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The Minsk Protocols: Flawed by Design

The Minsk Protocols: Flawed by Design

Authors: Sindija Beta, Katie Hetherington, and Paul R. Williams

The election of Donald Trump as the next President of the United States has reignited discussions about a potential peace agreement in Ukraine. Advisors close to the President-elect have floated the idea of revisiting the Minsk Protocols of 2014 and 2015—agreements initially crafted to address Russian aggression in Ukraine but fraught with significant design flaws.

At first glance, revisiting the Minsk Protocols might seem like a logical starting point. However, their design was fundamentally flawed, with three critical weaknesses undermining their effectiveness.

First, Russia acted in bad faith by asserting that it was not a party to the armed conflict, despite maintaining a military presence on Ukrainian territory. This claim allowed Russia to avoid any obligations under the protocols, undermining their credibility and enforceability.

Second, the “special status” provision in the Minsk Protocols created a pathway for eroding Ukrainian political unity. It fostered governance fragmentation and institutionalized a permanent Russian influence over Ukraine’s internal affairs.

Third, the sequencing of the Minsk Protocols required Ukraine to hold elections in Donetsk and Luhansk before regaining control over its territory. This made it impossible to ensure that the elections would be free, fair, and transparent.

This blog will explore these design flaws in greater detail and explain why reviving the Minsk Protocols in future peace negotiations between Ukraine and Russia is unlikely to result in a durable peace.

What are the Minsk Protocols?

In response to Russia’s 2014 aggression against Ukraine, the Minsk Protocols were negotiated under the auspices of the Organisation for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE), with France and Germany mediating the talks. These agreements, known as Minsk I (2014) and Minsk II (2015), sought to establish ceasefires and provide a roadmap for resolving the conflict. However, both agreements ultimately failed, largely due to their inherent weaknesses.

Minsk I outlined commitments in three key areas: cessation of hostilities, conflict resolution, and enhanced security measures. It called for a bilateral ceasefire, OSCE monitoring, and the exchange of detainees. Additionally, the agreement provided for "special status" autonomy for parts of Donetsk and Luhansk, encouraged a national dialogue, and required “early local elections” to be held under Ukrainian law.

Following the collapse of Minsk I, Minsk II attempted to address some of these shortcomings by specifying obligations more clearly. It introduced provisions for a demilitarized zone monitored by the OSCE, constitutional reforms, local elections, and the restoration of full control over Ukraine’s borders by its government.

The “special status” provision in Minsk II included an annex detailing the powers to be granted to Donetsk and Luhansk under the decentralization process. These included the ability to appoint judicial officials, form cross-border cooperation initiatives with Russia, create militia units, enjoy immunity from interference by Ukraine’s central government, and decide language rights in the regions.

It Is Not The Same Context 10 Years On

While the Minsk Protocols address some of the same issues that continue to persist during Russia’s aggression against Ukraine, their provisions were shaped by a very different geopolitical context. The war has evolved, rendering the assumptions underlying these agreements increasingly irrelevant.

Namely, when, after the protests that erupted in Kyiv’s Maidan Square and the ousting of pro-Russian President Viktor Yanukovych, Russia launched its aggression against Ukraine, it did not do so as overtly and blatantly as in 2022. The aggression started with “The Little Green Men”, Russian military personnel acting without identification marks taking control of the Crimean peninsula.  Over the course of the next 8 years, Russia continued to assert that the war in Ukraine was a civil war between “separatists” in Luhansk and Donetsk and the Ukrainian military. 

In this context, the Minsk Protocols included provisions stating that Ukraine would eventually regain control over all its territory. For example, Minsk I specified that “unlawful military formations, military hardware, militants, and mercenaries” would be removed from Ukraine. Minsk II reinforced this, promising Ukraine full control over its borders.

Fast forward to 2025–Russia has launched a full-scale invasion, sending hundreds of thousands of its soldiers into Ukraine and claiming to have annexed the Ukrainian regions of Donetsk, Kherson, Luhansk, and Zaporizhzhia. On October 4, 2022, the Russian State Duma and the Federation Council approved the Federal Constitutional Laws on the accession of Donetsk, Kherson, Luhansk, and Zaporizhzhia regions to the Russian Federation, thereby putting the Russian Constitution in direct conflict with the Ukrainian Constitution. 

This drastic shift in Russia’s strategy and its illegal actions under international law have escalated the conflict far beyond the assumptions of 2014-2015. The Minsk Protocols, based on outdated frameworks, are no longer applicable to the realities of 2024. They fail to address the current scale of aggression, Russia’s abandonment of diplomatic subtleties, and overlapping constitutional claims over territory.

Granting Special Status: Entrenched Instability and Dysfunction

In addition to being unsuitable for the 2025 context, the Minsk Protocols were already flawed in their 2014-2015 design. Specifically, the “special status” provision for Donetsk and Luhansk was not about genuine decentralization of power but a mechanism to undermine Ukrainian sovereignty.

Decentralization can be a valid governance model, but the Minsk Protocols went far beyond empowering local governance. They effectively created states within Ukraine that would operate as Russian proxies, undermining Ukraine's sovereignty and unity.

By granting Donetsk and Luhansk control over policing, language policies, and cross-border cooperation with Russia, the protocols institutionalized dysfunction. This level of autonomy would paralyze Ukraine’s central government on critical issues, including foreign policy and security. For example, attempts by Kyiv to deepen ties with NATO or the European Union could be obstructed by these regions’ refusal to comply with national policies.

These provisions were not aimed at fostering self-governance but at giving Moscow leverage to control Ukraine’s geopolitical orientation. Russia’s broader strategic goal has always been to keep Ukraine within its sphere of influence and prevent its integration into Western institutions. Embedding such provisions into Ukraine’s political framework would ensure perpetual instability and make NATO or EU membership impossible.

The Sequencing That Was Never Realistic

The sequencing of obligations in Minsk I and Minsk II was among their most critical flaws. Both agreements required Ukraine to hold local elections in Donetsk and Luhansk and implement constitutional reforms before regaining control of its borders and ensuring security.

First, holding elections in regions controlled by Russian-backed forces made it impossible to guarantee free, fair, and transparent elections. Without territorial control or security guarantees, these elections would legitimize governments loyal to Moscow.

Second, this sequencing allowed Russia to maintain leverage over Ukraine throughout the process. By requiring elections before border control, the protocols gave Russia an opportunity to entrench its influence in the region. Moscow could strengthen its position on the ground during the pre-election period, ensuring that political developments aligned with its interests. This would make it even harder for Ukraine to reassert sovereignty, as Russia could manipulate the political environment to maintain control under the guise of peace.

Conclusion

The design and sequencing of the Minsk Protocols were flawed from the outset, and their application today would only entrench Russian influence in Ukraine. Any effort to revive these agreements would perpetuate instability and undermine Ukraine's sovereignty. A viable peace proposal must affirm Ukraine’s independence, safeguard its political unity, and support its aspirations for Euro-Atlantic integration. Ukraine’s future lies in strengthening its sovereignty, not in appeasing Russia through a flawed peace process.


The Istanbul Communique: A Blueprint for Ukraine's Capitulation

The Istanbul Communique: A Blueprint for Ukraine's Capitulation

Authors: Sindija Beta, Katie Hetherington, and Paul R. Williams

The Istanbul Communique, an early and ambitious attempt to negotiate peace between Ukraine and Russia, has often been portrayed as a promising step toward ending a devastating conflict. Drafted in Istanbul, Turkey, during March and April 2022, the treaty aimed to halt hostilities soon after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. However, a closer analysis reveals that the agreement would have been disastrous for Ukraine. It left the country vulnerable to future Russian aggression and offered no foundation for lasting peace. The Communique’s key provisions on neutrality, military constraints, and security guarantees amounted to little more than a blueprint for Ukraine’s capitulation.

Neutrality: A Dangerous Gamble

A cornerstone of the Istanbul Communique was the establishment of Ukraine as a permanently neutral state. This neutrality, enshrined in the constitution, would have barred Ukraine from joining military alliances, hosting foreign bases or weapons, or engaging in activities that might compromise its neutral status. At face value, neutrality might seem like a pathway to de-escalation, but in reality, it would have stripped Ukraine of the very means it needed to defend itself against further aggression.

Neutrality is an untenable proposition for a nation sharing a border with an aggressive and expansionist power like Russia. This provision would have stripped Ukraine of its ability to seek military assistance from international partners, severely limiting its defense options in the event of another invasion. In a world where territorial integrity is constantly at risk, neutrality would have only invited further Russian encroachment, leaving Ukraine without the support of allies for protection.

Given Russia's demonstrated disregard for international norms and its pattern of invading neighboring countries, a policy of neutrality would have left Ukraine exposed to continuous threats. It would have denied Ukraine the ability to bolster its defenses or seek support from NATO or other military alliances. Far from fostering peace, the notion of neutrality undermined Ukraine's security and signaled that aggression could be rewarded through diplomatic concessions. Rather than safeguarding Ukraine’s sovereignty, this provision would have left the country vulnerable to future exploitation by its far larger neighbor.

Security Guarantees: Promises Without Guarantees

The Communique’s proposed security framework revolved around guarantees from a group of Guarantor States, including the United Kingdom, China, the United States, France, and Russia. Additional guarantors were suggested, such as Belarus (proposed by Russia) and Turkey (proposed by Ukraine). At its core, the framework aimed to provide a safety net should Ukraine face renewed aggression, yet these guarantees were riddled with flaws.

The draft treaty required the Guarantor States to engage in consultations if Ukraine were attacked. While military assistance was a possible outcome, it was neither automatic nor guaranteed. Unlike NATO’s Article 5, which obligates member states to collective defense, the Istanbul Communique provided no binding mechanisms to ensure a swift and unified response. This reliance on consultations left Ukraine’s security dependent on the alignment of interests among the Guarantor States.

The draft treaty also failed to resolve whether unanimous consensus among all Guarantor States, including Russia, would be required to activate any assistance. If adopted in a final peace agreement, this provision would replicate the dysfunctional decision-making model of the United Nations Security Council’s veto system. It is unthinkable to design security guarantees that give veto power to the very aggressor responsible for initiating the war.

Military Constraints: Ukraine on a Silver Platter

Russia’s demand that Ukraine drastically reduce its military would have amounted to a catastrophic surrender of Ukraine’s ability to defend itself. Without solid, unconditional security guarantees, these constraints would have left Ukraine defenseless against future Russian aggression, effectively handing the country over to an emboldened Russia.

Stripping Ukraine of its military capabilities in a region marked by fragile security and constant threats to territorial integrity would have invited further invasions. Ukraine’s recent resilience against Russian aggression has demonstrated that a strong, modernized military is indispensable for its survival.

Unresolved Issues: Just Peace?

Beyond its provisions on neutrality, military reductions, and security guarantees, the Istanbul Communique left numerous critical issues unresolved. Chief among these was the lack of a clear mechanism for the return of prisoners of war and civilians, including children. While the treaty called for their return, it provided no specific details on how this would be accomplished—an alarming omission given the global outcry over the abduction of thousands of Ukrainian children. This failure would only prolong the suffering of families, perpetuate grave human rights violations, and undermine any hopes for a genuine and just peace.

Moreover, Russia’s demands—such as lifting sanctions, terminating legal cases against Russia, and recognizing Russian as an official language in Ukraine—constituted a blatant infringement on Ukraine’s sovereignty. Accepting these terms would have been tantamount to capitulation, undermining Ukraine’s independence and its international legal rights.

Few Wins for Ukraine

It is worth noting that the treaty did contain a few positive aspects. One notable success was the acceptance of Ukraine’s EU membership. Additionally, Russia did not object to Ukraine’s participation in peacekeeping missions under international frameworks such as the UN, OSCE, or EU. This provision preserved Ukraine’s connection to European institutions and represented a small but meaningful concession from Russia.

The Communique also proposed a procedure for a ceasefire and a monitored troop withdrawal. Russia agreed to withdraw its forces to their permanent deployment positions, with implementation supervised by a joint commission comprising Russian, Ukrainian, and potentially UN representatives. Although the exact timeline for withdrawal was left to future consultations, the inclusion of this framework suggested a step toward de-escalating the conflict and pursuing a peaceful resolution.

Conclusion

The Istanbul Communique was a dangerously flawed attempt to force Ukraine into submission. By stripping the country of its ability to defend itself and offering no solid protection against future Russian aggression, the treaty would have exposed Ukraine to further exploitation and vulnerability. Even the few concessions, such as the prospect of EU membership, barely masked the overwhelming flaws of the agreement. Ukraine deserves a peace that guarantees its future—not a treaty that sets the stage for further subjugation. The Istanbul Communique was a dangerous fantasy, and Ukraine must continue to fight for peace that truly ensures its survival and sovereignty.

Zelenskyy’s 10-Points vs. the Potemkin Peace Plans: A Comparative Analysis of Peace Proposals for Ukraine

Zelenskyy’s 10-Points vs. the Potemkin Peace Plans: A Comparative Analysis of Peace Proposals for Ukraine

Authors: Katie Hetherington, Sindija Beta, and Dr. Paul R. Williams

Russia’s aggression in Ukraine has sparked a range of proposals aimed at achieving a durable and comprehensive end to the war. These proposals vary widely in merit and legitimacy. Among them, Ukraine's Peace Formula, publicly introduced in 2022, stands out as a framework firmly rooted in international law and designed to address the interests of both Ukraine and the broader international community.

Other proposals, such as the African Peace Mission’s Proposal, China’s 12-Point Plan, and the Brazil-China Peace Proposal, have also been put forward. However, these efforts are largely fragmented and driven by self-interested diplomacy. While claiming neutrality, they often avoid key legal and geopolitical issues and instead reflect the strategic priorities and interests of their authors.

Peace in Ukraine must be pursued within the framework of a rules-based international order. This requires adherence to fundamental and non-negotiable principles such as territorial integrity, justice, and accountability. Genuine peace cannot be achieved through potemkin peace plans: superficial or self-serving proposals that sidestep these core values. Instead, the path forward demands a steadfast commitment to sovereignty, the rule of law, and a vision of justice that serves not only Ukraine but the global community.

Ukraine's Peace Formula

Ukraine’s Peace Formula was first introduced by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy in October 2022 to the Group of Seven (G7) leaders and later published on official Ukrainian government platforms. Of the available proposals, the peace formula is most consistent with international law. It addresses critical issues required for any genuine negotiation to end Russia's aggression, including the non-negotiable principle of territorial integrity, security concerns such as food and energy security, compensation for war damages, and accountability for crimes committed during the conflict. The formula takes into account the broader interests of the international community, particularly those of Global South nations heavily impacted by disruptions to global supply chains. As a result, it is a solid blueprint for a durable, legitimate, and legally sound peace. 

The restoration of territorial integrity and the complete withdrawal of Russian forces from Ukrainian territory are central to the Peace Formula. It also calls for the withdrawal of Russian forces from Ukrainian nuclear plants, the transfer of control to the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), and strongly condemns Russian nuclear blackmail. The formula emphasizes the need for robust security guarantees to prevent both immediate and future aggression.  While the formula has not been formally amended since its publication, Ukraine’s position on when the issue of territorial integrity must be resolved might be shifting: President Zelensky has made recent remarks regarding the possibility of negotiating outstanding territorial issues with Russia at a later date, in return for NATO membership and security guarantees now. These remarks do not, however, negate Ukraine’s demands for the return of the Occupied Territories, nor the fact that Russia’s aggression is strictly prohibited under international law, including Article 2 of the UN Charter.

The Peace Formula also tackles the humanitarian impacts of Russia’s war, focusing on Russian attacks on civilian infrastructure, environmental protection, and the return of prisoners of war. It highlights the need for accountability for the illegal deportation of Ukrainian children and adults, emphasizing their immediate return, and advocates for an “all for all” exchange of prisoners of war. Additionally, the formula addresses the global repercussions of food and energy insecurity by proposing price restrictions on Russian energy exports and restoring grain exports to stabilize global markets and mitigate the adverse effects of global food shortages.

On justice and accountability, the formula demands the prosecution of those responsible for war crimes. Although it does not extensively discuss post-conflict reconstruction, it highlights the need for an international mechanism by which Russia will compensate Ukraine for war damages.

As affirmed by legal analyses, including PILPG’s, the peace formula is deeply rooted in international law. It is premised on fostering international cooperation to implement a vision of peace that extends beyond Ukraine to benefit the global community.

The African Peace Mission’s Proposal

The African Peace Mission’s Proposal, introduced in the summer of 2023 by a delegation from Comoros, Congo-Brazzaville, Egypt, Senegal, Uganda, Zambia, and South Africa, offered a broad framework for resolving the conflict. While the specifics were never formally disclosed, South Africa’s President Ramaphosa outlined a 10-step peace plan addressing issues such as state sovereignty, security, the protection of global supply chains, humanitarian concerns, and reconstruction. However, the proposal lacked concrete details on how these measures would be implemented.

The proposal highlights African states’ commitment to diplomacy and their desire to play a significant role in maintaining international peace and stability. However, it falls short as a viable blueprint for peace. It avoids explicitly acknowledging the illegality of Russia’s aggression in Ukraine and remains silent on critical issues such as territorial integrity and accountability for war crimes. Ultimately, the proposal reflects a cautious foreign policy stance and, in some cases, the Russia-leaning positions of certain states aiming to influence the resolution of the conflict.

China’s “Political Settlement”

China’s 12-point plan, released in February 2023, aims to portray China as a neutral mediator. However, it is less a comprehensive proposal to end the war and more a self-serving framework for facilitating dialogue and advancing a political settlement aligned with China’s strategic interests.

The plan calls for moving away from “Cold-War mentality” military blocs and bloc confrontation, echoing language often found in Russian narratives about the perceived threats of military alliances. It opposes unilateral sanctions and their perceived misuse while advocating for the protection of global supply chains. Notably, the plan reflects China’s strategic concerns, particularly its stance on Taiwan and territorial integrity. It outlines a normative and legal framework that China could potentially invoke if it were to take action against Taiwan, revealing its apprehension about potential international military and economic responses to such a scenario. 

The plan shares some common ground with Ukraine’s Peace Formula. It calls for measures to de-escalate hostilities, protect civilians and prisoners of war, and ensure the stability of global supply chains. It explicitly advocates for international support for post-conflict reconstruction and offers China’s assistance. Furthermore, it emphasizes the importance of safeguarding nuclear facilities, supporting the role of the IAEA, and opposing the use or threat of nuclear weapons.

However, the proposal notably fails to address critical issues such as territorial integrity, the withdrawal of Russian troops, security guarantees for Ukraine, or accountability for war crimes. Its language carefully avoids acknowledging Russia’s illegal occupation of Ukrainian territory, simply stating that the sovereignty, independence, and territorial integrity of all states must be respected. Additionally, it refrains from labeling Russia’s actions as a war, instead referring to the conflict as the “Ukraine crisis.”

Indeed, in September 2024, a paper drafted by the Ukrainian government and circulated amongst diplomats at the September UNGA meeting in New York claimed that China was also pursuing international backing for an end-the-war strategy which would freeze current territorial demarcations. This only underscores China’s reluctance to support a just resolution based on Ukraine’s territorial integrity. Given China’s close ties with Russia, the proposal is best characterized as Russian-leaning.

The Brazil-China “Common Understandings” 

The Brazil-China Peace Proposal, introduced in May 2024, offers little progress beyond the framework of China’s 2023 plan. It focuses on a set of “common understandings” and calls for direct dialogue but fails to address several critical issues essential for achieving a durable resolution to Russia’s war.

The proposal echoes familiar themes, including opposition to bloc dynamics and nuclear escalation, advocacy for stable global supply chains, and calls for humanitarian assistance. However, it strays even further from the principle of territorial integrity, omitting any reference to Russia’s illegal occupation of Ukrainian territory, its broader aggression, or the fundamental obligation to uphold state sovereignty under international law.

Brazil’s stance in this proposal is clearly influenced by its membership in BRICS, which includes Russia. The economic and geopolitical interests of both Brazil and China are evident, suggesting that their approach is driven more by self-interest than by a genuine commitment to justice or international law.

Russia’s Position

Unlike the formal written proposals outlined above, Russia has not published an official peace plan of its own. Instead, its position on peace is conveyed through public statements by Russian officials and its actions on the ground in Ukraine. Russia’s prerequisites for peace remain centered on Ukrainian neutrality and the recognition of its territorial claims over Crimea and Donbas.

President Putin has insisted that meaningful negotiations with Ukraine cannot commence while—according to his narrative—Ukraine indiscriminately attacks civilian populations and infrastructure. While Russia has expressed openness to a ceasefire, this is contingent on terms that overwhelmingly serve its interests, including Ukraine’s withdrawal from the territories illegally occupied by Russia, and the abandonment of efforts to join NATO. Russia’s position centers on maintaining control over significant portions of Ukraine, including the strategically significant Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant. 

While Russia has participated in several exchanges of prisoners of war, it frames these actions as part of its broader narrative of protecting ethnic Russians in Ukraine. Its approach to humanitarian issues remains starkly contradictory: Russia continues to target civilian infrastructure, including Ukraine’s energy systems, with the intent of disrupting daily life and undermining Ukraine’s resilience, particularly during the winter months.

Regarding global energy security, Russia wields its energy exports as a geopolitical weapon, manipulating supplies to exert pressure on European and global markets. While it initially engaged in grain export negotiations as part of the Black Sea Grain Initiative, it withdrew from the agreement in 2023, escalating attacks on Ukrainian ports and civilian shipping vessels.

Russia categorically rejects accountability for war crimes, dismissing such accusations as politically motivated. It also refuses to consider reparations for damages caused by the war.  Moreover, Russia has consistently opposed the use of frozen assets for reconstruction and, in May 2024, authorized compensation for its seized frozen assets by targeting U.S. assets within Russia.

Finally, while Russia has expressed nominal support for multilateral peace talks, it vehemently opposes any dominant role for Western-led blocs in such negotiations. Russia frames the conflict as part of a broader struggle against Western hegemony.

Conclusion

In the search for peace in Ukraine, not all proposals are created equal. Ukraine’s Peace Formula provides a robust framework for future peace that is grounded in international law and principles of justice. In contrast, many other proposals amount to little more than diplomatic posturing, shaped by the priorities and alliances of their authors.

Any path to lasting peace must prioritize territorial integrity, accountability for aggression and war crimes, and comprehensive security guarantees to prevent future conflict. Smoke-and-mirrors proposals may claim neutrality, but true peace demands an unwavering commitment to justice, sovereignty, and the rule of law—principles that Ukraine’s Peace Formula upholds as a blueprint not only for the region but for a more secure and just international order.

The Legality of Russia’s Use of Naval Mines in the Black Sea

The Legality of Russia’s Use of Naval Mines in the Black Sea

Read the Original on the Center for Civil Liberties Website

Authors: Dr. Gregory P. Noone and Sindija Beta, PILPG, and Danek Freeman, Joon Cho, Joseph Hahn, and Leigh Dannhauser, Weil, Gotshal & Manges LLP

Naval mines have been a part of warfare for over a century, but their use is strictly regulated under international law to prevent harm to civilians and neutral ships.  While not illegal per se (meaning that their existence is not illegal), naval mines can be dangerous, and rules are in place to control when and how they’re used.  Recently, the spotlight has turned to Russia’s use of these weapons in the Black Sea during its war in Ukraine, raising serious questions about possible further Russian violations of international law.

The Hague Convention and Naval Mines

One of the key treaties that regulates the use of naval mines is the VIII Hague Convention of 1907.  This treaty was established after the devastating loss of civilian lives from unchecked naval mining during the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905).  The goal was to prevent similar tragedies by laying down clear rules about where and how naval mines can be used, especially to protect neutral ships.

According to the treaty, countries cannot scatter mines that may indiscriminately injure civilians and neutral vessels. For example, floating mines must deactivate within an hour if they’re no longer under control, and anchored mines must become harmless if they break free (Article 1).  Moreover, states are prohibited from laying mines with the sole purpose of targeting commercial ships (Article 2).  Any mines placed must be done with the safety of peaceful shipping in mind, and combatants need to inform others about the presence of mines in dangerous areas.

Even though not all countries signed this treaty, including Russia and Ukraine, many of its key points have become part of customary international law, meaning they apply to all nations, including Russia and Ukraine.  This is where the issue of Russia’s actions comes into focus.

Customary International Law: Additional Protections

In addition to the Hague Convention, the use of naval mines is further restricted by legal principles that are part of customary international law.  These include the principle of distinction and the right of innocent passage.

The principle of distinction, which is outlined in the 1949 Geneva Conventions and their Additional Protocols (Articles 48, 51(2), and 52(2) of Additional Protocol I), prohibits attacks that are directed at civilians or non-combatants.  It requires that combatants must always differentiate between military and civilian targets. Indiscriminate attacks that fail to make this distinction are unlawful.  This principle, recognized as customary international law, is one of the most fundamental rules in warfare.  The International Court of Justice has highlighted that the principle of distinction is one of the “intransgressible principles” of international law (para. 79), and it has been integrated into military operational doctrine worldwide.  Unfortunately, however, the UK government has observed that Russia has consistently violated this legal principle as they have “systematically targeted Ukrainian port and civilian infrastructure,” throughout its war.

The right of innocent passage, codified in Article 17 of the 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS III), protects civilian ships passing through territorial waters, provided they do so in a way that does not threaten the peace or security of the coastal state.  Russia ratified UNCLOS in 1997, meaning that it is bound by this principle.  When naval mines disrupt the safe passage of these civilian vessels, it violates this right.

Both of these principles—distinction and innocent passage—have been cited in key legal judgments, such as in the U.S. v. Nicaragua (1984) case, and apply universally, further highlighting the legal obligations that Russia is infringing upon in its current mining practices.

Naval Mines in the Russia-Ukraine War

While the true extent of mining operations remains unknown, media and other reports indicate that Russia has deployed hundreds of naval mines in the Black Sea since its invasion of Ukraine in 2022.  This includes floating mines, sea bottom mines, and anchored contact mines.  Some mines floating in the Black Sea are anchored contact mines that have become unmoored in stormy weather.  Reports note that mines have been dropped “in the direction of navigation corridors of civil shipping,” including in a “humanitarian corridor” established by Ukraine in the western Black Sea safeguarding the export of grain to Europe and Africa.   Shipping vessels have been hit by these mines near Ukraine’s ports and some mines are reportedly floating near Turkey, Bulgaria, and Romania.  

The UK Foreign Office indicated that Russia has “almost certainly” laid these mines as a covert attempt to lay blame on Ukraine for attacks against civilian vessels, rather than openly sink civilian ships.  These mines have threatened significant disruptions in commercial shipping in the region, including with respect to the export of Ukrainian grain, and tourists bound for Black Sea resorts have been deterred by such reports of drifting rogue mines.  Around the same time, Russia also notably backed out of the Black Sea Grain Initiative, a deal brokered between Russia and Ukraine by the United Nations and Turkey meant to facilitate the safe navigation and export of Ukrainian grain and other foodstuffs via the Black Sea.

Legal Violations: Where Russia Crosses the Line

Russia’s use of naval mines in the Black Sea raises significant questions about compliance with international law.  First, the types of mines being used are concerning.  Under the VIII Hague Convention, floating mines are supposed to deactivate shortly after being deployed, and anchored mines should become harmless if they break free.  However, reports suggest that Russian mines are drifting long distances and remaining dangerous well after deployment, potentially posing risks to neutral and civilian vessels.

In addition to the concerns about the types of mines used, a more pressing issue is the mining of the humanitarian corridor, specifically set up for the safe passage of cargo ships.  This corridor is intended to be neutral ground, allowing civilian vessels to navigate without fear of attack or damage.  By placing mines in this area, Russia may be violating international laws that are designed to protect neutral shipping. 

To ensure the safety of neutral shipping, precautions should be taken, such as warning ships about the presence of mines or avoiding mining areas designated for innocent passage.  While Russia issued a general warning about mines in shipping routes in July 2023, this notice has been viewed as insufficient.  The Russian Defense Ministry referred to a single mine sighting without providing detailed information about the numerous mines laid in the area, which would be critically important information to seafarers. 

Following the suspension of the Black Sea Grain Initiative, Russia has indicated intentions to target vessels entering or leaving Ukrainian ports and has carried out several strikes on the port of Odesa, disrupting commercial shipping in the region.  Todor Tagarev, Bulgaria’s Minister of Defense and member of a new trilateral Mine Countermeasures Black Sea task force noted, “Russia has been blocking maritime traffic for many months now,” highlighting that “there are a number of sea mines that present risks… along with threats from Russian UAV and missile attacks.”

Moreover, as discussed above Russia may be infringing upon two important legal principles under customary international law: the principle of distinction and the right of innocent passage.

Can Russia Be Held Accountable?

So, what can be done about these violations? 

International law provides mechanisms for accountability.  States affected by Russia’s mines, such as Ukraine, Turkey, Romania, and Bulgaria, could bring a case against Russia before the International Court of Justice.  The International Court of Justice can hear disputes between states and potentially order Russia to stop these activities or pay damages for any harm caused.

On the other hand, Russia might try to defend its actions by arguing that it did not intend to specifically target commercial shipping or that it is not bound by the VIII Hague Convention because it is not a signatory.  However, many of the treaty’s rules have become part of customary international law, meaning that Russia is still expected to follow them.  Additionally, intent is only relevant in certain cases, and the widespread damage caused by these mines may be enough to establish liability regardless of Russia’s motives.

Conclusion

Russia’s use of naval mines in the Black Sea is not just a military strategy—it has real-world consequences for civilian lives and international shipping. By mining the humanitarian corridor created to facilitate the safe navigation of civilian cargo ships, as well as by allowing its mines to drift far beyond their intended areas, Russia appears to be creating risks for commercial vessels and civilians in Ukraine’s territorial waters.  As such, Russia’s actions in the Black Sea humanitarian corridor does not align with key doctrines of international law, jeopardizing civilian safety and challenging the integrity of international legal frameworks designed to uphold peace and security.

As the conflict continues Russia continues to violate international law. However, the international community will be watching closely to see how these actions are addressed, and whether Russia will be held accountable for its violations of international law.

Status of the Wagner Group and can Russia be held accountable for their crimes?

Status of the Wagner Group and can Russia be held accountable for their crimes?

Read the Original on the Center for Civil Liberties Website

Authors: Dr. Gregory P. Noone and Sindija Beta, PILPG, and Camila Rodriguez, Adam Zuro, Bailey Higgs and Rene Kathawala, Orrick, Herrington & Sutcliffe

Background and Relationship with Russia

The Wagner Group (“Wagner”) appeared in 2014 as a military force “for hire” that assisted Russia in the illegal annexation of Crimea. Since its inception, Wagner has also been hired by Syria and various African nations to provide a wide variety of services, including military training, combat operations, spreading of disinformation, and aiding in certain mining operations. Wagner has also been heavily involved in the full-scale invasion Russia has been conducting in Ukraine since February 2022. Wagner has been accused of committing several war crimes including rape, mass murder, torture, and looting. However, up until June 2023, connecting the Russian government to Wagner was challenging for the international community as the Russian government has historically denied any connection to Wagner. However, in June 2023 Nikolai Pankov (Russia’s Deputy Defense Minister) announced that “volunteer formations” would be asked to sign contracts with the Ministry of Defense, thereby publicly unraveling Russia’s involvement with Wagner and opening the door for the international community to connect Wagner to the Russian government. The announcement prompted Yevgeniy Prigozhin, Wagner’s leader at the time, to reply that Wagner would not sign contracts. On June 23, 2023, Prigozhin released a series of videos denouncing the Russian military and announcing that Wagner would “march for justice” against it. However, the “rebellion” only lasted 24 hours and despite Wagner’s successful advance towards Moscow. On June 24, 2023 Prigozhin ordered the Wagner fighters to retreat in order to “avoid bloodshed.”

Prigozhin is said to have halted the advance on Moscow after brokering a deal with President Vladimir Putin, which allowed Prigozhin to depart for Belarus. Putin told Wagner fighters that they could join the Russian army, or they could go to Belarus with Prigozhin. In stark contrast to earlier statements from Russian government officials, soon after the Wagner uprising, Putin made a statement saying that the Russian government had “…fully financed this group from the Defense Ministry, from the state budget.” According to public statements, from May 2022 to May 2023, the Russian government allocated 86.2 billion rubles ($1 billion USD) to Wagner in the form of salaries and incentives and an additional 80 billion rubles ($940 million USD) to the Concord company (allegedly Wagner’s owner) for supplying food and services to the Russian army. While it had been announced that Prigozhin would go to Belarus following the abandoned revolt, Prigozhin disappeared from the public eye after June 24, 2023. There were multiple media reports speculating about Prigozhin’s whereabouts until August 23, 2023, when it was announced that Prigozhin, along with nine other people including Prigozhin’s right-hand man Dmitry Utkin, had been killed in a private jet crash.

The events from June 2023 have opened the door for the international community to connect Wagner to the Russian government, which may help in holding Russia accountable for Wagner’s actions. For example, after Prigozhin publicly refused to sign the aforementioned contracts with the Ministry of Defense, his press office’s Telegram wrote on June 11, 2023, that Wagner was already “built into the overall system…[and] according to the orders of Gerasimov and Shoigu, complies all its actions and fulfills the tasks set out by Army General Surovikin.” This is a significant statement because, if Wagner is part of, or subsumed into, the Russian military, the result is that Russia is wholly responsible for Wagner’s actions and no further analysis is necessary.    

Are Wagner Members Mercenaries and Is Russia Accountable?

While many articles colloquially describe Wagner as a mercenary group, Wagner’s legal status is up for debate and depends on a myriad of facts and circumstances. On the one hand, if Wagner is deemed to be part of Russia’s military and the Russian government can be considered to exercise control over the acts of Wagner, Russia could be held responsible for Wagner’s behavior just as Russia is responsible for the Russian armed forces’ actions. On the other hand, if Wagner is deemed to be a mercenary group under international law, it may be less likely that Russia would face any consequences for Wagner’s actions unless it could be established that Wagner is receiving orders from the Russian government.

Generally, in an international armed conflict, a mercenary is any person who meets the following six-part definition under Article 47 of the Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions of 1949 (“Protocol I”). All six prongs must be satisfied for a person to meet the definition of a mercenary:

  1. A mercenary “is specially recruited locally or abroad.” “Specially recruited” means that the group intentionally and specifically recruits individual members to participate in armed conflicts.

  2. A mercenary “does, in fact, participate directly in the hostilities.”

  3. A mercenary “is motivated to take part in the hostilities essentially by the desire for private gain and, in fact, is promised, by or on behalf of a party to the conflict, material compensation substantially in excess of that promised or paid to combatants of similar ranks and functions in the armed forces of that party.”

  4. A mercenary “is neither a national of a party to the conflict nor a resident of a territory controlled by a party to the conflict.”

  5. A mercenary “is not a member of the armed forces of a party to the conflict.”

  6. A mercenary “has not been sent by a State that is not a party to the conflict on official duty as a member of its armed forces.”

Whether Wagner is considered a mercenary group under the narrow definition under Protocol I, will depend on the conflict in question. For example, it is unlikely that a majority of Wagner members would qualify as mercenaries in Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, given that many members are reportedly Russian, which is a “party to the conflict” (and as a result fails the fourth prong above). In addition, if Wagner is already “built into the overall [military] system” and complying with “all its actions and fulfills the tasks set out by Army General Surovikin” then there is an argument to be made that they are in fact part of the Russian military (and as a result fails the fifth prong above). Outside of Ukraine, however, Wagner has operated in many different states and regions across the world, including in Syria, Libya, Mali, Sudan, and the Central African Republic. As Russia is not a “party to the conflict” in these regions—because it is not directly involved in the conflict there—Russian Wagner members could potentially be deemed mercenaries if they meet the other five prongs. Mercenary status would have to be determined on a case-by-case basis. Nonetheless, it is important to note that Russia withdrew its state party status from Protocol I in 2019 and the Protocol has not yet gained a customary law status

One convention that may be used to attribute some responsibility to Russia for a connection to Wagner as a mercenary group is the International Convention against the Recruitment, Use, Financing, and Training of Mercenaries, adopted by the United Nations General Assembly of 1989 (the “1989 Mercenary Convention”), which established criminal offenses for the recruitment, use, financing, and training of mercenaries and imposes a number of obligations on states.

Article 1 of the 1989 Mercenary Convention uses Protocol I’s definition of mercenary and further expands it to situations where a person:

  1. Is specially recruited locally or abroad for the purpose of participating in a concerted act of violence aimed at:

    a. Overthrowing a government or otherwise undermining the constitutional order of a state; or

    b. Undermining the territorial integrity of a state;

  2. Is motivated to take part therein essentially by the desire for significant private gain and is prompted by the promise or payment of material compensation;

  3. Is neither a national nor a resident of the state against which such an act is directed;

  4. Has not been sent by a state on official duty; and

  5. Is not a member of the armed forces of the state on whose territory the act is undertaken.

Under Article 5 of the 1989 Mercenary Convention, states are prohibited from recruiting, financing, or training mercenaries, including for “…the purpose of opposing the legitimate exercise of the inalienable right of people’s to self-determination, as recognized by international law, and shall take, in conformity with international law, the appropriate measures to prevent the recruitment, use, financing or training of mercenaries for that purpose.”

While it could be argued that Wagner’s actions both in Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine and in other international conflicts could meet the definitions of mercenary under Article 1 of the 1989 Mercenary Convention, Russia is not a signatory to the convention, and therefore it is not clear whether Russia could be deemed to have failed any state obligations under Article 5 of the 1989 Mercenary Convention (even with Putin’s admission that Russia financed Wagner).      

There is very limited case law concerning mercenary activity in armed conflicts. In those limited cases where legal actions were taken, they involved individual members of a mercenary organization, not the organization itself, and much less the state connected to such a mercenary group.

Can Wagner’s Actions be Attributed to Russia under Other Principles of International Law?

To determine whether Wagner’s actions can be attributed to Russia under international law, a starting point is the Articles on the Responsibility for States for Internationally Wrongful Acts (the “ASR”). The ASR establishes criteria for determining whether states are legally responsible for certain wrongful acts, including the wrongful actions of groups such as Wagner.     

The ASR provides that an act by a person that is not an “organ” of the state can be attributable to the state in one of four ways, two of which are relevant to the analysis of Russia’s responsibility for the actions of Wagner. First, ASR Article 5 finds attribution to a state when a person or entity that is not an organ of the state is “…empowered by the law of that State to exercise elements of the governmental authority…provided the person or entity is acting in that capacity in the particular instance.” Second, ASR Article 8 finds attribution to a state if, “[t]he conduct of a person or group of persons…is in fact acting on the instructions of, or under the direction or control of, that State in carrying out the conduct.”

The essence of ASR Article 5 is the privatization of a public function and covers a narrow set of circumstances. To attribute responsibility to a state, ASR Article 5 sets out three requirements: (i) the entity must be empowered by the internal law of the state; (ii) the entity must be authorized to exercise prerogatives of public authority; and (iii) the conduct has been committed when the person or group of persons acted in that capacity. If these requirements are satisfied, then the entity’s conduct “shall be considered an act of the State…even if it [i.e., the entity] exceeds its authority or contravenes instructions.” In other words, Russia need not have ordered Wagner to commit atrocities in order for those atrocities to be attributed to Russia. When weighing the requirements, the key question is whether, even if only to a limited extent or in a specific context, the entity has been empowered to exercise specified elements of governmental authority, even if that entity “has not been officially empowered by law to exercise elements of the governmental authority” (paras 92 – 93 (emphasis added)). For example, an entity may be empowered to act by domestic law even if its exercise of authority involves independent discretion or power to act or if the conduct was not in fact carried out under the control of the state (97 – 98).

Following the requirements outlined above, to determine whether Wagner’s actions could be attributed to Russia, one must establish that (i) Wagner has been empowered by Russian law; (ii) to exercise the military elements of the Russian government’s authority; and (iii) such conduct has been committed by Wagner in such capacity.

With respect to the first element regarding empowerment by Russian law, Russian law prohibits the “creation of an armed formation (association, detachment, squad or other group) not provided for by federal law, as well as the leadership of such a formation or its financing.”[1] Punishment for state officials committing such crimes is provided by Article 205.1 Section 2 of the Russian Criminal Code, which also classifies such financing under the heading of “terrorist activities.” Russian law does not specify whether the prohibition of the “creation of an armed formation” applies only to domestic armed formations or also to those operating outside Russia’s borders.[2] Should the prohibition only apply to armed formations inside Russia, as discussed later, this law may nevertheless be relevant because Wagner had trained in Russia.

Thus, Putin’s admission that, at least for a time, the Ministry of Defense funded Wagner gives rise to at least two questions: (i) was Wagner “provided for by federal law” (outside of the Defense Ministry’s funding); and (ii) if not, did Wagner’s total financial support by the Ministry of Defense suffice to make Wagner ”provided for by federal law”? The predicate to answering these questions is determining what it means to be “provided for by federal law.” It is of note that no known Russian law provides for the creation of Wagner. Nonetheless, if Wagner was in some way “provided for by federal law” as an “armed formation,” this would support the position that it was “empowered” by Russian law to exercise what would otherwise be a government prerogative. However, if Wagner was not “provided for by federal law,” then this would support an allegation that Russian officials at the Ministry of Defense financed armed activity in violation of Article 208 Section 1 of the Russian Criminal Code, which Russia itself implies is terroristic and which could, with additional detail, trigger Russia’s obligation to investigate under The International Convention for the Suppression of the Financing of Terrorism Article 9(1).

Alternatively, the existence of a contractual relationship between the state and the private entity may be enough to establish a sufficient link to show express authorization or ratification by the state.[3] Moreover, Putin’s admission that Russia provided the financing for Wagner could mean that there are contracts between Russia and Wagner, and such contracts could be analyzed to determine whether Wagner was empowered by Russian law. There is not enough information in the public domain to make this determination, and even if the contracts were publicly available, there is no clear standard under ASR Article 5 of what contractual language alone would be sufficient to find that a state had authorized or empowered a private entity. For example, it is unclear whether a contract that specifies a broad delegated function will suffice, or whether it must detail the precise activities that the non-state entity is authorized to carry out.

In terms of the second and third requirements, Russia’s call for Wagner to sign a contract with the Ministry of Defense and Putin’s confession of financing Wagner makes certain acts, such as participation in combat in Ukraine, appear to be of a governmental, rather than a private nature. Under ASR Article 7, states may be subject to liability via ASR Article 5 for ultra vires conduct, i.e., conduct that is either in excess or contravention of the authority delegated, so long as the ultra vires conduct was performed during the commission of the governmental function. Ultra vires is a Latin phrase, meaning “beyond the powers” and plainly means an action by a company or its agent (such as Wagner) that exceeds the legal scope of its authority. In the case of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine and other conflicts, ASR Article 5 may still be invoked even if Wagner’s behavior were ultra vires, i.e., beyond or inconsistent with any instructions given by Russia, provided that it was performing governmental functions during this alleged criminal behavior. This determination would be a fact-specific and fact-intensive inquiry, which would require evidence beyond what is currently in the public domain. This fact-specific determination could include conflicts outside Ukraine; however, it is not as likely to find attribution in such scenarios as it appears that Wagner was hired by some states for their own internal conflicts. 

Under ASR Article 8, if fighters violating the Law of Armed Conflict were acting under a state’s instructions, direction, or control at the time of their actions, then a court may attribute such actions to the state. Under international law, “control” may be interpreted in one of two ways: the “effective control” test, which requires detailed or tactical control over the acts that violate international law, and the “overall control” test, which considers the broader relationship between the state and the non-state actor. For purposes of ASR Article 8, the International Court of Justice (“ICJ”) uses the “effective control” test, which is more stringent and would require “showing that Russia directed or enforced the perpetration of human rights violations and international crimes…” by Wagner. Given that there is little information on the command structure of Wagner’s military operations and Russia’s historical denial of a connection to Wagner, attributing Wagner’s actions to Russia under the “effective control” test would be challenging as it would require an operation-by-operation analysis and only those operations in which Russian forces commanded and led the assault would count. On its own, Putin’s admission of financing Wagner is insufficient to establish attribution under the “effective control” test.

On the other hand, some have argued that there is enough evidence to show that Wagner is under Russia’s “overall control” and there may be a push in the international community to use the “overall control” test instead of the “effective control” test. In fact, a Dutch court recently found that Russia had “overall control” of separatists in Ukraine during the downing of the civilian aircraft MH17, and in its conclusion the Dutch court pointed “… to the close connections between rebel leaders and the Russian intelligence service, the material and operational support Russia provided to the rebels, and evidence that Russia provided instructions to the rebels regarding their military operations. In addition, the court found that Russia and the rebel groups conducted ‘mutually coordinated military operations’.” While the ICJ will have the ultimate say on state responsibility, this recent Dutch ruling may open the door for the ICJ to consider using the “overall control” test instead of the more stringent “effective control” test if a case was ever brought against Russia. Until then, more information will be needed in order to attribute Wagner’s actions to Russia under the ASR.

Conclusion

While countries have publicly denounced Wagner and governments such as the United Kingdom have declared that Wagner has been a tool used by Russia to further its international agenda, more information is needed regarding Wagner’s command and control structure in order to be attributed to Russia or for Russia to be held accountable for Wagner’s actions.  With respect to accountability via ASR, additional information is needed to make a determination as to whether Wagner acted under a sufficient degree of Russian control, as per Article 8, or – even without such control – was empowered by Russian law to act, as per Article 5. Nevertheless, Putin’s declaration that Wagner has been financed through the Russian budget and the statement by Prigozhin regarding Wagner’s compliance with the orders of Russian officials Gerasimov and Shoigu, indicates that Wagner’s actions could be attributed to Russia.

[1] Article 208 Section 1 of the Russian Criminal Code. Note that Article 359 Section 1 of the Russian Criminal Code prohibits the financing of mercenaries; though as discussed earlier, Wagner’s fighters are unlikely to be considered mercenaries in this context.

[2] Participation in such formations on foreign soil is prohibited by Sections 2-3 of Article 208; but only when such participation is against the interests of the Russian Federation.

[3] Kidane, W. (2010). The status of private military contractors under international humanitarian law. Denver Journal of International Law and Policy, 38(3), 411.; Kelemen, B. (2020). Responsibility for Human Rights Violations of Private Military and Security Companies on EU Borders: Case Study of the Contracts of the European Asylum Support Office. EU and Comparative Law Issues and Challenges Series, 4, 164-65.

Photo by Sonia Dauer on Unsplash