. However, the absence of such mechanisms is said to be likely to make the treaty more attractive to State Parties.[35]

Although there is no international mechanism, the Optional Protocol has attempted to address concerns relating to lack of enforcement by requiring State Parties to establish a National Implementation Mechanism ‘to promote compliance with, monitor and implement’ the treaty. Further details on the role and function of this mechanism are set out in the first blog post.

Conclusion

Despite the flaws of the treaty that have been noted by commentators, overall commentators have welcomed the introduction of a treaty on business and human rights. The treaty is viewed as a step forward in addressing critical issues including preventing human rights violations by businesses and ensuring access to remedy for victims of such violations. However, it is clear that the treaty will need to be refined and clarified before it has any chance of being adopted by States.

[1] Alison Berthet, Peter Hood and Julianne Hughes-Jennett (Hogan Lovells), ‘UN treaty on business and human rights: Working Group publishes draft instrument’; Carlos Lopez, ‘Towards an International Convention on Business and Human Rights (Part I)’; Nicolás Carrillo-Santarelli, ‘Some Observations and Opinions on the “Zero” Version of the Draft Treaty on Business and Human Rights (Part I)’; Phil Bloomer and Maysa Zorob (Business & Human Rights Resource Centre), ‘Another Step on the Road? What does the “Zero Draft” Treaty mean for the Business and Human Rights movement?’; Sara McBreaty, ‘The Proposed Business and Human Rights Treaty: Four Challenges and an Opportunity’.

[2] Larry Catá Backer, Making Sausages?: Preliminary Thoughts on the "Zero-Draft," the first official draft of the legally binding instrument to regulate, in international human rights law, the activities of transnational corporations and other business enterprises.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Phil Bloomer and Maysa Zorob (Business & Human Rights Resource Centre), ‘Another Step on the Road? What does the “Zero Draft” Treaty mean for the Business and Human Rights movement?’.

[5] John Ruggie, ‘Comments on the “Zero Draft” Treaty on Business & Human Rights’.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Larry Catá Backer, Making Sausages?: Preliminary Thoughts on the "Zero-Draft," the first official draft of the legally binding instrument to regulate, in international human rights law, the activities of transnational corporations and other business enterprises.

[9] John Ruggie, ‘Comments on the “Zero Draft” Treaty on Business & Human Rights’.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Surya Deva, ‘The Zero Draft of the Proposed Business and Human Rights Treaty, Part II: On the Right Track, but Not Ready Yet’.

[12] Nadia Bernaz, ‘The Draft UN Treaty on Business and Human Rights: the Triumph of Realism over Idealism’.

[13] Nicolás Carrillo-Santarelli, ‘Some Observations and Opinions on the “Zero” Version of the Draft Treaty on Business and Human Rights (Part I)’.

[14] Charlie Holt, Shira Stanton and Daniel Simons (Greenpeace), ‘The Zero Draft Legally Binding Instrument on Business and Human Rights: Small Steps along the Irresistible Path to Corporate Accountability’.

[15] Surya Deva, ‘The Zero Draft of the Proposed Business and Human Rights Treaty, Part II: On the Right Track, but Not Ready Yet’; European Coalition for Corporate Justice’s Position, ‘Key Features of Mandatory Human Rights Due Diligence Legislation’ (June 2018).

[16] Nicolás Carrillo-Santarelli, ‘Some Observations and Opinions on the “Zero” Version of the Draft Treaty on Business and Human Rights (Part I)’.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Doug Cassel, ‘At Last: A Draft UN Treaty on Business and Human Rights’.

[20] Carlos Lopez, ‘Towards an International Convention on Business and Human Rights (Part I)’.

[21] Surya Deva, ‘The Zero Draft of the Proposed Business and Human Rights Treaty, Part II: On the Right Track, but Not Ready Yet’.

[22] UNGPs, principle 17.

[23] Nicolás Carrillo-Santarelli, ‘Some Observations and Opinions on the “Zero” Version of the Draft Treaty on Business and Human Rights (Part II)’.

[24] John Ruggie, ‘Comments on the “Zero Draft” Treaty on Business & Human Rights’.

[25] Doug Cassel, ‘At Last: A Draft UN Treaty on Business and Human Rights’; John Ruggie, ‘Comments on the “Zero Draft” Treaty on Business & Human Rights’.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Nicolás Carrillo-Santarelli, ‘Some Observations and Opinions on the “Zero” Version of the Draft Treaty on Business and Human Rights (Part I)’.

[28] Nadia Bernaz, ‘The Draft UN Treaty on Business and Human Rights: the Triumph of Realism over Idealism’.

[29] Ibid.

[30] Larry Catá Backer, Making Sausages?: Preliminary Thoughts on the "Zero-Draft," the first official draft of the legally binding instrument to regulate, in international human rights law, the activities of transnational corporations and other business enterprises.

[31] Ibid.

[32] Ibid.

[33] Carlos Lopez, ‘Towards an International Convention on Business and Human Rights (Part II)’.

[34] Nicolás Carrillo-Santarelli, ‘Some Observations and Opinions on the “Zero” Version of the Draft Treaty on Business and Human Rights (Part II)’.

[35] Doug Cassel, ‘At Last: A Draft UN Treaty on Business and Human Rights’; Surya Deva, ‘The Zero Draft of the Proposed Business and Human Rights Treaty, Part II: On the Right Track, but Not Ready Yet’.