Pope renews call for immediate Gaza ceasefire
'I once again call for an immediate end to the barbarity of this war and for a peaceful resolution to the conflict,' the pontiff said at the end of his Sunday Angelus prayer from his summer retreat in Castel Gandolfo.
Leo also expressed his 'deep sorrow' for the Israeli attack on the only Catholic church in the Gaza Strip on Thursday, which killed three people and wounded 10 others, including the parish priest.
'I appeal to the international community to observe humanitarian law and respect the obligation to protect civilians as well as the prohibition of collective punishment, the indiscriminate use of force, and the forced displacement of populations,' the Pope added.
The shelling of the Holy Family Catholic Church in Gaza also damaged the church compound, where hundreds of Palestinians have been sheltering from the Israel-Hamas war, now in its 21st month.
Israel expressed regret over what it described as an accident and said it is investigating.
'We need to dialogue and abandon weapons,' the Pope said earlier today, after presiding over Mass at the nearby Cathedral of Albano.
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'The world no longer tolerates war.'
Gaza
The bodies of Palestinians who were killed while attempting to access aid trucks entering northern Gaza through the Zikim crossing with Israel are brought to a clinic in Gaza City.
Alamy Stock Photo
Alamy Stock Photo
Pope Leo's call for a ceasefire comes as at least 73 people have been killed while attempting to access aid at locations across Gaza, the health ministry in the Palestinian territory has said.
The largest toll was in the northern part of the territory, where 67 Palestinians were killed while trying to reach aid entering through the Zikim crossing with Israel.
More than 150 people were injured, with some of them in a critical condition, hospitals said.
Seven Palestinians were also killed while sheltering in tents in Khan Younis, including a five-year-old boy, according to the Kuwait Specialised Field Hospital, which received the casualties.
It was not immediately clear whether they were killed by the Israeli army or armed gangs, or both. But some witnesses said the Israeli military shot at the crowd.
The Israeli military said soldiers had shot at a gathering of thousands of Palestinians in northern Gaza who posed a threat, and that it was aware of some casualties. But it said the numbers being reported by teams in Gaza were far higher than the military's initial investigation found.
The military added it is attempting to facilitate the entry of aid, and blamed Hamas militants for fomenting chaos and endangering civilians.
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Irish Examiner
4 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Daniel O'Connell personified the perpetual importance of an independent Bar
On July 27, 1813, in the Court of King's Bench in Dublin, Daniel O'Connell rose to defend John Magee, publisher of the Dublin Evening Post, against a charge of criminal libel. His speech that day demonstrated how a skilled barrister could transform an oppressive legal system into an instrument of political change. The case of The King v. John Magee remains one of the most memorable examples of O'Connell's extraordinary ability to use his legal expertise in the service of justice and reform. The charge against Magee arose from his publication of a review criticising the departing Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Richmond. The article condemned Richmond's errors in governing Ireland and compared him to the worst of his predecessors, who were described as 'the profligate unprincipled Westmorland, the cold-hearted and cruel Camden, the artful and treacherous Cornwallis'. More significantly, it challenged the fundamental principle of British rule in Ireland — 'a principle of exclusion, which debars the majority of the people from the enjoyment of those privileges that are possessed by the minority'. This was no ordinary libel case. As O'Connell understood, it was unavoidably a political case, and it demanded a political speech. The prosecution was designed to suppress dissent and maintain the exclusion of Ireland's Catholic majority from political participation. Attorney General William Saurin made this clear in his opening, describing Magee as a 'ruffian' whose purpose was 'to excite [in the minds of the population] hatred against those whom the laws have appointed to rule over them, and prepare them for revolution'. O'Connell faced formidable obstacles. The law of criminal libel was so broad that, as he later observed, 'every letter I ever published could be declared a libel' and the libel law could 'produce a conviction with a proper judge and jury for The Lord's Prayer with due legal inuendoes'. More damaging still was the composition of the jury — hand-picked to ensure conviction. With characteristic boldness, O'Connell confronted this unfairness head-on, telling the jurors: 'Gentlemen, he [the Attorney General] thinks he knows his men; he knows you; many of you signed the no-popery petition... you would not have been summoned on this jury if you had entertained liberal sentiments'. Rather than being cowed by these disadvantages, O'Connell turned them into weapons. He began by meeting Saurin's personal attacks, describing the Attorney General's speech as a 'farrago of helpless absurdity'. When Saurin had stooped to calling Magee a ruffian and comparing him to 'the keeper of a house of ill fame', O'Connell lamented how far Saurin fell below the standards of the great Irish barristers such as Curran and Ponsonby: 'Devoid of taste and of genius, how can he have had memory enough to preserve this original vulgarity — he is, indeed, an object of compassion; and, from my inmost soul, I bestow on him my forgiveness and my bounteous pity'. O'Connell was even able to use Saurin's own words against him. When the Attorney General accused Magee of Jacobinism, O'Connell recalled Saurin's defence of himself against the same charge in 1800, when Saurin, then anti-union, had declared that 'agitation is ... the price necessarily paid for liberty'. O'Connell's response was devastating: 'We have paid the price, gentlemen, and the honest man refuses to give us the goods'. What made O'Connell's defence truly remarkable was how he transformed a hopeless legal case into a powerful platform for political reform. His bold claim: 'the Catholic cause is on its majestic march — its progress is rapid and obvious... We will, we must, be soon emancipated' is electrifying even now. What must it have sounded like in his voice, in that court, in that trial, in those times? His confidence in his legal position was equally striking. When Saurin threatened to crush the Catholic Board, O'Connell declared: 'I am, if not a lawyer, at least a barrister. On this subject, I ought to know something; and I do not hesitate to contradict the Attorney General ... the Catholic Board is perfectly a legal assembly — that it not only does not violate the law, but that it is entitled to the protection of the law' Perhaps the most significant moment came not during the trial itself, but at the sentencing hearing on November 27, 1813. When Saurin attempted to use Magee's publication of O'Connell's defence speech as grounds for increasing Magee's sentence, O'Connell delivered what may be his most important statement on the role of the legal profession. In the face of personal threats of contempt and possible imprisonment following his denunciation of the Attorney General, O'Connell stood firm, delivering an impassioned defence of the importance of an independent Bar: 'It is the first interest of the public that the Bar shall be left free... the public are deeply interested in our independence; their properties, their lives, their honours, are entrusted to us; and if we, in whom such a guardianship is confided, be degraded, how can we afford protection to others?'. This was not merely professional self-interest, but a profound understanding of the Bar's constitutional role. In a system designed to exclude the majority from political participation, an independent legal profession became the last protection of individual rights. O'Connell grasped the fact that, without fearless advocates willing to challenge authority, the law would become merely an instrument of oppression. That is why, as the Taoiseach, Micheál Martin, put it when addressing the O'Connell 250 Symposium in Trinity College Dublin on Tuesday last, The Bar of Ireland has always been rightly proud of the fact that O'Connell was such a distinguished member of the Bar. Two hundred years later, the existence of a fearless independent Bar, practising advocacy and giving legal advice to the highest professional standards, remains an essential guarantee of the rule of law and the protection of individual rights. The many, often insidious, efforts that exist, whether prompted by powerful commercial, bureaucratic or political interests, to degrade or diminish the Bar are always, above all else, an attack on the rights of citizens and on the rule of law. O'Connell's performance in The King v. John Magee exemplifies the best traditions of forensic advocacy at The Bar of Ireland. Faced with a corrupt system, a biased tribunal, and impossible odds, he refused to bow his head or moderate his principles. Instead, he turned the forms and processes of an unjust and oppressive system against itself, using a political prosecution against dissenting speech as the means to condemn the oppressor and amplify the dissent. In an age when legal systems worldwide face challenges to their integrity and especially to the independence of barristers and advocates, O'Connell's example reminds us that the law's highest purpose is not merely to maintain order, but to secure justice. His defence of John Magee shows the difference a single barrister, armed with skill, courage, and unwavering principle, can make. Seán Guerin SC. Picture: Conor McCabe Photography. Seán Guerin SC is Chair of the Council of The Bar of Ireland
Irish Examiner
4 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Daniel O'Connell: Stand-off at Clontarf unjustly stains the legacy of Ireland's greatest politician
Daniel O'Connell liked to remind people that he was born in the year that America began to assert its independence. His date of birth was August 6, 1775. America's Independence wasn't completed until the following July 4, but O'Connell was a good storyteller, specific with dates when needed, vague when a convenient narrative required embellishment. The Times of London reported that he took great pleasure in noting the coincidence which, 'succeeded in persuading his admirers that that incident, taken in connection with others, shadowed forth his destiny as a champion of freedom'. He was, during his lifetime and for maybe half a century after his death, considered in many circles to be the greatest Irishman who ever lived. That status would come under attack following the violent birth of the independent state in the early 20th century. The men and women of 1916 were considered in the broad public consciousness to be those whose vision and action led to the establishment of a free state. The narrative was promoted by politicians who had fought at the side or in the shadow of the signatories of the proclamation. HISTORY HUB If you are interested in this article then no doubt you will enjoy exploring the various history collections and content in our history hub. Check it out HERE and happy reading In elevating the blood sacrifice and all that flowed from it, O'Connell's contribution, and that of others like Parnell, was thus relegated. Yet what the Kerry man achieved was, by any standards, quite amazing. Arguably, without those achievements - the opening up of some narrow yet vital channels through which native Catholic people could practice their religion, receive an education and promote their culture - he paved the way for those who would secure the State, if not the island nation. That he did so through peaceful means at a time when violence ruled was, through most the 20th century, ironically seen as a failing rather than a singular triumph. On the day of his birth 250 years ago next Wednesday few anywhere could have foreseen his destiny. O'Connell was born in Carhan outside Caherciveen, one of 10 children. His family was not well off and Daniel, his bright intellect spotted early, was sent out to a wealthy uncle in Derrynane, Maurice 'Hunting Cap' O'Connell, when he was young. Hunting Cap had made much of his fortune through smuggling. He would will Daniel his home and lands which would come in handy when pursuit of politics often left O'Connell broke, although the legacy was a double-edged sword on account of its upkeep. Derrynane House which was willed to Daniel O'Connell by an uncle. Photo: Facebook As a Catholic, O'Connell had no right to an education. Hunting Cap sent him to France where he saw the brutal level of violence exercised in that country's revolution. That was to have a formative influence on him. 'Not for all the universe contains would I, in the struggle for what I conceive my country's cause, consent to the effusion of a single drop of blood, except my own,' he would state when explaining his politics. On his return to Ireland he set up as a barrister and quickly gained a reputation as an outstanding counsel. He married Mary O'Connell in a union not approved by Hunting Cap who briefly disinherited his nephew. The couple had 11 children of whom seven survived into adulthood. After Hunting Cap's death, the family moved into Derrynane House where Mary spent the rest of her days. The term 'long-suffering wife' might well be applied to her. She is buried in Derrynane and for a long period was, like many women, written into the margins of history rather than taking her rightful place in the centre. Apart from that, her husband was a well-known philanderer. (Left to right) The Taoiseach, Micheál Martin, TCD Provost Linda Doyle, and An Post CEO, David McRedmond at the unveiling of two stamps on Wednesday marking the 250th anniversary of the birth of Daniel O'Connell. One stamp depicts his release from Richmond Bridewell after his three-month imprisonment while a second stamp shows him front and centre at one of his famous 'monster meetings'. Picture: Maxwells In this respect, he was lucky with his timing. Had he lived in the post-Famine Ireland where the Church took an iron grip of power, he may well have run into serious trouble, as did Parnell for the relatively innocuous business of divorcing his wife for a new partner. O'Connell's primary focus for the first half of his political life was Catholic emancipation. For over 100 years Catholics were not allowed to practice their religion or access to an education. He saw it as his task to raise Catholics up off their knees. As his biographer, Patrick Geoghegan, told an RTÉ documentary O'Connell said he could point out Catholics on any streets 'because they were the ones who would shuffle, had bad posture, were afraid of meeting your gaze, beaten down.' Yet even then, he had his eyes on the Act of Union, which dated from 1800 and joined Ireland to Britain. In 1810, he set out his stall in one speech in Dublin. The Protestant alone could not hope to liberate his country, the Roman Catholic alone could not do it, neither could the Presbyterian, but amalgamate the three into the Irishman and the union is repealed. It was a cry echoed in the 1916 proclamation under the phrase 'cherishing all the children of the nation equally', but has remained a stumbling block down through the centuries. In 1815, O'Connell could have met his end. After criticising Dublin Corporation for its treatment of Catholics, one of the council members John D'Esterre challenged O'Connell to a duel. It took place near Naas and O'Connell, against the predictions, emerged victorious, fatally wounding his opponent. He was, by all accounts, devastated and contributed an allowance to D'Esterre's daughter for the remainder of his life. He would never duel again and became an implacable opponent of the practice. In 1823, he formed the Catholic Association and six years later he was returned as an MP for Co Clare. The British had a dilemma as he was not entitled as a Catholic to take his seat. They caved and lifted the restrictions on Catholics. The enormity of this achievement is difficult to fathom in today's world, according to Geoghegan. 'Really it was a great civil rights victory because what he was doing was giving the vast majority of the people equal rights in the country,' the historian asserted. In this illustration from 1831, John Bull supports a political see-saw on his back with the Tories on the left, weighed down by the Charles Street Committee Purse, and the Whigs on the right, with the crown on their side. The devil stands in the foreground with 'Reform' written across his head. From left to right, the Tories are Wetherell, Robert Peel, the Duke of Wellington, the Duke of Cumberland and a fat bishop; the Whigs are British prime minister Earl Grey, Henry Brougham, Lord John Russell, Burdett and Daniel O'Connell. Photo:'He believed in Jewish emancipation and he fought for Jewish rights in the British Parliament. He believed in the emancipation of African Americans who are being held in slavery in the United States and became one of the greatest champions of freedom for those people in the 19th century.' In Westminster he was a fiery advocate, adept at deploying his lawyerly capacity for argument and not a little wit. Malachi O'Doherty, in his book Can Ireland Be One, compares O'Connell's style to that of Ian Paisley. In one attack on the British for their continued subjugation of Ireland's democratic want he had a cut at Edward Sugden, who was the last English chancellor of Ireland. 'He is a pretty boy, sent here from England,' O'Connell said. 'But I ask; did you ever hear such a name as he has got? I remember in Wexford, a man told me he had a pig at home which he was so fond of that he would call it Sugden.' Later he would receive criticism for promoting the English language rather than speaking in Irish. After emancipation he dedicated himself to chasing repeal of the union which had been law since 1800. In 1840, this campaign was stepped up with the formation of the Repeal Association. In August 1843, he assembled a monster meeting at the Hill Of Tara, the original seat of the High Kings of Ireland. A reported one million people gathered to hear him. There were also meetings in the Curragh in Kildare and other locations around the country as his campaign to pursue repeal grew increasingly popular. Daniel O'Connell depicted at a the 'monster meeting' on the Hill Of Tara in Co. Meath, in 1843. Photo: Spencer Arnold Collection/At these meetings, as the Times of London would recall in O'Connell's subsequent obituary, 'the Irish populace were drilled, and marshalled, and marched under appointed leaders, whose commands they obeyed with military precision, while the master-spirit who evoked and ruled this mass movement announced to all of Europe that he was 'at the head of 500,000 loyal subjects but fighting men'.' The last sentence betrayed the contempt that much of the British establishment had for O'Connell, not to mind his capacity to peacefully pursue his aims. Casting him as somebody who used the veiled threat of violence was inaccurate and designed to blacken his legacy. Another monster meeting was scheduled for October 8, 1843, at Clontarf, scene of the last, most famous battle of Brian Boru. The British, however, decided that things were getting a little out of hand. Home secretary Robert Peel assembled 3,000 soldiers to ensure that the meeting would not go ahead and two gunships were also on hand nearby. O'Connell backed off. He knew Peel and he knew he was not bluffing. O'Connell was subsequently prosecuted and spent three months in prison. On his release, now heading for 70 years of age, he never recovered the vigour or momentum that he had enjoyed up until the stand-off at Clontarf. An illustration from 1829 depicting Daniel O'Connell after failing to take his seat in the British parliament with the words 'I'll get lave to walk back again aney how'. Photo:That event was to impinge hugely on his legacy, particularly in the wake of partition and the founding of the Irish state. At the time the radical faction, the Young Irelanders, within the Repeal movement agreed with his decision, but pretty soon after the sniping began. But what would have happened? There would have been multiple fatalities and to what end? Those who like to retrospectively apply conditions that would later prevail in the early 20th century resort to claims that the bloodshed would have sparked the risen people. This simplistic narrative has it that revolution could have come about. There is precious little evidence to back that up, even through the lens of simplistic revision. In 1843, Britannia ruled half the world by force. The conditions that would prevail in 1916 and beyond simply were not present and it is difficult to objectively imagine any outcome but needless death. O'Connell took a strategic decision, one that sat with his lifelong allegiance to peaceful means, and he gave in. The newly refurbished crypt of Daniel O'Connell which was opened by President Mary McAleese in 2009 at Glasnevin Cemetery. Picture: Colin Keegan, Collins, Dublin In modern times, chief among those who would condemn him as a choker are the contingent who supported, either in real time or retrospectively, the Provisional IRA's campaign to allegedly finish off the job of removing Britain from this island. As history has shown they didn't achieve that, despite plumbing depths of depravity, but once mired in violence it is apparently deemed necessary to claim that there never was any alternative. Whatever about his status as greatest Irishman, O'Connell was indisputably the best politician in these islands. This he managed exclusively through the force of his personality and intellect. He knew what made his people tick. He knew how to strategically use the British House of Commons to his best ends. Of course, he didn't succeed in his ultimate goal, but at a time of empire that would have been beyond anybody, through peaceful or violent means. Former Attorney General Paul Gallagher, in an essay in the Irish Judicial Studies Journal on O'Connell, put it thus: 'O'Connell worked within the law, and gave hope to a downtrodden and helpless people. He was a champion for those who never had a champion. He was a voice for those who never had a voice. He gave self-respect to those who enjoyed no respect. 'He taught the People to disown servility and to develop the courage to oppose. In a real sense all the Catholic population of Ireland were his clients.' Daniel O'Connell died on May 15, 1847, in Genoa on his way to see the pope. He was 71 and is buried in Glasnevin Cemetery, which he was involved in founding for the people of Dublin.
Irish Examiner
4 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Colin Sheridan: ICC justice for Netanyahu? Maybe not — but the arrest warrant still changes everything
In school, most of us learned about The Hague the way one learns about algebra or Shakespeare — with begrudging reverence. A solemn Dutch city, home to two of the most formidable-sounding institutions ever cooked up by the sober minds of the post-Second World War West — the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and the International Criminal Court (ICC). One for disputes between states. The other for the monsters among us — war criminals, genocidaires, and heads of state with more skeletons than mistresses. But lately, those halls of justice have grown quiet. The problem isn't just that people have stopped listening to the verdicts. It's as if they've stopped pretending to care at all. If all the courts can do is issue warrants nobody will enforce, then what is the point? Last year, the ICC's chief prosecutor, Karim Khan, requested arrest warrants for Israeli prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu and defence minister Yoav Gallant. Charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity, tied to Israel's genocide in Gaza. We know by now who said what, but it's instructive to go back in time a little, and learn that none of what we heard came as a surprise. In March 2021, the ICC formally launched an investigation into alleged violations in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, covering actions by Israel and Hamas dating back to 2014. The investigation focused on alleged war crimes in Gaza, the West Bank, and East Jerusalem. The announcement triggered strong, sharply divided reactions from governments, human rights organisations, and legal observers. Israel, unsurprisingly, strongly condemned the ICC's decision. Netanyahu called it 'the essence of anti-Semitism and hypocrisy', further citing that the ICC had no jurisdiction, as Israel is not a party to the Rome Statute (the founding treaty of the ICC), and that Palestine, in Israel's view, is not a sovereign state capable of delegating jurisdiction. The Israeli government doubled down, vowing to protect its military personnel and refuse co-operation. The Palestinian Authority (the much-maligned Fatah-controlled government body that exercises partial civil control over the Palestinian enclaves in the Israeli-occupied West Bank) welcomed the decision as a long-awaited step toward justice, calling it 'a historic day for the principle of accountability'. It viewed it as international recognition of its right to seek legal redress for Israeli actions. The International Criminal Court in The Hague, Netherlands. Two decades on, the court has handed down just five convictions for core crimes. Most of those were against African warlords. Picture: AP The US, under the Biden administration at that point, strongly opposed the ICC investigation. Then US secretary of state Antony Blinken said: 'We firmly oppose and are deeply disappointed by the ICC prosecutor's announcement.' Washington took the opportunity to reaffirm its support for Israel's right to 'self-defence' and echoed concerns over jurisdiction. So, although president Biden had lifted Trump-era sanctions on the ICC, the administration remained hostile to this investigation. In Europe, reactions ranged from the technical (Germany and Hungary opposed on jurisdictional grounds) to tentative support (France and Belgium respected the court's independence, even if they had concerns). It is important to note that the 2021 investigation pre-dated October 2023 by over two years, and while no arrest warrants were issued at that point, it marked a turning point in international law regarding how Israel would be treated in its ongoing occupation of Palestine, and its military operations therin. In essence, the reactions in 2021were just an appetiser for those that followed the May 2024 decision that 'there were reasonable grounds' to believe Netanyahu, Gallant, and several Hamas officials had committed international crimes since October 7. On that basis, the court issued arrest warrants for Netanyahu, Gallant, and Hamas commander Mohammed Deif (later withdrawn after reports of his death). Israel, if it were so inclined to take heed, had been warned by the ICC in 2021. It ploughed on regardless. Today, in August 2025, Netanyahu isn't in a holding cell. Neither is Vladimir Putin, who had his own ICC warrant slapped on his name last year. Sudan's Omar al-Bashir evaded capture for over a decade despite indictments and a passport that read like a serial offender's travel diary. The ICC shouts into the void, and the void responds with billions of dollars of military aid and state dinners. So what went wrong? Or perhaps more honestly, was it ever really right? The roots of these courts are noble, born from the most ignoble chapters of human history. After the unthinkable horrors of the Holocaust, the international community collectively said 'never again'. The Nuremberg Trials in 1945 introduced the novel idea that even heads of state could be held accountable. The precedent gave rise to the ICJ in 1945, the UN's 'principal judicial organ', meant to settle disputes between countries. Think of it as marriage counselling for nations with nuclear weapons. Then, in 2002, came the ICC — a separate body entirely. Born of the Rome Statute, it was designed to prosecute individuals for four core crimes: genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes, and the elusive crime of aggression, which sounds like something out of a philosophy exam paper. The ICC was supposed to be the last line of defence for victims when national courts were unwilling or unable to act. A legal lighthouse amid stormy seas. But there were always caveats. Big ones. The US, China, and Russia never ratified the Rome Statute. Israel signed it but later 'unsigned' it — an act that should be impossible, but like many things in geopolitics, defies logic. Without these major players on board, the ICC became a court with jurisdiction over everyone except the people most likely to ignore it. So, how is the ICC doing two decades on? It has handed down just five convictions for core crimes. Most of those were against African warlords. Critics have long accused the court of selective justice, a phrase that sounds like something from a dystopian menu: 'Would you like your international law with or without hypocrisy?' Emergency services personnel work to extinguish a fire following a Russian attack in the Kharkiv region of Ukraine. Picture: Ukrainian Emergency Service via AP Meanwhile, the ICJ, for its part, has presided over more than 180 disputes, many of them relating to maritime boundaries. It has done admirable work in the dry, academic realm of state-to-state conflict resolution. But unlike the ICC, the ICJ can't issue arrest warrants or hold individuals responsible. It depends on voluntary compliance. That's a bit like having a referee at a boxing match who can only politely ask you to stop punching. Despite their apparent impotence, there is an argument that if neither court existed, you'd invent them both tomorrow. 'Both the ICJ and ICC have major political impact, that perhaps supersedes any ability it lacks to follow through on arrest warrants,' argues Maryam Jamshidi, an associate professor of law at the University of Colorado Law School. 'The legal arguments the ICJ and ICC are making remain the most effective way to shut down any discussion that what Israel is doing is anything other than war crimes.' There is huge symbolism, too, in those who are bringing the cases to the courts, and those who are rejecting them. 'The construct of contemporary international law is, in and of itself, very much a product of the West and Western interests. But over time, especially since decolonisation after the Second World War, the Global South has asserted its role and place in holding actors accountable. 'This moment — with Israel's crimes in Palestine front and centre — is a moment that the Global South is shaping. It is holding a mirror to the West. How we think about genocide, how we think about occupation and colonisation. That is incredibly important. If international law is to have a future, the Global South needs to continue to lead the way, because the Global South understands better than anyone.' Last year, ICC chief prosecutor Karim Khan requested arrest warrants for Israel's prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu and defence minister Yoav Gallant. Picture: AP So here we are. Two international courts, plenty of legal muscle on paper, but little in the way of teeth when it comes to the powerful. They can indict. They can admonish. But increasingly, they cannot compel. 'Yes,' Jamshidi agrees, 'but the courts are a critical weapon in a wider ideological war. They use sound legal arguments to shape the narrative and apply political pressure. The most significant aspect of the ICC warrants for Netanyahu and Gallant was that they were the first issued for 'Western' leaders. That's not nothing.' Power has shifted. The UN Security Council, still stuck in 1945 with its five permanent members, can't agree on lunch, never mind accountability. Multipolarity has returned, and with it, a jostling of narratives. Everyone's got a skeleton to show, and no one wants to open the closet. And yet, the need for justice hasn't disappeared. If anything, it's more acute. In Gaza, in Sudan, in Ukraine, in Myanmar, real people continue to pay the price for the hubris and avarice of their leaders. The legal frameworks exist. The moral arguments are clear. But the enforcement mechanisms are laughably absent. What's next? So what comes next? Some argue for regional courts — African, Asian, or European criminal tribunals, more culturally and politically embedded, less burdened by the Global North-South mistrust. Others speak of truth and reconciliation commissions, like those pioneered in South Africa, which trade prosecution for collective healing. There's also the tech-utopian fantasy: AI-driven evidence collection, blockchain-protected war crime registries, crowdsourced justice via global citizen tribunals. But these ideas, while shiny, are fraught with their own dangers and easily co-opted. Realistically, what we may see is a shift toward informal legitimacy over formal legality. Sanctions, visa bans, public shaming, asset freezes — none of these are justice in the Nuremberg sense, but they may be the closest we get in a world where power trumps process. Perhaps, too, we must rethink what justice looks like. Less about punishment, more about prevention. Less about dragging leaders to The Hague, more about making it politically impossible for them to commit atrocities in the first place. That's a long road. It involves education, diplomacy, and strengthening domestic institutions. But then, so did the building of these courts. What, then, will we teach our children? There's a bench in The Hague. It sits silently beneath a row of flags and beside the empty dock where tyrants are supposed to face their reckoning. Today, it feels like theatre — well-meaning theatre, perhaps, but theatre all the same. A performance of justice rather than its practice. And yet, something nags at the conscience. That small, stubborn belief that laws matter. That truth has weight. That even in an age of polarisation and propaganda, the idea of accountability shouldn't die so easily. Maybe the ICC is failing. Maybe the ICJ is ignored. But the alternative isn't attractive, and perhaps, as Jamshidi argues, the symbolism of its rulings and the discomfort those rulings impart outweigh the futility of its warrants.
