ECtHR transgender rights complaint v. Romania/ Plangere la CEDO impotriva Romaniei privind drepturile persoanelor transgender

Finished and sent last gasp application against Romania to the European Court of Human Rights, on behalf of a transgender person complaining about the absence of adequate procedures for legal gender recognition and about being forced to undergo gender reassignment surgery. In Romania, transgender persons need to go to court to obtain documents that correctly identify their gender identity, but, with rules that are confusing and patchy, the procedure is a lottery - lengthy, arbitrary and humiliating. This presumably is the first transgender rights complaint against Romania at the ECtHR and others will follow.

Am expediat, pe ultima suta de metri inainte de sarbatori, o plangere impotriva Romaniei la CEDO privind lipsa unei proceduri adecvate pentru recunoasterea juridica a identitatii de gen precum si impotriva cerintei abuzive a efectuarii operatiei chirurgicale de reatribuire a sexului. In Romania, regulile in domeniu sunt confuze si lacunare, iar procedura in fata instantelor functioneaza ca o loterie - de lunga durata, traumatizanta si arbitrara. Aceasta este probabil prima plangere impotriva Romaniei la CEDO privind drepturile persoanelor transgender, altele probabil ca vor urma.

Analiza critica a proiectului de lege "privind infiintarea mecanismelor prevazute de Conventia privind drepturile persoanelor cu dizabilitati"

Centrul de Resurse Juridice (CRJ) sprijina un proiect de lege “privind infiintarea mecanismelor prevazute de Conventia privind drepturile persoanelor cu dizabilitati” (“proiectul de lege”) aflat pe ordinea de zi a Senatului. Traseul legislativ al proiectului de lege, inclusiv forma initiatorului si expunerea de motive, sunt vizible AICI. CRJ, in colaborare cu Centrul de investigatii media, au realizat o campanie de sustinere a acestui proiect intitulata “Lagarele dintre noi” care include o caravana fotografica, o pagina Facebook, o petitie, cat si un program pentru jurnalisti dispusi sa scrie despre acest subiect. In acest memoriu imi propun un inceput de analiza critica a proiectului de lege, avand in vedere lipsa unei dezbateri substantiale atat la momentul redactarii sale, cat si pe traseul sau parlamentar, dar si miza sa covarsitoare pentru persoanele cu dizabilitati din institutii si din comunitate.

Voi examina pentru inceput geneza si temeiul legal al acestui proiect de lege. El este similar unor proiecte mai vechi care vizau intemeierea mecanismului preventiv impotriva torturii conform Protocolului Optional al Conventiei ONU impotriva Torturii (OPCAT), sprijinit de o coalitie ceva mai diversa de organizatii neguvernmentale si care priveau toate locurile de detentie, nu numai institutiile rezidentiale pentru persoane cu dizabilitati. O data ce Guvernul a optat sa incredinteze functia de monitorizare Avocatului Poporului (AP), aceste proiecte de lege au devenit caduce. CRJ a reimpachetat proiectul existent si a revendicat ca temei legal functia de monitorizare conform Art 33§2 al Conventiei ONU pentru Drepturile Persoanelor cu Dizabilitati (CRPD), un artificiu care a servit ca pretext pentru a ignora noile realitati si a continua campania pe spatele/in beneficiul persoanelor cu dizabilitati. Art. 33 CRPD impune Statelor Parti sa intemeieze o structura complexa de monitorizare a obligatiilor ce le revin, care include “puncte focale” si unul sau mai multe mecanisme independente.

Proiectul de lege pretinde ca satisface in intregime obligatiile ce reies din Art. 33§2 (evident chiar din titlu: “Lege privind infiintarea mecanimselor prevazute de CRPD”). Cu toate acestea,  persoanele inchise in institutii sunt doar unul din grupurile vizate de CRPD, iar monitorizarea locurilor de detentie doar o parte din obligatiile ce le incumba statelor sub CRPD. Prin urmare, mecanismul preconizat nu satisface cerintele Art. 33§2 CRPD. Pe de o parte, statul roman a incredintat deja functia de monitorizare IRDO, o organizatie fantoma care ii este aservita. Pe de alta parte, detaliile arhitecturii de monitorizare la nivel national a obligatiilor derivate din CRPD nu pot fi stabilite decat in urma unui proces de negociere cu toate entitatile relevante, in principal persoanele cu dizabilitati insele. Ori proiectul de lege nu a fost rezultatul unor dezbateri inclusive, ci impus de un singur ONG care nu are in componenta persoane cu dizabilitati, prezentand riscul compromiterii pe termen lung a implementarii CRPD in Romania.

Nu imi propun aici o analiza pe articole, care altfel nu ar fi lipsita de interes. Cu toate acestea, exista cel putin doua prevederi care ridica probleme aditionale de legalitate.

Proiectul de lege jongleaza in mod inacceptabil cu notiune de “reprezentare”  (sau, dupa caz, ”calitate procesuala activa”) care s-a dovedit a fi foarte controversata in literatura de specialitate si practica din alte tari. Indeosebi, Art. 4§2 preia aproape literal limbajul §161 al hotararii CEDO Campeanu v Romania, conferind calitate procesuala activa organizatiilor neguvernamentale cu scopul de a furniza reprezentare independenta persoanelor cu dizabilitati in fata unei instante sau a oricarui organism independent. Proiectul de lege falsifica intelesul hotararii Campeanu, de la care se revendica conform expunerii de motive, sugerand ca implicarea organizatiilor neguvernamentale epuizeaza obligatia de asigura reprezentare ‘independenta’ rezidentilor din institutii. De fapt, CEDO nu se refera decat in subsidiar si in anumite circumstante bine delimitate la organizatiile neguvernamentale, atunci cand statul nu asigura o modalitate adecvata de asistenta juridica persoanelor din institutii. Art. 4§2 permite organizatiilor neguvernmentale sa “reprezinte” victimele abuzurilor, dar omite sa raspunda la intrebari esentiale precum – ce califica ONG-urile sa reprezinte victimele? In ce consta ‘reprezentarea’ – substituire, suport sau ambele? Cine verifica standardele activitatii de reprezentare? Este necesar consimtamantul ‘beneficiarului’? Ce se intampla daca persoana in cauza nu are capacitatea de a consimti? Cum poate persoana contesta interventia sau prestatia ‘reprezentantului’? samd. Aceste intrebari nu sunt pur teoretice ci dimpotriva au o insemnatate practica covarsitoare.  Mai mult decat atat, Art. 12(i) confera mecanismului insusi “calitatea procesuala activa in apararea drepturilor si intereselor legitime” calificata insa de precizarea introductiva conform careia aceasta functie este alocata in “scopul indeplinirii atributiilor de monitorizare.” Aceasta prevedere plaseaza mecanismul intr-un evident si periculos conflict de rol, avand in vedere atributiile cuprinzatare ce ii sunt acordate (de ex. verifica legalitatea prezentei persoanelor cu dizabilitati in institutii). In sfarsit, intrebarile de mai sus privind calitatea activitatii de reprezentare se aplica mutatis mutandis si mecanismului. Fiind excesiv de vagi, potential contradictorii si necorelate cu dispozitiile privind accesul la justitie al persoanelor cu dizabilitati din alte legi, apreciez ca aceste prevederi sunt contrare Art. 6 CEDO si Art. 13 CRPD. De asemenea, consider riscul real ca acest proiect de lege sa compromita potentialul de reforma al hotararii Campeanu v Romania un afront personal, avand in vedere cat am muncit in acest caz.

Proiectul de lege simplifica impermisibil chestiunile spinoase legate de calificarea unei situatii drept ‘privare de libertate.’ Mecanismul de monitorizare isi propune sa “verifice legalitatea prezentei persoanelor cu dizabilitati” in institutiile vizate de lege (Art. 4§1(c)), indiferent ca este vorba de institutii de protectie sociala sau de spitale psihiatrice, cu regimuri juridice diferite. Indeosebi ipoteza plasamentului in institutii de ocrotire sociala, eventual cu permisiunea tutorelui interzisului, care nu este considerata indeobste ca fiind privativa de libertate potrivit dreptului intern ridica probleme speciale. Care este temeiul juridic pentru interventia mecanismului? Daca este vorba de dreptul intern, lipsit de garantii impotriva detentiei arbitrare, atunci mecanismul nu ar face decat sa acopere o ilegalitate, consolidand status-quo-ul. Daca este vorba de dreptul international, concluzia care se impune este ca mecanismul se substituie in fapt controlului judiciar obligatoriu potrivit Art. 5§4 CEDO. Lasand la o parte chestiunea de a sti daca mecanismul are un caracter judiciar satisfacand conditiile CEDO (nu are), este intr-adevar in interesul persoanelor cu dizabilitati sa incredintam verificarea legalitatii detentiei in institutii unei entitati administrative, fie ea 'independenta'? Daca un astfel de mecanism trece eu voi fi primul care voi contesta legalitatea sa din perspectiva Art. 5 CEDO. De remarcat si faptul ca proiectul de lege este contradictoriu in relatia sa cu CRPD – pe de o parte se legitimeaza prin apelul la aceasta conventie, pe de alta parte se aplica persoanelor cu dizabilitati aflate in locuri inchise. Astfel proiectul omite faptul ca CRPD nu permite detentia bazata pe criteriul dizabilitatii, acoperind in mod potential o ilegalitate. Detentia intr-o institutie rezervata persoanelor cu dizabilitati este ilegala ab initio, prin urmare operatiunea de verificare a legalitatii acestei situatii este lipsita de sens.

Faciliteaza cu adevarat acest mecanism accesul la justitie a persoanelor cu dizabilitati, asa cum pretind promotorii sai? In cel mai bun caz, acest mecanism va forma o interfata relativ prietenoasa intre persoanele din institutii si sistemul de justitie. Eu sunt pesimist din motivele enumerate mai sus, insa si in aceasta situatie trebuie amintit faptul ca in ultima instanta responsabilitatea de a cerceta si pedepsi abuzurile din institutii revine parchetelor si instantelor. Ori eu nu cunosc nici macar un singur caz in care o instanta sa fi pedepsit vreunul din sutele de abuzuri de o gravitate exceptionala din institutii care au ajuns in atentia presei in ultimii 10-20 de ani. Aceasta problema subzista si nu va disparea, dar este, inca o data, trecuta cu vederea de promotorii legii. In cel mai rau caz, dar, in opinia mea, si cel mai probabil, mecanismul se va transforma intr-o alta bucla in sistem, unde doleantele legitime ale persoanelor cu dizabilitati se vor pierde sau vor fi neutralizate, servind ca alibi pentru pastrarea status-quo-ului si deresponsabilizand si mai mult instantele din pozitia lor de forum legitim si exclusiv de rezolvare a chestiunilor legate de astfel de abuzuri grave.

Initiatorii legii supraestimeaza in mod oportunist sansele crearii unui mecanism cu adevarat independent cu mandat de supraveghere a respectarii drepturilor omului in Romania. Este un fapt incontestabil ca nu avem nici o institutie independenta/autonoma in Romania care sa se conformeze cu Principiile de la Paris si care sa fie recunoscuta ca atare. CNCD-ul si AP-ul, desi teoretic independente, sunt in realitate entitati ineficiente si colonizate de stat. Factorii de presiune care sa asigure implementarea adecvata a legii sunt relativ nesemnificativi: CRPD nu dispune de nici un instrument coercitiv pentru a asigura socializarea statelor recalcitrante, forta politica a persoanelor cu dizabilitati in genere, si a celor din institutii in special, este inexistenta, capacitatea de influenta a societatii civile implicate in domeniu este  foarte limitata. Tocmai din acest motiv, persoanele cu dizabilitati ar trebui sa se alinieze cu grupuri si aliante mai cuprinzatoare ale caror interese coincid – pacientii, utilizatorii de servicii sociale etc. In aceste conditii, riscul ca acest proiect de lege sa fie deturnat creand un alt mecanism aservit statului este major si nu poate fi ignorat.

Mecanismul preconizat dubleaza atributiile unor institutii existente. Am in vedere in principal AP, care a preluat functia de monitorizare a locurilor de detentie in baza OPCAT. AP a inceput recent activitatea de monitorizare, cu echipe mixte care includ reprezentanti ai societatii civile si asociatiilor profesionale cu atributii in domeniu, vizitand intre altele stabilimente care gazduiesc persoane cu dizabilitati si publicand rapoarte cel putin decente. Desigur, subzista in continuare dubii rezonabile cu privire la modul in care AP isi duce la indeplinire mandatul, dar in acelasi timp este incontestabil faptul ca ei exercita functii de monitorizare mai mult sau mai putin identice cu cele ale mecanismului preconizat, ca a fost recunoscut ca atare de diverse institutii internationale incluzand Comitetul impotriva Torturii (CAT) si ca beneficiaza, cel putin pe hartie, de garantii de independenta institutionala. CNCD-ul are competenta teoretica de a primi plangeri din partea persoanelor cu dizabilitati si de a efectua investigatii in institutii, chiar daca in practica activitatea lor in acest domeniu este nesemnificativa. Inspectia Sociala, organism subordonat Guvernului, monitorizeaza calitatea serviciilor sociale, inclusiv institutiile rezidentiale pentru persoane cu dizabilitati. Infiintarea unui nou mecanism de monitorizare apare ca fiind problematica in conditiile in care exista deja o increngatura de institutii cu atributii similare. Este necesara mai intai clarificarea relatiilor intre aceste mecanisme si eventualelor conflictele de competenta, urmarindu-se in acelasi timp alocarea rationala a unor resurse bugetare finite, avand in vedere si faptul ca ca acest sector sufera deja de subfinantare/management financiar deficitar. Chestiunea suprapunerii de atributii a fost ridicata in mod repetat in dezbaterile din Parlament dar nu a fost elucidata niciodata de suporterii proiectului de lege. Mai mult decat atat, ostilitatea manifesta a CRJ fata de AP sugereaza teama de a pierde un program lucrativ si o clientela captiva si docila, respectiv persoanele inchise in institutii.

Infiintarea unui mecanism dedicat in mod special locurilor inchise pentru persoanele cu dizabilitati este o eroare tactica majora, care contravine ethosului egalitar si inclusiv al CRPD. Aceasta pentru ca proiectul de lege ar crea o alta structura segregata dedicata special persoanelor cu dizabilitati. In loc, aceasta functie ar trebui sa fie incredintata unei institutii inclusive de monitorizare, fie ca aceasta ar viza calitatea serviciilor sociale, locurile de detentie in genere, calitatea actului medical etc. Crearea unei alte structuri separate consolideaza si legitimeaza sistemul institutional segregat. In plus, se creaza astfel inca un obstacol in calea dezinstitutionalizarii, din moment ce acest deziderat contravine mandatului mecanismului de monitorizare, care are ca premiza prezervarea sistemului institutional (mecanismul monitorizeza, nu desfiinteaza sistemul).

Folosind imagini grafice si cifre brute care denota dimensiunea fenomenului violentei institutionalizate impotriva persoanelor cu dizabilitati din locuri inchise, campania Lagarele dintre noi a starnit, pe buna dreptate, indignarea multor cetateni. CRJ a deturnat energia creata in urma acestei campanii catre petitia adresata Parlamentului pentru adoptarea proiectului de lege. Daca nimeni nu contesta gravitatea problemei descrise, nu rezulta de nicaieri ca mecanismul este solutia optima. Campania “Lagarele dintre noi” a supraestimat in mod constant capacitatea acestui mecanism de a rezolva problemele majore din sistemul institutional, inducandu-si astfel in eroare suporterii si publicul. Unul din sloganele campaniei “Semneaza petitia si elibereaza-i din lagare” este un exemplu elocvent in acest sens, avand in vedere lipsa completa de realism a acestei viziuni. Alte mesaje alese la intamplare contin fracturi logice evidente, portretizand mecanismul ca un panaceu la toate problemele pe care le intampina nefericitii din institutii:

 

Astfel, proiectul de lege oculteaza problemele reale ale rezidentilor din institutii, incluzand sistemul institutional de ingrijire si tratament insusi, lipsa dezinstitutionalizarii (care nu este mentionata nici macar o singura data in textul proiectului), lipsa suportului pentru traiul in comunitate, stereotipuri si stigma larg impartasite in imaginarul popular, un sistem care privilegiaza interdictia ca metoda de ‘protectie’ a persoanelor cu dizablitati etc. Distorsionand realitatea problemelor din institutii, proiectul de lege si campania aferenta compromite sansele unei reforme serioase a sistemului.

In realitate, justificarea proiectului de lege nu se regaseste in nevoile reale ale persoanelor cu dizabilitati, ci in interesele tranzitorii ale CRJ si abilitatile staffului acesteia. Utilizatorii si supravietuitorii sistemului psihiatric si de asistenta sociala nu au fost consultati si nu sunt implicati in campanie, persoanele cu dizabilitati apar in materialele de campanie exclusiv ca victime anonime si neputincioase, materialele de presa aferente sunt excesiv de medicalizate (vezi de exemplu articolul cu titlul neverosimil “Condamnati la nebunie”), procesul de consultare care este de esenta CRPD-ului nu a fost niciodata realizat cu adevarat, criticii sunt condamnati ca retrograzi si trecuti sub tacere. Aceste neajunsuri sunt cu atat mai grave cu cat CRJ si asociatii ei sunt total nereprezentativi pentru segmentul de populatie pe care pretind ca il reprezinta. Lipsa de reprezentativitate acutizeaza gravitatea sustinerilor exagerate privind natura si potentialul mecanismului, dar si lipsa unui model de tragere la raspundere a CRJ in cazul probabil in care mecanismul se va dovedi o greseala grava. 

In concluzie, proiectul de lege este deficitar din mai multe motive. Unu, proiectul de lege incalca Art. 33§2 CRPD, cu consecinte care se vor resfrange asupra tuturor persoanelor cu dizabilitati din Romania, nu numai cele din institutii. Doi, include prevederi foarte problematice care au potentialul de a compromite garantiile impotriva detentiei arbitrare si pentru asigurarea accesului la justitie conform CEDO si CRPD. Trei, denatureaza continutul hotararii Campeanu v Romania si compromite potentialul ei de reforma. Patru, proiectul de lege implica riscul real al crearii unui alt mecanism ineficace care conserva status-quo-ul si derobeaza parchetele si instantele de obligatiile pe care le au catre persoanele cu dizabilitati. Cinci, atributiile mecanismului preconizat se suprapun cu cele ale altor institutii si agentii guvernamentale, cu potential real de risipa si confuzie. Sase, crearea unui alt mecanism separat dedicat in exclusivitate persoanelor cu dizabilitati consolideaza sistemul institutional de ingrijire si tratement. Sapte, promotorii proiectului de lege au indus in eroare publicul cu privire la natura mecanismului propus, supraestimand cu rea credinta capacitatea sa de a rezolva problemele din sistem. Mai mult decat atat, atentia exclusiva asupra mecanismului compromite posibilitatea diagnosticarii realiste a problemelor din sistem, si implicit, sansele unei reforme reale in viitorul apropiat. In ultimul rand, proiectul de lege sufera fundamental prin lipsa implicarii persoanelor afectate direct, precum si prin imagistica folosita, a caror protagonisti sunt persoane invizibile, neputincioase si dependente, de natura a perpetua sterotipurile populare si a compromite reintegrarea lor in societate. Din moment ce contradictiile si problemele proiectului sunt imposibil de rectificat, solicit retragerea de urgenta a proiectului de pe ordinea de zi a Senatului. 

Constantin Cojocariu este avocat cu expertiza recunoscuta pe plan international in drepturile persoanelor cu dizabilitati. A reprezentat reclamantii in numeroase cauze importante la CEDO impotriva mai multor tari, inclusiv Campeanu impotriva Romaniei. Ultima sa publicatie de specialitate este "Hit and Miss: Procedural accommodations of applicants with mental disabilities to the European Court of Human Rights," in "Research Companion on Disability Law," Ashgate, 2015 (in curs de aparitie). Constantin are un LLM in Human Rights de la Universitatea Central Europeana, Budapesta.

Short statement on the publication of decision in Gherghina v. Romania case

The European Court of Human Rights published today, rather unexpectedly, the judgment in the Grand Chamber case Gherghina v Romania, in which I represented the applicant, concerning the lack of accessibility and failure to provide reasonable accommodation to a wheelchair-using student. 

Unfortunately, the Court rejected our arguments to the effect that Romania lacks effective remedies allowing people with disabilities the chance to challenge non-compliance with accessibility duties. Accordingly, the Court declared the case inadmissible for failure to exhaust domestic remedies. 

While this is disheartening, I can only hope that on another day, the Court will find the resources to look beyond the surface and connect to the realities of being disabled in Romania, requiring a less formalistic approach, more attuned to the universal values that the Convention is supposed to protect. More detailed comments to follow.

The decision is available here.  

Bataliny v Russia - possibly first judgment on human scientific experimentation (short case note)

Bataliny v Russia is another notable psychiatric detention case decided during the holiday period. Besides the usual litany of unlawful detention, lack of remedies and beatings, this may be the first time the court finds a violation of article 3 on account of non-consensual participation in a research programme for new antipsychotic medication. 

Its interesting the Court felt it was necessary to deploy all the heavy weaponry, citing the 1947 Nuremberg Codes prohibiting human experiments, the 1964 Helsinki Declaration, the MI Principles (extensively), the Oviedo Convention (extensively) and the CRPD (discretely). The Court's task was made considerably easier by conclusive evidence acknowledging that the applicant had been unnecessarily and unlawfully detained and that he had been subjected to tests for new antipsychotic drugs. 

The Court would not otherwise touch the use or abuse of antipsychotic medication in psychiatric hospitals with a bargepole, or engage in any meaningful review of medical necessity, which is why its new found zeal is this and other isolated cases is somewhat misleading.

Anyways, here you have it - Bataliny v Russia, (possibly) the first case on human scientific experimentation from the european court of human rights.

"The Court finds unacceptable, in the light of international standards, that a program of scientific research with new drugs be implemented without the consent of the subject submitted to the experimentation." (at para 90)

Rapid reaction to European Court judgment on sterilisation of trans people

The European Court of Human Rights has delivered a good solid judgment today in the case YY v Turkey, concerning the inability of a trans man to access gender reassignment surgery, a precondition to legal gender recognition, on account of being still fertile.

The Court found a violation of Art 8, which turns on a peculiar feature of the Turkish law that requires persons seeking an authorisation to undergo genital surgery for the purposes of obtaining gender recognition, to prove that they are infertile, even before undergoing surgery. In most other relevant countries, sterilisation (whether alone, or as a part of a broader gender reassignment package) is a prerequisite to legal gender recognition, as opposed to being a precondition to gender reassignment leading to gender recognition as in Turkey. The Turkish government was not able to justify this requirement, which was thus held to be "unnecessary in a democratic society."

Interestingly, the Court undertook an extensive survey of national laws in the area, noted the trends towards abandoning sterilisation altogether, including by citing relevant Council of Europe legislation, although it stopped short from ruling out the sterilisation requirement in abstract, distinct from the particular set of facts before it.

Four concurring judges (so a majority of the Chamber!) would have preferred a more in-depth examination of the validity of the sterilisation requirement in abstract. This bodes well for future challenges provided that the right set of facts comes before the Court.

Public hearing before the Grand Chamber in Gherghina v. Romania

In the good tradition of this blog, news come very late.

Take this for example, the Grand Chamber hearing in the case Gherghina v. Romania, which took place on 12 November 2014, which I have not yet reported on here, and which is my third Grand Chamber hearing in slightly longer than one year.

The case concerns the Romanian authorities' failure to ensure universities were accessible and that reasonable accommodation was offered to the applicant, a young man using a wheelchair. The hearing focused mostly on the existence and nature of remedies in Romania for the type of claims raised by the applicant, as well as on other interesting issues such as what constitutes acceptable reasonable accommodation, the implications of costs for characterising the applicant's claims or types of discrimination. I represented the applicant together with my dear friend Horatiu Rusu, lecturer in human rights at the Sibiu University. We expect to receive the judgment during the first half of 2015

The webcast of the hearing is available HERE.

Hämäläinen v. Finland: A Story of Illusory Consensus and Lesser Families

This article is an edited version of a presentation that I gave at the Rights on the Move: Rainbow Families in Europe Conference that took place in Trento, Italy, on 16-17 October 2014.

This article offers a different perspective on the recent European Court of Human Rights Hämäläinen v. Finland judgment, primarily informed by my experience of acting as the applicant’s representative. As this is not intended to be an exhaustive analysis, I will try, as much as possible, not to reiterate criticism already formulated by Judges Sajó, Keller and Lemmens in their brilliant dissenting opinion, as well as by other commentators (see for example here or here). At the same time, mine is a view centered more on trans rights, as opposed to other commentators, who usually examined the judgment against the context of the Court’s jurisprudence on same-sex families more broadly. I advance two particular suggestions. First, the fact that trans people frequently inhabit a space of legal informality across Europe renders some of the Court’s methodological tools inappropriate – and I refer here in particular to consensus. Second, this judgment demonstrates that existing legal categories (such as sexual orientation) do not provide a satisfactory basis for categorizing trans people’s claims. This means that alternative arguments may have to be developed that more accurately reflect the particular experience of trans people.

(caption from public hearing before the Grand Chamber on 16 October 2013)

Which consensus?

The facts of the case are quite straightforward – the applicant celebrated a heterosexual marriage as a man, had a child together with her wife, and after ten years of married life came out as a trans woman. Under Finnish law, legal gender recognition of a married individual is conditional on a relatively seamless conversion of marriage into registered partnership, offering, for all effects and purposes, the same legal rights as marriage. The applicant argued before the Court that this amounted to forced divorce and complained about the breach of her rights under Articles 8 (right to private and family life), 12 (right to marry) and 14 (prohibition of discrimination) of the Convention.  The Court rejected the applicant’s claims twice – in Chamber and Grand Chamber formations respectively. The Grand Chamber held that Member States (MS) did not have an obligation to open marriage to same sex couples and that in any event it was not disproportionate to ask the applicant to accept a change in her civil status as a result of legal gender recognition, seeing that registered partnership was more or less identical to marriage in its legal effects.

The Hämäläinen Court’s determination that there was no consensus among MS on the issues involved in the case was critical to the eventual outcome. However, there are a number of general and trans-specific objections in relation to the manner in which the Court measured and then employed consensus. There are significant differences between the Court’s own survey and information available from other sources. In Hämäläinen, the Court found that 24 MS “have no clear legal framework for legal gender recognition or no legal provisions which specifically deal with the status of married persons who have undergone gender reassignment” (at §32). In the seminal trans rights case Christine Goodwin v. United Kingdom decided twelve years earlier in 2002, the Court relied on a finding that a vast majority of the MS surveyed (33 out of 37) permitted legal gender recognition (at §§55, 84). The two data sets don’t appear to square up, suggesting that there has been some backsliding since Goodwin, which surely cannot be accepted. On the other hand, a Europe-wide survey undertaken by ILGA Europe in 2012, which I referred to in my submissions, suggested that a slim majority of 24 ½ out of 47 MS permitted trans marriages to subsist post-legal gender recognition of one of the spouses.

The disparity between these surveys may possibly be explained by a difference in methodologies. Legal gender recognition is available in many countries based on administrative or judicial practice, which may be unreported, even in the absence of expressly stated legal rules. Even if such practice may be inconsistent or unclear, trans people may in effect be able to change their documents in many countries that the Court cited as lacking explicit legislation in the area. Furthermore, the Court cannot draw the conclusion that married people cannot transition legally simply from the absence of specific regulations to that effect. Particularly in a civil law tradition, courts will frequently require that any cause for the dissolution of marriage – including in the context of legal gender recognition – be expressly provided for in the law. For example, in 2006, the Austrian Constitutional Court ruled out forced divorce in a transgender marriage as it lacked a clear basis in the law. To the extent that consensus is based on a black or white reading of the law, it may not therefore represent an accurate depiction of the situation of trans people in many countries. Furthermore, the Court’s approach to consensus in Hämäläinen begs the broader question if any progress on trans rights is even feasible in the short term, given the unavoidable weight of a large number of countries with unclear procedures on legal gender recognition.

This notwithstanding, there still are some countries, such as Ireland, where legal gender recognition is simply not available, in any circumstances. The situation in those countries is in breach of existing jurisprudence to start with, as the Court had already largely validated the standard promoted by the Committee of Ministers that legal gender recognition procedures must be available, that should be “quick, transparent and accessible”, in cases such as Christine Goodwin v. United Kingdom or L. v. Lithuania. The Court cannot legitimately rely on a states’ culpable failure to comply with clear jurisprudence to build a consensus against trans people seeking legal gender recognition, like Heli Hämäläinen.

Any inferences drawn from a flawed survey must surely also be questionable. The Court had several alternatives to the problematic approach of focusing on the large number of countries said to lack clearly stated legislation on legal gender recognition, which it had recourse to elsewhere in its jurisprudence.  It could have discarded consensus as an adjudicatory tool in this case because it has not yielded useful results. It could have relied on clearly identifiable trends across Europe towards the simplification of legal gender recognition procedures, including by abandoning forced divorce, as argued by the applicant and the third party interveners in the case, and as per its celebrated approach in Christine Godwin. Finally, it could have taken into account the sample of states that took an explicit stand on the issue of transgender marriages, one way or the other, as it did in Vallianatos v. Greece or in X and others v Austria. Consensus determined in this way would actually have favored the applicant - 13 out of 19 countries would not have interfered with her marriage.

It has been pointed out elsewhere that at times the Court appears to manufacture a consensus to suit a predetermined outcome. On the other hand, in Hämäläinen consensus appear to shift even within the same judgment, leading to alarming conclusions. The Court stated initially that 24 out of 47 MS either lacked any legal framework on gender recognition OR specifically banned married people from changing their documents, warranting a wide margin of appreciation. However, at §80 the Court noted that “contrary to the majority of the Council of Europe member States, there exists a legal framework in Finland designed to provide legal recognition for the change of gender.” It appears that the Court all of a sudden made an assumption that all those 24 countries lacked any cognizable gender recognition frameworks, omitting to take into account the unspecified number of countries where legal gender recognition was possible, even if at the same time their position on transgender marriages was not clearly stated. This may have been an error, but it led to the questionable and unwarranted conclusion that the margin of appreciation “must in principle extend both to the State’s decision whether or not to enact legislation concerning legal recognition of the new gender of post-operative transsexuals and, having intervened, to the rules it lays down in order to achieve a balance between the competing public and private interests” (at §75). Judge Ziemele, concurring, emphasized the same point, stating that since “Finland already belongs to a minority group of States which recognize the relevant legal consequences of a gender change…, [it] is rather advanced in its internal processes as compared with the other societies and probably does comply with positive obligations in so far as they can be deduced to exist.” Since Finland already went beyond what was strictly required under the Convention, Judge Ziemele’s reasoning went, the Court might as well have stopped at this juncture without going into the proportionality analysis.

The manner in which the Court manipulated consensus in Hämäläinen has the potential to destabilize its jurisprudence on trans rights, and weaken rights that we thought had already been won. Christine Goodwin is a celebrated precedent precisely because it removed legal gender recognition from the margin of appreciation, and recognized it as a right derived from Article 8, corresponding to a positive obligation that states owed under the Convention. MS do not have a choice in this respect, as the Court now suggests in Hämäläinen. Although alarming, this statement may have been an oversight, as the Court actually reiterated approvingly the holding in Goodwin and its progeny in its recapitulation of the principles applicable to the case (at§68). Nevertheless, the contradictory statements that the Court makes once against demonstrate that the Goodwin judgment has not been sufficiently internalized in Strasbourg, and may be seized on by governments in future litigation to make life harder for trans claimants. 

The problems with utilizing sexual orientation as an exclusionary criterion in the case of transgender marriages

From the beginning of my involvement after the Chamber’s ruling, I tried very hard to distinguish the applicant’s situation from that of a same-sex marriage seeking to get married (for more details about my strategy see my previous articles here and here).  On the one hand, I was aware that the Court was not willing to change tack so soon after its latest ruling on same-sex marriage in Schalk and Kopf v Austria. On the other hand, it seemed to me that there were genuine and material distinctions between the two situations. Ultimately, the Court concluded sternly that regardless of the fact that the applicant had not advocated for same-sex marriage in general, the fact remained that her claim, if accepted, would lead to the existence of a same-sex marriage (at §70). In that respect, the findings from Schalk and Kopf, to the effect that Article 8 cannot be interpreted to impose on obligation on Contracting States to grant same sex couples access to marriage, at least not until the prevailing consensus against same sex marriage changed, also had to apply in Hämäläinen. Judge Ziemele dissenting interpreted the majority’s rationale in the same key – that “there has been no violation on account of the absence of a specific positive obligation to introduce legislation on same-sex marriages.”

Leaving aside the distinction between the acquired right to remain married and the presumptive right to get married, which goes to the heart of the case, I find it almost offensive that the applicant’s relationship should come to be defined exclusively on the basis of a criterion which is more or less irrelevant in this particular context – their ascribed sexual orientation. There has to be an element of private choice in sexual orientation, it cannot be ascribed to an individual by courts or administrative agencies. In other words, the price of escaping the box of gender, is to be boxed in another legal category applied almost by default – that of same-sex marriage. The dissenters in fact alluded to this aspect, when suggesting that the applicant’s situation was different from that of homosexual couples, and that therefore her relationship should have been treated differently:

In fact, the national legal order treats their situation like that of homosexuals. However, at least at the time of their entry into marriage, the applicant and her spouse were not homosexual partners. Even after the applicant’s gender reassignment, it is an oversimplification of the situation to treat her relationship as a homosexual one. In our view, the crucial question regarding the discrimination issue is whether the State has failed to differentiate between the applicant’s situation and that of a homosexual couple by failing to introduce appropriate exceptions to the rule debarring same-sex couples from the institution of marriage.

Ultimately, this judgment is another confirmation of the Court’s bias toward schematic and traditional family units, typically formed of (different-sex) couples and their minor children (for criticism of a recent judgment that also exemplifies this approach see HERE). The applicant’s relationship should qualify for equal protection not by virtue of the actual or presumed sexual orientation of the spouses assigned randomly by a court - whether homosexual, or heterosexual, or other -, but because it is a long, stable, loving relationship, not different in any relevant respects to that of any other married couple.

One final point. Some people expressed regret that Finland, of all countries where forced divorce is an issue, was the jurisdiction producing the case that made it to the Grand Chamber. Other countries, lacking the fall back option of registered partnership and the streamlined procedures that are available in Finland, would have been better candidates for a test case litigated at this level. Leaving aside the fact that strategic litigation includes a fair amount of opportunism, and that we did not really have a choice of countries to start with, I suggest somewhat counter-intuitively, that Finland was exactly the country that we needed, as it encapsulates neatly the essence of the demands made by trans people in the applicant’s position. This category of claimants usually want nothing short than preserving their marriage. To the extent that the case was brought against say, Italy, we could expect at most a finding of a violation of Article 8 on account of the absence of alternatives less restrictive than the dissolution of marriage.  Although this would be a positive outcome in that it would benefit same-sex couples, it would arguably still feel like a loss to partners in a transgender marriage, who would still have to give up their marriage as a prerequisite to legal gender recognition. In all likelihood, many couples would relinquish or postpone indefinitely gender recognition and continue their existence as de facto same-sex married couples. They would thus be pushed to inhabit a grey area of legality, appearing as married same-sex couples in countries prohibiting same sex marriages, whereas the trans spouse would identify publicly in their self identified gender, even if it would still not be recognised under the law.

Conclusion

Ultimately, the experience of trans rights litigation in the past may suggest that we should better look at Hämäläinen as a necessary step in a broader process of change, just as Christine Goodwin came after a series of disappointing trans rights judgments against the United Kingdom. The particular set-up in the United Kingdom came to define the Court’s jurisprudence on trans issues. As I argued elsewhere, this is now an inadequate framework, for at least two reasons – because of the different realities in countries other than the United Kingdom, particularly from Eastern Europe, and because of developments at the international level, emphasizing the autonomy of the individual to self-identify their gender, free from other requirements such as sterilization or forced divorce. As much as the Hämäläinen majority muddled the waters, the dissenters trailblazed an alternative path to a distinctive treatment of transgender claims in the future, and this may be the best outcome we could have hoped for at this particular moment.