This article looks at the International Court of Justice cases and the political theater around the charge of “genocide,” explains why the definition matters, contrasts Israel’s stated objectives with the accusations against it, and warns about the dangers when legal norms are politicized and redefined for strategic advantage.
The ICJ is hearing a major case brought by Gambia against Myanmar alleging “genocide” against the Rohingya, a development that has flown under the radar amid bigger headlines. Several states intervened in support of Gambia, and the proceedings will test how rigorously the court applies longstanding legal standards. What happens there reverberates beyond Southeast Asia because it sets precedent for how the world treats the accused and the accusers.
Meanwhile, another ICJ battle targets Israel, with South Africa alleging that Israeli actions in Gaza amount to “genocide.” That case turns on whether the required mental element exists, and it raises hard questions about what the court will accept as proof of “intent.” Picking judges who bring overt bias or prior public positions to such sensitive hearings risks turning legal process into political theater.
One core issue is the meaning of “genocide” itself, a term coined by Raphael Lemkin and enshrined in the 1948 Genocide Convention. The Convention makes clear that there “must be” acts committed “with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group.” That language places “intent” at the center of any proper finding, and you cannot lightly substitute political anger for legal proof.
Israel insists its campaign in Gaza is a military response to a brutal terrorist assault, not a plan to eradicate a people. Its stated objectives are to remove Hamas’ ability to strike again, recover hostages, and degrade the organization that carried out mass murder on Oct. 7, 2023. Those are military and security goals, not an articulated policy to destroy a protected group under the Genocide Convention.
Hamas, by contrast, has repeatedly shown contempt for civilian life and has embedded its forces and infrastructure inside civilian areas, treating hostages and ordinary Gazans as shields. That strategy both endangers civilians and complicates proportional and lawful military responses by any state acting against an armed non-state actor. It also feeds the narrative of those seeking to portray Israel as uniquely malevolent, even when operational constraints and humanitarian measures are evident.
Israel has, in public and through various channels, facilitated humanitarian relief, coordinated evacuations for medical cases, supported vaccinations against polio, and provided warnings ahead of strikes when feasible to reduce civilian harm. Those actions matter. Choosing to give advance notice and accept tactical risk to spare civilians is not the behavior of an entity aiming at destruction of a population.
Yet a wide range of actors — activist scholars, politicized NGOs, and some state actors — have leapt into the fray, pushing a looser and more politicized interpretation of “genocide.” If the legal community allows the meaning of this crime to be diluted or weaponized for political ends, the convention itself is degraded and the court’s credibility with it. The consequence would be a world where powerful states and well-funded campaigns can rewrite red lines to suit narratives rather than facts.
A core conservative concern here is straightforward: international law must be applied consistently and with restraint, not as a tool to score political points. If the ICJ abandons the Convention’s clear text and the essential requirement of “intent,” it risks becoming another stage for geopolitical theater. Protecting the integrity of legal standards is the surest way to preserve genuine accountability for real crimes, not rhetorical wins dressed up as justice.
