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A seemingly nondescript office block next door to the International Criminal Tribunal for Yugoslavia... Churchillplein 6 is home to the Permanent Bureau of the Hague Conference.

[Author’s note:  this series distills the Convention as it applies to practitioners in the United States—it is not a definitive analysis of the treaty in a broader sense.  Call it a primer, if you will.  Parts One and Two focus on the treaty’s main operative articles, Part Three provides background, and Part Four, which follows here, delves into articles that, while important, have a bit less practical application to everyday practice.]

Article 13 sets out the only two bases for a Central Authority’s refusal to execute a request for service:  a violation of its sovereignty, and a threat to its security.  A country cannot deny a request just because it thinks its own courts should have jurisdiction over a dispute.

Article 16 allows for a default judgment only after six months from a request’s arrival at a Central Authority.  Elaboration on this idea is far too complicated for this space.

Article 18 allows countries with federal systems to decentralize their Central Authority function (yes, this seems counterintuitive).  We don’t.  That is, the U.S. doesn’t have a separate Central Authority for Maine, Minnesota, and Montana.  But Germany, Canada, and Switzerland all do.  They divide their Central Authorities geographically, and determining the right one can get pretty complex, especially where language is an issue.

Article 19 allows for service by additional methods other than those indicated in Articles 5 & 10 if the methods are used in the receiving country’s courts and are specifically made available to foreign plaintiffs.  I don’t know of any country whose law sets out a specific additional method.  (To be sure, Norway does not have a statute that says “hey, even though we object to Article 10, it’s okay for foreign plaintiffs to hire a private eye to serve process for them.”  Yet that’s what was argued once.)

That’s all, folks.  At least, that’s all for the Cliff’s Notes version of the Service Convention.  Questions are, of course, always welcome, as are comments.  Don’t be bashful.

1024px-Peace_Palace_by_Night

[Author’s note:  this series distills the Hague Service Convention as it applies to practitioners in the United States—it is not a definitive analysis of the treaty in a broader sense.Parts One and Two focus on the treaty’s main operative articles, Part Three, which follows here, provides a good bit of background, and Part Four delves into articles that, while important, have a little less application to everyday practice.]

Article 1, essentially, says where the Convention applies and where it doesn’t.

  • It applies if a plaintiff has “occasion to transmit (…) for service abroad”. That is, if you can serve the defendant in the U.S., the Convention doesn’t apply.  So don’t worry about it.  You may have enforcement issues later on, but for the purpose of putting the defendant on proper notice under U.S. law, you’re okay.
  • It applies if the defendant’s address is known. That is, if you don’t know the defendant’s whereabouts, the Convention doesn’t apply.  So don’t worry about it.  That said, if you can’t locate the defendant, you have bigger problems than Hague analysis.  Also, there’s a difference between not being able to find the guy and not even trying.  So don’t be lazy.

Article 3 indicates who can file a request under Article 5 (a “Forwarding Authority”), and what the request must consist of.  Important to note is that “the authority or competent judicial officer” making the request is defined by the country in which the case is being heard, and that definition is found in each country’s declarations to the treaty.  An Article 5 request sent from the U.S. must be signed by a court official or an attorney—it cannot be signed by just anybody authorized to serve process in the forum court.

Article 4 requires the receiving Central Authority to answer a request promptly if it is denied for formatting.  “Promptly” is a very loose term.

Article 9 allows requests to be conveyed to the Central Authority by diplomatic officials of the country hearing the claim.  Don’t spend much energy on this one, because using diplomats to convey a request defeats the purpose of the Convention in the first place.  Plus, U.S. diplomats won’t handle Hague Requests anyway—instead, they’ll just look at you funny and send you on your way.  Still, Article 9 is important to be aware of, just in case somebody tells you to just “call the State Department and have them do it.”  Sorry, pal.  Doesn’t work that way.

Tomorrow, we conclude the series with discussion of a few articles that aren’t frequently addressed, but that occasionally pop up in discussion of proper Hague Service.

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[Author’s note:  this series distills the Hague Service Convention as it applies to practitioners in the United States—it is not a definitive analysis of the treaty in a broader sense.  Parts One and Two focus on the treaty’s main operative articles, Part Three provides a bit of background, and Part Four delves into articles that, while important, have a bit less practical application to everyday practice.  This is Part Two, focused on Alternative Methods articulated in the Convention.]

There’s no such thing as “serving through the Hague Convention”.  For starters, you’ve got to get the name of the treaty right.  Here, we’re talking about the Hague Service Convention, not to be confused with the three dozen other treaties that are known as Hague Conventions.

Additionally, I sometimes have a lawyer-client say, “I have to serve a defendant in (Country X), but I don’t want to do it through the Hague.  That’s just too much hassle.”

Sorry, I say.  You don’t have a choice in the matter.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean what you think it means.  We just need to define ‘the Hague’.

What they really mean to say is that they don’t want to file a request with the foreign country’s Central Authority (see Part One).  Fortunately, in many countries, you have options beyond the Central Authority, and they come from the Convention’s Article 10.

Article 10 is at once a source of confusion and salvation.  Confusion because they aren’t available everywhere, salvation because they can be a far superior avenue to effective service.  Provided the country you’re serving in doesn’t object to the specific methods, Article 10 lets a plaintiff go beyond the Article 5 procedure and utilize the following“Alternative Methods”:

10(a):  Service by Postal Channels, which is to say, good old U.S. Mail (or FedEx, UPS, DHL—to be sure, the Post Office uses FedEx for its overseas courier deliveries, and I’ve never seen one rejected because “you used FedEx instead of the Post Office”).  Still, I argue that service by mail is a bad idea.

10(b):  Service via direct access to “judicial officers, officials or other competent persons” of the country you’re serving in.  In short, this means process servers in common law jurisdictions (except England/Wales), and it means officers akin to bailiffs in civil law systems.  This is ordinarily the quickest way to get things done.  It’s usually not the cheapest, but it’s fast—and it’s just as legally valid as an Article 5 request.

10(c):  Service via “Interested persons.”  For the most part, this one is swallowed up by the “other competent persons” designation of 10(b), except in England & Wales, whose declarations specify that 10(c) is the article applicable to the use of process servers.  Critical to note, though—the English/Welsh also require that a solicitor instruct the process server, so we Americans can’t just pick up the phone and hire some guy we know in Liverpool.

That’s it in a nutshell.  Stay tuned tomorrow for the background articles, which inform the operative portions of the Convention.

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The Peace Palace, Den Haag (The Hague), Netherlands.

[Author’s note:  this series distills the Hague Service Convention as it applies to practitioners in the United States—it is not a definitive analysis of the treaty in a broader sense.  Parts One and Two focus on the treaty’s main operative articles, Part Three provides pertinent background, and Part Four delves into articles that, while important, have a bit less practical application to everyday practice.  This is Part One, focused on the “Central Authority” method of requesting service, which is common to all countries in the treaty.  Except Russia, as you’ll see.]

Officially, it’s called the Convention of 15 November 1965 on the Service Abroad of Judicial and Extrajudicial Documents in Civil and Commercial Matters.  Colloquially, it’s called the Hague Service Convention, and if it applies, its strictures must be followed in U.S. courts.  To be sure, treaty analysis is not a precise analog to statutory construction, but that doesn’t mean it is overly complicated.

In general, the Convention lays out the method(s) by which a U.S. plaintiff can serve a defendant in another country that is also a member of the treaty.

Article 2 requires member countries to designate a Central Authority to field service requests from fellow treaty members.  Usually, this Authority is the Foreign Ministry or Justice Ministry (analogous to our State/Justice Departments), or in some cases, a specific Court.  Here in the U.S., our Central Authority is technically the Department of Justice, but its functions are outsourced to a private firm.  (The private firm, as you might expect, charges foreign requestors $95 to serve U.S. defendants.  But Justice’s refusal to waive/cover the charge violates a fee prohibition in Article 12—which in turn gives the Russians reason to deny U.S. requests as a matter of course!)

Article 5 is the most vital part of the treaty, the big dog, the real crux of the whole thing.  It requires a Central Authority to serve either according to its own method or, if appropriate, in a manner requested by the plaintiff.  The proper request form is described here.  (Aside: don’t get hung up on a requested method if you’re afraid the Central Authority will not observe forum court rules.  They don’t have to.  If the foreign government thinks serving by carrier pigeon is valid under its own law, then the U.S. court has to accept that, so long as the pigeon method doesn’t violate the Mullane standard of due process.  Given that publication still suffices, Mullane sets a very low bar.)

Article 5 also allows the receiving government to refuse untranslated documents, and requires that a summary of the documents be served with them.  If you go no further than Article 5 in trying to get a defendant served, you’re usually okay, although Article 10 alternatives may be the better option if available.

Article 6 requires the foreign Central Authority to send a Certificate to the applicant, indicating whether service has been effected.

  • If it hasn’t been effected, the Certificate says why not. Sometimes, it’s as simple as “sorry, the guy doesn’t live there anymore… try again.”
  • If it has been effected, the Certificate briefly indicates how it was done. This thing is like Kevlar®.  Bulletproof—at least, as long as the request was proper.

That’s it in a nutshell.  Stay tuned tomorrow for the Alternative Methods articulated in Article 10.

* Back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth (circa October, 1987), the lazier students among us set aside the masterwork that the teacher assigned and instead read a Cliff’s Notes, a bare-bones synopsis of the story that gave us juuuust enough information to seem like we’d done the assigned reading, but failed to provide real depth for an academic discussion.  Don’t want to be subjected to The Sound & the Fury?  Fine, Cliff’s is there for you.  [I should have read Cliff’s for that one, because the original was infuriating.  I hate Faulkner, and I still think anybody who likes him is out of their tree.] 

The point here to give lawyers the framework of the Hague Service Convention without drilling too deep into the nuances of its application.

In law school, the comparable distillations were called Nutshells, but that title just isn’t as poetic as Cliff’s Notes, and wouldn’t give me a chance to express my disdain for William Faulkner.

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A seemingly nondescript office block next door to the International Criminal Tribunal for Yugoslavia... Churchillplein 6 is home to the Permanent Bureau of the Hague Conference.

The Hague Conference on Private International Law reported this morning (via LinkedIn) that President Obama has signed and will shortly be depositing an instrument of ratification of the “Convention of 05 July 2006 on the Law Applicable to Certain Rights in Respect of Securities Held with an Intermediary”.

In short, the Convention seeks to harmonize/streamline Conflict of Law rules pertaining to the holding and transfer of securities with intermediaries.  Now, to be sure, only Switzerland and Mauritius have already ratified, but with the U.S. coming on board, more states are sure to follow.

We’ll post further details once they come from the White House and the Hague.

[UPDATE, 12/16/16:  see here for detail about the deposit of ratification.]

A point of procedure… the President ratifies treaties.  Not the Senate, much to the chagrin of Senators of all stripes.  The Senate advises and consents to ratification.  The instrument of ratification is submitted to the Dutch Foreign Ministry.

Ancienne boite aux lettres. Plus jamais le facteur ne s'arrêtera car celle-ci est abandonnée, inanimée depuis maintenant trop longtemps. Old mailbox. Never again will the postman stop because this one is abandoned, inanimate for too long now.
Free Nomad, Unsplash

[Covid-19 Update, 2020 and beyond:  Service by mail just became an even worse idea… and it hasn’t truly improved much since the pandemic waned.  Signature requirements just aren’t adhered to like they used to be, and even where they are, it’s tough to actually discern who really signed for anything.]

At first glance, simply mailing a summons & complaint is the easiest, most hassle-free way of serving a defendant located abroad.  Looks can be (and in the Hague Service world, usually are) deceiving.  Unless you have no other recourse, it’s an awfully bad idea to use such a simplistic method to serve.

Keep proof in mind.

Even if you’re on solid legal footing (which is questionable—and I’ll get to that in a moment), you have a massive fact problem.  As in, “prove it, pal.”

Valid mail service, at least under federal rules, assumes that a return receipt can demonstrate a defendant’s actually getting the delivery in his hands.  Even in the U.S. this can be tough to prove, but when you go outside the country it gets decidedly more difficult.

Say you’re serving a big French corporation.  You use FedEx, which is widely considered as good as—if not better than—the U.S. Postal Service.  FedEx drops the envelope off at the mailroom and emails you notice of delivery.

Don’t pop any corks just yet.  Who signed for the thing?  Is “E. Macron” a sufficient indication of the signer’s name?  Is it a legible signature?  What is his/her role in the company?  Did you identify the appropriate address for service under French law?

That’s what I thought, counsel.  You can’t demonstrate to the court that the right guy in the right place signed for the delivery.  (Hint: Emmanuel Macron is the President of the French Republic.  Doubtful that he’s the fellow accepting deliveries in the mailroom at Citroën.)

Even if you could demonstrate it…

Watch for validity in the defendant’s home country

The Hague Service Convention—specifically, Article 10(a)—allows for service of process via postal channels.  Essentially, the “postal channels” idea encompasses good old U.S. Mail (and its foreign counterparts) and courier services like FedEx, UPS, DHL, and other regional providers.  But the method is only valid if the Destination State (the country you’re serving in) doesn’t object.

In Germany?  Nein.

How about China?  没有。 (Which is to say, Méiyǒu.)

Surely those efficient folks in Switzerland approve it?  Nein/Non/No.   (Curveball there.  Switzerland speaks a whole bunch of languages.  German/French/Italian…)

Maybe Japan? ほぼ。 幾分。 (Hobo. Ikubun.  Which is to say, almost, somewhat.  The Japanese are a bit cagey about their view on mail.)    As of 2018, いいえ.  Īe.  No– Japan clarified that mail is out.

Point is, if the Destination State objects to mail, don’t even bother trying it, because the forum court’s view doesn’t matter.  It ain’t valid under the treaty.  (See here for why.)

Still, if the Destination State is okay with it, you’re still not done…

Is it valid in the forum court?

In state court, look first to the applicable rules of civil procedure.  If mail doesn’t fly there, Article 10(a) isn’t going to make it so (Article 5 will, but that’s a different issue).  Under FRCP 4(f), yes, overseas service by mail is valid.  But– and it’s a yuuuge but…

A significant circuit split throws the whole idea of Hague mail service into question.  The 5th and 8th Circuits have held Article 10(a) invalid due to a drafting error.*  The 2d and the 9th are perfectly okay with it, seeming to giggle a bit at the reasoning used by 5 & 8.  Other circuits have avoided the issue, but the trend at the District level is to say no, nein, méiyǒu. **

But, let’s say the rules are with you…

Have you mailed it correctly?

(For more on this, see Hague Mail Service… if you must do it, do it right.)

Rule 4(f)(2)(C)(ii) requires that the dispatch of documents be addressed by the clerk of court.  That is, the plaintiff’s lawyer (or the litigant) cannot simply mail the thing his/herself.

To do it right, the lawyer assembles everything, prints an airbill, and hands the unsealed FedEx envelope to the clerk.  The clerk inventories the documents, seals the envelope, and tosses the thing into the outbox for Joe to pick up.  (Joe is my FedEx guy.  And he’s pretty cool.  Aside: buy Joe a sandwich once in a while.  He’s earned it.)

Now, with some verbal gymnastics, you might be able to convince the court that 4(f)(2)(C)(ii) doesn’t apply to Hague service [I submit that it does apply], but that’s an expensive argument to make when your goal is to cheap out in the first place.  You might win, but the time spent briefing and arguing the thing will definitely eat the savings.

The Bottom Line

Don’t cheap out.  Don’t conclude that the easy way is the right way.  Even if you’re in S.D.N.Y. and you have the clerk send the thing (S.D.N.Y. has a dedicated person to handle this stuff—most other courts look at you like you have three heads), and even if it’s going to Canada or England or France, smart defense counsel might get your attempt quashed on a factual basis alone (again, prove it).

The better way, for you, for your client, and for justice, is to bear a bit more cost and use a more practical Hague method.

Related post on Due Process:
Civ Pro for 4L’s: the Mullane standard and service abroad

*I won’t detail the 5th/8th reasoning here—suffice to say that I disagree.  Why in the hell would mail even be in the Convention if it weren’t a valid method?  Perhaps this is why I don’t wear a robe for a living.  Still, I’m chomping at the bit to get this issue resolved, and I’ve already mapped out the brief while sitting here.  Nudge nudge… if you have a test case, I might just take up the appeal for free.  Know what I mean?  It may not matter, frankly… The Nine Eight Wise Souls might resolve the split this term in Water Splash v. Menon… see Ted Folkman’s ongoing coverage over at at Letters Blogatory for more.

** UPDATE, May 2017: The Nine Eight Wise Souls did indeed resolve the split, unanimously.  See my post on Water Splash here.

*** UPDATE, May, 2017:  This post originally indicated François Hollande as the President.  That changed on 5/14/17.

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Image by Niels de Wit, via Wikimedia Commons.

Over the years, I’ve repeatedly had lawyer clients say to me, “I have to serve a defendant in (Country X), but I don’t want to do it through the Hague.  That’s just too much hassle.”

Ahem, sorry, I say to them.  You don’t have a choice in the matter.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean what you think it means.  We just need to define ‘the Hague’.

The bottom line is this: if you have to serve a defendant in a country that is party to the Hague Service Convention, you must observe the strictures of the treaty.  Period.

Why? Because this lady said so:

Source: National Archives.
Sandra Day O’Connor’s swearing in, 1981.  Image source: National Archives.

And eight of her friends backed her up in much of the reasoning.  But again, that doesn’t necessarily limit your options.  It all depends on the country.

First, recognize the mandatory & exclusive nature of the treaty.  Just so you don’t have to brief the case as if you’re in law school again, here’s the skinny on Volkswagenwerk AG v. Schlunk, 486 U.S. 694 (1988), the granddaddy case in overseas service.  Schlunk set forth two absolutes:

  1. If the Convention applies, it’s mandatory, so don’t try to get cute with the methodology, even if the judge says you have to do it his way (at 699).
  2. The methods articulated constitute an exhaustive list (at 706).  Full stop.  Service by drone is not listed, so forget it.*  Delivery by  Hogwarts owl?  Nope.  Stick to the treaty or don’t serve.**

Interestingly, the court held that in the specific facts of Schlunk the Hague Service Convention didn’t apply.  Illinois statute allowed for service on a foreign corporation by delivery to its Illinois subsidiary.  Schlunk sued Volkswagen in Illinois state court, and his counsel appropriately served VW via its U.S. subsidiary’s Chicago headquarters.  Done.

By its own terms, the Convention applies only if there is occasion to send documents abroad for service.  No need to send abroad if you can get them in Chicago.  [Congratulations to the Cubs, while I’m thinking about it.]

Still, the decision is seminal in Hague service by U.S. plaintiffs.  Justice O’Connor was awfully clear in her logic:  if the treaty applies, follow it, but it doesn’t apply here, so the case can proceed.  That being said, the treaty also sets out more than one method for serving, provided the destination state doesn’t object.  Many of them do, so you’re limited in Germany (including Volkswagen), China, and Korea.  You’re kinda-sorta limited in Japan.

But you can hire a process server in Saskatchewan.  Depending on your venue, you can mail service to France (more in a later post on why that’s a bad idea).  You can make a direct request to a gerechtsdeurwaarder if your defendant is a very tall Dutch fellow in Rotterdam.

What my lawyer-clients really meant in all those phone calls was that they didn’t want to have to fill out all the paperwork necessary for a request to a Hague Central Authority.  The hassle is often unavoidable, but in many cases, isn’t required.

 

*Hat tip to Ted Folkman for perfect timing of that post.

** We’ll get into email service in a later post.  It may have only existed in Al Gore’s mind in 1988, but it might just fly under Article 10(a) today.  Might.

Times
New York Times, January 13, 2024.

[Although we’ve seen a couple of hopeful glimmers lately, I still recommend that my clients expect a full two years before receipt of proof, and even that might be optimistic.  The New York Times reports that Indian courts have a backlog of 50 million criminal and civil cases, positing that clearing the backlog will take three centuries.  We do have ways of mitigating the delay with the help of Indian counsel.]

India.  Earth’s largest democracy, with a sophisticated society and legal structure.  Rich in religious tradition, it is home to both the Hindu and Sikh faiths, as well as multiple yoga forms and transcendental meditation.  India is an ancient and mystic land of one and a quarter billion people (that’s billion, with a B).

And they have one guy working in their Central Authority for the Hague Service Convention.*

One.  Guy.

[See here for our “how to” guide on serving in India.]

No wonder the wait time for service of process in India is among the worst in the world.  You FedEx a request to New Delhi, and it sits in the Authority’s mail cart for three months before the fellow can even open it.  He then sends it out to whatever court has jurisdiction over the defendant, and the court sits on it for three more months, before finally sending a bailiff out to deliver the papers.  Maybe the bailiff serves it, maybe not.

Either way, the paperwork gets routed back through the same bureaucratic pipeline in reverse, before a proof of service (or non-service) comes back to the lawyer who requested it.  Sometimes a year later, depending on circumstances.  Yes, it can be sped up a bit if you know how to jump the line, but even in that instance, six months is the bare minimum.

Given India’s opposition to Hague “alternative methods” (see Article 10), there is no way around the Central Authority, so if your defendant is in India, you’re stuck with a single way to serve him.  This is the only legal way to do it— the biggest issue with India, frankly, is not how it’s done, but why it takes so blasted long.

Perhaps the judge is agitated.  No question the plaintiff is anxious.  But this is truly the only way to legally effect service.

Fret not, though.  It may take a long time, but India still gets the job done—and is fairly detailed in its reasoning if service is not effected.  Under federal rules, time is not a fatal issue when serving abroad.  Specifically, FRCP 4(m) waives the 90-day deadline to serve (formerly 120 days, until the December, 2015 revisions) before the case must be dismissed.**  This does not, obviously, give plaintiffs unlimited time, but a reasonable diligence standard applies—as long as counsel is not dilatory (yeah, I had to look that one up), the court is going to allow plenty of time.  Reasonable diligence is pretty simple… once the request arrives in New Delhi, the lawyer’s duty is fulfilled.

That ought to satisfy the judge.  Your client, on the other hand… I don’t know what to tell you.  Have them meditate?

* Okay, I exaggerate.  It’s not just a single person, but it’s a tiny, tiny staff.

** In all but a couple of states—very cold states where they make cheese and cars—procedural rules and case law generally reach the same result.  So relax (unless you’re in Wisconsin or Michigan, in which case let’s talk).

Door_Knocker
Image by Fancibaer, courtesy Wikimedia Commons.

Rule #1 in pursuing discovery in other countries:  stop calling it discovery.  It’s evidence taking or, in many instances, evidence compulsion.  Why?  Because foreign legal systems, especially those in the civil law tradition, take a dim view of American-style discovery.  When a U.S. litigator comes at them with a subpoena, walls get thrown up rather quickly, and the litigator is left out in the cold, often not understanding why.

The distinction between “taking” and “compulsion” is critical to actually getting at the evidence sought.  American lawyers serve subpoenas on third parties as a matter of course.  We really don’t see a problem in the practice because it is so commonplace in U.S. practice.  When the U.S. third party receives a subpoena, they usually don’t take it personally because, again, it is so commonplace.  But a subpoena is by its very nature a coercive document.  Essentially: produce what I seek or else…

The “or else” is what makes standard demand language so dangerous when attorneys try to serve a subpoena overseas.  Technically, a U.S. subpoena can’t be served abroad (at least not with any real effect), but the service technicality masks the real problem with subpoenas.  They’re actually counterproductive because they leave a sour taste in the third party’s mouth– a taste of vinegar, as it were– and fail to actually get at the evidence sought.

Very often, the more practical avenue is to tell the third party about the action and simply ask for the evidence:  “My dear Herr Schmidt, would you kindly provide me a copy of (document)?  It is an important piece of evidence in a case that my client is pursuing, and we would appreciate your gracious assistance.”

That’s the honey.  And it catches a whole lot more flies than the vinegar.

Of course, certain formalities might be necessary, such as legalization, a Hague Apostille, or an appropriate privacy release signed by the party-opponent.  Moreover, blocking statutes may prohibit the release of information for use in U.S. litigation (Swiss banking laws are a ready example).  But the cordial & direct approach might be the best first step before proceeding to the more formalized Letter Rogatory or Hague Evidence Request.*

 

*Hint: a Hague Evidence Request really is just a Letter Rogatory at its core.  The Hague Evidence Convention eliminates some costs and procedural barriers (eg: the need for diplomatic channels), but it does not overcome the need for a foreign court’s involvement.

 

 

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The Peace Palace, Den Haag

The Hague, Netherlands.  November 10, 2016.

I’m in the small city in Holland that is both the Dutch political capital and the center of global  jurisprudence.  Home to the International Court of Justice, it is also where some three dozen international agreements—the Hague Conventions—have been formulated to harmonize cross-border legal doctrines in private law.  As it happens, I am on a journey to visit the Permanent Bureau of the Hague Conference on Private International Law.  Several colleagues have joined me on the adventure, a day trip from a lecture series in Paris hosted by my alma mater, the University of Missouri-Kansas City School of Law.

With the Honorable Christophe Bernasconi, Secretary-General.
With Hon. Christophe Bernasconi, Secretary-General.

It’s here that the Hague Law Blog (HagueLawBlog.com) must be launched.  This new platform marks the beginning of yet another adventure—one that I hope brings efficiency and accuracy to the practicing bar, along with a bit of humor.  Many of my prior columns are migrating over from my firm website, and the new ones will cover every manner of Hague issue—including newly effective Conventions on Securities and Maintenance & Child Support—as well as some issues that lie outside the Hague Conference community.  I always welcome commentary from colleagues, and I invite questions any time.  Truly, I don’t have all the answers to questions I field from clients, and I hope to learn from this experience as much as I hope to contribute.

My mission is to enlighten my fellow lawyers and make us all better at the practice of law.  Two distinguished colleagues provide the inspiration for this launch (and I heartily recommend their work): Ted Folkman, author of Letters Blogatory , and  Dan Harris, author of China Law Blog.  I have read these two fellows’ work religiously for years; if I can be half as entertaining and a quarter as informative as they are, I’ll consider this mission successful.

Thanks for being here.  I look forward to our conversation.

Aaron