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Global prohibition regimes: the evolution of norms in international society
~ by Ethan A. Nadelmann
The dynamics by which norms emerge, evolve, and expand in international society have been the subject of strikingly little study.1 This article is concerned with a particular category of norms-those which prohibit, both in international law and in the domestic criminal laws of states, the involvement of state and nonstate actors in particular activities. Acts such as piracy, slavery, trafficking in slaves, counterfeiting of national currencies, hijacking of aircraft, trafficking in women and children for purposes of prostitution, and trafficking in controlled psychoactive substances are all prohibited by powerful global norms. Other acts, such as the killing of whales, elephants, and other endangered animal species, are becoming the subject of increasingly powerful norms. These norms strictly circumscribe the conditions under which states can participate in and authorize these activities and proscribe all involvement by nonstate actors. Those who refine or fail to conform are labeled as deviants and condemned not just by states but by most communities and individuals as well. Both the substance of these norms and the processes by which they are enforced are institutionalized in global prohibition regimes.2 This article analyzes how and why particular norms have evolved into global prohibition regimes and why they have proven more or less successful in suppressing deviant activities.
The global norms discussed here evolved and exist not only in the conventions and treatises of international law and the criminal laws of nationstates but also in the implicit rules and patterns that govern the behavior of state and nonstate actors as well its in the moral principles embraced by individuals. Laws are easily observed, patterns of behavior somewhat less so, but the thoughts and beliefs of individuals remain far more elusive. It is difficult and often impossible to determine whether those who conform to a particular norm do so because they believe the norm is just and should be followed, or because adherence to the norm coincides with their other principal interests, or because they fear the consequences that flow from defying the norm, or simply because conforming to the norm has become a matter of habit or custom. Much the same holds true for those who deviate from the norm. Our understanding of the impact of norms on state and nonstate behavior and of the processes by which norms evolve is thus limited by our inability to adequately penetrate the human consciousness.
It is true that international regimes tend to reflect the economic and political interests of the dominant members of international society. But it is also true-despite the inattentions of most international relations scholars-that moral and emotional factors related to neither political nor economic advantage but instead involving religious beliefs, humanitarian sentiments, faith in universalism, compassion, conscience, paternalism, fear, prejudice, and the compulsion to proselytize can and do play important roles in the creation and the evolution of international regimes.3 This is particularly so of global prohibition regimes, which, like criminal laws, tend to involve moral and emotional considerations more so than most other laws and regimes. The evolution of global prohibition regimes, particularly those which involve intrasocietal interactions as well as interstate relations, thus entails highly complex processes in which not only economic and security interests but also moral interests play a prominent role, in which the actions of states must be understood as the culmination of both external pressures and domestic political struggles, in which national and transnational organizations and movements shape the actions of states as well as the actions and opinions of diverse societies, and in which the norms of dominant societies, notably those of Europe and the United States, are not only internationalized but also internalized by diverse societies throughout the world.
International prohibition regimes, like municipal criminal laws, emerge for a variety of reasons: to protect the interests of the state and other powerful members of society; to deter, suppress, and punish undesirable activities; to provide for order, security, and justice among members of a community; and to give force and symbolic representation to the moral values, beliefs, and prejudices of those who make the laws. They rely on force in the form of criminal justice and sometimes resort to military measures in part because the violators-be they pirates, slave traders, or elephant poachers-are themselves armed and reliant on violence to perform their illicit deeds; in part because efforts to prohibit anything that many people desire are bound to require some degree of coercion; and in part because criminal justice measures are the principal and typically the most punitive means of dealing with those who defy the norms of developed societies.
The criminal laws that evolve into international prohibition regimes are few in number, and those which attain global dimensions are even fewer. Human sacrifice and cannibalism are not only illegal but are virtually unknown in every nation today; neither practice, however, has been the subject of an international regime. Nor have rape and incest, both of which are criminalized in all states, been the the targets of prohibition regimes. Only crimes that evidence a strong transnational dimension have become the subject of international prohibition regimes: larceny on the high seas, murder of diplomatic officials, cross-border commerce in slaves, ivory, counterfeit money, and psychoactive substances, and so on.
The most important inducement to the creation of international prohibition regimes is the inadequacy of unilateral and bilateral law enforcement measures in the face of criminal activities that transcend national borders. No government possesses sufficient resources to police effectively all of the high seas or to investigate and punish the array of illicit activities that are committed abroad and harm its interests or citizens. Nor is any government willing, except on rare occasions, to unilaterally pursue a criminal when doing so involves a blatant affront to another state's external sovereignty. International prohibition regimes are intended to minimize or eliminate the potential havens from which certain crimes can be committed and to which criminals can flee to escape prosecution and punishment. They provide an element of standardization to cooperation among governments that have few other law enforcement concerns in common. And they create an expectation of cooperation that governments challenge only at the cost of some international embarrassment. In these respects, international prohibition regimes amount to more than the sum of the unilateral acts, bilateral relationships, and international conventions that constitute them.
Of almost equal importance in explaining why certain criminal laws evolve into international prohibition regimes is the role of moral proselytism. The compulsion to convert others to one's beliefs and to remake the world in one's own image has long played an important role in international politics-witness the proselytizing efforts of states on behalf of religious faiths or secular faiths such as communism, fascism, capitalism, and democracy. Similar compulsions underlie many criminal laws, notably those concerning slavery, abortion, prostitution, gambling, pornography. and the sale and use of alcohol and other psychoactive drugs. The existence of international prohibition regimes directed at the suppression of a number of these activities owes much to the proselytizing efforts of governments as well as the efforts of nongovernmental transnational organizations functioning as what might be called "transnational moral entrepreneurs."4 These groups mobilize popular opinion and political support both within their host country and abroad; they stimulate and assist in the creation of like-minded organizations in other countries; and they play it significant role in elevating their objective beyond its identification with the national interests of their government. Indeed, their efforts are often directed toward persuading foreign audiences, especially foreign elites, that a particular prohibition regime reflects a widely shared or even universal moral sense, rather than the peculiar moral code of one society. Although the activities that they condemn do not always transcend national borders, those which do go beyond borders provide the proselytizers with the transnational hook typically required to provoke and justify international intervention in the internal affairs of other states.
Why do certain prohibition regimes reach global proportions''. Certainly not all of them are destined or even intended to do so. Some reflect little more than the peculiar collective security concerns of a multinational region or an alliance of states confronting a common threat; current examples include the Council of Europe's regional antiterrorism convention and CoCom, the regime established by members of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and Japan to restrict the (low of sophisticated technology to Warsaw Pact countries. Other regimes are concerned not with particular criminal activities but with the mechanisms of international cooperation against crime: extradition, mutual legal assistance, transfer of criminal proceedings, and transfer of prisoners.5 These "procedural" regimes often prove essential to the effective functioning of the "substantive" prohibition regimes as well as to international cooperation against murder, rape, assault, white-collar crimes (such as tax fraud, money laundering, and insider trading), and other criminal activities that are not the subject of international regimes. Procedural regimes are limited in scope, however, by the fact that consensus on procedure in criminal justice matters often proves more elusive than consensus on substance. Sufficient differences concerning the nature and process of the extradition obligation persist to preclude any active effort to construct a formal global extradition regime; nonetheless, all states today acknowledge the norm of extradition as well as the principles that underlie it.
Regimes that do attain global proportions typically share certain features. One powerful motivation is the need to minimize "regime leakage" by eliminating actual and potential havens and markets for transnational criminals, be they pirates, slave traders, airplane hijackers, or drug traffickers. Most of the other features, however, are in one way or another moral in nature. Global adherence to the norms of a particular prohibition regime typically gives the regime greater moral and symbolic force and helps qualify its norms as "international laws" that cannot be defied lightly.
Underlying the emergence of most global prohibition regimes and the emergence of much international cooperation in criminal matters has been the evolution of what British scholars have termed "a universal international society" grounded in the gradual homogenization and globalization of norms developed initially among the European states.6 This development has manifested itself in a variety of ways: in the acceptance of norms and conventions that establish the ground rules of diplomatic interaction and protection; in the recognition of an identifiable corpus of international law embodying common principles regarding state behavior and obligations; and, most significantly, in the growing acknowledgment by states and societies that all individuals, regardless of their citizenship, race, religion, or other defining characteristics, are entitled to basic protections of life, property, and contract. Despite the current imperfections and hypocrisies of this "international society," even aside from its limited relevance to nations engaged in war, it now represents far more the rule than the exception in how states treat foreign citizens and the crimes of their own people against foreign citizens.
This is not to argue, 1 should stress, that "states" or governments hold moral views; rather, the capacity of particular moral arguments to influence government policies, particularly foreign policies, stems from the political influence of domestic and transnational moral entrepreneurs as well as that of powerful individual advocates within the government. In virtually every case, moreover, the relevant moral views are ''cosmopolitan" in nature, concerned not with how states treat one another but, rather, with how states and individuals treat individual human beings. Therein lies their power, for whereas the "state" both politicizes and dehumanizes the outsider, as evidenced by its capacity to decriminalize violence against individuals during wartime, "cosmopolitan" moral views transcend the state, thereby depoliticizing the individual and emphasizing the existence of an international society of human beings sharing common moral bonds. The evolution of global prohibition regimes and of extradition and many bilateral law enforcement relations suggests that "cosmopolitan" notions of international morality have played an increasingly significant role in international relations over the past three centuries and particularly over the last century and a half. The following analysis thus lends support to the ideas of Charles Beitz and others who have favored the "cosmopolitan" view of morality in international politics, with its focus on persons, as opposed to the more conventional view, with its focus on the "morality of states."7 And it responds to the concerns voiced by James Mayall, who has argued that "a central element in any international political theory must be an account of the moral bonds between men living in separate states."8
In the evolution of global society, the centrality of Western Europe initially and of the United States during this century cannot be overemphasized. Virtually all of the norms that are now identified as essential ingredients of international law and global society have their roots in the jurisprudence of European scholars of international law and in the notions and patterns of acceptable behavior established by the more powerful Western European states. This is particularly true of many of the norms reflected in global prohibition regimes. Their emergence within Europe reflected the needs and impositions of the most powerful states as well as the influence of the Enlightenment and contemporaneous religious and moral notions. The globalization of these norms, manifested by the emergence of global prohibition regimes, reflected the dominance of Europe over much of the world from approximately the seventeenth century to recent decades. To an extent virtually unprecedented in world history, a few European states and the United States proved successful in proselytizing to diverse societies, shaping the moral views of substantial sectors of elite opinion outside their borders, and imposing their norms on foreign regimes around the world.
Most global prohibition regimes, including those targeted against piracy, slavery, and drug trafficking, evidence a common evolutionary pattern consisting of four or five stages. During the first stage, most societies regard the targeted activity as entirely legitimate under certain conditions and with respect to certain groups of people; states often are the principal protagonists and abettors of the activity; and the central constraints on involvement in the activity have far more to do with political prudence and bilateral treaties than with moral notions or evolving international norms. During the second stage, the activity is redefined as a problem and as an evil-generally by international legal scholars, religious groups, and other moral entrepreneurs-and explicit government involvement in the activity is gradually delegitimized, although many individual governments continue to tolerate or even sponsor the involvement of private groups and individuals in the activity. During the third stage, regime proponents begin to agitate actively for the suppression and criminalization of the activity by all states and the formation of international conventions. The regime proponents include governments, typically those able to exert "hegemonic" influence in a particular issue-area, as well as transnational moral entrepreneurs. Their agitation takes many forms, ranging from the diplomatic pressures, economic inducements, military interventions, and propaganda campaigns of governments to the domestic and transnational lobbying, educational, organizational, and proselytizing efforts of individuals and nongovernmental organizations.
If the efforts of the regime proponents prove successful, a fourth stage begins. During this stage, the activity becomes the subject of criminal laws and police action throughout much of the world, and international institutions and conventions emerge to play a coordinating role-that is, a global prohibition regime now comes into existence.9 Although social pressures on all states to acknowledge and enforce the regime's norms are quite powerful,10 the regime proponents must contend with the challenges of deviant states that refuse to conform to its mandate, weak states that formally accede to its mandate but are unable or unwilling to crack down on violators within their territory, and dissident individuals and criminal organizations that elude enforcement efforts and continue to engage in the proscribed activity.
In some cases, a fifth stage is attained, during which the incidence of the proscribed activity is greatly reduced, persisting only on a small scale and in obscure locations.11 No international prohibition regime could attain this stage until the nineteenth century for the simple reason that states had not yet eliminated or neutralized the effective vacuums of sovereign authority, both on land and sea, on which regime dissenters depended for their freedom and sanctuary.12 On the one hand, as the power of states vis-a-vis criminals both within and without their borders has grown over the past two centuries, so too has the potential of states to cooperate in suppressing undesirable activities. But on the other hand, the norms of external sovereignty and nonintervention have progressed more rapidly than the effective internal sovereignty of many states,13 with the result that regime enforcers in this century are less able than their forebears to use coercive actions against dissident states and other regime violators.
Success in attaining the fifth stage of regime development has thus come to depend primarily on the nature of the criminal activity and its susceptibility to criminal justice measures, both of which can be strongly influenced over time by technological developments. Criminal laws and international prohibition regimes are particularly ineffective in suppressing those activities which require limited and readily available resources and no particular expertise to commit, those which are easily concealed, those which are unlikely to be reported to the authorities, and those for which the consumer demand is substantial, resilient, and not readily substituted for by alternative activities or products.14 That is why, as I argue below, the global drug enforcement regime is destined never to achieve the success attained by regimes against piracy and slave trading or even those against currency counterfeiting and hijacking.
Prior to the seventeenth century, international norms proscribing banditry on the high seas were limited in scope and effect; indeed, piracy was widely sanctioned in much of the world.15 The premises of medieval international law, Georg Schwarzenberger has written, were simple: "(1) In the absence of an agreed state of truce or peace, war was the basic state of international relations even between independent Christian communities. (2) Unless exceptions were made by means of individual safe conduct or treaty, rulers saw themselves entitled to treat foreigners at their absolute discretion. (3) The high seas were no-man's-land, where anyone might do as he pleased."16
Kings, princes, sultans, and other political magnates accordingly viewed piracy as a valued source of wealth and political power, useful both for increasing their own possessions and for undermining the strength of competitors. During the late Middle Ages. Schwarzenberger noted, "it was customary among the princes of Christendom to bind themselves by reciprocal treaties to prevent and punish piracy or the spoilage of shipwreck."17 But with the broad expansion of European maritime commerce in the sixteenth century, the rewards and the incidence of piracy jumped dramatically. Much of it was officially or unofficially sponsored by European governments.18 In wartime, the practice of privateering was in effect an officially sanctioned version of piracy directed toward a state's enemies and anyone engaged in trading with its enemies. In peacetime, the same private shippers were granted letters of reprisal by their governments. These authorized them to recoup any losses due to piracy by pirating from other ships bearing the same nationality as the pirates.19 When professional privateers lost their official sanction as a consequence of a peace treaty between their sponsor and the enemy, they either sought employment by another monarch or became unsanctioned pirates. Even in the latter situation, it was often possible to find sponsors and protectors among high-ranking officials in the monarch's retinue, not excluding the monarch himself.
Early in the seventeenth century, Turkish corsairs began expanding their piratical activities from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. "To the seventeenth-century [European] mind," C. M. Senior wrote, "the prospect of infidels carrying Christians into bestial captivity in North Africa gave efforts to eradicate piracy an urgency and crusading zeal which they had previously lacked. In a Europe strongly divided by political and religious differences, the one objective on which all Christian nations were agreed was the desirability of crushing the Turkish pirates."20 Accordingly, French, Spanish, Dutch. and English fleets sailed against the pirate bases in North Africa between 1609 and 1620, transcending their own powerful disputes to unite against a more feared common enemy.
As the seventeenth century drew to a close, the rules and structures of Europe's international relations were beginning to change. There was a rapid increase in the volume of trade and diplomacy within Europe and between the European states and far-flung colonies and nations outside Christendom. The advantage to be derived from stealing from one another was giving way to the greater advantage of stable commercial relations. Governments wanted and needed to monopolize the forces of violence both within their borders and on the high seas. Accordingly, private fiefdoms and armies were co-opted or eliminated, and pirates were warned to abandon their ways or risk the wrath of increasingly powerful navies. The dramatic expansion of the Royal Navy in the 1690s, which greatly improved England's power to police the high seas and its growing empire, gave particular force to the new injunction against pirating.21 Pirates and their collaborators were hunted down, colonial administrators admonished to enforce the new antipiracy laws ardently, and foreign leaders warned to cease sponsoring pirate expeditions and to crack down on unauthorized pirates operating within and from their territories. Those who failed to comply often found British and other European naval forces crowding local harbors to lend force to their demands. "Piracy," observed Senior, "was in fact undergoing a transformation from being a national industry to becoming an international threat."22 Wars may have been becoming fiercer; but in their absence, relations between governments were becoming more orderly. Where peacetime had previously been associated with anarchy, it increasingly promised ;t degree of security from both publicly and privately sponsored violence.
The civilizing of international society did not progress smoothly, of course, but in fits and starts. Even as the European states regularized their relations in and around the European continent, Adam Watson has noted, "both states and privateers continued to operate against one another in the Americas and Asia in ways that were no longer permissible in Europe between states not formally at war."23 Nor did the European powers apply the same standards of behavior to their dealings with most nations beyond their continent as they did to one another. At the same time, non-European states and even some of the colonies regarded the European efforts against piracy and privateering as unwarranted and unwelcome infringements into local struggles over power and wealth.24 In the American colonies, for instance, where imperial law and order were less easily enforced, business executives and public officials alike continued to provide havens and markets for pirate ships for decades after London ordered a halt to such activities; by the mid-eighteenth century, however, most had acceded to the ban on piracy. Else where, government-sanctioned piracy persisted until well into the nineteenth century, when it was lagely eradicated by military force. The Barbary tradition of extracting tribute by piracy was stunned first by American naval intervention, then by a combined British and Dutch naval attack on Algiers, and finally ended with the French conquest of Algiers in 1830.25 Pirate bases on Crete and Borneo were efficiently destroyed by British naval interventions in 1828 and 1849, respectively, after local rulers had failed to take satisfactory action.26 In Oman and China, British forces combined with local forces to destroy pirate bases and fleets. And in the West Indies, piracy declined dramatically during the 1820s as a result of U.S. naval interventions, which succeeded in seizing dozens of pirate ships and destroying their bases.27
Privateering, or government-sanctioned piracy during wartime, was not effectively delegitimized until well into the nineteenth century. The U.S. government relied on privateers for most of its naval representation during both the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812.28 The same was true of South American governments in their wars of independence with Spain.29 Attacks on American maritime commerce by French privateers at the turn of the century almost brought the two nations to outright conflict. As long as governments legitimized the pirating of private vessels at sea during wartime, their efforts to delegitimize unsanctioned piracy were bound to meet with both skepticism and frustration.30 Calls for the abolition of privateering began in earnest during the eighteenth century. Benjamin Franklin, who wrote of "this odious usage of privateers, ancient relic of piracy," was among the more influential and vocal of those involved in this effort.31 In 1801, Lord Nelson echoed these sentiments: "Respecting privateers I own that I am decidedly of the opinion that with few exceptions they are a disgrace to our country; and it would be truly honourable never to permit them after this war. Such horrible robberies have been committed by those in all parts of the world, that it is really a disgrace to the country which tolerates them.32 In 1856, Great Britain, France, Russia, Prussia, Austria, Sardinia, and the Porte signed the Declaration of Paris, formally abolishing privateering; the United States, however, refused to accede, insisting that the small size of its navy required that it retain the option of privateering during wartime.33 Only with the growth of the U.S. navy toward the end of the century and the growing sentiment that privateering no longer represented an acceptable mode of warfare did the U.S. government formally outlaw the practice.34 By the end of the nineteenth century, a once customary form of waging war had been all but eliminated from the face of the earth.
The eventual globalization of the norms against piracy and privateering involved more, however, than merely the economic and security interests of the most powerful states in monopolizing the forces of violence on the high seas. As international society became more orderly and international relations more regularized, and as the high seas ceased to be perceived as a no-man's-land, larceny at sea became less justifiable. As with larceny on land, the fact that the victim was a stranger and a foreigner no longer excepted piracy from moral condemnation. Piracy increasingly was seen as an evil in its own right. The maxim that pirata est hostice humani generis (a pirate is an enemy of the human race) had seeped from the treatises on international law into the political psyches of governments. It reflected, in part, the passing of the ancient notion, affirmed even by Grotius, that the subjects of one's enemy were one's enemies as well. In his 1762 treatise, On the Social Contract, Rousseau articulated the shift in consensus: "War is not, therefore, a relation between man and man, but between State and State, in which private individuals are enemies only by accident, not as men, nor even as citizens, but as soldiers; not as members of the homeland but as its defenders."35 Conversely, the norm of civilized behavior during peacetime extended not only to one's fellow citizens and allies but also to anyone other than an armed combatant. An international criminal law is most potent-indeed, some would say that it only exists-when it reflects not just self-interest but a broadly acknowledged moral obligation. The law against piracy was the first to attain such a consensus. And the international regime dedicated to the enforcement of this law was the first to attain global proportions.36
The delegitimation of government-sanctioned piracy was not, however, sufficient to ensure the virtual elimination of piratical activities from the high seas. Unlike privateering, piracy could subsist without the active support of governments. Yet pirates were finding even informal and discreet government sponsorship more elusive by the late 1700s. By the mid-1800s, island havens such as Madagascar and the Bahamas were no longer available as increasingly powerful states eliminated, one by one, the vacuums of de jure and de facto sovereignty on which unauthorized pirates had depended. Pirates also were acutely vulnerable to government action. The same sea vessels that allowed them access to the high seas also made them dependent on harbors and ports for rest and supplies. Their vessels could not be easily hidden; once captured, they afforded few opportunities for pirates to (lee. Yet by all accounts, the fatal blow to piracy was delivered by the development of steam vessels. Pirates generally lacked the substantially greater resources needed to operate and build these vessels.37 Legitimate steam cargo and passenger carriers thus became more elusive to the prey of pirates at the same time that naval steam vessels were increasingly available to pursue pirate ships. An early example of this occurred in 1837, "when a paddle wheeler, the Diana, of the East India Company, steamed toward six Malay pirate vessels against the wind and sank them all."38 By the latter part of the nineteenth century, piracy had been all but eliminated from the high seas. That it persists on a small scale even today-notably in the Caribbean, off the West African coast, and, most extensively, in the seas of East Asia-reflects little more than the inevitably limited capabilities of governments to eliminate entirely anything that lies outside their total control.39
No other international prohibition regime so powerfully confirms the potential of humanitarian and similar moral concerns to shape global norms as does the regime against slavery and the slave trade. Until just a few centuries ago, slavery and slave trading were legal and commonplace features of society and commerce throughout the world. Sophisticated slave trading systems existed in much of Africa, Asia, and the Ottoman Empire. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, European governments acquired a strong interest in developing the transatlantic slave traffic as black Africa came to be seen as a limitless source of labor for the plantations and mines of the Americas. After the Peace of Utrecht in 1713, British slavers quickly assumed a dominant role in the highly profitable trade, transporting a substantial portion of the estimated ten million black Africans ultimately imported into the Americas.40 The port at Liverpool soon surpassed London and Bristol as the center of the Atlantic slave trade, to the extent, Frank Klingberg wrote, "that it was said that the city was built on the bones of African slaves."41
By the beginning of the nineteenth century, however, the British government had reversed stride and become the leading opponent of slavery and the traffic in slaves. Parliament banned the slave trade in 1807 and abolished the institution of slavery throughout its colonies in 1833, thereby freeing more than three-quarters of a million slaves. Throughout the nineteenth century and into the twentieth, the British government consistently devoted naval, diplomatic, and economic resources to the antislavery campaign, often pursuing it in areas where Britain had little else to gain and often much to lose.42 During the 1840s, the Royal Navy devoted between it sixth and a quarter of its warships to suppressing the slave traffic;43 it thus assumed many of the qualities of an international criminal police force, one which has had few successors. Britain supplemented its naval efforts by negotiating a series of bilateral diplomatic agreements in which African rulers and fellow governments in Europe agreed to prohibit the slave trade and authorized the Royal Navy to use force if the treaty were violated and in which other states--albeit not the United States-agreed to Britain's proposal for the reciprocal right to search and seize slave trading vessels sailing under their flags.44 When foreign governments proved overly reluctant either to enter into such agreements or to enforce the agreements that they had signed, the Royal Navy provided whatever additional inducements were deemed necessary. In the case of the world's leading importer of African slaves, Brazil, which had resisted enforcing its agreements with Britain throughout much of the first half of the nineteenth century, British naval vessels seized and destroyed slave ships in Brazilian harbors and threatened to blockade Brazilian ports.45 The measures proved effective in inducing the desired Brazilian response.
Britain promoted its antislavery campaign through multilateral negotiations as well, targeting first the international traffic in slaves and thereafter the institution of slavery itself. Its delegates to the Paris Peace Conference of 1814-15, the Congress of Vienna in 1815, and the Congress of Verona in 1822 emphasized Britain's wish for multilateral condemnation of the slave trade. Among the notable results of the conventions, Harold Nicolson has observed, were the invention of two new diplomatic devices. The first was the imposition of economic sanctions in peacetime, which in this case would be used to punish nations that refuscd to abolish the slave trade, while the second was the creation of a multinational oversight committee to monitor compliance with the international agreements signed by member governments.46 Subsequent multilateral treaties, including the 1841 Treaty of London, the 1862 Treaty of Washington, and the 1890 Brussels Convention, strengthened and expanded the global criminalization of the slave trade.
Britain's reasons for undertaking a global campaign against slavery and the slave trade are no longer in doubt. Economic considerations, related in particular to Adam Smith's argument that slavery was a highly inefficient economic system, played a role;47 and Thomas Clarkson, one of the first and most influential advocates of abolition, in fact integrated economic arguments into his broader condemnation of slavery.48 Yet powerful economic arguments were also available to support slavery and the slave trade.49 The fundamental impetus behind Britain's reversal on slavery and its subsequent efforts to suppress the slave trade, most historians of the subject have concluded, was a moral one derived in good part from religious and humanitarian impulses and the principles of the Enlightenment50 and "based not only on pity," Norman Hampson observed, "but also on the idea of the natural rights of man."51 Antislavery opinion gained ground slowly during the 1700s, stimulated by sympathetic literary accounts of Africa, the pamphlets of abolitionist religious leaders, the exhortations of the Quakers, and the legal activism of Granville Sharp. During the early 1800s, a new generation of moral entrepreneurs emerged, among whom William Wilberforce was the acknowledged leader and the Anti-Slavery Society the driving organizational force. Their efforts played a crucial role in turning British popular and elite opinion as well as the opinion of Parliament strongly against the slave trade.52 When domestic enthusiasm for Britain's global campaign began to wane at mid-century, David Livingstone's reports on the brutality of the slave trade in Central Africa and Joseph Cooper's books on African slavery reinvigorated public interest.53 As the end of the century approached, popular concern was increasingly driven by notions of "the white man's burden"-notions which spurred and justified, in European eyes, the imperialistic race to lay claim to African territory as well as the imposition of paternalistic measures such as liquor and gun control regimes but which were nonetheless rooted in humanitarian sentiments.54
The impact of Britain's abolitionists on the fate of slavery and the slave trade outside the empire was twofold. First, they played a central role in instigating the British government's international campaign, both by applying domestic political pressures on legislators and other government officials and by influencing the personal moral views of Britain's leaders and high officials. But as influential as the British government was, it could do little to shape the moral views of foreign societies and regimes. The governments that acquiesced to Britain's demands did so for a variety of reasons, including monetary and territorial compensation, trade advantages, a desire for some political advantage, fear of incurring British wrath, and, only occasionally, a common moral sentiment regarding the slave trade. As long as the behavior of foreign governments conformed to acceptable standards, British officials did not concern themselves with determining the underlying belief systems.
There were, moreover, limits to the British government's ability to influence foreign governments. Some, such as the governments of the Ottoman Empire, France, and the United States, were less susceptible to British coercion than were the Brazilian and black African rulers, either because they possessed significant military power in their own right or because Britain's other interests restrained it from undertaking coercive actions. During the late 1800s, the Ottoman Empire finally proved susceptible to British pressures to withdraw from the African slave trade but strongly resisted efforts to restrict the traffic in white Circassian and Georgian slaves, who played an important role in Ottoman society not readily analogous to Western notions of slavery.55 British pressures on France over the right of search in the early 1840s actually backfired, arousing popular French resentment and temporarily undermining the French abolitionist movement.56 And despite pro forma efforts by the U.S. government to suppress the slave trade, its de facto policy all but condoned the trade. Indeed, by the middle of the nineteenth century, W. E. B. DuBois wrote, the Atlantic slave trade had come "to be carried on principally by United States capital, in United States ships, officered by United States citizens, and under the United States flag."57
The second, and in some respects more significant. impact of the British abolitionists was their powerful influence on foreign opinion, particularly among elites, regarding the immorality of slavery. Once the struggle within Britain had been won, British religious and antislavery organizations directed their energies abroad. The most prominent among these was the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society, founded principally by radical Quakers in 1839. Assuming as its ultimate objective the abolition of slavery throughout the world, it "kept close watch on British policy, freely tendering the government both criticism and advice."58 Moreover, as Suzanne Miers has noted, "it called several international conventions, thus gaining for itself the image of leading a world-wide crusade against slavery, and it kept in close touch with abolitionists abroad, made appeals to foreign rulers .... sometimes sent out its own fact-finding missions . . . [and] could function as an important pressure group, using the techniques evolved by its predecessors in the early days of the movement-the calling of mass meetings, the circulation of petitions for signature and the sending of propaganda to the press and leading public figures."59 Where the motives of the British government's campaign against slavery were often suspect in foreign eyes, those of the Anti-Slavery Society were much less so. It played a role in prompting the creation of similar societies in France, the United States, Brazil, and elsewhere,''60 and it ensured continuing British opposition to slavery in Africa and the Middle East following the demise of slavery across the Atlantic. Toward the end of the century, its efforts were supplemented by those of non-British abolitionists, notably Cardinal Lavigerie, archbishop of Algiers, who in 1888, according to David Brion Davis, "began preaching a new crusade against the Islamic infidel, a crusade that would send out Christian knights to destroy the internal Africa slave trade."61 The British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society thus represented perhaps the first transnational moral entrepreneur-religious movements aside-to play a significant role in world politics generally and in the evolution of a global prohibition regime specifically.
The powerful diffusion of religious and liberal abolitionist sentiments throughout much of the world was also a reflection of the great regard in which Britain and France, which abolished slavery in 1833 and 1848, respectively, were held by intellectuals and other elites elsewhere in Europe and beyond. Abolitionism in both Britain and America had originated with the Quakers' critiques of slavery in the late 1600s.62 American abolitionists during the following centuries were deeply influenced by the British antislavery movement.63 The spread of abolitionist principles throughout Europe during the latter part of the eighteenth century and throughout Latin America during the nineteenth century derived from the same evolving Christian and Enlightenment notions regarding human rights and obligations.64 During the latter part of the nineteenth century, these ideas strongly influenced elite opinion in the nations that had developed the strongest dependencies on African slavery.65 Both Spain, which continued to defend the institution of slavery in Cuba until its ultimate abolition in 1886, and Brazil, which did not emancipate the last of its slaves until 1888, were strongly influenced by the violent fate of slavery in the United States and by the growing sense of moral isolation that followed that event.66 But abolitionist sentiment in those countries also drew strong sustenance from the liberal (and, to a certain extent, anticlerical) principles that had gained dominance throughout much of Europe.67 As abolitionist Joaquim Nabuco wrote to the British, the Brazilians were eager "to imitate every European progress, and possess each new material, moral, intellectual, or social improvement of civilization."68 Even in Nepal, echoes of Enlightenment principles resounded in the Maharaja's emancipation declaration of 1925.69 Only in the Ottoman Empire and Africa did such considerations play a relatively minor role in gradually turning opinion against slavery in the late 1804s.70
The processes by which slavery was abolished nation by nation involved, of course, far more than the passive and dynamic influences of Britain and the Enlightenment. In many countries, the waning political and economic power of slaveholders proved crucial to the success of local abolitionist efforts. In the United States, a bloody civil war was required to resolve the issue. In parts of Asia, Africa, and the Middle East, the institution of slavery was not abolished until well into the twentieth century. But even among the laggards, indeed especially among the laggards, the consciousness of being perceived as primitive and deviant surely weighed heavily in the decisions of local rulers to do away with slavery. It is, in short, impossible to explain the abolition of slavery throughout the world during the past two centuries without emphasizing the powerful role of shared moral notions derived primarily from the religious and secular principles of the Enlightenment.
Although the regime against piracy represented the first global prohibition regime, the regimes against slavery and the slave trade added new dimensions that have since been replicated in more recent global prohibition regimes. The regime to ban the slave trade was the first regime to be institutionalized in a series of international conventions signed by the vast majority of governments: it was the first in which blatantly moral impulses were a key factor and transnational moral entrepreneurs played leading roles; it was the first to criminalize international commerce in a particular "commodity"; and it was the first to evolve into a far more ambitious regime aimed at the criminalization of all activity involving the production, sale, and use of that "commodity" in every country.
We must nonetheless be wary of equating Britain's efforts against slavery and the emergence of a transnational antislavery consensus with the eradication of slavery. Often taken for granted is the fact that slavery could be eradicated (or at least relegated to a few obscure corners of the earth) because it wits particularly susceptible to efforts directed at its suppression. Illegal slave traders, unlike smugglers of most other contraband, could hardly hide their cargo from naval inspections and customs inspectors. Nor could slave owners readily hide or disguise their illegally acquired slaves from government authorities determined to prohibit the acquisition of imported slaves. Also important to the eradication of slavery was the fact that slavery was replaceable by other forms of labor, including the employment of freed slaves under conditions not much different than their former status, the importation of wage laborers from abroad, penal servitude, and other types of forced labor.71 In some cases, these alternatives actually proved more profitable than slavery had been. Slavery was, in short, largely replaceable by other legal and social institutions.
The most important vulnerability of slavery, however, involves its substantial dependence on legal institutions to sustain itself. Unlike piracy, murder, rape, drug dealing, and prostitution, all of which tend to be episodic in nature, slavery typically involves an ongoing coercive relationship between private individuals.72 It thus requires social institutions that are sufficiently powerful and encompassing to sustain that relationship by, for instance, deterring slaves from challenging their owners and returning runaway slaves to their masters. Without the support of a legal institution, slavery can only persist where nonlegal social norms in support of slavery arc strong, where the state is sufficiently disinterested in eradicating slavery that it ignores the efforts of slave owners to retain their slaves, or where slaves acquiesce, in one way or another, to their enslavement. Each of these conditions is, for the reasons noted above, decreasingly in evidence since the early nineteenth century. At the same time, few states any longer lack the effective jurisdiction over their territories required to suppress slavery. That the antislavery regime has succeeded in virtually eradicating slavery from the face of the earth is largely a consequence of the peculiar vulnerability of the activity to criminalization and related enforcement efforts.
The notion of sovereigns delivering fugitives from justice dates back thousands of years.73 In 1280 B.C., Rameses 11 of Egypt and the Hittite prince Hattusili signed a peace treaty-reportedly the oldest document in diplomatic history--that included a provision authorizing the return of criminals who had fled to the other regime's territory.74 Early in the seventeenth century, Hugo Grotius argued that governments were obliged either to return criminals to the locus delicti or to assume the responsibility for prosecuting and punishing them.75 Nonetheless, both the practice of extradition and the negotiation of extradition treaties were rare occurrences until little more than two centuries ago. This is not surprising, I. A. Shearer noted, given the particular conditions of life in earlier times: "Transport facilities were crude, slow and often perilous . . . . [A criminal's] escape from his home city or community usually resulted in arduous exile for the fugitive . . . . (And) from the point of view of the pursuing authorities, a criminal departed represented a problem solved; his return was unlikely in the nature of things, and the community was rid of a troublesome member."76 Even in cases in which a state assumed some role in punishing wrongdoers, its interest in investigating and prosecuting crimes that did not concern its pocket or its power was not highly developed. Its principal concern was the maintenance of domestic order deemed necessary to the perpetuation of its power. Providing for justice between its subjects was rarely a high priority. More often than not, that was left to God or the wronged party.77
The types of fugitives that governments sought to apprehend prior to the mid-nineteenth century were thus limited to a few categories. Pirates and border bandits were high on the list because of the substantial threats that they posed to maritime commerce and civil order. So too were military deserters, who tended to take to the roads as brigands and vagabonds; European governments negotiated dozens of extradition treaties during the eighteenth century specifically to address this problem.78 The most vigorous extradition efforts, however, were directed toward fugitives who had conspired against the sovereign, embezzled funds from the treasury, or committed violent acts against the officials and other well-connected members of the upper classes.79 Many of these fugitives would today be considered political offenders and therefore not extraditable. That they were the focus of rendition efforts until the nineteenth century reflects the fact that sovereigns' notions of justice and their commitment to international comity were motivated primarily by mutually acknowledged interests in punishing those who harmed or threatened the state. Even so, notions of reciprocity were sufficiently primitive that many renditions involved exchanges of fugitives not unlike the "spy swaps" of this century.
Government interest in extraditing and punishing fugitives gradually expanded as governments became more representative of their citizens' interests and assumed broader criminal justice responsibilities. At the same time, the willingness of governments to deliver fugitives was increasingly tempered by consideration for the ways in which justice was meted out by the requesting sovereign. The postrevolutionary U.S. government, for instance, routinely denied extradition requests from abroad because of its lack of faith, often well warranted, in the fairness of foreign criminal justice systems.
Responding to a French extradition request at the end of the eighteenth century, Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson wrote:
The laws of this country take no notice of crimes committed out of their jurisdiction. The most atrocious offender coming within their pale
is received by them as an innocent man, and they have authorized no one to seize and deliver him. The evil of protecting malefactors of
every dye is sensibly felt here as in -other countries, but until a reformation of the criminal codes of most nations, to deliver fugitives from
them would be to become their accomplice-the former, therefore, is
viewed as the lesser evil.80
Jefferson's concerns were not, of course, unique to revolutionary Americans. Throughout late eighteenth-century Europe and North America. humanitarianism and other ideas associated with the Enlightenment were leading to rising interest in reforming criminal justice systems that increasingly were seen as unjust and barbaric.81 The publication in 1764 of Cesare Beccaria's influential Essay on Crime and Punishments, with its advocacy of more enlightened and humane criminal justice measures, provided the first significant application of Enlightenment thinking to criminal justice issues. Popularized by Voltaire in France and quickly translated into German, Dutch, Polish, and Spanish, Beccaria's essay played a major role in stimulating change in Europe and North America.82 It was, as Crane Brinton put it, "one of the clearest examples that books do work in this world."83 One consequence of this development and of the concomitant depoliticization of many governments' interests in recovering fugitives from abroad was a substantial increase by the middle of the nineteenth century in the willingness of many European governments, as well as the U.S. government, to engage in extradition relations with one another.
The prospects of extradition and other types of international cooperation against crime were also abetted during the latter part of the nineteenth century by the emergence of professional police forces in general and criminal investigative branches in particular.84 This development both improved the capacity of governments to apprehend criminals and provided substance and continuity to international relations pertaining to crime-particularly as the growing sensitivity to notions of national sovereignty and the principle of nonintervention gradually rendered obsolete the Royal Navy's more activist approach to regime enforcement. It also wits a condition precedent to the emergence of a transnational police community, with its own value system and professional understandings, which would become the lifeblood of contemporary international law enforcement.
Extradition relations have generally expanded in number and scope over the past two centuries, with only periodic interruptions occasioned by wars and dramatic changes in government. The vast majority of governments now acknowledge a basic obligation to prosecute or extradite individuals who have violated the criminal law of another state. Serious disagreements persist over the interpretation of the "political offense" exception included in most extradition treaties. More frequently problematic, however, has been the lack of complementarity in extradition laws between common law nations and civil law nations.85 On the one hand, most common law countries, such as the United States and Britain, are willing to extradite their citizens to foreign countries, but they are unable to extradite anyone in the absence of an extradition treaty with the requesting government and are also unable in most cases to prosecute either citizens or foreign subjects in domestic courts for crimes committed abroad. The result, not surprisingly, is that many fugitives find safe havens in common law countries. On the other hand, most civil law countries are able to extradite foreign subjects in the absence of an extradition treaty with the requesting country and are also willing to prosecute their own citizens, and often foreign subjects as well, in their own courts for crimes committed abroad. They vigorously refuse, however, to extradite their own nationals to foreign governments, insisting that they be tried in domestic courts.86 Since in practice many citizens are not prosecuted for their crimes abroad, the results are, as with the common law nations' extradition handicaps, favorable to criminals. The civil law tradition of non-extradition of nationals represents perhaps the most conspicuous relic of nationalist resistance to international law enforcement cooperation.
The differences in jurisdictional notions should not, however, obscure the underlying consensus that has evolved regarding the duty to surrender fugitives. Whereas governments in centuries past regarded rendition of fugitives as virtually a favor by one regime to another and often demanded compensation in return, the practice has now acquired the status of a normative responsibility of governments. After centuries of dispute, the vast majority of international law scholars now acknowledge the Grotian perspective regarding the obligation to extradite or prosecute. No longer do governments regard a murder or theft perpetrated in a foreign country as solely an offense against the laws of that country, although the tendency to perceive apolitical criminal acts committed in hostile states as in some sense justifiable certainly persists. Where legal notions of jurisdiction prevent a government from punishing or surrendering a fugitive, there is often a sense that justice has not been done;87 and when the fugitive is a notorious terrorist, war criminal, drug trafficker, or murderer, the sense of moral outrage may extend beyond those who deal with extradition matters to the broader public. Governments are increasingly willing to devise ways of circumventing their own legal restrictions on rendition of fugitives, such as by deporting or "informally rendering" criminals to foreign governments.88 And there are even indications that both common law and civil law countries are reconsidering their legalistic and nationalistic reservations to unencumbered extradition and vicarious prosecution.89 We can discern in these developments evidence of the same evolving sense of global society that underlies cooperation against particular forms of transnational activity.
The desire of individuals to alter their state of consciousness is one of the few constants in civilized human history; so too is the use of pyschoactive substances to accomplish this.90 Alcohol, tobacco, opium, cannabis, coffee, and coca have each been consumed in different societies and in various forms for many hundreds or, in some cases, many thousands of years, as have a variety of other psychoactive substances.91 Each has been used for medicinal, ritual, and recreational purposes and perceived as both a great evil and it great good. Each has been subject to government controls and sanctions ranging from the death penalty to taxation, zoning. and other regulatory measures. And each has been widely ,available in entirely unregulated markets. Prior to the twentieth century. no global patterns were discernible in the norms and legal sanctions governing the trade and use of any of these substances.
Today, the vast majority of states count themselves as members of the global drug prohibition regime. Almost all have now ratified the 1961 Single Convention on Narcotic Drugs. and approximately ninety have signed its successor, the 1971 Convention on Psychotropic Substances. The production, sale. and even possession of cannabis. cocaine. and most opiates, hallucinogens, barbiturates. amphetamines, and tranquilizers outside strictly regulated medical and scientific channels are now punished with criminal sanctions in virtually every nation; criminal justice agencies in most countries are deeply involved in investigating and prosecuting drug law violations: and even the rhetoric of the "war on drugs" has been globalized. The processes by which this regime has evolved must be understood as a confluence of the perceptions, interests, and moral notions among dominant sectors of the more powerful states along with the exceptional influence of American protagonists in shaping the regime according to their preferred norms.
Until well into the nineteenth century, the British government was the principal sponsor of the opium trade. So great was its financial interest that efforts by the imperial government of China to ban the flow of opium from British India in the late 1830s were Suppressed with military force.92 Within Britain, however, opposition to the opium trade emerged during the Opium Wars and gained force as the century wore on. As with the antislavery movement. British Quakers quickly emerged as the leading moral entrepreneurs of the antiopium campaign-indeed, a number of leading Quakers were actively involved in both movements.93 In 1874, they formed the Anglo-Oriental Society for the Suppression of the Opium Trade, which played a major role during the next four decades in organizing sentiment against the opium trade, proselytizing to the public, and lobbying the government.94 The organization's members were abetted in their efforts by missionaries (who blamed opium for their notable lack of success in China95), other antiopium societies, and politicians predominantly from the Liberal party. Parallels with the antislavery campaign were stressed by the antiopium crusaders; as was evident in the 1898 pamphlet published by the Society for the Suppression of the Opium Trade and entitled "The Unchangeableness of Sin: The Slave Trade a Century Ago and the Opium Revenue Today."96 The victory of the Liberal party in the elections of 1906 assured the antiopium forces their principal objective, which was a commitment by the British government to phase out all opium exports from British India to China. Although the declining significance of opium revenues to the government of British India certainly helped persuade those less committed to the antiopium cause, the reversal of British government policy was almost entirely a reflection of the triumph of moral (religious and humanitarian) impulses over political and economic interests.
Unlike Britain's role in the antislavery campaign, however, its role in the antiopium campaign did not extend to support for an aggressive global campaign against the trade. The principal impetus for a more multilateral approach was provided instead by Americans, notably missionaries returned from the Far East. "So great was their role," Arnold Taylor has written, in "evoking the inauguration of the movement, and in promoting the early work once the movement had been started, that in its early stages the international campaign might quite appropriately be referred to as a missionary movement-or better still, as missionary diplomacy."97 The missionaries were soon joined, however, by a great variety of economic and political interest groups as well as an eclectic assortment of moral entrepreneurs. Their combined efforts were to prove largely successful in stimulating both state and federal drug prohibition legislation within the United States as well as the creation of a global drug prohibition regime institutionalized in international conventions and the drug control agencies of international organizations.
The emergence of drug control legislation in a great variety of states during the last decades of the nineteenth century and the first decades of the twentieth was in part a consequence of earlier revolutionary developments in the technology of drug production: the isolation of morphine and heroin from opium, the isolation of cocaine from the coca plant, and the perfection of methods of hypodermic injection.98 These developments were greeted with great enthusiasm by the medical profession, pharmaceutical companies, patent medicine manufacturers, and recreational drug users. Morphine and heroin were hailed, for good reason. as tremendous advances in the medical treatment of pain and are still used for this purpose today.99 Cocaine too wits hailed its a miracle drug and continues to be used as a local and regional anesthetic.100 The two opiates and cocaine were also popularized as tonics for a great variety of ills, with Vin Mariani and Coca Cola among the most famous of these.101 But as appreciation of the value of the drugs came to be tempered by greater awareness of their harmful potential, government controls over their distribution came to be perceived as important components of emerging public health policies. In the United States, fears of unregulated drag sales combined with the reform movement's anger at unscrupulous manufacturers of patent medicines and popular drinks, whose concoctions often contained large amounts of cocaine, opiate derivatives, and other potentially addictive and dangerous substances.102 Also influential were the increasingly powerful associations of doctors and pharmacists. whose altruistic motives were closely intertwined with their financial and professional interests in better controlling and even monopolizing the public's access to medicinal advice and substances.103
The emergence of drug prohibition both within the United States and internationally can not be explained. however, solely by the legitimate concerns over the harmful potential of drug use. Consumption of opium was quite common in the United States, Britain, and elsewhere during the nineteenth century, and much of it was properly viewed as benign. The introduction of prohibition laws, moreover, often followed rather than preceded significant decreases in consumption-decreases that resulted from a decline in the incidence of iatrogenic addiction as the medical profession recognized the dangers of these drugs and as new therapeutic drugs were devised, an increase in public awareness of the potential dangers posed by these substances, and the institution of nonprohibitive government measures such as labeling requirements on patent medicines. Nor can the vigorousness with which the U.S. government has pursued the creation of a global drug prohibition regime be explained solely by the desire to better restrict the export of drugs to the United States.
Betwixt the missionaries and the public health reformers stood a large assortment of moral entrepreneurs. Many of these were concerned not only with the use of opiates and cocaine but also with a whole array of activities considered to be vices, including alcohol consumption, tobacco use, and prostitution. In the American-occupied Philippines, for instance, Governor Taft favored a pragmatic plan to reinstitute the legal opium control system that had earlier been devised by the Spaniards, but the plan was blocked when a leading moral entrepreneur, Reverend Wilbur Crafts, head of the International Reform Bureau in the United States, mobilized vigorous opposition to it.104 Within the United States, moral entrepreneurs played a central role in inspiring the passage of federal and state legislation prohibiting opiates, cocaine, alcohol, cigarettes, prostitution, and much more. Their moral conviction that any form of inebriation was abhorrent struck a responsive chord with millions of Americans. And their advocacy of sobriety appealed to sectors of the American elite, whose paternalistic concerns regarding the vulnerability of the lower classes to alcohol and other drug abuse combined with fears that their economic productivity might suffer.
Both the alcohol and drug prohibition movements drew great sustenance as well from the popular association of drugs with feared and despised minorities. Many Protestant Americans identified alcohol and its ills with the fearsome flow of millions of Catholic and Jewish immigrants into the United States in the decades before and after the turn of the century.105 Although opium consumption in the form of laudanum and other opiate liquids was widespread in the late 1800s and early 1900s, particularly among native-born, older, white women in the South,106 the first antiopium laws, beginning with city ordinances in San Francisco in 1875 and Virginia City, Nevada, in 1876, were directed at the smoking of opium, which was associated with Chinese immigrants and deviant whites.107 Their use of the drug was perceived as symbolic of the immigrants' decadence and as a potential weapon that could be used to undermine American society.108 In the South, the white majority feared that cocaine use among blacks might cause them to forget their assigned status in the social order.109 And in the West and Southwest, the association of marijuana with Mexicans provided a powerful impetus to legislation effectively outlawing the substance.110 In each case, law enforcement officials, journalists, and political leaders provided sensationalist, albeit largely unsubstantiated. reports of the horrid crimes ostensibly committed under the influence of a particular drug. Much of the public and many of the legislators accepted the truth of these reports unquestioningly.
Particularly influential in promoting both federal drug control legislation and a leading role for the United States in international drug control activities were Charles Brent, the Episcopal bishop in the Philippines, and Hamilton Wright, a politically connected physician specializing in tropical diseases. They played a major role, David Musto has written, in persuading President Theodore Roosevelt that "a humanitarian movement to ease the burden of opium in China would help his long-range goals: to mollify Chinese resentment against America, put the British in a less favorable light, and support Chinese antagonism against European entrenchment."111 Their principal successor during the 1920s and 1930s was the charismatic Richmond P. Hobson, a Spanish-American War hero and former congressman who had been the Anti-Saloon League's highest paid "special speaker."112 Hobson agitated widely, speaking on radio programs, lobbying his former colleagues in Congress, and founding a variety of drug prohibition organizations, including the International Narcotic Education Association. He played an important role in propagating popular misconceptions regarding the extent of drug addiction in the United States and the relationship between narcotic use and violent crime.113 The dominant figure in the crusade against drugs during the second third of the century was Harry Anslinger, the ambitious first director of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics (FBN) from 1930 to 1962.114 He played an important role in popularizing tales of drug-induced crime, in opposing most efforts to treat drug addiction primarily as a medical problem, and in designing and instigating increasingly repressive drug control legislation at both the state and federal level. Drawing on his previous experience as head of the foreign control section of the prohibition unit during the late 1920s, Anslinger also assumed the dominant role as spokesman and advocate for the American interest in international drug control, playing a major role in the evolution of the global drug control regime.115
The U.S. role in promoting the drug control regime during this century bears important resemblances to Britain's earlier role as advocate of the antislavery regime. Just as the British proponents of the regime argued that the antislavery campaign was in Britain's economic and political interests, the American promoters of the drug control regime have argued that their international efforts are necessary to reduce the extent and costs of drug abuse in the United States. And just as Britain's vigorous antislavery campaign was motivated primarily by humanitarian sentiments, Christian moralism, a strong sense of righteousness, and the compulsion to proselytize, the U.S. efforts at home and abroad have been driven by fears of deviant drug use, moralistic abhorrence of recreational use of psychoactive substances other than alcohol and tobacco, a similar sense of righteousness, and, again, the compulsion to proselytize.
The evidence for the above assertion lies not only in the rhetoric employed by U.S. officials in support of the global "war against drugs" but also in the exceptional scale and scope of the U.S. international effort and the fashion in which it has been pursued.116 The United States has consistently played a leading role, from the first opium conference held in Shanghai in 1909 to the most recent antidrug convention adopted by the United Nations in 1988, in drafting and lobbying for increasingly far-reaching antidrug conventions designed first to restrict and then to criminalize most aspects of drug trafficking both internationally and in the domestic legislation of all member countries.117 For many decades, it successfully applied pressures on the European colonial powers in Asia, and thereafter on their native successors, to eliminate their legal opium control systems in favor of prohibitionist systems-despite evidence that the former often proved more effective than the latter in controlling drug abuse.118 Similar pressures were applied on the Andean governments to phase out the legal production of the coca leaf and criminalize the traditional practice of coca chewing-despite significant evidence that the practice was not only deeply rooted in Andean culture but also not particularly harmful and even moderately beneficial.119 The United States has lobbied since the 1930s for the global criminalization of cannabis and its treatment on a par with heroin and cocaine-despite abundant scientific evidence questioning the need for such a punitive approach.120 And U.S. drug control officials have persistently criticized the governments of Britain and the Netherlands for their emphasis on public health approaches to the drug problem and have continued to pressure them to change their ways-again despite substantial evidence that both nations have proven far more successful than the United States in dealing with illicit drug addicts.121 Moreover, the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, with some three hundred agents in over forty countries, now plays a role as global enforcer and advocate of U.S. drug policies and the global conventions, a role not unlike that performed by the Royal Navy on behalf of Britain's campaigns against piracy and the slave trade in previous centuries.122
The U.S. success in globalizing its drug prohibition policy was dependent. however. on both the absence of powerful and widespread opposition elsewhere and the existence of common perspectives on drug control, moral and other-wise. in many other states. This was not the case, it is worth observing. with the efforts of the United States and a few other governments during the first three decades of this century to establish an international regime to control and criminalize the international traffic in alcohol.123 Despite the vigorous international efforts of American Prohibitionists, the emergence of transnational moral entrepreneurs, and the existence of alcohol prohibition laws in some countries and antialcohol sentiment in most,124 efforts to create an antialcohol regime failed. Some regional arrangements were worked out, such as among the Scandinavian nations, between the United States and its neighbors, and among some of the colonial powers in Africa,125 but the global consensus required to create and sustain an alcohol prohibition regime could not be attained. The implacable hostility of many governments toward the basic objective of the regime ensured its failure.
By contrast, the U.S. demand for an international drug control regime directed first at the opiates and cocaine, then at cannabis, and ultimately at a wide array of psychoactive drugs, struck a sympathetic chord in a great variety of societies. Laws prohibiting one or another drug have existed in most societies for millennia. The fear that morphine, heroin, cocaine, and the great variety of synthetic psychoactive substances created during this century could not be controlled without resort to criminal justice measures was and still is omnipresent. So, too, the very newness of the drugs stimulated the urge to prohibit, just as the introduction of tobacco and coffee in earlier centuries had prompted laws banning their sale and use. And in the United States and many other societies as well, the association of opiate, cocaine, and cannabis use with the lower classes, disfavored minorities, and deviant groups also favored punitive approaches over more modest measures.
Perhaps even more important was the fact that drug prohibition laws did not threaten or antagonize powerful constituencies in any but a few states. Although products such as Vin Mariani, the Bordeaux wine containing a coca extract, could claim kings, presidents, and popes among its avid consumers, few were so committed to it as to protest its unwilling demise.116 Nor were the major pharmaceutical companies in Europe and the United States so threatened by any one component of the regime as to mount a vigorous opposition; rather, they focused their efforts on ensuring that new regulatory schemes reflected their broader interests. In the Asian, African, and Caribbean countries in which opium or cannabis use was prevalent, members of the elite tended not to partake; indeed, their moral views regarding drug use more often resembled those of Western elites. And in countries in which use of a drug was limited to relatively powerless minorities or the poorer sectors of society, few governments objected strongly to signing an international convention and implementing the necessary domestic legislation in order to fulfill their international obligations, particularly when pressured to do so by the United States and the United Nations.127 Indeed, in many countries, early drug prohibition legislation was powerfully shaped by the example set by the United State,. the rhetoric of Harry Anslinger and other transnational moral entrepreneurs. and information officially sanctioned by the U.S. government and the drug control agencies of the United Nations. The possibility that use of an illicit drug might nonetheless jump dramatically in the future and the possibility that the prohibition legislation might prove highly costly, problematic. and difficult to reverse (as has in fact happened in many states in recent decades) were not foreseen. In all these respects, the internationalization of U.S. drug policies and of regime. norms in diverse societies has proven far easier than was the case with the antislavery regime.
The fact that alcohol and tobacco have ended up with the official approval of international society while opium, coca, and cannabis were in effect decertified did not, it should be stressed, reflect any objective calculation of their potential harms, since in many respects the former present greater health and societal risks than do the latter substances. Rather, alcohol was legitimized in good part by the fact that it could be produced and consumed in the great majority of societies, and tobacco and alcohol (as well as coffee) gained legitimacy because their use was successfully integrated into key social functions in diverse societies before global society had advanced to the point of being able to construct an international prohibition regime. Cannabis, cocaine, and the opiates, by contrast, did not have time to be integrated into many societies before those opposed to their use were able to mobilize an international regime to restrict or prohibit their distribution and use.
Most important, the nature of the global drug control regime reflected the predominance of the United States and Europe in establishing global norms concerning the selection and appropriate uses of psychoactive substances. Some Asian states, for instance, might have opted for a different global regime that legitimized the use of opium; some African and Asian states for a regime legitimizing cannabis; many Muslim states for a regime prohibiting alcohol; and some Latin American states for. a regime that sanctioned coca. Just as the global prohibition regimes against piracy and the slave trade reflected the desire and capacity of Britain and other European powers to impose their norms, moral and otherwise, on the rest of the world; the global drug enforcement regime reflected the desire and capacity of the United States to impose its drug-related norms on the rest of the world.
Unlike the antipiracy and antislavery regimes, however, the emergence of a fully developed drug prohibition regime has coincided with a blossoming, in some respects unprecedented, of the activity that the regime had been created to eradicate. Indeed, there may be no greater example of the capacity of a transnational activity to resist the combined efforts of governments than the persistence of illicit drug trafficking. Unlike currency counterfeiting, no particular expertise or resources are required to produce, smuggle, or sell many of the illicit drugs. Unlike slaves, illicit drugs are easily concealed by producers, smugglers, dealers, and consumers. And unlike piracy, slavery, and counterfeiting, drug trafficking produces very few victims who have an interest in notifying criminal justice authorities. Drug prohibition laws, like prohibition laws against prostitution and gambling, can powerfully affect the nature of the activity and the market, but they cannot effectively deter or suppress most of those determined to participate in the activity.
To assert that the use of psychoactive substances is one of the few constants in civilized human history is not to say that there is a constant demand for particular substances or even that there is a constant cumulative demand for psychoactive substances in general; but it is to suggest that the prospects for the success of the global drug control regime hinge on the substitutability of the restricted or prohibited drugs by sanctioned drugs, especially for purposes other than those prescribed by medical authorities. The following patterns arc worth noting: the decline in both the recreational and the medicinal consumption of opiates, cocaine, and alcohol in the United States during the early decades of this century coincided with a substantial increase not only in the medical prescription of synthetic drugs but also in the consumption of tobacco and coffee;128 the decline in the use of cannabis, coca, and various hallucinogens by native groups in Africa and the Americas coincided with a dramatic and highly destructive increase in alcohol consumption;129 the decline in opium eating and smoking in Asia during this century coincided with a tremendous increase in heroin consumption;130 and even the decline in gin consumption in England during the eighteenth century coincided with the development of tea drinking as a national habit.131 Yet it is also true that many societies have dramatically reduced their consumption of particular psychoactive substances without resorting to substitute drugs; rather, the substitutes have ranged from newfound religious fervor and a spirit of temperance to the emergence of new employment and leisure activities. The future of the global drug control regime will certainly hinge in good part on the substitutabililty of those drugs which make up most of the illicit global drug traffic today (heroin, cocaine, and cannabis) by psychoactive substances and stimuli that are legally available.
We can rest assured that the global drug prohibition regime will never enjoy the fate of the global efforts against hijacking and counterfeiting, much less those against piracy, slavery, and smallpox. Much depends on how the market for psychoactive substances changes in the future and on the impact of technological developments. The regime may simply persist in its current direction, continuing to add harsh sanctions against whatever new drugs are devised and perhaps providing the framework for the use of multinational criminal justice measures that have so far been regarded as taboo. Alternatively, changes in the nature of drug production and consumption that diminish the significance of the international traffic to domestic markets may cause the regime against drugs to evolve along the lines of the regime against prostitution, with criminal justice measures continuing to play a prominent roll: in the control efforts in most states but with global collaboration no longer proving essential. It is possible that increasing frustration with the limitations and costs of drug prohibition will lead to widespread drug decriminalization, in which case the drug regime may follow in the footsteps of the stillborn alcohol prohibition regime and the global market in drugs may well come to resemble today's global markets in alcohol, tobacco, coffee, and tea.132 Finally, and not improbably, technological developments affecting the substances and means by which people alter their states of consciousness may, particularly if they arc not prohibited, dramatically change the nature of the demand for psychoactive substances, thereby rendering obsolete the contemporary global drug prohibition regime.
During the latter half of the nineteenth century, reformers in Europe and the United States focused substantial energies on eliminating "white slavery."133 Originally, this term referred to the entire system of licensed prostitution in existence throughout much of Europe and parts of the United States. Arguing that government-licensed prostitution institutionalized the oppression and corruption of women and was not successful in stemming the spread of venereal disease, growing numbers of activists sought the "abolition" of licensed prostitution. After the 1870s, the term "white slavery" developed two additional meanings. To some, it was synonymous with all prostitution, licensed and unlicensed. On the basis of this definition, the abolitionist movement split between those who favored nonpunitive measures designed to reduce the incidence of prostitution and those "purity crusaders" who desired the immediate criminalization of all prostitution.134 Another and more popular definition of "white slavery" and, more specifically, the "white slave trade" was the recruitment to prostitution by force or fraud.135
The international movement to abolish white slavery was led primarily by transnational moral entrepreneurs rather than by governments. Initially, these entrepreneurs looked beyond their own borders for two reasons: to oppose the efforts of the International Medical Congress to internationalize the licensing of prostitution in order to better regulate venereal disease136 and to lend moral and organizational support to one another. The dominant figure in this movement in its early years wits a British woman, Josephine Butler, who played a central role in persuading Parliament to repeal the Contagious Diseases Prevention Acts regulating prostitution in Britain and who traveled widely throughout Europe, proselytizing against licensed prostitution (albeit not in favor of its prohibition).137 The British, Continental, and General Abolitionist Federation, which Butler established in 1875, provided an effective means for organizing and mobilizing abolitionist sentiment in both England and continental Europe.138
The true internationalization of the movement, however, was largely a function of the perceived internationalization of prostitution. Beginning about 1880, Butler and other reformers, journalists, and novelists began to focus their attentions and rhetoric on the international traffic in women and children for purposes of prostitution. Convinced of the immorality of prostitution and firmly believing that no woman could ever freely and rationally choose such a career, they crusaded for the worldwide elimination of this traffic, which eventually proved to be far smaller and insignificant than popularly depicted. Like the contemporaneous antidrug and antialcohol movements, moreover, the antiprostitution movement was motivated in no small part by the perceived links between prostitution and disfavored minorities.139 In the United States, charges that an international criminal syndicate was running the white slave trade obliged the U.S. Immigration Service to send hundreds of agents into cities as underground investigators and induced Congress to pass the Mann-Elkins Act prohibiting tiny interstate or international traffic in women for purposes of prostitution.140 At the international level, the campaign against the white slave trade secured the cooperation of governments and led to international conferences and agreements condemning the practice, notably the Agreement for the Suppression of the White Slave Trade, signed in Paris in 1904 and ultimately ratified by about one hundred governments.141 The internationalization of the movement was driven in part by the popular image, successfully propagated by the moral crusaders, of young women driven by poverty. lured by trickery, and compelled by force to prostitution in foreign lands. But it also derived from a tactical lesson that crusaders against the white slave trade had learned from their predecessors in the struggle against the black slave trade: the lesson that focusing on prostitution's international dimension provided the essential transnational hook needed to pursue the abolition of licensed prostitution and more vigorous efforts against all prostitution around the world. By the start of World War II, opponents of the white slave trade had succeeded in abolishing state regulation of prostitution in a number of countries, replacing it in most cases with prohibition measures. The moral crusade instigated by Butler and others to end the state's control and exploitation of prostitutes had, Gail Pheterson concluded, "dissolved into it social purity crusade to abolish prostitution.142
The creation of a global regime against the white slave trade accomplished, in the final analysis, relatively little toward its objectives. Regime proponents who sought primarily to improve the conditions of prostitutes met largely with failure.143 Those who were concerned primarily with outlawing prostitution proved somewhat more successful, but the creation of this regime, unlike the creation of the regimes against the black slave and illicit drug trades. was not followed by the enactment of legislation prohibiting the activity in all or even the great majority of states. And although the formation of a global regime coincided with a reduction in the transnational movement of women and children for purposes of prostitution, the regime itself played a relatively minor role. Pressures from the League of Nations, combined with tougher law enforcement measures directed against prostitution and the international traffic, had some impact. But far more important were changes in the social, economic, and demographic conditions that had stimulated the transnational movement of prostitutes during the late 1800s-in particular, the presence of millions of male immigrants in North and South America with scant chance of female companionship apart from prostitutes. As most nations imposed far more restrictive immigration controls, as population migrations declined markedly, and as the unbalanced sex ratios were corrected, the international market for prostitutes declined significantly.144 Today, the international movement of women for purposes of prostitution persists on a relatively small scale throughout the world, most notably in some East Asian nations, particularly Japan, and in parts of the Arab world .145
Prostitution persists, of course, in all countries, even those which have applied the most repressive measures in an attempt to eradicate it. In many countries, however, there is far less prostitution today than in earlier decades, not because the demand for sex has declined but because the supply of sex by women other than prostitutes has increased as the development of effective contraception and the onset of the "sexual revolution" have greatly reduced the inhibitions to female sexual activity. 146 Other factors have also been at work, including the equalization of the sex ratio in most developed countries, declining segregation of the sexes, and lessening economic and social pressures on poor, single women to enter into lives of prostitution. Although "the police and the law have played a role in changing the form and scope of prostitution," Vern and Bonnie Bullough concluded, "they have never had much effect in lessening prostitution."147 Like drug dealing and other vice activities, prostitution is peculiarly resistant to criminal justice measures. Unlike slavery, it does not require legal institutions or even strong social institutions to perpetuate itself. Prostitution tends to be criminalized in those societies which most prize the symbolic value of the law and in those which prefer to keep their vices underground. But in the case of prostitution, unlike that of drug dealing, the existence of a nearly universal moral notion that a particular activity is wrong has not translated into the evolution of a global regime to prohibit it.
The emerging antiwhaling regime offers valuable insights into the future of global prohibition regimes. International efforts to limit the killing of whales began in the 1930s and 1940s, motivated largely by industry concerns that overharvesting of whales was proving detrimental to the long-term economic interests of the whaling industry.148 During the following decades, environmental and ecological concerns began to play important roles. Whales were coming to be seen, as Dean Acheson stated in his address to the plenary session of the International Whaling Commission, as a "truly international resource . . . the wards of the entire world.149 During the 1960s, popular perceptions of all cetaceans, including whales, dolphins, and porpoises, began to develop in an unexpected but not entirely unprecedented direction. These sea mammals were increasingly seen as not merely another endangered animal species in need of international conservation measures but as unique and unusually intelligent forms of animal life that should not be killed at all. At the 1972 United Nations Conference on the Human Environment, delegates from the fifty-two nations present voted unanimously in favor of an immediate halt to all commercial whaling.
The change in the attitude toward whales was a consequence of many factors. The economic significance of the whaling industry to many countries had declined significantly as the number of whales dwindled and alternative products became available; hence, economic imperatives no longer required that most people shut their eyes to the whales' unique characteristics. But equally important, opponents of whale killing were increasing in number and influence. Some were scientists struck by the growing evidence of cetacean intelligence.150 Far more numerous were the people exposed to the "humanity" of whales and other cetaceans at aquariums and through the media.151 (Recall the television program "Flipper" and the theme of the 1986 film "Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home.") Behind many of the efforts to generate sympathy for whales could be found members of Greenpeace, a vigorous transnational moral entrepreneur founded in 1970, and allied environmentalist groups.152
Today, the antiwhaling regime is poised between the third and fourth stages of regime development. An international convention to regulate whale killing is in force, but it does not ban the killing of all whales. Most countries currently ban whaling, but Japan, Iceland, Greenland, the Soviet Union, and Spain continue to lobby for greater whaling quotas and to tolerate violations of the international whaling convention by their whalers. These and other countries, including Peru, Chile, and Taiwan, also have provided havens for entirely illicit whaling expeditions by what have been called "pirate whalers."153 The U.S. government has played a major role in enforcing the regulations of the emerging regime, enacting strong domestic legislation, lobbying within the International Whaling Commission, and employing diplomatic pressures on foreign governments to crack down on pirate whaling.154 Others have done likewise, including the Australian government, which switched dramatically from being a regime dissenter to being a leading regime advocate in 1978.155 But the most vigorous role, one unique in the history of transnational moral entrepreneurship, has continued to be played by Greenpeace. Its members have engaged in direct confrontations at sea with whalers, disrupting their hunting operations, filming violations of the convention, and generally harassing whaling operations. Sympathizers have gone even further, sinking pirate whaling ships at port.156
It is now possible to speak of an emerging global consensus that the killing of whales is wrong, notwithstanding the dissenting views of many Japanese, Icelanders, Eskimos, and others for whom whaling represents a traditional custom and whale meat a dietary staple or delicacy (not unlike the coca chewing tradition of many Bolivians and Peruvians). As scientific understanding of cetacean intelligence progresses and as new generations of children grow up with firm views and attitudes toward whale killing, this transnational moral consensus is likely to strengthen. In a growing number of countries, moreover, whale watching and other nonconsumptive uses of whales are rapidly proving more lucrative than whale killing, thereby lending a powerful economic reinforcement to the moral arguments.157 On the one hand, it is quite possible that the regime will evolve during the coming decade into one that forbids any killing of whales for commercial purposes. On the other hand, if whale conservation efforts prove increasingly successful, pressures will build to allow the controlled harvesting of whales for commercial purposes.
Whether the regime ultimately succeeds in virtually eliminating the killing of whales will depend not only on the resources that governments devote to enforcement of regime regulations and on the substitutability of whale products but also on the capacity of whalers and consumers of whale products to elude suppression efforts. The position of the Japanese government and its willingness to conform to the regime in both law and fact will prove an important determinant of the regime's success, especially since a black market in whale meat would probably prove vulnerable to vigorous Japanese enforcement efforts. The skills and resources required to engage in whaling are scarcer than those needed to engage in most illicit transnational activities, although not nearly as scarce as those required by currency counterfeiters. Because whaling occurs on the high seas. it is not easily detected; nonetheless. whaling ships are readily identifiable and far more so than ships and planes smuggling drugs, alcohol, and most other illicit cargoes apart from slaves. The victims of whaling, moreover, lack the capacity to complain to the authorities at the same time that all humans directly implicated in the whaling industry possess no greater incentive to inform on one another than do those involved in activities such as drug trafficking. Efforts to protect whales and other cetaceans are also hampered by the fact that much whale killing is an unintended by-product of economical fishing methods, notably purse-seining for tuna, and other human exploitations of the seas ranging from overfishing to pollution.158 Although the antiwhaling regime has the potential to succeed in virtually eradicating the intentional killing of whales, its prospects for changing the conditions that unintentionally abet the killing of whales are far less promising.159
Elephants, like whales, are endangered and are also unusually intelligent and able to arouse the interests and sympathies of humans. The population of elephants in East and Central Africa has declined dramatically in recent years under pressures from drought, growing human populations, dwindling amounts of open land, and poaching by Africans who sell the tusks and skins of elephants on the international market. Government officials in this region, having ignored the trend for many years and even profited both legally and illegally from the trade in ivory, are now eager to protect elephants. Their principal concern is in the increasing economic value of nonconsumptive uses of elephants, especially tourism.160 They have been joined by legions of conservationists, many of whom are motivated not only by a sense of moral obligation to preserve endangered species but also by a belief that the killing of elephants for sport or profit is wrong. Backed strongly by the U.S. government, the conservationists and the African governments succeeded in October 1989 in mandating a ban on the global trade in ivory at a meeting of the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES). Only a global prohibitionist policy, they argued, could succeed in substantially curtailing poaching.
Proponents of the emerging regime have been opposed by other conservationists as well as park managers and governments, notably in South Africa, Zimbabwe, and Botswana, where elephant populations have stabilized and even grown. Those charged with safeguarding and culling the herds have claimed that effective management of the national parks accounts for their success and that the lack of such management is the central explanation for the plight of the elephants elsewhere. They have insisted that the southern Africans should not be obliged to forgo the revenue earned each year from the sale of ivory-revenue that is channeled back to the national parks-merely because other Africans have mismanaged their elephant resources.
The entire debate over the future of the elephant has been characterized by differences over morals, tactics, and the feasibility of significantly diminishing the international market for ivory.161 The principal moral struggle has revolved not so much around the necessity of preserving a sustainable number of elephants as around the issue of elephant killing per se. Those who oppose elephant killing on moral grounds have employed many of the same tactics that have proven effective in arousing popular opinion against whaling and the killing of other animals, both endangered and unendangered. For example, their use of a 1978 movie entitled Bloody Ivory, which portrayed the slaughter of elephants by poachers in graphic detail, helped build support for the recent CITES ban.162 Relatively few black Africans, however, have been moved by this effort to condemn on moral grounds the killing of elephants; indeed some, along with many white African conservationists, have argued that the prohibitionist approach to elephant killing reflects the imposition of the white man's morality on those in Africa who must coexist with the elephant.163 The more important question for the future of the regime, however, is whether the moral condemnation of elephant killing and of the sale and purchase of new ivory will spread throughout the world and be internalized in diverse societies, notably those in Japan and other parts of East Asia that represent the principal markets for ivory.
The tactical dispute between those who favor a prohibition policy and those who prefer a conservationist policy that permits culling is important principally because those who favor- the former believe that their own efforts to save the elephant require global uniformity. The East and Central Africans, together with the Americans, have argued that the southern Africans cannot prevent ivory poached in other countries from being sold through their marketing system.164 They also have argued that international demand and the international ivory distribution system cannot be effectively curbed as long as some nations legitimize the sale of new ivory. The southern Africans have responded to the first point by insisting that they will be able to prevent leakage through their ivory marketing system, in part by utilizing spectrographic and dating processes to identify tusks; as for the second point, they have made clear that they have no desire to undermine the global market for their lucrative product.
Finally. the question of whether or not the international market for ivory can be significantly diminished hinges in good part on questions of substitutability. Efforts are under way to create a synthetic ivory composed of ceramics, but even if these efforts prove successful, many consumers of ivory may still insist on the real thing.165 Piano makers and concert pianists, who prefer the touch of ivory keys to that of other materials, may accept the synthetic; but collectors of ivory artwork and jewelry may not prove so amenable. "Critical to the long-term success of the ban," Jane Perlez has written, "will be Japan, which consumes more than 40 percent of Africa's ivory, chiefly for personal signature seals and fine carvings."166 Some ivory experts have insisted that efforts to eliminate the demand are no more likely to succeed than efforts to eliminate the demand for gold. Both substances, they note, have long been valued not only for their beauty but also for their intrinsic value; both are hoarded as safeguards against inflation and political instability; and, indeed, gold and ivory have been linked with one another for millennia.167 To many, the notion of destroying or even substantially curtailing the global demand for ivory seems preposterous, particularly when the increasing value and the continuing legitimacy of ivory products manufactured before the ban are taken into account. The CITES ban has, however, succeeded in depressing ivory prices in the short term; in a symbolic gesture in mid-1989 designed to demonstrate its commitment to the ban and to further undermine the perceived value of ivory, the governrrent of Kenya publicly burned twelve tons of ivory seized from poachers.168
The efforts to construct regimes prohibiting the killing of whales and elephants have been complemented by efforts to protect other endangered species. The inclusion of leopards ;tad crocodiles on the CITES endangered species list nearly a decade ago, combined with an international media campaign to sway public opinion, succeeded in reducing international demand for leopard coats and crocodile handbags enough to protect the animals at risk. By contrast, the CITES listing of the rhinoceros proved ineffective, in good. part because the demand for rhino horn, which is used to make dagger handles in the Middle East and to make a purportedly aphrodisiac powder in the Far East, could not be curbed.169 The varied experience of international regimes designed to protect endangered species suggests that the notions of morality regarding both the human obligation to preserve endangered species and the sense that any killing of particular animals is wrong have played a central role in instigating such regimes; that the success in globalizing these regimes has hinged in good part on the success of moral entrepreneurs and other regime proponents in internationalizing their moral notions; and that the ultimate success or failure of such regimes hinges on the susceptibility of antiregime activities to enforcement efforts.
What activities will be targeted by future global prohibition regimes? The U.S. government is devoting increasing attention to extraterritorial violations of federal statutes against tax evasion, money laundering, securities law violations, various transnational commercial frauds, and gray marketing of counterfeit products.170 Its efforts have played a significant role in persuading dozens of foreign states to criminalize some of these activities and to cooperate more fully in transnational investigations. Similar efforts are also under way within the Council of Europe, whose multilateral efforts in continental law enforcement often have provided models for U.S. undertakings.171 None of these nascent regimes has as yet progressed beyond the third stage of development, although the U.S.-inspired inclusion of provisions against money laundering in the most recent drug prohibition convention provides an avenue for promoting a regime in at least one of these areas. Multilateral regimes may emerge in coming years in the other areas, but tax and securities laws remain sufficiently heterogeneous that the prospects for a global regime appear highly remote.
A second potential target of global prohibition regimes--one that already has stimulated substantial international cooperation-is the unauthorized development and distribution of atomic, biological, chemical, and other weapons that can be used to wreak great destruction. As the technology to create such weapons becomes increasingly diffused, governments will increasingly be obliged to coordinate their efforts to keep these weapons out of the hands of criminals, lunatics, and political terrorists. Prospects for the emergence of regimes in this area seem good, given the broad and deep mutuality of interests of governments in restricting the availability of the weapons. If these regimes do emerge, they likely will resemble the antihijacking regime.
A third area in which global prohibition regimes almost certainly will play an increasingly prominent role is in efforts to protect newly endangered species, to reduce pollution of the seas and the skies, and to conserve forests and other dimensions of the earth's natural resources.172 Many governments already are inclined to police violations of environmental laws through the use of civil regulatory agencies and criminal sanctions and agencies as well. As global regimes in these areas develop, sanctions against violators will become increasingly punitive. The nature of the violators, moreover, will evolve from the legitimate corporations of today, which are willing and able to contend with civil fines and "white-collar" criminal charges, to entirely criminal organizations and individuals willing to assume greater risks in return for greater profits.
Just as few people during the eighteenth century could have imagined the emergence of a global antislavery regime, few in the nineteenth could have envisioned a global ban on ivory sales. Similarly, few in this century can imagine that activities which are entirely legitimate today may evolve into targets of global prohibition regimes. One activity worth contemplating is the international traffic in tobacco. The economic interests and cultural traditions underlying this traffic are almost as powerful as were those underlying the slave trade two hundred years ago. Yet cigarette smoking is the single greatest cause of preventable deaths in dozens of countries, and it is also indisputably linked to the premature deaths of millions of people each year.173 Norms with respect to tobacco consumption, especially in public, have changed rapidly in the United States and some other countries in recent years. Although tobacco consumption is rising in many countries, notably in the Third World,174 it is certainly conceivable that some nations, including the United States, will choose in coming decades to ban domestic production and sale and thereafter propagate their prohibitions to others, and it is likely that transnational moral entrepreneurs will also emerge to proselytize, lobby, and organize antitobacco sentiment. The evolution of the antidrug regime and the failure of the antialcohol regime suggest two alternative scenarios for any efforts to construct a global tobacco prohibition regime.
What lessons and insights into the evolution of norms in global society can be derived from the foregoing analysis? The first is that norms emerge and are promoted because they reflect not only the economic and security interests of dominant members of international society but also their moral interests and emotional dispositions. Moral outrage against the subjugation of the African slave prompted Britain to campaign against the slave trade; compassion for China's opium-addicted masses and fears of deviant drug use and new types of drugs stirred both Britain and the United States to action against international drug trafficking; a desire to end the exploitation of women stimulated the campaign against white slavery; a growing sense of obligation to preserve and protect special animal species strongly influenced efforts to ban whaling and elephant killing; and the spread of universalist impulses provided the necessary conditions for the emergence of a global extradition norm. The impact of notions such as religious faith and dogma, humanitarianism, universalism, compassion, individual conscience, paternalism, fear, prejudice, and the compulsion to proselytize was clearly felt in these cases. Indeed, in some cases, considerations such as these proved sufficiently potent to overcome powerful economic and political obstacles to the formation of prohibition regimes.
Norms that evolve into global prohibition regimes typically have two features in common: they mirror the criminal laws of states that have dominated global society to date (European nations and the United States), and they target criminal activities that in one way or another transcend national borders. The transnational dimension of the proscribed activity provides much of the incentive for states to devote efforts toward constructing a regime and also provides the hook typically required to provoke and justify external intervention in the internal affairs of other states. Most global prohibition regimes are promoted not only by states but also by transnational moral entrepreneurs who mobilize popular opinion and political support and lobby governments both within their host country and abroad. The norms they seek to internationalize are, in all cases, cosmopolitan in nature, relating not to the ways in which states treat one another but, rather, to the ways in which individual human beings are treated both by states and by one another.
Global prohibition regimes are, of course, more likely to involve moral and emotional considerations than are most other international regimes. Like many criminal laws, they seek to ban rather than to regulate. Their underlying assumption is that certain activities must be banned not necessarily because individual occurrences threaten international society and order but because each occurrence is an evil in and of itself. In some cases, the sense of evil is stimulated by the notion that all individuals have an obligation to refrain from engaging in an activity that may harm no one on an individual occasion but may nevertheless threaten the security of society if engaged in by many on frequent occasions; in others, it arises from the harm done to an innocent human being or animal; and in still other cases, the sense of evil stems from religious and other mores largely or entirely divorced from consideration of the impact on individuals or society of either the activity or the proscription. To the extent that global prohibition regimes are driven by the latter two, and particularly the last, of these rationales, they are more likely than most other regimes to ignore considerations of costs and consequences; like crusades, they are instigated and pursued even when alternative approaches appear less costly and more effective.
Transnational moral consensus regarding the evil of a particular activity is not, however, sufficient to ensure the creation of a global prohibition regime, much less its success in effectively suppressing a proscribed activity, even when it complements the political and economic interests of hegemonic and other states. If weak states are unable or unwilling to conform to the regime's mandate in practice and if dissident states and groups within individual states persistently refuse to conform to the regime's demands, they can significantly undermine the global prohibition regime, particularly if their capacity for involvement in the criminal activity is great. We need only consider the disruptive impact of the Barbary pirates in the early decades of the nineteenth century, of the American and Brazilian slave markets in the middle of that century, of the coca producers in Bolivia and Peru and the cocaine refiners and exporters in Colombia during the past decade, and of the Japanese consumers of whale meat and ivory products in recent years-each demonstrating a substantial capacity to undermine the effectiveness of a particular global prohibition regime. The same is true of the deviant groups present in almost all nations who persist in selling and buying illicit drugs and the services of prostitutes.
The second lesson. therefore. is that the ultimate success of global prohibition regimes depends greatly on the vulnerability of an activity to global suppression efforts by states. Most difficult to suppress are those activities which require limited and readily available resources and no particular expertise to commit, those which are easily concealed, those which are unlikely to be reported to the authorities, and those for which the consumer demand is substantial, resilient, and not readily substituted for by alternative activities or products. Technological developments can strongly influence the vulnerability of an activity to suppression efforts, favoring either the regime enforcer or the transnational criminal. Piracy succumbed to regime efforts in good part because technological developments at sea strengthened the capacities of governments to project their naval forces wherever pirates sought refuge. The suppression of currency counterfeiting has proven largely successful to date because governments have managed to remain a technological step ahead of potential counterfeiters. The fate of the ivory ban may well depend on technological advances in synthesizing ivory substitutes. And the global drug prohibition regime will certainly undergo changes in future decades as both the technology of manufacturing synthetic psychoactive drugs and other stimuli and the technology of drug testing evolve. The success of the antislavery regime, by contrast, was less a consequence of technological developments than of the peculiar vulnerability of slavery to changes in its legal status. And it is unlikely that any developments, technological or otherwise, will significantly improve the prospects of the regime against prostitution, "the oldest profession." Global prohibition regimes can prove highly effective in suppressing threats to the safety, welfare, and moral sensibilities of international society. Nonetheless, there are, as Herbert Packer argued persuasively, inherent limits to what the criminal sanction can accomplish,175 particularly in international society.
For comments on earlier drafts of this manuscript. I am grateful to John Dilulio, Robert Gilpin, Stanley Hoffmann, Willett Kempton. Yuen Foong Khong, Gary Marx, J. Nicholas Ziegler, the editor and reviewers of IO. and, most especially, Aaron Friedberg and David Courtwright. Earlier versions of this article were presented to a seminar convened by the executive committee of the Center for International Affairs, Harvard University. in October 1989, the members of which offered valuable comments. and at the 1988 conference of the American Society of Criminology. I also am indebted to David Jefferds for his fine research assistance.
1. Robert Axelrod, "An Evolutionary Approach to Norms," American Political Science Review 80 (December 1986), p. 1101.
2. For a discussion of international regimes in general, see Stephen D. Krasner, ed., International Regimes (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press. 1983): Oran R. Young. International Cooperation: Building Regimes for Natural Resources and the Environment (Ithaca. N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1989): Stephan Haggard and Beth A. Simmons. "Theories of International Regimes," International Organization 41 (Summer 1987), pp. 493 9S: and Robert O. Keohane. After Hegemony: Cooperation and Discard in the World Political Economy (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1984).
3. See Charles P. Kindleberger. "Hierarchy Versus Inertial Cooperation," International Organization 40 (Autumn 19861. p. 845, in which much of the regime literature is criticized for ignoring the role of "conscience, duty. obligation. or such old-fashioned notions as noblesse oblige."
4. The notion of "transnational moral entrepreneur," conjoins Becker's concept of "morsel entrepreneurs" and Huntington's notion of a "transnational organization." Becker indicates that moral entrepreneurs are (hose who "operate with ;m absolute ethic" in seeking to create new rules to do away with a perceived great evil. See Howard Becker. Outsiders: Studies ill rite Sociology of Deviance (New York: Free Press. 1963), p. 148. Huntington states that a transnational organization is "a relatively large, hierarchically organized. centrally directed bureaucracy . . . [that] performs a set of relatively limited. specialized, and in some sense, technical functions . . . across one or more international boundaries and, insofar as it is possible, in relative disregard of those boundaries." See Samuel Huntington, "Transnational Organizations in World Politics," World Politics 25 (April 1973), p. 333.
5. See M. Cherif Bassiouni, ed., International Criminal Law (Dobbs Ferry, N.Y.: Transnational Publishers, 1986).
6. See Martin Wight, "Western Values in International Relations," in Herbert Butterfield and Martin Wight, eds., Diplomatic Investigations: Essays in the Theory of International Politics (London: Allen & Unwin, 1966). pp. 89-131; Hedley Bull, "The Emergence of a Universal International Society," in Hedley Bull and Adam Watson. eds., The Expcension of International Society (London: Oxford University Press. 1984), pp. 11 7-26; and James Mayall, "International Society and International 'theory," in Michael Donelan, ed.. The Reason of States: A Study in International Political Theorv (London: Allen & Unwin, 1978). pp. 122-41.
7. See Charles Beitz. "Bounded Morality: Justice and the State in World Politics," International Organization 33 (Summer 1979). pp. 405-24; and Keohanc. After Hegemony. pp. 247-51.
8. James Mayall, "Introduction," in James Mayall. ed.. The Community of States: A Study in International Political Theory (London: Allen & Unwin. 1982). p. 2.
9. The question of when a regime comes into existence, like the question of when a human being comes into existence. ix a matter of debate. The answer is largely a function of how we define and make use of the term "regime."
10. Young. International Cooperation, pp. 76 and 203.11. Global prohibition regimes that reach the fifth stage of development resemble other global regimes that have emerged since the mid- 181X)s to monitor. control, and prevent cholera, plague, yellow fever. smallpox, and other infectious diseases. For a fascinating analysis of how international cooperation against infectious diseases ultimately prevailed, see Richard N. Cooper, International Cooperation in Public Health as n Prologue to Macroeconomic Cooperation (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institute, 1986).
12. See Janice E. Thomson. "Sovereignty in Historical Perspective: The Evolution of State Control over Extraterritorial Violence," in James A. Caparoso, ed.. The Elusive State (Newbury Park, Calif.: Sage, 1989), pp. 227-54.
13. See Robert H. Jackson. "Quasi-States, Dual Regime. and Neoclassical Theory: International Jurisprudence and (lie 'third World," lnternational Organization 41 (Autumn 19'37). pp. 533-49.
14. States that are able and willing to employ totalitarian measures and states whose laws are bolstered by strong social sanctions are best able to suppress these types of criminal activities. International society, however, lacks both the potential to employ totalitarian methods and the cultural homogeneity that typically underlies powerful social sanctions.
15. For an overview of the subject. see Philip Gosse. The History of Piracy (New York: Longmans, Green, 1932).
16. Georg Schwarzenberger, "International Law," in The New Encyclopedia Britannica. 15th ed.. vol. 21, p. 725.
17. Georg Schwarzcnberger, "The Problem of an International Criminal Law," in Gerhard O. W. Mueller and Edward M. Wise, eds., International Criminal Law (South Hackensack, N.J.: Fred B. Rothman, 1965), p. 6.
18. See Fernand Braudel, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II, vol. 2, trans. Sian Reynolds (New York: Harper Colophon Books, 1976), pp. 865-91.
19. Robert C. Ritchie, Captain Kidd and the War Against tire Pirates (Cambridge. Mass:: Harvard University Press, 1986), p. I I.
20. C. M. Senior, A Nation of Pirates: English Piracy in Its Heyday (New York: Crane Russak, 1976), p. 149.
21. Ritchie, Captain Kidd and the War Against the Pirates. pp. 152-54.23. Adam Watson. "European International Society and Its Expansion," in Bull and Watson, The Expansion of International Society. p. 25.
24. See, for example, Nicholas Tarding, Piracy and Politics in the Malay World (Melbourne: F. W. Cheshire, 1963).
25. See Ralph T. Ward. Pirates is History, (Baltimore. Md.: York Press, 1974). pp. 112-27; and John B. Wolf. The Barbary Coast (New York: Norton. 1979), pp. 299-321.
26. Thomson. "Sovereignty in Historical Perspective," pp. 248-49.27. Ward. Pirates in History. p. 158.
28. Francis R. Stark. "The Abolition of Privateering and the Declaration of Paris," dissertation. Columbia University. New York. 1897.
29. See, for example, Jane Lucas de Grummond, Renato Beluche: Sinuggler, Privateer, and Patriot. 1780-1861) (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. 1983).
30. Thomson. "Sovereignty in Historical Perspective."31. Benjamin Franklin. cited in Edward Lucie-Smith, Outcasts of the Sea (New York: Paddington Press. 1978). p. 232.
32. Lord Nelson, cited in ibid.33. Sir Francis Piggott. The Declaration of Paris. 1856 (London: University of London Press, 1919), pp. 142-·i9.
34. "Privateer," in The New Encyclopedia Britannica. 15th ed., vol. 8. p. 713.35. Jean-Jacques Rousseau. On the Social Contract, trans. Roger D. Masters and Judith R. Masters (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1978), p. 50.
36. That the regime was not codified in an international convention until the 1958 Convention on the High Seas may well be explained by the fact that global norms condemning piracy were so universally acknowledged by the middle of the nineteenth century that a convention would have been perceived as superfluous. Indeed, many states explicitly condemned other transnational activities, such as slave trading, by linking them with and even labeling them as piracy. See Barry H. Dubner, The Law of International Sea Piracy (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1980).
37. Ward, Pirates in History, pp. 158-59.39. See G. O. W. Mueller and Freda Adler. Outlaws of the Ocean (New York: Hearst Marine Books, 1985), pp. 131-57; and Captain Roger Villar. Piracy Today: Robbery and Violence at Sea Since 1980 (London: Conway Maritime Press, 1985).
40. For an analysis of the British role, see Michael Craton, Sinews of Empire: A Short History of British Slavery (Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor Books. 1974). The figure of ten million is derived from Philip D. Curtin, The Atlantic Slave Trade (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969), p. 268,
41. Frank J. Klingberg, The Anti-Slavery Movement in England: A Study in English Humanitarianism (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1926; Hamden, Conn.: Archon Books, 1968), p. 13.
42. See Suzanne Miers, Britain and tire Ending of the Slave Trade (New York: Africana Publishing, 1975).
43. See Craton, Sinews of Empire, pp. 289 and 378. fn. 8. See also Christopher Lloyd, The Navy and the Slave Trade: The Suppression of the African Slave Trade in the Nineteenth Century (London: Longmans, Green, 1949); and W. E. F. Ward, The Royal Navy and the Slavers: The Suppression of the Atlantic Slave Trade (London: Pantheon Books, 1970).
44. Miers, Britain and the Ending of the Slave Trade.45. See Leslie Bethell, The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970). pp. 327-63: and lane Elizabeth Adams, "The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade," Journal of Negro History. vol. 10, 1925, pp. 607-17.
46. Harold Nicolson, 7'Ite Congress of Vienna: A Study in Allied Unity, 1813-1822 (New York: Harcourt, Brace. 1946), pp. 209-14,
47. For a seminal exposition of this view, see Eric E. Williams. Capitalism and Slavery (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1942).
48. See Thomas Clarkson, Essay on the Impolicy of the African Slave Trade (1788), excerpted in Michael Craton, James Walvin, and David Wright, eds., Slavery, Abolition and Emancipation: Black Slaves and the British Empire (London: Longman, 1976), pp. 248-53.
49. See Seymour Drescher, Econocide: British Slavery in the Era of Abolition (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1977).
50. See Sir Reginald Coupland, The British Anti-Slavery Movement, 2d ed. (London: Frank Cass. 1964): Howard Temperley, British Antislavery. 1833-1870 (London: Longman. 1972); Edith Hurwitz, Politics and the Public Conscience: Slave Emancipation and the Abolitionist Movement in Britain (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1973): Miers, Britain and the Ending of tile Slave Trade; Klingberg, The Anti-Slavery Movement in England; and James Lee Ray, "The Abolition of Slavery and the End of International War," International Organization 43 (Summer 1989), pp. 407-15. See also David Brion Davis. Slavery and suntan Progress (New York: Oxford University Press, 1984), p. xviii, in which Davis argues that "the impetus behind British antislavery policies was mainly religious, though devout Victorians assumed that good economics was consistent with good religion."
51. Norman Hampson. The Enlightenment (Baltimore, Md.: Penguin Books, 1968), p. 153.52. See Seymour Drescher, "Public Opinion and the Destruction of British Colonial Slavery," and James Walvin, "The Propaganda of Anti-Slavery," both in James Walvin, ed., Slavery and British Society. 1776-1846 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1982), pp. 22-48 and 49-68, respectively.
53. See Coupland, The British Anti-Slavery Movement, pp. 206-35; and C. Duncan Rice, The Rise and Fall of Black Slavery (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1975), p. 368.
54. See Miers. Britain and the Ending of the Slave Trade.56. Lawrence C. Jennings, French Reaction to British Slave Emancipation (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. 1988), pp. 144-67.
57. W. E. B. DuBois, The Suppression of the African Slave Trails to the United States of America. 1638-1870 (New York: Longmans. Green. 1896), p. 162.
58. See Miers, Britain rend the Ending a/'the Slave Trade. p. 31. See also Temperley. British Antislavery.
59. Miers. Britain and the Ending of the Slave Trade. p. 31.60. The efforts of the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society in France are described by Jennings in French Reaction to British Slave Emancipation: those in the United States are described by Betty Fladeland in Men and Brothers: Anglo-American Antislavery Cooperation (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 19721: and those in Brazil arc briefly noted by Davis in Slavery and Human Progress, pp. 291-98.
61. Davis, Slavery and Human Progress. p. 304.62. See James Brewer Stewart, Holy Warriors: The Abolitionists aced American Slavery, (New York: Hill & Wang, 1976), pp. I 1-23.
63. See Fladeland, Men and Brothers.64. For a discussion of the spread of abolitionist principles in France. see Edward Derbyshire Seeber. Anti-Slavery Opinion in France During the Second Half of the Eighteenth Century (Baltimore. Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1937): and Shelby T. McCoy. The Humanitarian Movement in Eighteenth-Century France (Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 1957), pp. 82-128. For a general discussion, see David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery ice Western Culture (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1966).
65. Davis. Slavery and /Iceman Progress, p. 297.66. See Rebecca J. Scott. Slave Emancipation in Cuba: 7%ce Transition to Free Labor, 1860-1899 (Princeton. N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985). p. 38: and Robert Brent Toplin, The Abolition of Slavery ice Brazil (New York: Atheneum, 1972), pp. 41-42.
67. See Toplin, The Abolition of Slavery ice Brazil. pp. 42-43 and 65: and Arthur F. Corwin, Spain and the Abolition of Slavery ice Cuba. 1817-1886 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1967).
68. Joaquim Nabuco. cited in Davis. Slaver v and Human Progress, p. 297.69. R. L. Kennion, "Abolition of Slavery in Nepal." Nineteenth Century. vol. 98, 1925. pp. 381-89.
70. Toledano. The Ottoman Slave Trade and Its Suppression, pp. 272-78.71. See Roger Sawyer. Slavery in the Twentieth Century (New York: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986);1. Thorsten Sellin. Slavery and the Penal System (New York: Elsevier, 1976); and Orlando Patterson. Slavery, and Social Death: A Comparative Study (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1982).
72. The same can be said of some legal institutions, such as marriage, which in its more traditional incarnations gave a man the legal authority to use force against his wife and children. Like slavery, such institutions provide the authority necessary to sustain an ongoing coercive relationship between private individuals.
73. Webster's Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary defines extradition as "the surrender of an alleged criminal [usually] under the provisions of a treaty or statute by one state or other authority to another having jurisdiction to try the charge." Rendition is a more general term which refers here to both extradition and the surrender of fugitives in the absence of a treaty or statute.
74. See 1. A. Shearer. Extradition in International Law (Dobbs Ferry. N.Y.: Occana Publications. 1971). p. 5. citing S. Langdon and A. H. Gardner. Journal of Egyptian Archeology. vol. 6. 1920, p. 179.
75. Hugo Grotius, De jure belli ac pacis. book 2. chap. 21. paragraphs 3 and 4; cited in Shearer, Extradition in International Law. p. 21.
76. Shearer, Extradition is International Law. p. 7.77. Sec Lotika Sarkar, "The Proper Law of Crime in International Law." International and Comparative Law Quarterly. vol. I I. 1963. p. 446; reprinted in Mueller and Wise. eds.. International Criminal Last, p. 50.
713. Shearer, Extradition in International Law. pp. 9-10.79. See. for example. Paul O'Higgins. "The History of Extradition in British Practice, I 174-1794," Indian Yearbook of International Affairs. vol. 13. 1964, pp. 78-115.
80. Thomas Jefferson, domestic letters, vol. 5, pp. 272-75; cited in John Bassett Moore. A Treatise on Extradition and Interstate Rendition, vol. I (Boston: Boston Book Co.. 1891). pp. 28-29.
81. On the meaning and development of humanitarianism, see Crane Brinton. "Humanitarianism." Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, vol. 7, 1932. pp. 544-49.
82. See Marcello Maestro. Cesare Beccoria and the Origins of Penal Reform (Philadelphia: Temple University Press. 1973). pp. 125-43; Leon Radzinowicz. A History of the English Criminal Law and Its Administration from 1750, vol. 1 (London: Stevens & Sons. 1948). pp. 277-300; Gordon Wright, Between the Guillotine and Liberty: Two Centuries of the Crime Problem in France (New York: Oxford University Press. 1983). pp. I(1-23; Samuel Walker, Popular Justice: A History of American Criminal Justice (New York: Oxford University Press. 1980), pp. 37-40; and the collection of essays in Atti del convegno internazionale su Cesare Beccaria promosso dall'Accademia delle Science di Torino nel secondo centenario dcll'opera "Dei delitti e delte pene" (Turin. Italy: Academy of Science. 1966).
83. Crane Brinton, A History of Western Murals (New York: Harcourt. Brace. 1959), p. 324.84. For a discussion of this development, see Ethan A. Nadelmann, "Cops Across Borders Transnational Crime and International Law Enforcement," Ph.D. diss., Harvard University 1987, pp. 71-87.
85. See Ethan A. Nadelmann, "The Role of the United States in the International Enforcement of Criminal Law." Harvard International Law Journal 31 (Winter I9riA), pp. 37-76.
86. For a dated but thorough discussion of this issue. see Rohert W. Rafuse. Tire Extradition of Nationals (Urbana: University or Illinois Press. 1939).
87. Personal interviews with U.S. and foreign government officials responsible for extradition relations. Washington. D.C.. and European capitals, 1985-90.
88. Ethan A. Nadelmann. "The DEA in Latin America: Dealing with Institutionalized Corruption." Journal of Interamerican Studies and World Affairs 29 (Winter 1987-88), pp. I-39.
89. Sec Nadelmann, "The Role of the United States in the Internationial Enforcement of Criminal Law," pp. 67-69.
90. See Andrew Weil, The Natural Mind (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1972). pp. 17-38. One possible historical exception to this statement should be noted: the Eskimos. whose environment greatly limited their capacity to grow anything. arc not known to have used psychoactive substances prior to their contact with Western civilizations.
91. See Ernest Abel, Marijuana: The First Twelve Thousand Years (New York: Plenum Prcss. 1980); Charles F. Terry and Mildred Pellens. The Opiun Problem (New York: Bureau of Social Hygiene, 1928). pp. 53-61: Joseph Kennedy. Coca Erotica (New York: Cornwall Books. 1985); F. W. Fairholt. Tobacco: Its History arid Associations (London: Chapman & Hall. 1859); and Louis Lewin. Phantastica: Narcotic and Stimulating Drugs, 2d ed., trans. P. H. A. Wirth (London: Kegan Paul, 1931).
92. See John King Fairbank. Trade and Diplotnni.v on the China Coast (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. 1953); P. W. Fay. 77u· Opium War. I&lU-.12 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. 1975); and Brian Inglis. The Opium Wur(London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1976).
93. See Bruce D. Johnson. "Righteousness Before Revenue: The Forgotten Moral Crusade Against the Indo-Chinese Opium Trade." Journal of Drug Issues 5 (Fall 1975), pp. 31)4-26; Peter D. Lowes, The Genesis of International Narcotics Control (Geneva: Librairie Droz. 1966). pp. 58-84; and Geoffrey Harding. Opiate Addiction, AfuralitY and Medicine (London: Macmillan, 1988). pp. 38-46.
94. See J. B. Brown, "Politics of the Poppy: The Society for the Suppression of the Opium Trade. 1874-1916," Journal of Contempurury flistuny 8 (July 1973). pp. 97-1 t 1. See also Virginia Berridge and Griffith Edwards. Opium and the People: Opiate Use in NineteenthCentury England (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. 1987), pp. 173-94.
95. Berridge and Edwards, Opium and the People. p. 198.97. Arnold H. Taylor. Atnrrirun Diplmuac.v and the Nurcorics Traffic. 1900-1934: A Study in International Humanitarian Reform (Durham. N.C.: Duke University Press. 1969). p. 29.
98. See Berridge and Edwards. Opium and tire People. pp. 135-49; H. Wayne Morgan, Drugs in America: A Social History. 1800-1980 (Syracuse. N.Y.: Syracuse University Press. 1980). pp. 22-28; and N. H. Jones. "A Critical Study of the Origins and Early Development of the Hypodermic Syringe." Journal of :ht Hisrorv of Medicine. vol. 2. 1947. pp. '_01-49.
99. Dean Latimer and JcIT Goldberg. Flowers in the Blood: The Story of Opium (New York: Franklin Watts. 1981). pp. 179-200.
100. See Lester Grinspoon and James B. Bakalar. Cocaine: A Drug and Its Social Evolution,tol. See Richard Ashley, Cocaine: Its History, Uses and Effects (New York: Warner Books, 1975). pp. 50-68: Joel L. Phillips and Ronald D. Wynne, Cocaine: The Mystique and the Reality (New York: Avon Books, 1980). pp. 27-70: and Kennedy. Coca Erotica.
102. See James Harvey Young. The Toadstool Millionaires: A Social History of Patent Medicines in America Before Federal Regulation (Princeton. N.J.: Princeton University Press. 1961).
103. See Berridge and Edwards, Ophon find the People. pp. I 13-70; and Patricia G. Efickson et al.. The Steel Drug: Cocaine in Perspective (Lexington, Mass.: Lexington Books, 1978). pp. 11-19.
104. Sec David F. Musto. The Anterican Disease: Origins of Narcotic Control (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. 1973). The International Reform Bureau was. in the words of Wilbur Crafts, "a bureau of lectures and literature. fur enactment and enforcement of laws against all moral evils. eslx:cially the big ftve: intoxicants. sex abuses, gambling, pugilism. and commercialization of Sunday." Cited in Ernest H. Chcrrington. cd.. Proceedings of the Fifteenth International Congress Against Alcoholism, Washington. D.C.. 1921. p. 429.
105. Joseph R. Gusfield, Symbolic Crusade: Status Politics and the American Temperance Movenrent (Chicago: University of Illinois Press. 1963). pp. 51-57.
106. David Courtwright. Dark Paradise: Opiate Addiction in America Before 15'40 (Cambridge. Mass.: Harvard University Press. 1982). pp. 35-61.
107. Edward M. Brcchcr ct al.. Licit and Illicit Drrcgs (Boston: Little. Brown, 1972). pp. 42-43.
108. Musto. Tire American Disease. p. 6.109. See Edward H. Williams. "The Drug Mcnacc in the South." Medical Record, vol. 85, 1914. pp. 247-49: Phillips and Wynne, Cocaine, pp. 64-70: and Morgan, Drugs in America. pp. y2-y3.
I IQ. Sec Jerome l.. Himmelstcin. The Strange Career of Mariltuana: Politics arid Ideology of Drug Control in Antrriva (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1983); and Musto. The American Disease, pp. 210-29.
III. See Muslo, %%tt· American /)isease, p. 31. See also Taylor. American Diplomacy and the Narcotics Traffic, p. 3().
112. Musto. The American Dreant, pp. 66-67 and 190- 93.114. John C. McWilliams, The Protectors: Harry !. Anslingrr acrd the redrral liurratt of Narcotics. 19.10-1962 (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1989).
115. See Douglas Clark Kinder and William O. Walker III. "Stable Force in a Storm: Harry J. Anslinger and United States Narcotic Foreign Policy, 1930-I%2," Journal of American flistorY 72 (March 1986). pp. 908-27; and Kcttil 13ruun, Lynn Pan, and Ingemar Rexed, The Gentlemen's Club: International Control of Drugs and Alcohol (Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 1975). pp. 137-43.
116. In 1971, President Nixon declared that "drug traffic is public enemy number one domestically in the United States and we must wage a total offensive. worldwide, nationwide, government-wide, and, if l might say so. media-wide." The heroin traffickers. he added, "are literally the slave traders of our time .... They arc traffickers in Living Death land] they must be hunted to the ends of the earth." Cited in Edward Jay Epstein. Agencv of Fear: Opiates and Political Power in America (New York: Putnam. 1977). pp. 174 and 178.
117. See Bruun. Pan, and Rexed. The Gentlemen's Club. pp. I 13-31.118. See Joseph Westermeyer. "The Pro-Heroin Effects of Anti-Opium Laws in Asia," Archives of General Psychiatry 33 (September 1976), pp. I 135-39; and Alfred R. Lindesmith. The Addict and the Law (Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 1965). pp. 189-221.
119. See Kennedy. Coca Erotica: W. Golden Mortimer. Ilistory of Coca: "The Divine Plant" of the Incas (San Francisco: And/Or Press, 1974); William O. Walker 111. Drug Control ill the Americas (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. 1981); and David L. Strug. "The Foreign Politics of Cocaine: Comments on a Plan to Eradicate the Coca Leaf in Peru," in Deborah Paeini and Christine Franquemont. eds.. Coca and Cocaine: Effects on People and Policy in Latin America (Cambridge. Mass.: Cultural Survival, 1985). pp. 73-88.
I=0. U.S. officials played a crucial role in the decision to prohibit cannabis in the 1961 Single Convention. having earlier lobbied successfully for resolutions urging countries to stop using cannabis fur medical reasons :end identifying cannabis as a dangerous drug. For a description of the U.S. efforts. see Bruun. Ilan. and Rcxed. 77rr Gentlemen's Club. pp. 181 ?03. For a discussion of the scientific evidence regarding marijuana, see Lester Grinspoon, Marilnrana Reconsidered. 2d ed. (Cambridge. Mass.: Harvard University Press. 1977); Louis Lasagna and Gardner Lindzey. "Marijuana Policy and Drug Mythology." Society 20 (January-February 1983). pp. 67-80: National Commission on Marijuana and Drug Abuse. Marihrrnna: A Signal uj' ,Visiortlerstanding (New York: Signet. 1972); and Institute of Medicine. Marijuana arid Health (Washington, D.C.: Institute of Medicine, 1983).
121. See British Home Office, Tackling Drug Misuse: A Sronrrrary of the Government's Slrotr.t:y (London: Home Office, 1988); Trehach. The lleruin Solution: Govert F. van de Wijngaart, "A Social History of Drug Use in the Netherlands: Policy Outcomes and Implications,'. Journal of Drug Issues 18 (Summer 1988), pp. 481-95; and Charles D. Kaplan. "The Uneasy Consensus: Prohibitionist and Fxpcrimentalist Expectancies Behind the International Narcotics Control System." Tijdschrifi door CrinrirruloKie 26 (January-Fchruary 1984). pp. 98-109: Additional information was obtained from personal interviews with Dutch and British drug authorities in Amsterdam. The Hague. London. and Washington. D.C.. 1987-90.
1='_. Nadclmann. "Cops Across Borders." pp. 229-96.134. Iceland banned all wines and spirits from 1905 to 1934. Russia from 1914 to 1924. Norway from 1916 to 1927. and Finland from 1919 to 1932. Absinthe. the licirrctrr made from wormwood and various herbs. was banned after the turn of the century in a number of countries. including Switzerland, Belgium. Holland. France, and the United States. See Barbaby Conrad Ill. Ab sinthe: History in a Bottle (San Francisco: Chronicle Books. 1988). For a discussion of antialcohol sentiment. see Ernest Gordon, The Anti-Alcohol blovrrnent in Europe (New York: Fleming H. Revell. 1913); and reports of the annual proceedings of the International Congress Against Alcoholism.
125. See John H. Wuorincn. The Prohibition Erprrimrnt in Finland (New York: Columbia University Press, 1931). pp. 21 I-23: Richard N. Kottman, "Volstead Violated: Prohibition as a Factor in Canadian-American Relations." Canadian Ifistorical Ret'iew 43 (June 1962). pp. 106-26: and Lynn Pan. Alcohol in Colonial Africa (Helsinki: Finnish Foundation for Alcohol Studies. 1975).
126. Michael R. Aldrich and Robert W. Barker. "Historical Aspects of Cocaine Use and Abuse." in S. J. Muld. ed.. Cocaine: Chemical. Biological, Clinical, Social and Treatment Aspects (Cleveland. Ohio: CRC Press, 1976), pp. 1-12.
127. See, for example. Vera Rubin and Lambros Comitas, Gunju in Jamaica (The Hague: Mouton. 1975), pp. 211-35: James Fisher, "Cannabis in Nepal: An Overview," in Vera Rubin. Cannabis and Culture (The Hague: Mouton, 1975), pp. 247-55; and Sysette Vinding Kruse. "Drug Criminality from a Legal Point of View," in Per Stangeland, ed., Drugs and Drug Control (Oslo: Norwegian University Press, 1987), pp. 34-52.
128. See Brecher ct al.. Licit and Illicit Drugs. pp. 195-98: Ronald J. Troyer and Gerald E. Markle. Cignrrues: The Battle over Smoking (New Brunswick. N.J.: Rutgers University Pros. 1983). p. 34: and W. J. Rorabaugh. The Ahwhulic Republic: An American Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press. 1979). pp. IM-101.
129. See Catherine J. Allen. "Coca and Cultural Identity in Andean Communities." in Pacini and Franqucmont. Coca uncl Cucuine. pp. 35-4t;.
130. Sec Westermeyer. "The Pro-Heroin Effects of Anti-Opium Laws in Asia": and Alfred R. Lindesmith. The Addict and the Lass- (Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 19b5). pp. 189-221.
131. John Kaplan. The llurdrst Urns;: Heroin and I'whlic Policy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1983). p. 142.
132. Fur analyse, suggesting that the global drug control regime should develop in this Jirwiun, %cc lhr fullm.int: article, by laban A. NaJelrnann: "Drug Prohibition in the Unite) Stale,: Costs. Consequences and Alternative,." S'c.icvce~r 245 (September 1989), pp. 939-47; "U.S. Drug Policy: A Bad Export." (-urri,cn Polic.v 7(1 (Spring 1988), pp. 83-IU8: and "The Case fur 1_cgali7:rtitm.- The I'nhlio lnu·rr.m 9? (Summer 1988). pr. 3-31.
133. For a Ji,uu_ion of the origin% of the term "white slavery." see 1-dward J. Bristow. l'm.%litnliun and I'rejrrdior: 7lrr Jewish Ivi.r;lrr AArrin.vt While SIrtrrv. It170-14.34 (New York: Schucken Book%. Iy8?), pp. 3S_38; and Vern liullough and Bonnie Bullough. Women and l'r~..vrimirm: A Smiul Ilistrrw (Buffalo. N.Y.: Prometheus Books. 19;17), p. .65.
134. Bullough and Bullough, Worsen and Prostitution. pp. 263-64.135. Sec Bristow. Prostitution and Prejudice, pp. 36-37; and Edward J. Bristow, Vice and Vigilance (Totowa. N.J.: Rowman & Littlefield, 1977).
136. Bullough and Bullough. Women and Prostitution. p. 263.137. Sec Glen Pctrie. A Singular Iniquity: The Campaigns of Josephine Butler (New York: Viking Press, 1971). For discussions of Butler's travels to Italy and France, see Mary Gibson, Prostitution and the State in Italy, 1860-1913 (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 1986), pp. 41-48; and Jill Harsin, Policing Prostitution in Nineteenth-Century Paris (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. 1985), pp. 324-25.
138. Sec Paul McHugh, Prostitution and Victorian Social Reform (London: Croom Helm, 1980). pp. 104-6.
139. Rosen argues that the leading study of prostitution during the mid-nineteenth century, William Singer's piston, of Prostitution: Its Extent. Cuttses. and Effects Throughout the World, "supported growing xenophobic attitudes lin following decadesl by underscoring that most prostitutes were recent immigrants." See Ruth Rosen, 'fill, Lost Sisterhood: Prostitution ill
140. Barbara Mcil Hobson. Uncosv Virlcte: The Politics of Prustittttion and the Antrricutt Reform Tradition (Ne%v York: Basic Books. 1957). p. 142.
141. See Charles Winnick and Paul At. Kinsic, The Livelr Commerce: Prostitution ill the United Stutrs (Chicago: Quadrangle Books. 1971). pp. 269-80: and Bristow, Vice and Vit;ilunre, pp. 175-99.
142. Gail Phetcrson. cd.. A Vitnlicution ol~the Rights of Whores (Seattle: Seal Press, 1989), p. 1,.
143. Ibid.
144. Bristow.
Pruslilnlion and Prejudice. p. 320.
145. Japanese organized criminals known a, the Yakuza arc active in importing women into Japan for employment as prostitute,. In other East Asian countries. notably Taiwan. Korea. Thailand. and the Philippines. women arc recruited from the countryside to work in urban brothels. where they entertain men from Japan and elsewhere who arc visiting their countries on "sex tours." See David E. Kaplan and Alec Dubro. Yuknza: The Laplusivr Accurrnt of Japan's Criminal Underworld (Reading. Mass.: Addison-Wesley. 1986). pp. 200-208.
146. Bullough and Bullough. Women and Prnsrirnriun. pp. 290-301.148. For a history of whaling regulation. see James E. Scarff, "The International Management of Whales. Dolphins, and Porpoises: An Interdisciplinary Assessment," Ecology Law Quarierlv. vol. 6. no. 2. 1977. pp. 343-72: and Scott T. Larson. "United States Whale Policy: The Judiciary Cats Its Vote in Favor of a Moderate Approach," Vanderbilt Jnccrnal of Transnarianal Lace 20 (January 1987). pp. 125-31.
149. Dean Acheson. cited in R. Michael M'Goniple. "The 'Economizing' of Ecology: Why Bib. Rare Whales Still Die." Ecology Low QracrlrrlY, vol. 9, no. I, 1981), p. 132.
150. See Robert McNally. So Remorseless a Havoc (Boston: Little. Brown, 1981), pp. 3-69.152. For a highly sympathetic account of Greenpeace, see David Day. The Whale War (San Franci%co: Sierra Club Books. 1987).
153. Ibid. See also Keith D. Sutter. "The International Politics of Saving the Whale," Australian Outlook 35 (December 1981). pp. 283-94.
154. Larson. "United States Whale Policy," pp. 131-35.156. Ibid. For a provocativc analysis suggesting that transnationial organizations such as Greenpcace may be more effective in achieving environmentalist objectives than the more traditional intcrgovcrnmcntal negotiations. sec Robcrt Mandel. "Transnutional Resource Conflict: The Politics of Whaling." International Snalics QhiarlrrlY 24 (March 19811), pp. 9`J-I'_7.
157. Sec Patricia Birnic. "The Role of Developing Countries in Nudging the International Whaling Commission from Regulating Whaling to Encouraging Nonconsumptive Uses of Whale,," Ecology Last, Quarterly. vol. 12. no. 4. 1985, pp. 966-67. During the 196t)s. whale meat rcplaccd baleen (whalebone) and oil as the primary consumptive use of baleen whales; the principal market is Japan. The oil of the sperm whale. oncc valued as a fuel before petroleum became readily available in the 1860s. is now used mainly as a high-grade machine lubricant. Sec Scarff. "The International Management of Whales, Dolphins. and Porpoises." pp. 341-42. Whale oil is also converted into soaps and fatty acids. which arc used in cosmetics and detergents.
ISH. Sec Bernd Wur%ig. "Ccutccam." Science ?44 (June l9K9). pp. IS50-57: and Marlise Simons. "Fish Nets 'Trap Dolphin in the Mediterranean. Too.--- 77n· New York Times. 6 September 19139, p. At.
15'J. See, however, Philip Shuhecoff. "Three Companic% to Stop Selling Tuna Caught with Dolphin." Vic Nets- York 77mrs, 1 3 April 19'x), p. A I.
160. Jane Perlez. "Can He Save the Elephant:'" The Nets- York Times Mapu:ine, 7 January 1990. p. ?x.
161. For a general discussion. sec Michael J. Glennon. "Has International Law Failed the Elephant?" Annericnn Journal ujhNCrnaNunal Law 84 (January 1990). pp. I-43. For a debate of the issue. sec Randy Simmons and Urs Kreuter. "Save an Elephant-Buy Ivory." The Washington Post. I October 1989. p. D3: and Atichacl Sutton. "Don't Let Them Buy Ivory.'
The Washington Post, 9 October 1989. p. A21.164. Jeremy Cherfas. "Decision Time on African Ivory Trade," Science 246 (October 1989). p. 26.
165. Nick Nuttall, "Artificial Ivory Promised Soon." London Times. 25 August 1989.166. Jane Pcrlez. "Devaluing the Tusk." The New York Times Mngn:ine, 7 January 1990. p. 30.
167. Parker and Amin. Ivory Crisis. pp. 79 and 149.168. Jane Perlez. "Kenya. in Gesture. Burns Ivory Tusks." The New York Times. 19 July 1989. p. A5.
169. Glennun. "Has Intcrnatiunal t_aw Failed the Elephant?" pp. 208-9.170. Sec. for example. W. John Moore. "Global Reach," Nuliunul Juccrnnl, I I l-cbruary 1989. pp. 326-31; Ethan A. Nadelmann, "Unlaundering Dirty Moncy Abroad: U.S. Foreign Policy and Financial Secrecy Jurisdictions." Inter-American Law Review 18 (Fall 1986). pp. 33-82: and Klaus P. Mocsslc. "The Basic Structurc of United States Securities Law Enforcement in International Cases." California Western Inlrrnulicinul Law Journal. vol. 16, no. I. 1986, pp. 1-51.
171. See Ekkehart Mollcr-Rappard. "Judicial Assistance and Mutual Cooperation in Penal Matters: The Europcan System." in Bassiouni. lnternutiunal Criminal Law. vol. 2. pp. 93-I 15.
172. See the following works of Oran R. Young: "The Politics of International Regime Formation: Managing Resources and the Fnvironmcnl," Inlrrnulinnul Organization 43 (Sum mer 1989), pp. 349-75; Xrsrnirrr /frXiPnra: Natural Rrsmirrrs rlml S(wiullnstirwions (Berkeley: University of California Press. 19X2): and International Cooperation. See also Stephen C. McCaffrey. "Crimes Again%t the Environment," in Bassiouni. International Criminal Law, vol. 1. pp. 541-h1.
171. See 1'etcr. ~raylor, 77rr Simikr llin.q: 7'Ohnccr). Almorv atnl Alnllinulional 1'olilirs (New
174. See Uma Ram Nath, Smoking: Third World Alert (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986).
175. Hcrbcrt L. Packcr. The Lindrs of the Criminal Sanction (Stanford. Calif.: Stanford University Press. IW8).