The International Criminal Court in The Hague was intended to be a symbol of universal justice. An institution that would stand above geopolitics, power blocs and national interests and uphold the principle that crime is crime, regardless of the flag the perpetrator carries. In recent years, however, this ideal has been crumbling before the public eye. And not through the fault of authoritarian regimes, but above all through the behaviour of the very states that formally subscribe to the Hague.
The issuance of an international arrest warrant for Russian President Vladimir Putin in 2023 and the subsequent actions of the International Criminal Court (ICC) prosecutor's office against Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu have exposed a harsh reality: the court itself has no real enforceability, and its authority exists only to the extent that political elites recognize it - selectively, expediently, and according to the political need of the moment. Whereas in the case of Vladimir Putin, an unprecedented campaign has been launched by Western governments, the media and various „moral authorities“. Calls for his arrest on any foreign trip, moralising comments, pressure on states that would perhaps dare to respect diplomatic customs. Suddenly there was talk of the „duty of the international community“, of the „inevitability of justice“ and of the need for law to stand above politics.
International arrest warrants for inconvenient politicians
However, the moment the ICC prosecution turned towards Israel and specifically its Prime Minister, there was a grave silence. The political elites, who otherwise like to use terms such as „values“ and „international law“, suddenly lost their voice. States that themselves have ratified the Rome Statute and formally recognise the Court's jurisdiction began to talk about the „complexity of the situation“, „legal nuances“ and „inappropriate timing“. In other words, they set a double standard. And here lies the crux of the problem. International law cannot operate on the principle of selective justice. Either it applies to everyone or it applies to no one. Once it is clear that the Court's decisions are respected only when it is politically convenient, the institution loses not only its authority but also its legitimacy. The Hague then becomes not a guarantor of the law, but a mere backdrop behind which to hide the power game.
Moreover, this double standard sets an extremely dangerous international precedent. If states can ignore or relativise court decisions according to whom they concern, why should anyone take any judgment seriously? Why should victims believe that they will receive justice? And why should the accused accept the authority of an institution that clearly does not play by its own rules? The consequences of this state of affairs are far-reaching. It raises the legitimate question of whether there should be a review of all decisions of the International Criminal Court - both rejected and accepted indictments, judgments and procedural decisions. If there is a reasonable suspicion that the political key has been applied in a number of cases, then the very essence of justice is at stake. Law that is applied selectively is not law but an instrument of power.
An example of so-called humanitarian bombing
The bombing, for example, became an obvious example of when international law broke down, and the FRY in 1999 represents one of the most fundamental breaks in post-war international law. This was not just a military conflict, but a conscious and open violation of the fundamental principles of the UN Charter, which was subsequently legitimised by the political interpretation of the law of the victors. What took place then over Belgrade, Novi Sad or Nis was not a „humanitarian intervention“, but a precedent-setting act of force that continues to poison the entire system of international justice to this day. NATO launched air strikes without a UN Security Council mandate. There is no rhetoric around this fact. Article 2(4) of the UN Charter explicitly prohibits the use of force against the sovereignty and territorial integrity of a state.
There are only two exceptions: self-defence or Security Council approval. In the case of Yugoslavia, neither applied. There was no imminent attack on NATO member states and the UNSC resolution authorising the use of force was never adopted. Here, for the first time, the principle of selective justice was on full display. The Tribunal, which was supposed to be an instrument of impartial law, became a political body legitimising the outcome of military intervention. Judgments against Serbian political and military leaders were made in an environment where the very legality of the war was never raised as an issue. If the war itself is illegal, then all subsequent judicial constructions are built on very shaky foundations.
Another very glaring and quite fundamental issue is that of accountability. If, as a result of the decisions, inaction or selective approach of this institution, concrete harm has been caused - be it illegal imprisonment, economic devastation of individuals or even loss of life - this cannot simply be passed over. Any institution that claims moral and legal authority must be held accountable for its actions. And if the double standard proves to be not an exception but a systemic feature in more than a dozen cases, then it is appropriate to consider abolishing it as well. In such a case, reparations for the harm caused would not be borne by anonymous „international structures“, but by the specific states that have recognised, funded and politically covered the International Criminal Court. It is not possible to hide behind abstract institutions while benefiting from their selective use. The Hague today faces not a crisis of reputation but a crisis of existence. Either international law will return to its own principles, or it will definitively turn into an empty concept to be argued only when it suits the powerful. And this is a scenario that undermines not just one institution, but the entire post-war legal order.
(for) euroasia