The collapse of good conscience and the absence of accountability and public scrutiny have led to crimes against humanity and violations of international law. ~ Nelson Mandela
International law? I better call my lawyer; he didn’t bring that up to me. ~ George W. Bush
International law stands at a critical juncture in its long and often fraught journey. It is not uncommon to hear voices from various corners of the globe question whether we are now witnessing its demise. The Guardian’s June 2025 piece, provocatively titled “Are we witnessing the death of international law?”, captures this moment with a sense of urgency. Its subtitle does not conceal the concern: from the weaponization of humanitarian intervention to the impotence of the International Criminal Court, the institutions that once held sway over the conduct of nations appear increasingly ignored or manipulated. Yet, to declare international law dead is to ignore the complex ecology of norms, institutions, practices, and values that still exert influence, however asymmetrical or inconsistent that influence may be. The question is not whether international law is dead, but whether it can still claim legitimacy and effectiveness in a world where power, not principle, so often determines outcomes.
Legitimacy in international law has traditionally been built on the concept of State consent and custom, which Oppenheim and Hart long insisted was the foundation of its legal character. This form of legitimacy, however, is procedural and formal. In the present era, legitimacy is also moral and participatory. For many in the Global South, international law still bears the residue of its colonial origins. Anthea Roberts, in Is International Law International? discusses the influence of Western epistemologies that dominate international legal scholarship and adjudication. The distribution of judges, litigators, and even the geographic location of courts and legal institutions reinforce this hegemony. A certain jurist’s observation that most decisions at the International Court of Justice reflect European legal traditions is not mere rhetoric—it is a searing indictment of a structure that remains aloof from the moral and cultural multiplicity of the world.
Writing from my specialized realm of aviation law, I have reflected similar concerns in my persistent call for balance and inclusiveness in the implementation of global standards. In my corpus, there is a recurring theme: law must not only bind but also inspire; it must not only command but also reflect shared values. In domains such as air law, uniformity is not enforced through coercion but through transparency, mutual trust, and normative expectations. It is perhaps in these mechanisms that one may find a future for international law, should it learn from its more functional branches.
Practical Obstacles
The effectiveness of international law is, however, harder to defend in the realm of global conflict. With no global police and with the United Nations Security Council effectively paralyzed by permanent member vetoes, enforcement is often an illusion. The International Criminal Court, while theoretically able to prosecute war crimes and crimes against humanity, faces serious political obstacles. The withdrawal of the United States from the ICC’s jurisdiction, Russia’s disregard for ICJ rulings, and Israel’s repeated rejection of UN resolutions all point to the same malaise: that enforcement of law at the international level remains contingent on power rather than principle. When legality becomes optional for the powerful, the credibility of law itself begins to erode.
Contemporary conflicts provide an unforgiving mirror. The war in Gaza, the skirmishes between Iran and Israel, and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine are case studies in legal paralysis. Despite ample documentation of violations of humanitarian law and the UN Charter, little has been done to hold violators accountable. Even when tribunals speak with clarity, their words dissolve into the ether. The ICJ can declare Israel’s occupation unlawful or Russia’s aggression illegitimate, but such declarations carry no teeth without enforcement. When Australia’s legal advisors label recent US-Israeli airstrikes on Iranian targets as “clearly illegal,” the world nods solemnly—and moves on. Enforcement remains a political decision, not a legal imperative.
The Silver Lining
Yet, international law is not entirely without power. Even in these trying times, States continue to invoke legal arguments, file complaints, and engage in norm-building. There is value in the very existence of treaties, courts, and procedures—even when they are imperfect. Compliance rates with ICJ judgments, while uneven, are not negligible. Regional courts such as the European Court of Human Rights have managed to secure relatively high implementation of their rulings, in part because they operate within a more coherent political and cultural context. More importantly, international law continues to provide a language of resistance, a platform for advocacy, and a framework for long-term accountability. Victims of aggression, refugees, and civil society actors rely on international law to tell their stories and demand justice.
Through my writings, I have often illustrated how international law works not only through formal sanctions but through moral persuasion and expectation. Aviation safety is not enforced through threats but through a shared understanding of mutual interest. This logic can be expanded: law, in its best form, creates standards that make deviation shameful, even if not criminally prosecutable. Norms, once deeply internalized, condition behavior. For example, the taboo against genocide, or the widespread expectation that asylum seekers deserve humane treatment, still resonates—even when States fail to live up to these expectations.
Of course, the limitations of international law are not merely the fault of its practitioners. The structure of global governance itself must bear responsibility. The United Nations Security Council, which was envisioned as the supreme organ for maintaining international peace and security, has become dysfunctional. The veto power granted to five States—China, Russia, the United States, the United Kingdom, and France—has rendered it incapable of decisive action in moments of crisis. When it cannot agree even on ceasefire language in the face of a humanitarian catastrophe, one must ask whether reform is overdue. Efforts to curtail the veto in cases of mass atrocities or to broaden the Council’s permanent membership are not new, but they now carry existential urgency.
Similarly, international law must better reflect the diversity of the world it claims to regulate. Scholars have long pointed out how global legal norms are rooted in Eurocentric frameworks. Reform requires more than token inclusion; it demands epistemic humility. Courts must open themselves to African customary law, Latin American constitutionalism, and Asian traditions of harmony and reconciliation. Likewise, institutions like the International Law Commission, the ICJ, and the ICC must diversify their leadership, not just by passport but by worldview.
There are also pathways forward that do not depend entirely on global institutions. Regional courts, hybrid tribunals, and the increasing use of universal jurisdiction offer promising alternatives. The Special Court for Sierra Leone, the Extraordinary Chambers in the Courts of Cambodia, and the Kosovo Specialist Chambers represent new models of accountability that combine domestic and international legal elements. They may lack the grandeur of The Hague, but they often enjoy greater legitimacy among local populations. Similarly, universal jurisdiction, though controversial, allows for the prosecution of egregious crimes regardless of where they occurred, as long as the accused is present.
Transparency and digital accountability may also serve as a new frontier. In an era of satellites, mobile cameras, and open-source intelligence, atrocities are harder to hide. Documentation by NGOs, citizen journalists, and investigative platforms can build a case even before courts are ready to hear them. Legal standards may be slow, but memory is fast. Public opinion, in a hyper-connected world, can sometimes be a substitute for enforcement—or at least a prelude to it.
My Take
The critique that international law serves as a mask for hegemonic interests remains valid. There is no denying that States invoke legal arguments selectively. The same power that calls for intervention in one case may resist it in another. Yet even hypocritical appeals to law affirm its normative gravity. No State wishes to be seen as illegal. As a commentator once noted, the very act of legal posturing affirms the continuing relevance of international law as a rhetorical and moral force.
Ultimately, international law’s legitimacy and effectiveness do not lie solely in its ability to punish. Rather, its promise rests in its capacity to establish expectations, shape narratives, and bind actors to a vision of global order that privileges rights over might. This vision is fragile, yes—but still necessary. My legal writings have blended law with philosophy and pragmatism, and I would argue that the rule of law must learn to live within imperfection. In aviation, compliance is not about fear but about understanding shared vulnerabilities. The same logic applies to international law writ large: States comply not because they must, but because they have come to see themselves as part of a community governed by common rules.
To sustain this community, the world must reform the institutions that administer justice, decentralize the centers of legal authority, and promote a legal culture that is genuinely global in outlook. Without such reforms, international law risks irrelevance. But if it can adapt—by drawing strength from its moral core, expanding its institutional flexibility, and embracing its critics—then it may yet endure. Not as a relic of a post-war idealism, but as a living, breathing framework capable of guiding humanity through the storms of the 21st century.
