International Law in Crisis and Civilian Protection

When rules exist, but do not stop the war

When following Gaza, Ukraine, or Iran, a question quickly arises: what is the point of international law if the strikes continue anyway? The answer is not “nothing”. But it’s tougher. The problem is not only the violation of the rules. It is also the weakening of those who should still defend them.

The foundation exists. The United Nations Charter imposes respect for the sovereignty of states, the prohibition of the use of force, and the peaceful settlement of disputes. In theory, everything starts from there. In practice, everything depends on one very political thing: the willingness of states to treat these principles as real constraints, and not just as useful slogans when they are convenient.

It is also important to remember that international law serves not only to regulate wars. It structures diplomacy, treaties, trade, navigation, and communications between states. We see it when everything holds. We see it abruptly when a conflict blocks a sea route, when humanitarian aid is cut off, or when sanctions disrupt entire economies. In these cases, the first ones affected are not the chancelleries. They are civilians, NGOs, small businesses, and countries that do not have the military strength to impose their version of the facts.

The law does not disappear. It faces execution

To say that international law is powerless because it is violated is moving too fast. The system still produces decisions. On March 16, 2022, the International Court of Justice ordered Russia to immediately suspend its military operations in Ukraine. On July 19, 2024, the same Court ruled that Israel’s continued presence in the occupied Palestinian territory was illegal under international law. The law still exists. It speaks. It arbitrates. It qualifies.

The real difficulty comes afterwards. Who applies it? Who creates pressure? Who bears the political cost of a clear condemnation? At the Security Council on June 4, 2025, a draft resolution calling for a permanent ceasefire in Gaza failed after an American veto. A few months earlier, on March 18, 2025, UN humanitarian officials warned that the resumption of hostilities and the blocking of aid were destroying the meager gains made during the truce. On Ukraine, the General Assembly reaffirmed the country’s sovereignty and territorial integrity on February 24, 2025, within its recognized borders. The normative framework still holds. But its scope depends on the political follow-through it receives.

In other words, international law does not die suddenly. It wears out when states cease to name it, defend it, and translate it into sanctions, diplomatic isolation, or concrete measures. A text that remains in the archives stops no one. A rule that is no longer invoked becomes one less reference point for weaker states, judges, mediators, and humanitarians.

Who wins when security comes before the rule?

The most powerful discourse today often boils down to a simple formula: national security comes first, or at least before legal considerations. This reasoning primarily benefits states with military force and strong political allies. It allows them to act quickly, justify urgency, and shift the discussion away from the law. It also benefits their allies, who sometimes prefer a tactical victory over a long and embarrassing legal battle.

But this choice has an immediate downside. It weakens states that do not have the capacity to retaliate alone. It reduces the protection space for civilians. It makes the position of diplomats who are still trying to build coalitions around a common rule more fragile. And it muddies the message sent to violators: if aggression, blockades, or annexations end up being treated as mere facts, then the rule does not disappear, it becomes selective.

On the flip side, strongly defending international law primarily serves the most exposed countries. Small states need a framework that limits the use of force. NGOs need rules to protect humanitarian access. Civilian populations need safeguards when war breaks out. That is also why the UN Charter emphasizes the peaceful settlement of disputes and the prohibition of the threat or use of force. Without this common minimum, everyone resorts to their own capacity for harm.

Realists have a valid point: law alone does not disarm an army or open a humanitarian corridor. They are right. A rule without political cost or enforcement mechanism remains fragile. But this limit does not justify abandonment. It just reminds us that the law needs institutions that embody it, governments that support it, and partners willing to expose themselves to make it thrive.

Silence from states weighs heavier than violations

The real tipping point comes when a violation is no longer called a violation. When a bombing, military operation, or blockade is no longer seen as a breach of the rule, but as a strategic option, the playing field changes. Vocabulary matters. Saying an action is “outside of the law” does not carry the same weight as saying it violates the law. In one case, a gray area is maintained. In the other, it is reminded that a norm still exists, therefore, a responsibility.

This is when silence becomes more dangerous than the violation itself. A rule that is violated but called out remains a rule. A rule that is violated, excused, and then forgotten begins to lose its strength. This is true for war. It is also true for humanitarian aid, occupation, annexation prohibition, and the refusal to aggress another state.

The system remains alive but vulnerable. It relies on a minimal belief: states still agree to act as if the law matters, even when it inconveniences them. If this belief fades, international law does not collapse in one fell swoop. It fades gradually. And, in this kind of erosion, the first damage does not affect grand speeches. It affects those who have no power over force but bear all its consequences.

What to watch for in the coming weeks

The next test will play out first in New York and The Hague. At the Security Council and the General Assembly, each new text on Gaza or Ukraine will indicate whether states still want to pay the price for a clear legal position. In front of the International Court of Justice, ongoing procedures will also continue to serve as a benchmark: not because they stop a war, but because they establish what the law accepts, or rejects, tolerating.

The real question is simple. Will the great powers continue to treat these decisions as constraints, or only as diplomatic accessories? This response determines the next steps. Not just the credibility of institutions. The practical survival of international law itself.