Banksy protest mural in Palestine. A mural by the artist Banksy on a wall in the West Bank village of Beit Sahour, June 18, 2014. Photo: Dreamstime.

Queerness, Genocide, and International Law – A Look at Palestine

This commentary examines how queerness intersects with genocide and international law in the context of Palestine. Ass. Professor Izat El Amoor argues that queer Palestinians confront not only Israel’s genocidal violence but also Western pinkwashing narratives that weaponize queerness to justify oppression. By situating pinkwashing and pinkwatching within broader struggles of decolonization, the piece shows how queer analysis exposes the hypocrisy of Western legal and human rights frameworks while offering new tools for resistance. Linking Israel’s use of pinkwashing to global failures of international law—including the ICJ case brought by South Africa—the essay insists that genocide studies must reckon with queerness as central, not peripheral, to understanding both the violence in Gaza and pathways toward Palestinian liberation.

By Izat El Amoor*

In the colossal scope of the annihilation of Palestinians since October 7, queerness is not a mere addendum when positioned in the scholarship and legality of genocide. As Palestinians contested Western discourses of international law and genocide for their liberation, queer Palestinians in parallel challenged Western discourses of queerness – pinkwashing[1] – that have been employed as genocidal tools against all Palestinians. Within the larger Palestinian decolonization struggle, a queer analysis reveals additional shortcomings of the current genocide scholarship and legal frameworks that are useful for Palestinian resistance yet might otherwise remain hidden.

Pinkwashing genocide emerged boisterously from within Israel’s toolbox against an increasing diplomatic and legal global isolating pressure. This pressure entailed a string of legal and humanitarian decisions/actions such as UN Security Council votes for Palestinian statehood and membership; UN Human Rights Council resolutions of crimes against humanity; ambassador recalls and severance of diplomatic relations with many countries; states’ recognition of Palestine; state-calls on the International Criminal Court (ICC) to investigate war crimes against civilians; state-requests for a court opinion on whether Israel’s occupation violates international law. Pinkwatching[2] aims at strengthening this pressure that Israel has been diligently countering via pinkwashing, amongst other schemes. Consequently, pinkwashing and pinkwatching—while contradictory—transpire as instructive of the pretense of Western hypocritical dichotomies tied to human rights, international law, and preventing/ending genocide insofar as Palestinian liberation.

The ICJ Case Through a Queer Lens

Though not obviously connected at first glance, South Africa’s case against Israel at the ICJ—filed on December 29, 2023, regarding Israel’s actions in Gaza and widely considered the most significant diplomatic/legal attempt to isolate Israel—can also be analyzed through this queer framework. South Africa alleged that Israel has committed genocide in Gaza, violating the Genocide Convention through 75 years of apartheid, 56 years of occupation, and a 16-year blockade prior to October 7. Specifically in Gaza, South Africa accused Israel of eight “genocidal acts”: killing Palestinians; inflicting serious bodily and mental harm; mass displacement; deprivation of food and water; denial of shelter, clothing, hygiene, and sanitation; blocking medical care; destroying Palestinian life; and imposing measures to prevent births.

On January 11–12, 2024, the Peace Palace in The Hague hosted two days of hearings on South Africa’s request for provisional measures. On January 26, 2024, the Court ordered Israel to take all steps to prevent acts that could qualify as genocide under the 1948 Genocide Convention. The Court acknowledged that at least some of South Africa’s claims could fall within the Convention’s scope. However, it did not order Israel to halt its military operations in Gaza, as South Africa requested. Still, both governments declared the ruling a win, each interpreting it as validation of their stance.

Although ICJ rulings carry binding force, they lack enforcement power, and Israel has refused to comply. South Africa’s foreign minister Naledi Pandor emphasized that compliance would be impossible without a ceasefire. On February 26, 2024, Human Rights Watch reported that Israel had not implemented the Court’s provisional measures and had “continued to obstruct the provision of basic services and the entry and distribution within Gaza of fuel and lifesaving aid.” That same day, Amnesty International stated that Israel was “defying” the ICJ ruling. On March 28, 2024, in response to worsening conditions, the ICJ issued additional emergency measures requiring Israel to guarantee basic food supplies to stave off famine. Then, on May 24, 2024 the Court ordered an immediate halt to Israel’s Rafah offensive, which Israel outright rejected.

Because both Israel and South Africa are signatories to the Genocide Convention, jurisdiction is established. South Africa argues that, as a state party, it has a duty to act to prevent genocide and is legally obligated to pursue all necessary measures. The Genocide Convention extends beyond punishment to prevention, recognizing genocide as more than mass killing. South Africa’s petition highlights this obligation, aiming to fulfill the Convention’s purpose. Despite historical precedent of international law failing Palestinians and the slim likelihood of success, the case still carried hope—not only for a ruling in South Africa’s favor but also for a possible end to Israel’s genocidal campaign.

Decolonial Struggles Beyond the Courtroom

Pinkwatching operates on a similar basis of hope for Palestinian collective liberation, even though Israel is unlikely to abandon its pinkwashing efforts. Both South Africa’s ICJ case and pinkwatching contribute to the Palestinian decolonization struggle, offering different tools for globally isolating Israel and its supporters. While pinkwatching may occupy a small place in international legal and political arenas, it nonetheless provides an important pathway for resistance. This resonates with Palestinian scholar Nora Erakat’s (2020) claim that law must work alongside political strategies if it is to meaningfully support Palestine.

Like South Africa’s ICJ case, pinkwatching underscores the divide between legality and morality in international affairs. Western responses to both overlook moral dimensions, thus blocking accountability-based decolonial breakthroughs. Legal efforts are essential to halt genocide, but they remain insufficient to achieve the deeper moral and spiritual transformation necessary in the West to ensure genocide truly stops and does not recur. Treating genocide solely as a legal matter exposes the inadequacy of law when societies, like Israel’s, persist in the immoral conviction of having the right to commit it. Pinkwashers similarly claim false moral authority, reinforcing the Western legal hypocrisy that South Africa challenges. Recognizing this, pinkwatching organizers long ago chose to work outside such flawed structures, rejecting Western queer discourses that cannot deliver Palestinian liberation. Their efforts affirm that a queer-informed path to freedom cannot rely on Western legal or rights-based paradigms.

International law’s stated responsibility to prevent genocide and protect victims has repeatedly faltered due to “realpolitik, the lack of political will, and economic interests,” in the words of scholar Samuel Totten (2011). Historically, Totten says, responses to genocide have been “inconsequential. Nothing that will rock or threaten a [genocidal] government or nation’s well-being. Nothing punitive.” Israel dismissed South Africa’s charges as “baseless,” accusing it of acting as “the legal arm” of Hamas while insisting its actions were self-defense under international law—claims that largely went uncontested.

Pinkwashing, Early Warnings, and the Dynamics of Genocide

A clear example of realpolitik overriding legal and scholarly genocide frameworks came in the US, Germany, and France backing Israel at the ICJ, despite their histories of complicity in past genocides. France declared that accusing Israel of genocide “is to cross a moral threshold.” Germany pledged to defend Israel in light of the Holocaust. The US dismissedthe ICJ case as a distraction from “peace and security.” Beyond a lack of will to prevent genocide, South Africa’s case reveals that failure itself is pursued to serve Western interests.[3] Thus, by undermining their own institutions of “justice” such as international law and the UN, Western powers show themselves not only complicit in but active facilitators[4] of genocide. Their justifications parallel pinkwashing narratives, which weaponize queerness under a veneer of liberal progressivism while disregarding Palestinian lives—queer and non-queer alike.

From a queer perspective, Gaza’s genocide illustrates what scholar Sheri Rosenberg (2013) describes as the “danger of classifications” in genocide prevention. The targeting of queer Palestinians demonstrates that genocide “must be understood as an unfolding process, considered in light of historical, political, and social factors” and recognized as a complex phenomenon rather than reduced to a definition. When genocide is confined to legal definitions “against which unfolding events are to be measured,” it prioritizes “legalism [and] subjects each genocide to a rigid test in order to maintain the integrity of the term and determine criminal culpability.” Seeing genocide in Palestine as dynamic rather than static makes space for analyzing pinkwashing and pinkwatching as integral to genocide studies. Queerness unsettles the field’s fixation on definitional debates and strengthens arguments such as Rosenberg’s for “early warning systems [that] seek to collect, analyze, and communicate information” to identify potential genocides before escalation. For Palestinians, decades of orientalist tropes—including the use of homophobia to dehumanize them—could have served as early warnings had queer experiences been taken seriously.

Beyond South Africa, a queer reading of Gaza’s genocide also pushes genocide studies to destabilize fixed ideas of group identity. Scholars like Lily Nellans (2020) and Patrick Vernon (2021) have noted the Genocide Convention’s failure to recognize groups defined by gender and sexuality. Scholar Matthew Waites (2018) argues that including sexual orientation and gender identity as protected groups allows recognition of violence against queer communities in Nazi Germany, Uganda, and the Gambia as genocidal. Although Israel’s violence in Gaza targets Palestinians indiscriminately, pinkwashing’s use of queerness to normalize genocidal policies highlights how queer identities are manipulated within genocidal contexts. This manipulation, shaped by pinkwashing, differs from past genocides, marking a distinct phenomenon in the Palestinian experience.

Testimonies Erased: Pinkwashing as Justification and Diversion

Scholar Thomas Simon (1996) argues that in the initial legal definitions of genocide, the Convention’s drafters assumed that the groups requiring protection were “permanent, stable, and intractable,” recognizable by all. Because queer Palestinians have historically resisted Western queer visibility politics—centered on recognition, citizenship, and coming out—they cannot be defined as a protected group under this framework. Scholars like Freda Kabatsi (2005) argue that while the drafters treated group existence as a prerequisite for other rights, pinkwashing constructs queer Palestinians as a group only through a savior-like gaze that conditions their rights and protection on Western recognition. By forcibly separating queer Palestinians from the broader society, this group-based framing legitimizes a genocide that in reality indiscriminately targets all Palestinians. This occurs, Kabatsi (2005)  says, when the “group and membership in it are defined by the perpetrator.” Through pinkwashing, Israel reshapes the definition of the Palestinian collective by isolating its queer members, portraying them as exceptions to the population at large. This narrative enables Israel to justify violence against Palestinians—including queers—while presenting itself as a defender of queer rights.

When examined through pinkwashing and pinkwatching, the instrumentalization of queerness to justify genocide reveals a key distinction between contemporary and historical genocides as studies by Robert Melson (2011) show. While queer people have been killed in earlier genocides, the case in Gaza differs because of the weaponization of both alleged Palestinian heteronormativity and Israel’s homonormativity, the latter being used to claim the role of “savior” of queer Palestinians in the process of ‘othering’ all Palestinians. This demonstrates, to build on Vernon (2021), that both heteronormativity and homonormativity are “relevant to genocidal violence against non-queer people as well as violence against queer people.” 

Genocide, therefore, emerges as a behavior rather than a consistent phenomenon across cases. In Palestine, this “comportment of genocide”—which may either define or obscure genocide—takes the form of pinkwashing (Kabatsi, 2005). Here, pinkwashing functions as both a tool of justification and a means of diversion in the genocidal narrative against Palestinians. This may, in fact, represent the first documented instance of such comportment through pinkwashing.

Queering the analysis of genocide in Palestine beyond legal approaches further underscores the importance of listening to victims. In genocidal contexts, as Melson (2011) argues, “testimonies of victims and survivors must be taken into account in order to better understand the motives of the perpetrators and bystanders” and to give victims and survivors a voice in the narrative of destruction. The testimonies of queer Palestinians and the work of pinkwatching activists, however, remain especially marginalized—not only because queer Palestinians, like all Palestinians, are killed in the genocide, but also because pinkwashing depicts them as either nonexistent or limited to experiencing social death in their communities, thus erasing their capacity to provide testimony. This is particularly relevant in light of the ICJ’s order that Israel preserve evidence of genocide and comply with UN investigations. Instead, Israel has systematically destroyed evidence by blocking journalists from entering Gaza, targeting and killing reporters, and denying UN workers access for documentation.

From Exceptionalism to Resistance: Rethinking Genocide Studies

Israel’s reliance on pinkwashing to avoid accountability has broader consequences beyond the devastation in Palestine. By exploiting queer communities in pursuit of ethnonationalist goals, Israel signals to other states that such practices can be adopted with impunity, without fear of consequences. Condemning Israel and the West’s disregard for international law, Irish MEP Clare Daly stated, “the rules-based order is in roaring form.” Israeli exceptionalism reinforces the fact that the West has always applied one standard of international law for its allies and another for the rest of the world. After months of openly discarding international law in Gaza, the collapse of the post–World War II system—built by the US and Europe to maintain global dominance—has become undeniable. Palestinians, including queer Palestinians and their pinkwatching allies, remain steadfast in their resistance to this destructive order.

Pinkwashing and pinkwatching emphasize the need for genocide studies and international law to adopt queer perspectives in documenting, analyzing, and explaining both Israel’s genocide and the international community’s failure to prevent it. Building on the leadership of pinkwatching activists, scholars must foreground the heteronormative and homonormative structures of Zionism, nationalism, colonialism, orientalism, and imperialism as central to understanding genocidal violence in Gaza and beyond. As scholarship continues to evolve, queerness must be acknowledged as an essential contributor to Palestinian liberation, complementing other political strategies. Since legal approaches alone have repeatedly proven insufficient for advancing decolonization, recognizing queerness at the intersection of law and politics is crucial.



(*) Dr. Izat El Amoor is a self-identified queer Palestinian, and an Assistant Professor of Sociology at Hendrix College studying LGBTQ issues in the Arab world, Palestine included.


 

References

Erakat, N. (2020). Justice for some: Law and the question of Palestine. Stanford University Press.

Kabatsi, F. (2005). “Defining or diverting genocide: Changing the comportment of genocide.” International Criminal Law Review, 5(4), 387–407.

Melson, R. (2011). “Critique of current genocide studies.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 6(3), 279–286.

Nellans, L. (2020). “A queer (er) genocide studies.” Genocide Studies and Prevention: An International Journal, 14(3), 7–16.

Rosenberg, S. P. (2012). “Genocide is a process, not an event.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 7(1), 16–23.

Simon, T. W. (1996). “Defining genocide.” Wisconsin International Law Journal, 15(2), 243–289.

Totten, S. (2011). “The state and future of genocide studies and prevention: An overview and analysis of some key issues.” Genocide Studies and Prevention, 6(3), 211–230.

Vernon, P. (2021). “Queering genocide as a performance of heterosexuality.” Millennium: Journal of International Studies, 49(2), 248–279.

Waites, M. (2018). “Genocide and global queer politics.” Journal of Genocide Research, 20(1), 44–67.



Footnotes

[1] To pinkwash, Israel exploits queer rights to project a progressive queer friendly image of itself while concealing its occupation and apartheid of Palestinians.

[2] Pro-Palestine anti-pinkwashing organizing.

[3] Some signs include the May 6th threatening letter by 12 US republican senators, led by Sen. Tom Cotton, to the ICC chief prosecutor Karim A.A. Khan with sanctions and banning ICC “employees and associates” from entering the US over possible warrants against Israel, saying explicitly, “target Israel and we will target you.” South Africa’s Pandor received the same letter. On May 20th, Khan applied for arrest warrants for Hamas chief Yahya Sinwar and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

[4] The US and Germany, Israel’s top arms supplier, saw their weapon manufacturer corporates directly profit from the genocide as their share prices have exponentially risen since October 7.

Kenneth Roth is the Charles and Marie Robertson Visiting Professor at the Princeton School for Public and International Affairs. Until August 2022, he served for nearly three decades as the executive director of Human Rights Watch, one of the world’s leading international human rights organizations, which operates in some 100 countries.

Professor Roth: Israel Exploits Antisemitism Allegations to Silence Criticism of Genocide in Gaza

In an exclusive ECPS interview, Professor Kenneth Roth—former Executive Director of Human Rights Watch and now at Princeton—warns that Israel is cynically using charges of antisemitism to shield what he calls genocide and mass atrocities in Gaza. “Netanyahu and his supporters are not defending Jews worldwide,” Professor Roth stresses. “They are sacrificing them—cheapening the very concept of antisemitism just when it is most needed.” Drawing on three decades of human rights leadership, Professor Roth situates Israel’s narrative strategy within a broader authoritarian playbook: populist leaders tilt elections, capture institutions, and scapegoat minorities while silencing dissent. His central warning is stark: criticism of Israel is not antisemitism, and blurring this line endangers both Palestinians and Jews worldwide.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In this exclusive ECPS interview, Professor Kenneth Roth—longtime executive director of Human Rights Watch and now Charles and Marie Robertson Visiting Professor at the Princeton School for Public and International Affairs—warns that the Israeli government is cynically using allegations of antisemitism to silence criticism of what he describes as genocide and mass atrocities in Gaza. “Netanyahu and his supporters are not defending Jews worldwide,” Professor Roth stresses. “They are sacrificing them—cheapening the very concept of antisemitism just when it is most needed.” For him, conflating criticism of Israel with antisemitism not only shields state crimes but also undermines real protections against anti-Jewish hatred.

Professor Roth’s reflections build on more than three decades of global human rights advocacy. At Human Rights Watch, which he directed until August 2022, he oversaw the organization’s expansion into one of the world’s leading rights watchdogs, active in about 100 countries. Earlier, he worked as a federal prosecutor in New York and on the Iran-Contra investigation in Washington. From that vantage, he situates Israel’s narrative strategy within a wider pattern of populist-fueled authoritarianism. Today’s autocrats, Professor Roth argues, “still crave elections but tilt the playing field,”systematically undermining courts, capturing media, restricting NGOs, and intimidating universities. Democracy, he insists, cannot be reduced to ballots alone—it requires freedoms of expression, association, and the rule of law, all under attack.

Even amid authoritarian resurgence, Professor Roth emphasizes the power of coalitions of democratic, rights-respecting states. He recalls decisive breakthroughs such as the treaty banning landmines and the Rome Statute establishing the International Criminal Court (ICC)—both achieved despite superpower opposition. More recent successes, from UN oversight of the Saudi-led bombing campaign in Yemen to European-Turkish pressure curbing Russian strikes in Syria, show that principled middle-power alliances still matter. NGOs, too, must remain unwaveringly consistent: “Our work doesn’t distinguish between perceived friend and foe—we apply the same standards to everybody,” Professor Roth explains. That consistency, he argues, sustains credibility and strengthens the politics of shaming.

The interview traverses urgent contemporary debates: Trump’s embrace of authoritarian leaders, his sanctions on the ICC, and his “flood-the-zone” tactic of overwhelming institutions with constant shocks. Professor Roth dissects the dangers of scapegoating minorities, the misuse of Holocaust memory to excuse present atrocities, and the precedent of blurring law enforcement with war in extrajudicial killings. At every step, he insists that human rights must not be selectively applied or subordinated to cynical populist narratives.

Taken together, Professor Roth’s insights offer both a sobering indictment and a pragmatic roadmap: exposing the authoritarian logic that links populism, repression, and impunity, while affirming that principled coalitions and civil society can still defend rights. Above all, his warning is clear: criticism of Israel is not antisemitism—and protecting the integrity of that distinction is essential for Jews worldwide, Palestinians under siege, and the universality of human rights.

Here is the transcript of our interview with Professor Kenneth Roth, lightly edited for clarity and readability.

Autocrats Still Crave Elections but Tilt the Playing Field

Nested dolls depicting world autocrats Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump and Recep Erdogan on the counter of souvenirs in Moscow

Thank you so much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: In your recent writings, you stress the fragility of checks against authoritarian drift and note how today’s rulers “raise the cost” for defenders by targeting courts, media, and NGOs. What, in your view, makes this current wave of populist-fueled democratic backsliding distinct from earlier authoritarian surges, particularly in the subtler tactics of regulation, funding, and legal harassment?

Professor Kenneth Roth: I’m not sure it’s completely unique, but clearly autocrats are learning from each other. The current wave is characterized foremost by what you might call electoral authoritarianism. That is, autocratic leaders who still want the legitimacy of an election but use the steps of the autocrat’s handbook to undercut checks and balances on their authority and to tilt the electoral playing field in their favor.

It’s pretty straightforward what they do: they target the various potential checks on their authority—courts, lawyers, journalists, academics, civil society—and use different techniques to undermine their independence. With the media, for example, outlets may be owned by large corporate conglomerates vulnerable to government pressure. We’re seeing that in the United States right now. It could also take the form of regulations that make it harder for civil society to secure funding, particularly from abroad. Sometimes it’s direct attacks, such as withholding funding, which we’re now seeing Trump do with universities.

These are variations on a theme, but the aim is always the same: to stymie and weaken the elements that sustain democracy. Because democracy is not just about elections. It is about the freedoms of expression, association, and assembly, as well as the rule of law that holds leaders accountable to the law and to the rights it embodies. And these autocrats are intent on undercutting those checks. It’s pretty clear.

Coalitions of Democracies Can Overcome Superpower Opposition

You have argued that coalitions of mid-sized states—beyond the West—can sometimes defend human rights more effectively than major powers, urging leverage toward countries like India, Brazil, South Africa, Japan, and even China. Two decades on, do you still see these “plural centers of pressure” as the backbone of rights defense, or has today’s fractured multilateralism, intensified authoritarian entrenchment, and the rise of populist geopolitics blunted that strategy—and what would an updated map of leverage look like?

Professor Kenneth Roth: I wouldn’t say that coalitions are better than the major powers, but that they can serve as substitutes when the major powers stand in opposition. At this stage, when the US government has essentially stopped promoting human rights, I don’t think we should just throw in the cards and give up. There have been many cases in the past where coalitions of governments have compensated for the absence—or even the opposition—of the US government, not to mention the Soviet or Russian government, or the Chinese government. I describe this in my book Riding Wrongs, where repeatedly, coalitions of democratic, rights-respecting governments, when banded together, have had the moral authority to overcome superpower opposition.

That’s what happened with the treaty to ban landmines. All the major powers opposed it, yet a group of about 60 governments—a coalition that Human Rights Watch and our colleagues helped to build—overcame that opposition. We ended up sharing the Nobel Peace Prize for that effort. Something very similar occurred with the creation of the International Criminal Court (ICC). You may recall the Clinton administration was adamantly opposed to a court that could even theoretically prosecute an American. That was not its idea of justice. Yet in the final vote in Rome in 1998, the US lost overwhelmingly—120 to 7—marking a decisive victory for the rule of law.

More recently, as I describe in my book, despite a lack of any assistance, if not outright opposition, from Washington, a group of governments led by the Netherlands secured oversight from the UN Human Rights Council of the Saudi-led coalition’s bombing in Yemen—making a huge difference in terms of saving civilian lives. Another coalition, involving Germany, France, and Turkey, pressured Putin in March 2020 to stop bombing the three million civilians in Idlib province in Syria, the last area at the time held by the armed opposition.

These are just a few among many examples showing how coalitions of governments can effectively defend human rights—not only without Washington, but often despite its opposition.

NGOs Must Be Principled—Apply the Same Standards to All

Since major powers like the US, Russia, and China routinely instrumentalize human rights for geopolitical ends, how should NGOs and the broader rights community rethink their strategy—balancing naming-and-shaming with ally-seeking—while avoiding the slide from principled engagement into complicity in populist or authoritarian projects?

Professor Kenneth Roth: The idea that governments instrumentalize human rights is nothing new. This has always happened. If you just go back historically, there was a tendency during the Cold War to highlight the human rights abuses of one’s opponents and neglect the human rights abuses of one’s allies. So, this has always been a problem. I think the role that NGOs should play is to be principled. That is to say, to ensure that our work doesn’t distinguish between perceived friend and foe, but that we apply the same standards to everybody. That enhances the capacity to shame, because people understand that when human rights groups condemn somebody, when we spotlight a government’s abuse, we’re not pursuing some geopolitical strategy. We are pursuing a universal, principled effort.

Now, shaming is never the only thing that human rights groups do. We also enlist influential allies to try to put diplomatic or economic pressure on a target government, and I describe this in my book. These are important supplements to the process of shaming.

The fact that governments are selective in their defense of human rights does undermine their credibility, but doesn’t preclude our ability to enlist them, because frankly, nobody is consistent. So, we try to enlist allies where we can, push them to be more principled. But we don’t have a rule that you’ve got to be perfect before we enlist you, because then we’d enlist nobody. We’ve got to be a bit more pragmatic than that and try to maximize pressure on a target government from any credible source that we can find.

Trump Isn’t Blurring Lines—He’s Embracing Authoritarianism

This editorial image, captured in Belgrade, Serbia, showcases an array of novelty socks featuring the likenesses of Vladimir Putin, Aleksandr Lukashenko, Viktor Orban, and Donald Trump in Belgrade, Serbia on December 12, 2024. Photo: Jerome Cid.

Trump’s open admiration for autocrats such as Putin, Bolsonaro, Erdogan, and Netanyahu blurs distinctions between democracy and authoritarianism, while also resonating with a global populist style that treats rights as obstacles to “the people’s will.” To what extent has Trump shifted the normative boundaries of US foreign policy on human rights, and what does this mean for the wider contest between populism and rights-based democracy?

Professor Kenneth Roth: First, I would not say that Trump is blurring the distinction between democracy and authoritarianism. He’s simply embracing authoritarianism. I don’t think anybody believes that because Trump embraces Putin, suddenly Putin is a democrat. That’s absurd. Trump, as an aspiring autocrat, admires leaders who have managed to secure autocratic power for themselves. That’s what he does. And we obviously have to push back against that.

This is a bad period for US foreign policy, but it’s not the first time we’ve seen something like this. Think back to the George W. Bush administration, when the so-called global war on terrorism became an excuse not only to support abusive governments but also to engage in severe human rights abuses by the US government itself—systematic torture and the use of Guantanamo for endless detention without trial.

We have seen this flouting, this unwillingness to abide by human rights standards emanating from Washington before. Our job in the human rights movement is to spotlight complicity in human rights violations, or responsibility for them, when the government behaves inconsistently, and to push for it to be even slightly less inconsistent. Fortunately, the American people—and I think this is also true globally—want a more consistent human rights policy.

That’s why spotlighting inconsistency is valuable, because it forces leaders like Trump to pay a political price. When he is seen as aiding and abetting genocide in Gaza, we can already see the effect on US public opinion. People are turning against Israel; they are upset with the unconditional US support for Israel. We’ve seen Trump react to that somewhat already—not sufficiently—but this effort is worthwhile. Ultimately, this is how we can pressure Trump to do the one thing that would end the genocide: suspend or condition massive US arms sales and military aid to Israel until the genocide stops.

Rulings Mean Little Without Government Backing

You’ve argued that “democracy” without rights is easily gamed by “despots masquerading as democrats.” After the ICJ advisory opinion(s) and an emboldened ICC, can international courts still constrain leaders amid intensified lawfare and sanctions against judges/prosecutors? What insulating reforms (treaty, funding, travel protections) matter most?

Professor Kenneth Roth: There’s a lot in that question, so let me try to dissect it a bit. First, when despots masquerade as democrats, it means they still hold periodic elections, but they tilt the playing field so much that the elections become meaningless. This can be a dangerous endeavor. Take Viktor Orban in Hungary or Erdogan in Turkey: they are classic autocrats who still hold competitive elections but with very severe limitations. Orban today faces a serious challenger in Peter Magyar, who is charismatic and has united the opposition. It may not work for him. Erdogan went so far as to lock up his main opponent because, according to the polls, that opponent was going to win. His party had already won the major mayoral elections in Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir, and elsewhere. The more an autocrat moves toward a zombie election—that is, one with zero credibility—the more they lose the very legitimacy they seek. That’s what Daniel Ortega did in Nicaragua, Museveni in Uganda, Putin in Russia, and Lukashenko in Belarus. They hold electoral charades, but no one is fooled, and they simply become dictators.

I don’t view international courts as particularly effective against these kinds of autocratic attacks on democracy. The courts are more useful in addressing mass atrocities. For example, with the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and the International Criminal Court (ICC) entering the fray in Gaza, and with the ICC charging Putin and four generals for Ukraine, these are important efforts. They may someday lead to actual trials in The Hague. Even short of that, they are incredibly stigmatizing. They mean that these leaders cannot travel to the 125 ICC member states without risking arrest.

Of course, an ICJ judgment or an ICC arrest warrant does not self-execute. They don’t automatically constrain leaders because these Hague-based courts don’t have police forces; they depend on governments for enforcement. That’s always a problem. So, we need governments that claim to uphold the rule of law to act consistently with these rulings. Take the ICJ advisory opinion on the illegality of Israel’s endless occupation: governments should now ensure they do nothing to support that occupation. On the ICC, Trump outrageously imposed sanctions on the ICC prosecutor, the two deputies, and six judges. It’s important, particularly for the European Union, to use its so-called blocking statute to neutralize those sanctions so that judges and prosecutors can continue to access their bank funds and operate normally.

I would also encourage the prosecutor to examine whether this constitutes obstruction of justice—a violation of Article 70 of the Rome Statute—which I think it clearly does. One option would be to actually charge Trump for this blatant interference with an independent institution of justice. So, there is plenty that still can be done, but we shouldn’t deceive ourselves into thinking that international courts, simply by issuing rulings, automatically change the world. They need the backing of governments.

Being a Drug Trafficker Doesn’t Make You a Combatant

In critiquing Trump’s extrajudicial killings of Venezuelan traffickers, you warned of the drift from policing to “war” rules in law enforcement. If such precedents take hold—turning metaphorical wars on drugs or terror into literal grounds for lethal force—what global spillovers do you foresee, and what bright-line doctrines should civil society insist on to prevent their entrenchment?

Professor Kenneth Roth: First, let me explain the two sets of rules that govern the use of lethal force. In war, you’re allowed to shoot combatants on the other side, and unless they’re surrendering or injured and thus out of combat, you can shoot to kill. There is no duty to detain them. By contrast, in law enforcement situations, it’s almost the opposite: lethal force can be used only as a last resort to meet an imminent threat of death or serious physical injury. It is an extremely limited use of lethal force; otherwise, the duty is to arrest and prosecute.

Now, Trump has ignored that distinction. He has declared Venezuelan suspected drug traffickers—people we have no real knowledge about—and has, in three separate incidents, blown up boats and killed those on board, simply on the claim that they were traffickers. But being a drug trafficker does not make you a combatant. There is no war, no armed conflict here. If you believe Trump’s account, these people were committing crimes and should have been arrested and prosecuted. The US Coast Guard is fully capable of interdicting these boats, detaining the suspects, bringing them to Miami or elsewhere, and prosecuting them.

Trump is disregarding the strict law enforcement rules on lethal force by declaring this a “war,” and therefore claiming the right to shoot to kill. That is an incredibly dangerous precedent, because he could label anyone a combatant or terrorist—terms he wrongly uses interchangeably. But even terrorists are criminals who must be prosecuted, not summarily executed. We have to be very careful here, because what’s to stop him from declaring a war on civil society or a war on the political opposition and then justifying killings on that basis?

This is a very dangerous precedent. Even though drug traffickers are unpopular, it is essential to start with the principle: even if they are suspected traffickers, they should not simply be blown up. They have the right to be detained, charged, and prosecuted if the administration’s claims are true. That is why it is crucial not to let metaphorical wars on drugs or terrorism be transformed into literal wars that substitute the narrow rules on lethal force in law enforcement with the much more permissive rules governing armed conflict—which this clearly is not.

How Populist Autocrats Weaponize Minorities to Mask Their Failures

Border Patrol agents monitor an anti-ICE protest in downtown Los Angeles, June 8, 2025. Demonstrators rallied against expanded ICE operations and in support of immigrant rights. Photo: Dreamstime.

You’ve tracked how strongman admiration and majoritarian claims corrode protections for minorities and migrants. Has Trump’s second term normalized an executive theory of unfettered discretion that will outlast him in US foreign policy—and how should allies signal costs early to deter that stickiness?

Professor Kenneth Roth: As you’re suggesting in your question, populist autocrats frequently rally support by demonizing some unpopular minority in their country. It could be immigrants, LGBT people, or Muslims—it varies from country to country. It is very important to push back against this. Typically, they resort to such tactics to divert attention from their lack of a political program that could actually address the economic and political needs of their base. Usually, their base is the ethnic majority working class.

When you see leaders demonizing immigrants or LGBT people, you can almost be certain there is no serious program to help the working class. Trump is a perfect example. He loves to demonize immigrants. Then he puts forward a massive economic plan that cuts taxes for his cronies while eliminating healthcare for many who need it. This doesn’t help the working class—it decimates it.

It’s important to expose this sleight of hand—the use of scapegoating unpopular minorities to distract from harmful economic policies. So, what’s the best way to push back? First and foremost, by defending the rights of these minorities. We cannot pretend that an attack on one unpopular group will stop there. In fact, I often view attacks on LGBT people as the canary in the coal mine for broader assaults on civil society. Those almost always follow.

We need to recognize the path populist autocrats are taking and nip it in the bud. We cannot ignore the early stages just because the victims are unpopular. This is a well-trodden path, and it must be stopped at the outset.

Countering Trump’s Flood-the-Zone Strategy

You’ve described Trump’s “flood-the-zone” strategy—overwhelming opponents and institutions with constant shocks—as a hallmark of autocratic playbooks. From the resistance you’ve observed, what lessons proved transferable to other democracies under stress, and which were context-specific wins?

Professor Kenneth Roth: I’m not sure that Trump’s flood-the-zone strategy is typical. It’s pretty unique to Trump. It especially characterized his first few months in this second term, when there was one outrage after another, day after day, and people were so busy responding to yesterday’s crisis that they didn’t know where to start with today’s. Now it has slowed down a bit, but he continues to use the tactic—finding some new provocation every few days to divert attention from what he had already done.

The key for the targets of these efforts is not to let themselves be overwhelmed but to band together and coordinate their defense. We didn’t always see that in the United States. For example, certain universities, like Columbia, cut deals with the Trump administration, while others have since taken a more principled stand and joined forces. Some big law firms also cut deals, while others chose to fight back in court—and are now winning. Trump has also turned his threats toward civil society, but here too, many large progressive private foundations have banded together, issuing a joint statement declaring that they will not be divided and will fight back collectively.

That kind of collective response—the refusal to let Trump pick off opponents one at a time, as he has done with certain media outlets—is essential. When a powerful government can target one victim at a time, the victims usually lose. But when it faces a coordinated defense, the chances of success rise significantly.

When Sovereignty Becomes Impunity

The flag in front of the International Criminal Court in The Hague, Netherlands on March 27, 2016. Photo: Dreamstime.

Trump’s sanctions on the ICC—aimed at blocking investigations of Israel and US officials—highlight how powerful states can obstruct accountability through jurisdictional caveats and intimidation. What does this precedent mean for the enforceability of international criminal law, and what enforcement pathways remain viable to safeguard prosecutorial independence?

Professor Kenneth Roth: When you say jurisdictional caveats, I think what you’re referring to is that the Trump administration, like the US government for much of the last 20-plus years, has objected to the International Criminal Court’s so-called territorial jurisdiction. That is, the court can prosecute anybody who commits a crime on the territory of a member state. Going back to the Clinton administration, the US government hated that because it meant that American military personnel could theoretically be prosecuted if they committed a crime on the territory of a member state. That’s why the US government was so outraged, in the first Trump administration, when the ICC opened an investigation into Afghanistan—because there was fear that Bush-era torturers, many of whose worst crimes were committed there, might be subject to prosecution. Now, that turned out to be more of a theoretical concern, but that’s the territorial jurisdiction the US government has always objected to.

Ironically, when that same territorial jurisdiction was used by the ICC to charge Putin for crimes committed in Ukraine, everything changed. Biden called it justified. Lindsey Graham, the leading Republican senator who had always opposed the ICC, suddenly said, “I’ve changed my mind, we support the ICC now.” He even pushed through a unanimous resolution, and the Senate upheld what the ICC had done. That remained the case until that same territorial jurisdiction was used to charge Netanyahu for crimes committed in Gaza, in Palestine—a member state. Then suddenly it was back to outrage. The US position has been utterly unprincipled. Fortunately, nobody else accepts that. As I mentioned, the US lost its efforts to block territorial jurisdiction in Rome at the outset by a vote of 120 to 7. This is a losing proposition, and the key is for the 125 member states to reaffirm their support for territorial jurisdiction.

Of course, a state should be able to say, in a time of crisis, if our courts are not working—if we can’t prosecute people who commit crimes on our territory ourselves—we should be able to delegate that power to the ICC. That should be an inherent aspect of sovereignty. For the US to say, “Oh, well, because we’re American, we can commit a crime on your territory with impunity”—that’s crazy. If I, as an American citizen, were to go to Brussels and murder somebody, is it an affront to American sovereignty if Belgium prosecutes me? Obviously not. So why would it be an affront to American sovereignty if, under extreme circumstances, Belgium delegates that prosecutorial power to the ICC? This is normal. But the US insists on American exceptionalism when it comes to the rule of law. Nobody buys that, and governments should find ways to push back.

The Vanity Lever: Using Trump’s Ego to Pressure for Human Rights

You’ve suggested Trump’s transactional ego—the “vanity lever”—can sometimes be used to pressure him on rights. How realistic is it to constrain authoritarian choices through vanity appeals, and where should we draw the ethical line between pragmatism and entrenching cynical politics?

Professor Kenneth Roth: What I’ve written about is that if you approach Trump frontally and say, support human rights, he’ll probably look at you and say, what are those? This is not a guy who is going to openly support human rights. But, as I describe in my book, the process of shaming always has to look at the target and figure out what they care about. In Trump’s case, what he cares about is his self-declared reputation as a master negotiator. In his book The Art of the Deal, he defines what he thinks is great about himself.

That gives us some leverage. For one, he wants a Nobel Peace Prize. Fine—you’re not going to get a Nobel Peace Prize by endorsing the mass ethnic cleansing of Palestinians from Gaza. You’ll get the Nobel Peace Prize by actually securing a just peace, including recognition of a Palestinian state. Another effective strategy is to spotlight how Putin in Ukraine and Netanyahu in Gaza are actually bamboozling Trump. They’re manipulating him, they’re playing games with this supposed master negotiator, and Trump looks naive.

He hates that. This is a guy with a fragile ego who doesn’t like criticism. If people are laughing at him, ridicule is horrible when you’re an autocrat. So, I think that provides an opportunity. We’re already seeing some movement by Trump in Ukraine. He has not yet imposed the so-called severe consequences he promised if Putin continues to obstruct ceasefire negotiations, but his rhetoric has become somewhat tougher. In the case of Gaza, we also see Trump distancing himself in certain ways from Netanyahu—for example, rejecting Netanyahu’s false claim that there is no starvation in Gaza, criticizing him for attacking the Hamas negotiators in Qatar, and twice imposing temporary ceasefires.

So, there is some distance there. I think we just need to keep pushing, with the aim of getting Trump to do the right thing for the wrong reasons. I don’t think that’s cynical—it’s simply pragmatic. If that’s what it takes to stop mass atrocities, I’ll do it.

When Ethnic Cleansing Becomes a Defense to Genocide

Destruction in Shejayia, Gaza City, Gaza Strip. Photo: Dreamstime.

You’ve argued that Israel’s actions in Gaza meet the Genocide Convention through killings and life-destroying conditions, even alongside ethnic-cleansing motives. How do you answer critics who say genocidal intent is unproven, and what evidence most strongly supports its inference under current ICJ standards?

Professor Kenneth Roth: If you look at either the extent of the killing or the imposition of conditions of life designed to destroy, in whole or in part, an ethnic or national group, what’s going on in Gaza is clearly genocide. At this point, the clearest example is the imposition of mass starvation, mass deprivation, and the wholesale destruction—today of Gaza City, but overall of all Gaza. The aim, quite clearly, is to make Gaza unlivable so that it becomes “humane” to then force everybody out into Egypt. The ultimate aim here is ethnic cleansing, a supposed solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict by getting rid of the Palestinians—first in Gaza, and then later in the occupied West Bank. That’s clearly what’s going on.

The only real challenge here—you mentioned the International Court of Justice standards—is that the court ruled in the Croatia v. Serbia case more than a decade ago that if you are going to infer genocidal intent from conduct, it has to be the only possible inference. I think that’s a wrong standard. They are going to have to re-examine it, because in effect what they have said is that the motive of ethnic cleansing becomes a defense to genocide, which makes no sense. To prove genocidal intent, the standard should be absolute: are you clearly demonstrating genocidal intent? The fact that there may be a mixed motive—that there may be genocide in the service of something else—is often how genocide takes place.

So, I do think the ICJ will have to revisit its standards. It will have an opportunity in the Gambia v. Myanmar case concerning the Rohingya, where something very similar occurred. The Myanmar army killed, say, 10,000 Rohingya in order to force 730,000 to flee into Bangladesh. That was genocide as a means to mass ethnic cleansing. I hope the court uses that case, which will come first, to re-examine its standards, to find that the conduct does permit an inference of genocidal intent. That would then also apply positively to the case of Gaza.

Criticism of Israel Is Not Antisemitism

Election billboard showing Netanyahu shaking hands with Trump, with the slogan “Netanyahu. Another League,” in Jerusalem on September 16, 2019. Photo: Dreamstime.

You’ve warned that equating criticism of Israel with antisemitism both silences accountability and weakens real protections for Jews. What are the dangers of this conflation, and what concrete standards can help distinguish legitimate criticism from antisemitic incitement without suppressing dissent?

Professor Kenneth Roth: That’s an important question. Let me begin by saying that the problem of antisemitism is an acute one today facing Jews around the world, and it has become much more intense since October 7, 2023. So, this is a genuine problem. But what we’ve seen is that Netanyahu, the Israeli government, and some of its supporters are using charges of antisemitism to try to silence criticism of Israel’s genocide and mass atrocities in Gaza.

That’s a very cynical move, because it cheapens a concept that is badly needed. If people come to see claims of antisemitism as just an effort to change the subject and defend Israel’s inexcusable conduct in Gaza, they will become cynical about antisemitism at the very moment we need it to remain a viable concept. In effect, what Netanyahu and his supporters are doing is sacrificing Jews around the world for the benefit of the Israeli government. They’re basically saying: we’re going to throw Jews worldwide under the bus. Who cares if you face antisemitism? Who cares if we’re cheapening the concept? All we care about is defending the Israeli government. That’s a horrible thing to do—but that, in essence, is what the Netanyahu government is doing.

Now, are there standards on antisemitism? Yes. The standard that legitimizes this cynical approach is the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism. The way it’s been interpreted has lent itself to saying that criticism of Israel, or efforts to demonize Israel, are somehow antisemitic.

There are two far superior definitions of antisemitism: the Jerusalem Declaration and the Nexus Document. The reason they are superior is that they make explicit that mere criticism of Israeli misconduct is not antisemitic. They define antisemitism in positive terms similarly, but they also include negative examples to make clear that antisemitism should never be weaponized to shield Israeli misconduct.

So, if the concern is truly antisemitism, people should adopt the Jerusalem Declaration or the Nexus Document. But if the concern is simply defending Israel while throwing Jews around the world to their fate, then go with the IHRA definition.

“Never Again” Means Never Again for All

You argue that Israel’s invocation of “never again” and its Holocaust halo have been weaponized to justify present atrocities. How has this complicated recognition of genocidal conduct, and how can we honor historical victimhood without letting it serve as a blank check—while restoring legal clarity around proportionality and civilian protection?

Professor Kenneth Roth: As you suggest, the Israeli government, much like the Rwandan government, cites the Holocaust for Jews and the Rwandan genocide to suggest that the current government is somehow above it all. The logic is: how could the victims of genocide, in turn, commit mass atrocities? Obviously, that’s illogical, but they use the argument implicitly to try to defend the indefensible.

For me, “never again” doesn’t mean never again except for Israel, never again except for Rwanda. It means never again for anybody. Part of the advantage the Israeli government has is that when people think about genocide, they tend to focus on the Holocaust or the Rwandan genocide, where the aim, after a certain point, was to kill every Jew or every Tutsi that could be found.

But if you read the Genocide Convention—the treaty that defines genocide and that many governments have ratified—genocide can be aimed at destroying a group in whole, as in the Holocaust or Rwanda, or in part. This is where the Holocaust and Rwandan examples can mislead, because it is also genocide if you target part of a group, either for killing or through conditions of life that bring about their partial destruction. That is what defines Gaza today. The Israeli government is not trying to kill every single Palestinian. But it is trying to kill enough Palestinians and deprive them with enough severity that they are forced to flee into Egypt. Genocide with an intent to destroy a group in part is what’s really going on here. The Holocaust leads us astray because that’s not what it was about. So, we need to read the Genocide Convention as written and recognize that the Holocaust alone does not define genocide. There are other forms—such as the one playing out in Gaza today.

Past Genocides Do Not Justify Present Atrocities

And lastly, you’ve drawn parallels between Kagame’s Rwanda and Netanyahu’s Israel in weaponizing past victimhood to justify present crimes. How can the human rights community dismantle such narratives without denying past genocides, and which accountability tools—aid conditionality, arms suspensions, or regional pressure—have proven most effective against such impunity politics?

Professor Kenneth Roth: As I mentioned, both Netanyahu and Kagame play on past genocide to divert attention from their current mass atrocities—Netanyahu in Gaza, and Kagame through both his repression at home and, most acutely, his invasion of Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo through his own forces as well as the proxy M23 rebel group.

The goal of the human rights community is obviously not to deny the Holocaust or the Rwandan genocide. These are facts, these are horrific episodes in human history. But the point is to say: “Yes, they happened, but they don’t excuse present abuses.” So, we have to carefully document what’s happening in Congo and in Gaza and press for real pressure to stop it.

That pressure can and should include economic measures. Sadly, the European Union—while many of its members are recognizing a Palestinian state—has yet to suspend Israel’s trade benefits, despite vows from Commission President von der Leyen to do so soon. In eastern Congo, back in 2012, a similar Rwandan invasion via the M23 was stopped in its tracks when the US and British governments told Kagame they would cut off aid unless he withdrew. Within days, the M23 crumbled. Today, that isn’t happening. Trump cut a deal allowing Rwanda to stay and exploit the minerals.

So, we need to look at what has worked in the past, namely intense economic pressure. I would like to see the International Criminal Court (ICC)—which has already acted in part in Gaza—do much more and also extend its action to eastern Congo. It has done so in the past, but not with respect to this current invasion. Plenty of steps remain available to help rein in Kagame and Netanyahu and to stop their misuse of past atrocities as an excuse for committing new ones today.

Demonstration organized by KOD in Kraków, Poland, on January 9, 2016, in defense of free media and democracy against the PiS government. Photo: Krzysztof Nahlik.

Virtual Workshop Series — Session 2: The ‘Nation’ or just an ‘Accidental Society’: Identity, Polarization, Rule of Law and Human Rights in 1989–2025 Poland

Please cite as:
ECPS Staff. (2025). “Virtual Workshop Series — Session 2: The ‘Nation’ or just an ‘Accidental Society’: Identity, Polarization, Rule of Law and Human Rights in 1989–2025 Poland.” European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS). September 19, 2025. https://doi.org/10.55271/rp00114



On September 18, 2025, ECPS held the second session of the Virtual Workshop Series — “We, the People” and the Future of Democracy. Chaired by Professor Mavis Maclean (Oxford), the panel examined Poland’s democratic trajectory through themes of patriotism, constitutional conflict, human rights, and representation. Highlights included Professor Joanna Kurczewska’s call to recover Solidarity’s inclusive legacy, Dr. Kamil Joński’s analysis of Poland’s constitutional “quagmire,” Professor Małgorzata Fuszara’s exploration of contested women’s and minority rights, and Professor Jacek Kurczewski’s reframing of judicial representation. Discussants added comparative and moral-philosophical perspectives. The session concluded that Poland’s experience reflects global struggles: reclaiming inclusive traditions, defending institutions, and embedding rights remain vital for democratic renewal.

Reported by ECPS Staff

On September 18, 2025, the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), in collaboration with Oxford University, convened the second session of its Virtual Workshop Series — ‘We, the People’ and the Future of Democracy: Interdisciplinary Approaches. The session, titled “The ‘Nation’ or just an ‘Accidental Society’: Identity, Polarization, Rule of Law and Human Rights in 1989–2025 Poland,” brought together leading scholars to examine the Polish case as a lens into broader struggles over democracy, representation, and rights. Chaired by Professor Mavis Maclean (University of Oxford), the event highlighted Poland’s experience of post-1989 transformation, the contested legacy of Solidarity, constitutional polarization, and ongoing battles over women’s and minority rights.

Following the introduction of the programme and participants by Reka Koleszar on behalf of ECPS, Prof. Mavis Maclean, CBE (St Hilda’s College, University of Oxford) opened by situating the discussion within a wider European context. Reflecting on Britain’s surge of far-right populism, she posed a dilemma: should mass populist movements be regarded as authentic expressions of civic grievance, or as dangerous forces of hatred and violence? She expressed hope that the Polish experience could illuminate how democracies might redirect discontent toward renewal rather than demagoguery.

The first presentation, delivered by Professor Jacek Kurczewski on behalf of his wife, the absent Professor Joanna Kurczewska (Polish Academy of Sciences), revisited her long-standing work on Polish patriotism. Drawing on the legacy of Solidarity and the role of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, she argued that inclusive, pluralist patriotism once united workers, intellectuals, and clergy, but that its legacy has since weakened. She warned that today’s exclusionary populism thrives on the failure to sustain that inclusive vision.

Dr. Kamil Jonski  (University of Łódź) then addressed Poland’s constitutional polarization. His paper, “Single Text, Clashing Meanings,” traced how the 1997 Constitution, from its inception, was a battleground of rival axiologies. While liberals view it as a rights-based framework, conservatives interpret it through a lens of sovereignty and morality. The 2015 constitutional crisis, resulting in right-wing packing of the Tribunal, offered opportunity to impose one of those visions, and produced a constitutional quagmire with disagreement not only on values, but also legitimacy of institutions (including top judicial bodies).

Professor Malgorzata Fuszara  (University of Warsaw) explored the contested trajectory of human rights. She distinguished between broad consensus on universal rights after 1989 and the divisive politics of women’s and minority rights. Abortion restrictions, stalled LGBTQ reforms, and uneven protections illustrate enduring resistance. Yet she also highlighted progress, including the redefinition of rape law and gender quotas in parliament, underscoring the unfinished task of fully integrating women’s and minority rights into Poland’s human rights framework.

Finally, Professor Jacek Kurczewski (University of Warsaw) presented his own paper on representation and the rule of law. He challenged populist claims that only elected politicians embody the nation, arguing that judges also represent the nation through law, oath, and culture. Reviving lay participation in justice, he suggested, could counteract populist narratives and strengthen judicial legitimacy.

The discussion was enriched by three international discussants. Dr. Magdalena Solska (University of Fribourg) highlighted the need to revisit the legacy of Solidarity for democratic resilience and probed the paradox of women’s electoral behavior. Professor Barry Sullivan (Loyola University Chicago) compared Poland’s constitutional struggles to US debates, raising questions about the gap between cultural appeals and economic policy. Professor Krzysztof Motyka (Catholic University of Lublin) drew attention to the moral-philosophical dimensions of rights discourse, from Father Popiełuszko’s defense of life to the linguistic shift from civic to human rights.

Together, the session illuminated Poland as a microcosm of global struggles: how inclusive traditions are eroded by polarized politics, how constitutions fracture under competing axiologies, and how rights remain contested terrain.

Professor Mavis Maclean: Populism — Authentic Civic Voice or Dangerous Force of Hatred?

Participants of nationalist and anti-Islamic demonstration organized by far-right organisations use smoke races, hold banners in Warsaw, Poland on April 10, 2016. Photo: Wiola Wiaderek.

Mavis Maclean opened her contribution by emphasizing the significance of the discussion, describing it as both urgent and only just beginning to receive the attention it deserves. Reflecting on a recent conversation with a colleague who asked about the figure of Tommy Robinson, Maclean situated him within a broader European surge of far-right populism rooted in anxieties over immigration. She recalled that even British prime ministers had spoken of the country as becoming an “island of strangers.” For Maclean, this illustrates how immigration has become a focal point for rising populist energies that have caught established institutions unprepared.

She posed a central dilemma: should populist movements be valued as authentic expressions of civic sentiment, or feared as destabilizing forces that can slip into violence and hatred? Drawing contrasts with more hopeful movements in other contexts, Maclean warned that in Britain today the populist surge appears more threatening than transformative. Traditional party structures have weakened, with the Conservatives in decline and figures such as Nigel Farage and the Reform Party gaining visibility on the far right. Maclean expressed hope that the day’s presentations would help identify constructive responses—ways to reinforce the rule of law, rebuild political trust, and channel popular discontent into democratic renewal rather than demagoguery. 

Joanna Kurczewska: “Varieties of Polish Patriotism: Experience of Solidarity 1980–1989 in the Context of History and Anthropology of Ideas”

Solidarity logo on a flag during an anti-government demonstration, June 30, 2011, in Warsaw, Poland. Solidarity, a Polish trade union federation, was founded on August 31, 1980, at the Gdańsk Shipyard under the leadership of Lech Wałęsa. Photo: Tomasz Bidermann.

Because of illness, Professor Joanna Kurczewska (Polish Academy of Sciences) could not attend the panel in person. Her paper was instead delivered by her husband, Professor Jacek Kurczewski (University of Warsaw). His presentation offered a rich reconstruction of Kurczewska’s long-term research on the intellectual and cultural legacies of Polish patriotism, with particular attention to the Solidarity movement (1980–1989).

Kurczewski opened with reflections on the difficulty of translating concepts such as “patriotism” and “nationalism” across linguistic and cultural contexts. In Poland, patriotism carries largely positive connotations, while nationalism is often viewed with suspicion. By contrast, in English-language scholarship “nationalism” is frequently a neutral, technical category. Kurczewska’s analysis insists that these terms cannot be divorced from their cultural histories.

The paper revisited her pioneering study from the 1990s, based on interviews with 53 Polish politicians in the early years of the Third Republic. Surprisingly, many of them—whether from the former Communist Party or from the anti-communist opposition—downplayed Solidarity as a living source of political ideas. While acknowledging its historical importance, they treated it as a closed chapter rather than a repertoire for democratic renewal.

From Solidarity to Liberal Patriotism

Today, in a deeply polarized Poland divided between Law and Justice (PiS) and the Civic Coalition, Kurczewska argues it is essential to recall the pluralism and inclusivity that defined Solidarity’s original ethos. Born from the Interfactory Strike Committee in 1980, Solidarity united workers, engineers, intellectuals, and Catholic clergy under a shared platform, symbolized by the charismatic figure of Lech Wałęsa and the Black Madonna emblem on his lapel.

A key focus of Kurczewska’s analysis is the role of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, the Catholic priest murdered by communist security services in 1984. Through his “Masses for the Homeland,” Popiełuszko created spaces that were both liturgical and profoundly civic. These gatherings became cultural products of resistance: religious rituals infused with democratic, republican, and Romantic ideals of truth, justice, courage, and solidarity. Importantly, they were inclusive, drawing believers and non-believers alike, and forging bonds between workers and intellectuals. In this, Kurczewska identifies a crucial anthropological dimension of patriotism—as lived practice and social performance, not just political ideology.

Popiełuszko’s sermons, she argues, advanced a form of “liberal patriotism.” Unlike traditional Polish Romantic nationalism, his vision insisted that the national community must guarantee individual autonomy and human rights. This creative redefinition of patriotism during late communism exemplifies how cultural and religious traditions can be reinterpreted to support democratic values.

Enigmatic Representation and Forgotten Legacies

Kurczewski then turned to the transition of the 1990s, when post-communist social democrats successfully reinserted themselves into politics. By appropriating elements of national tradition, they achieved electoral victories, while radical nationalists were marginalized to the political fringe. Yet, as Kurczewska warns, this era of “inclusive politics” has given way to a new fragmentation. Today, figures from the far-right fringe not only gain parliamentary seats but even sit in the European Parliament, bringing anti-Semitic, xenophobic, and anti-European rhetoric into the mainstream.

The conclusion of the paper introduced the notion of “enigmatic representation.” Kurczewska observed that Polish politicians of the 1990s, whether post-communist or from the Solidarity camp, tended to speak in the name of “the nation” or “society” without genuine interest in citizen voices. Society was treated as an object to be mobilized rather than a subject of representation. She suggested that this top-down approach may have sown long-term frustration, paving the way for today’s populist politics, which relies on exclusive language, sharp polarization, and appeals to younger generations through anti-migrant and anti-EU narratives.

The paper ultimately invites us to reconsider Solidarity not as a nostalgic memory, but as a resource for rebuilding democratic culture. Its pluralism, inclusive patriotism, and agonistic rather than antagonistic style of communication offer lessons for today’s Poland, where politics risks sliding into exclusionary populism. Kurczewska’s anthropological lens underscores that patriotism, when rooted in lived practices of solidarity, can remain a democratic force rather than a vehicle of division.

Delivered with warmth and intellectual care by Professor Jacek Kurczewski, the paper stood as both a historical analysis and a contemporary warning: Poland’s democratic future may depend on recovering the forgotten legacies of inclusive patriotism forged in the crucible of Solidarity.

Dr. Kamil Joński: “Single Text, Clashing Meanings: Political Polarization, Constitutional Axiology and the Polish Constitutional Quagmire”

Dr. Kamil Joński’s presentation offered a penetrating exploration of the Polish constitutional crisis, reframing it as not merely a legal or institutional dispute but as a struggle over political meaning, legitimacy, and the cultural axiology of constitutionalism itself. His central thesis was clear: although the 1997 Constitution has become an accepted normative text in Poland, its interpretation has fractured along deep political, cultural, and religious cleavages. This fragmentation has led to what Dr. Joński called a “constitutional quagmire,” in which the same constitutional text sustains radically divergent visions of democracy, the rule of law, and the legitimacy of the judicial bodies to be recognized as a court of law.

Historical Cleavages and the Rise of Polarization

Dr. Joński began by situating the problem historically. The first decade after the fall of communism was dominated by what scholars call the post-communist cleavage: the political opposition between former regime actors and the dissident opposition. Yet this cleavage reached exhaustion by the early 2000s.

By 2001, two new parties emerged from the younger generation of anti-communists: Civic Platform (PO), founded by Donald Tusk, and Law and Justice (PiS), founded by the Kaczyński brothers. Since 2005, Dr. Joński argued, the rivalry between these two parties has organized not only political life but also the constitutional order itself. 

The Fragile Legitimacy of the 1997 Constitution

 

Dr. Joński turned next to the peculiar circumstances of the 1997 Constitution. Although it has endured for nearly three decades, its legitimacy has always been contested. Drafted by a parliament with an artificial post-communist majority—produced by electoral reform rather than a genuine social mandate—it was opposed by the Christian right, which offered an alternative “citizens’ draft” of the constitution. Finally, the constitution was approved in a referendum by the majority of 53.5% of voters on a 43% turnout. According to its critics, this meant less than one-quarter of eligible Poles endorsed the Constitution,  labeling it not only “post-communist” but also “a minority constitution.” Yet, this contested document functioned relatively effectively for nearly 20 years, providing a framework for governance, EU accession, and steady economic development.

The 2015 Break: From Amendment to Interpretation

This balance collapsed in 2015. For the first time since democratization, one party—PiS—secured both a single-party parliamentary majority and the presidency. This unique constellation of power made it possible to embark on what retired Constitutional Tribunal justice Professor M. Wyrzykowski described as a “war against the Constitution.” Crucially, PiS lacked the supermajorities needed for formal constitutional amendment. Instead, it turned to institutional capture of the Constitutional Tribunal as a means of constitutional change through interpretation.

To this end PiS embarked what Dr. Jonski called “purposeful top-down de-legitimization” of the Tribunal. Initially respected across the political spectrum, and even praised for rulings sympathetic to Catholic doctrine in issues like abortion, the Tribunal was rapidly delegitimized through propaganda campaigns. branding it as an enemy of “the people.” Once PiS nominees assumed control over the Tribunal, it became what Professor Wojciech Sadurski has termed a “governmental enabler.” For PiS supporters, the Tribunal was re-legitimized as a defender of “the people” against liberal elites.

The Long Shadow of 1997

One of the most striking elements of Dr. Joński’s presentation was his demonstration of the continuity between the 1997 referendum and contemporary politics. Using electoral and survey data, he showed that nearly 45% of the variance in the 2025 presidential runoff could be explained by voting patterns from the 1997 constitutional referendum. In other words, attitudes toward the Constitution nearly three decades earlier are still visible on the Poland’s political map.

This persistence suggests that disputes about the Constitution are not only institutional but deeply cultural, rooted in long-standing divisions between religiously practicing conservatives and more secular, liberal constituencies.

Survey Evidence: Religion, Memory, and Constitutional Identity

Dr. Joński enriched his argument examining data from the late 1990s through the 2010s, to  trac how different groups answered the questions related to the Constitution. Due to the shifts in Polish political landscape, he grouped respondents according to two criteria: self-identification on the left-right scale and religious service attendance.

In 1997, opposition to the constitution was heavily concentrated among respondents identifying with political right and declaring weekly service attendance. By 2017, very few Poles openly admitted to opposing the Constitution twenty years earlier—evidence that it had been normalized as a “fact of life.” Yet this apparent acceptance concealed ongoing dissatisfaction. Practicing right-wing voters most frequently expressed the strongest desire for constitutional change.

In 1997, opposition was heavily concentrated among practicing Catholics on the right. By 2017, very few Poles openly admitted to opposing the Constitution—evidence that it had been normalized as a “fact of life.” Yet this apparent acceptance concealed ongoing dissatisfaction. Practicing right-wing voters consistently expressed the strongest desire for constitutional change, arguing that the text was ill-suited to Poland’s needs.

When constitutional amendment proved politically unattainable, these constituencies turned to reinterpretation through institutional capture. This strategy was visible in survey responses during the height of the Tribunal crisis: when asked whether they supported the Tribunal or the government, practicing right-wing voters typically sided with the latter, despite the Tribunal’s earlier record of religiously sympathetic rulings on abortion, “blasphemy” and “conscientious objection.

Competing Constitutional Axiologies

The idea of saturating constitutional text with values is offered by legal doctrines favored on the political left (R. Dworkin’s 1996 “moral reading” of constitution) as well as right (A. Vermeule’s 2022 “Common Good Constitutionalism”).

At the heart of Dr. Joński’s analysis is the idea that such process occurred in Poland, and on both sides of axiological conflict. Thus, Poland faces a paradox: the Constitution can be shared as a text, yet it divides substantively as a contested source of meaning. Each camp projects its values onto the same text, producing parallel constitutional orders.

The Dual-Track Constitutional Order

After 2015 constitutional crisis and its implications, the situation is even worse, as both sides disagree not only on axiological meaning of the constitutional provisions, but also on the institutions legitimized to resolve the disputes (the legality of judicial appointment and the very status of the court of law). Today, Poland operates under what Dr. Joński called a dual-track constitutional regime.

Conclusion: A Constitution without Consensus

In closing, Dr. Joński emphasized the paradoxical nature of Polish constitutionalism. The 1997 Constitution, once derided as illegitimate, has become broadly accepted as a normative framework. Yet this acceptance has not produced consensus. Instead, it has given rise to clashing interpretations, each claiming fidelity to the text while advancing divergent value systems, visions of democracy, sovereignty, and rights.

This “single text, clashing meanings” dynamic illustrates the fragility of constitutional democracy in polarized societies. Poland’s experience suggests that legitimacy is not only a matter of formal adoption but of sustained cultural consensus. Absent that, constitutions risk becoming battlegrounds of identity, leaving societies vulnerable to constitutional crises.

Prof. Małgorzata Fuszara: “Protection of Human Rights and Its Implications for Women’s and Minority Rights”

Women’s strike and protest in Warsaw, Poland, against the abortion ban and the legal changes restricting the right to appeal fines or penalties. Photo: Eryk Losik.

Professor Małgorzata Fuszara delivered a nuanced and historically grounded analysis of the trajectory of human rights in Poland, with particular attention to the contested arenas of women’s rights and minority rights. Her paper carefully distinguished between two categories: the general, universal human rights that gained wide acceptance after 1989, and the more divisive domains of gender equality and minority protection, which remain highly politicized.

Human Rights under Authoritarianism and the Democratic Breakthrough

Professor Fuszara began with a reminder of the authoritarian context before 1989. For half a century, fundamental rights such as freedom of speech, freedom of association, the right to demonstrate, and the freedom to travel abroad were absent or severely restricted. Even trivial matters, such as the minutes of academic meetings, required approval by the censor. Public gatherings of more than five people needed official authorization. Passports were withheld and permission was required for every trip abroad.

Such restrictions underscored how authoritarian regimes can comprehensively curtail freedoms. Against this backdrop, the democratic breakthrough of 1989 brought a remarkable consensus: across the political spectrum, there was broad agreement on the need to enshrine fundamental rights. Drafting regulations for assemblies, for instance, was not a divisive issue. The recognition of basic human rights became part of Poland’s democratic DNA, at least at the level of principle.

From Consensus to Contestation

Yet Professor Fuszara emphasized that the consensus around general human rights did not extend to the rights of women and minorities. Here, division emerged immediately after 1989. The most striking example was reproductive rights. Under communism, abortion had been legal since 1956, earlier than in much of Western Europe. Generations of Polish women grew accustomed to reproductive autonomy. Thus, it came as a shock when the very first legislative proposals in the post-1989 parliament sought to introduce a total ban on abortion.

This debate revealed deep internal fractures. Even within Solidarność, the emblem of democratic opposition, the leadership supported abortion restrictions, while the women’s section opposed them. Since then, reproductive rights have remained one of the most divisive issues in Polish politics. Attempts to tighten abortion laws, particularly through Constitutional Tribunal rulings, repeatedly sparked mass mobilizations. The so-called “Black Protests” drew waves of young women—and many men—onto the streets, reshaping electoral patterns. Yet despite these mobilizations, restrictive laws remain in place, making abortion a symbol of both resistance and regression in contemporary Poland.

Minority Rights: Uneven Trajectories

Turning to minority rights, Professor Fuszara offered a differentiated assessment. The situation of ethnic and national minorities is relatively stable and in line with European Union standards. Legal provisions facilitate their parliamentary representation, and although disputes persist over which groups qualify as national minorities, these are largely managed within democratic debate.

In contrast, sexual minorities remain excluded from full equality. Efforts to introduce marriage equality or even civil partnerships have repeatedly failed. Professor Fuszara recalled attempts made over a decade ago, including during her own tenure as government plenipotentiary for equality, which were ultimately defeated. Although new proposals occasionally emerge, expectations remain low, and Poland continues to lag behind Western Europe in this field.

Professor Fuszara also stressed that formal legal guarantees often diverge from political practice. She recalled episodes when women protesting abortion restrictions faced harsh police repression, highlighting how authorities can undermine rights through coercive enforcement. These instances illustrate the fragility of rights protections in polarized contexts: while the principles of human rights may enjoy rhetorical consensus, their application can be obstructed by partisan or authoritarian impulses.

Recent Advances and Sources of Optimism

Despite these challenges, Professor Fuszara pointed to important achievements. Poland has ratified the Istanbul Convention, strengthening protections against gender-based violence. A major legal reform last month redefined rape in line with feminist jurisprudence, foregrounding the perspective of the victim for the first time. This marked an overdue recognition of the principle that women’s rights are human rights.

She also highlighted the adoption of gender quotas in electoral lists in 2011. Poland is, alongside states of the former Yugoslavia, one of the few post-communist countries to institutionalize such measures. As a result, women now hold slightly over 30% of parliamentary seats—a modest but significant improvement compared to the past, and higher than in several neighboring states, such as Hungary, where women constitute just 15% of parliament.

Nevertheless, Professor Fuszara closed with a sober reflection. Under communism, gender equality had been proclaimed as a principle, but often only formally. Post-1989, this principle was never fully reframed within the human rights paradigm. The slogan “women’s rights are human rights,” first articulated globally at the Vienna Conference in 1993 and reaffirmed in Beijing in 1995, still struggles to gain full resonance in Poland. For many politicians, gender equality remains a marginal issue, subordinated to party competition or cultural conservatism.

Conclusion

Professor Fuszara’s presentation revealed a paradox at the heart of Polish democracy. On one hand, there is a strong, cross-party commitment to universal human rights, born of the shared memory of authoritarian restrictions. On the other, women’s rights and minority rights continue to be arenas of deep contestation, exposing the limits of consensus and the persistence of patriarchal and exclusionary norms.

Her reflections traced both regression—visible in abortion restrictions and stalled progress on LGBTQ rights—and genuine advances, such as the redefinition of rape and the implementation of gender quotas. Above all, she insisted that rights cannot be taken for granted. They must be continuously defended, reframed, and expanded. The challenge remains to integrate women’s rights and minority rights fully into the fabric of human rights, so that they are no longer treated as exceptions but as integral to the democratic promise made in 1989.

Professor Jacek Kurczewski: “Who Speaks for Whom: The Issue of Representation in the Struggle for the Rule of Law”

Modern building of the Supreme Court of Poland in Warsaw, photographed on January 7, 2020. Photo: Dreamstime.

In his presentation, Professor Jacek Kurczewski explored the contested notion of representation at the heart of Poland’s ongoing rule-of-law conflict. Framing the problem through both political sociology and constitutional analysis, he examined how populist rhetoric weaponizes the formula “we, the people” against the judiciary, and how judges themselves may legitimately be understood as representatives of the nation.

Populism, “the People,” and Judicial Autonomy

Professor Kurczewski began by situating the debate in the populist appropriation of democracy. Leaders of the ruling Law and Justice party (PiS) claimed to embody the authentic will of the people, portraying judicial independence as an undemocratic obstacle. Judges, they argued, were relics of communist privilege or elitist guardians hostile to popular sovereignty. The rhetoric was often vulgar—accusations ranged from petty theft to corruption—but also grounded in a doctrinal attack: the judiciary was accused of claiming sovereignty for itself, elevating constitutional interpretation above the elected parliament.

This framing, Professor Kurczewski noted, created a false dichotomy: elected representatives as the sole voice of the people versus judges cast as self-appointed elites. The populist narrative ignored the constitutional and cultural grounds by which judges themselves exercise representative authority.

The Judiciary and Competing Logics of Representation

Drawing on Hanna Pitkin’s classic theory of representation—the idea of representing what is not physically present— Professor Kurczewski argued that judges too represent the nation. They do so not through electoral mandate but through their role as guardians of law, which is itself a core element of national culture. The Polish constitution, party manifestos, and civic tradition define the nation as a community of culture, history, and shared values. Law, he emphasized, is inseparable from this community; to apply and protect it is to embody the nation’s identity.

Judicial oaths reinforce this function. Each Polish judge swears to serve the Republic faithfully, uphold the law, and dispense justice impartially and with dignity. In this way, judges symbolically—and practically—act as representatives of the nation’s legal and moral order, even though they are not chosen by direct election.

Professor Kurczewski highlighted that the tension is not between representation and non-representation but between different forms of representation. Parliamentarians, under the free mandate principle inherited from Burkean tradition, represent the nation as a whole rather than their constituencies. Judges, by contrast, represent justice and the legal order. Both are indirect vehicles of sovereignty, as Article 4 of the Polish Constitution affirms that power derives from the nation and is exercised either directly or through representatives. Thus, the confrontation between politicians and judges is not about legitimacy per se, but about clashing logics of legitimacy—electoral versus legal-constitutional.

Professor Kurczewski also lamented the decline of lay judges in Poland since 1989. Once a significant institution allowing citizens to participate directly in adjudication, lay judges were marginalized in the transition era as professional judges sought to elevate the dignity and autonomy of the judiciary. This, he argued, was a missed opportunity. Strengthening lay participation could provide a democratic bridge between the judiciary and society, countering populist claims that judges are isolated elites.

Conclusion

Professor Kurczewski concluded that defending judicial independence cannot rely solely on institutional autonomy. It must also involve rethinking representation in more inclusive ways. Recognizing judges as representatives of the nation—albeit in a distinct mode from elected politicians—undermines populist accusations of illegitimacy. At the same time, reinforcing lay participation in courts could help reconnect the judiciary with society, blunting populist attacks and deepening democratic legitimacy.

Ultimately, the struggle for the rule of law in Poland is not only a battle over institutions but also over meanings of representation itself. Who speaks for the nation—the politicians who claim its voice, or the judges who embody its law? Professor Kurczewski’s intervention suggested that the answer must acknowledge both, while resisting the authoritarian temptation to silence one in the name of the other.

Discussants’ Contributions

Dr. Magdalena Solska (University of Fribourg)

The first discussant, Dr. Magdalena Solska, Assistant Professor at the University of Fribourg, opened the commentary session by reflecting on the richness of the panel and the uniqueness of the Polish case. She approached her role primarily through questions and reflections designed to stimulate further debate.

Turning first to Prof. Joanna Kurczewska’s paper on Polish patriotism and the legacy of Solidarity, Dr. Solska praised the author’s use of the concept of resistance rather than mere opposition. She underlined that in political science, resistance carries a moral and normative dimension highly relevant to understanding the Solidarity movement of the 1980s. Yet she also raised a challenging question: was it perhaps inevitable that the legacy of Solidarity would weaken in the face of the unprecedented pressures of post-communist transformation—social, political, and especially economic? In her view, the turbulence of systemic change may have eroded the sense of national community that Solidarity once embodied. If so, she suggested, today’s polarized context may offer an opportune moment to revisit that legacy and ask how it could contribute to democratic resilience.

On Dr. Kamil Joński’s analysis of constitutional polarization, Dr. Solska praised the presentation as resourceful and empirically rich, especially in its reconstruction of the long and contentious constitution-making process of the 1990s. She welcomed the reminder that Poland’s constitutional reality long preceded its final text, making the process unique compared with other post-communist countries. At the same time, she offered constructive critiques. First, she encouraged Dr. Joński to state his research question more clearly at the outset, as the central argument—explaining the enduring loyalty of PiS’s electorate—only emerged at the end. Second, she questioned his use of “liberal-democratic” versus “religious-traditional” categories, suggesting that the latter can also be democratic and that alternative labels might better capture the cleavage. Finally, she argued that the desire for constitutional change among practicing conservatives should not automatically be viewed as negative, given the ambiguities of the 1997 constitution. She encouraged deeper engagement with the role of political polarization, which in her view desensitizes electorates to rule-bending practices by their preferred parties.

With respect to Professor Małgorzata Fuszara’s presentation on human rights, women, and minorities, Dr. Solska raised a probing question about electoral behavior: why do significant numbers of women in Poland vote for PiS, often in higher proportions than for the liberal Civic Coalition? This paradox, she suggested, requires careful sociological and political analysis.

Finally, commenting on Professor Jacek Kurczewski’s reflections on representation and the rule of law, Dr. Solska asked how, in a context of deep political polarization, the rule of law might realistically be restored or strengthened. Since the rule of law presupposes broad consensus, she expressed skepticism about whether such consensus is achievable in today’s climate and pressed Professor Kurczewski to consider not if but how this renewal might occur.

Her remarks set the tone for an engaged and critical discussion, highlighting conceptual nuances, empirical puzzles, and the pressing challenge of polarization across all contributions.

Professor Barry Sullivan (Loyola University Chicago School of Law)

The second discussant, Professor Barry Sullivan of Loyola University Chicago, opened his remarks by situating the Polish experience within a comparative perspective shaped by his own work on American constitutionalism. Noting that he often asks his students to grapple with the challenges of interpreting and implementing a constitution written more than two centuries ago, he found Dr. Joński’s analysis of Poland’s constitutional trajectory particularly illuminating. He highlighted the striking continuity Dr. Joński traced between the contested adoption of the 1997 Constitution and today’s disputes over its meaning, emphasizing how early legitimacy deficits continue to reverberate decades later.

Drawing from the US context, Professor Sullivan posed a pointed question: to what extent does the Polish case reveal a disconnect between cultural politics and economic interests similar to that visible in the United States? He observed that in contemporary American politics, ruling parties often cultivate loyalty by appealing to socially conservative values—on issues such as abortion, marriage equality, and education—while simultaneously advancing deregulatory or pro-capitalist policies that may not materially benefit the same constituencies. He asked whether a similar disjunction between value-based appeals and economic outcomes can be seen in Poland’s current political landscape.

Turning to Professor Jacek Kurczewski’s reflections on judicial independence and representation, Professor Sullivan drew an instructive comparison with the US Supreme Court. In recent years, he noted, the Court has increasingly aligned itself with the executive branch, issuing consequential rulings at great speed and often without reasoned explanations. This, he stressed, departs from the traditional American ideal of the rule of law, which requires not only judgments but transparent justifications that anchor decisions in legal reasoning rather than political expediency. Professor Sullivan thus invited further discussion of whether Poland’s embattled judiciary faces parallel challenges, and how judges can maintain legitimacy in the face of politicized attacks.

Finally, Professor Sullivan engaged with Professor Fuszara’s presentation on human rights, women, and minority rights, drawing an analogy to the US struggle over civil society and historical memory. He noted that in Poland, as Professor Fuszara described, the media and public institutions became contested arenas after 1989. Today, in the US, similar dynamics are unfolding as political actors attempt to control not only state institutions but also cultural ones once assumed to be apolitical, such as museums, the Smithsonian, or even the National Park Service. He cited recent reports of efforts to purge references to slavery and racial injustice from park materials, framing this as part of a broader strategy to politicize civil society and restrict critical narratives.

In closing, Professor Sullivan praised the panel for offering a rich comparative perspective on constitutionalism, human rights, and political polarization. While acknowledging his questions as those of an outsider, he emphasized how Poland’s experience provides important lessons for scholars and practitioners wrestling with the fragility of the rule of law in democracies old and new.

Professor Krzysztof Motyka (John Paul II Catholic University of Lublin)

The third discussant, Professor Krzysztof Motyka, offered reflections that bridged the three presentations while drawing on historical, theological, and sociological perspectives. He began with a commentary on the legacy of Blessed Father Jerzy Popiełuszko, situating him not only as a figure of anti-communist resistance but also as an early defender of human rights. Professor Motyka underscored that Popiełuszko consistently emphasized the sanctity of life “from conception,” opposing the liberal abortion laws of communist Poland. While not advocating punitive measures, he insisted that the Church’s responsibility lay in both proclaiming the sanctity of life and ensuring social and state support for women in difficult circumstances. Professor Motyka reminded the audience that Popiełuszko remains venerated as a patron of reconciliation and respect for life, symbolized by his inclusion in national commemorations. He also recalled Cardinal Glemp’s 1988 caution that protecting the unborn must not become a tool of political bargaining, highlighting the tension between moral conviction and political instrumentalization.

Turning to Professor Fuszara’s presentation, Professor Motyka focused on the linguistic and conceptual transformation in Poland’s rights discourse. Before 1989, he noted, academic and legal circles predominantly used the language of “civil” or “civic rights,” tied to the framework of citizenship and the state. Only in the late 1980s did the universalist vocabulary of “human rights” gain prominence, a shift that reflected broader philosophical and political change. The adoption of this language after the democratic transition, he argued, signaled a recognition that rights derive from human dignity and nature, not merely from state recognition.

Finally, commenting on Dr. Joński’s analysis of constitutional polarization, Professor Motyka provided a personal reflection. While uncertain of his own vote in the 1997 constitutional referendum, he recalled that many Poles who opposed the text did so less for substantive reasons than for historical or emotional ones. For some, it seemed a bitter irony that a parliament dominated by post-communists was entrusted with drafting and adopting the nation’s new constitution—a task many believed should have belonged to the democratic opposition. For these voters, rejecting the Constitution was less about legal content and more about expressing a sense of historical injustice.

Professor Motyka concluded by thanking the panel, stressing that such interdisciplinary dialogue helps illuminate the deeper moral, cultural, and symbolic dimensions of Poland’s constitutional struggles.

Concluding Assessments by Professor Mavis Maclean

In her closing reflections, Professor Mavis Maclean offered a comparative perspective from the United Kingdom, noting with interest that none of the panelists had raised the issue of money. In the UK, she explained, questions of judicial policy, legal reform, or access to justice are always framed by cost. Having worked as an advisor in the Ministry of Justice, she recalled that every proposal was first judged by whether it offered “value for money”—a narrow and often crude measure for shaping a justice system. By contrast, Australia has adopted a more nuanced framework, discussing reforms in terms of “social return on investment,” yet even there, financial justification dominates policymaking. Maclean observed, with a touch of irony, that Poland must be “so rich” not to worry about such constraints, though she suspected this might not fully be the case.

Turning back to the themes of the seminar, she emphasized how refreshing it was to hear discussions focused on values rather than pounds and pence. In Britain, even debates about immigration, populist protest, and human rights are quickly reduced to questions of affordability—border controls, asylum procedures, or welfare costs. By contrast, today’s conversation had foregrounded principles: rule of law, democracy, patriotism, and social solidarity. She concluded warmly, congratulating the presenters for offering not only answers but also new terms and questions to reflect upon long after the session.

Panelists’ Replies

Professor Małgorzata Fuszara began by addressing the question of why women appeared to support Law and Justice (PiS) more than Civic Coalition (KO). She clarified that this impression is misleading. While PiS did secure more total votes than KO, the gender balance within each electorate shows a different pattern. Among PiS voters, men outnumbered women; conversely, among KO supporters, women outnumbered men. The clearest gender divide emerges at the extremes. In the far-right Confederation electorate, fewer than 30% of voters are women, while over 70% are men. On the left (Lewica), the trend reverses: more than 60% of voters are women. This divide has sharpened since the abortion protests, particularly among younger generations—young women tend to vote for the left, while young men lean to the far right.

Turning to media, Professor Fuszara stressed that control over television, though still significant, is an old debate. The new battlefield lies in social media, which once held the promise of greater freedom of expression but is now vulnerable to manipulation. Disinformation campaigns and far-right influence in digital spaces, she warned, pose a profound threat to democracy.

Dr. Kamil Jonski added a brief but pointed reflection on constitutional politics. He agreed that recognizing the need to amend the Polish Constitution is not problematic in itself. The danger, however, lies in the trajectory: opposition to the Constitution, followed by calls for amendment, then support for court-packing, and finally acceptance of its outcomes. This sequence, he argued, captures the narrative of groups seeking to reshape constitutional law to their advantage.

Replying to Dr. Solska’s question on how to resolve the conflict over the Rule of Law in Poland, Professor Kurczewski said: “I think we need to once again draw on Solidarity’s past experience. As Tadeusz Mazowiecki, Poland’s first non-communist Prime Minister after 1989, said, we need a ‘thick line’ (gruba kreska) to separate the future from the past. A full reset of the machinery of justice and a renewal of the judiciary is the only solution.”

Photo: Dreamstime.

Overall Conclusion

The second session of the ECPS–Oxford University Virtual Workshop Series, “The ‘Nation’ or just an ‘Accidental Society’: Identity, Polarization, Rule of Law and Human Rights in 1989–2025 Poland,” revealed Poland as both a distinctive case and a mirror of global democratic challenges.

Professor Joanna Kurczewska’s paper, presented by Professor Jacek Kurczewski, underscored how Solidarity’s inclusive patriotism—once uniting workers, clergy, and intellectuals—has been eclipsed by exclusionary narratives. Dr. Kamil Joński traced the constitutional quagmire created by divergent axiological readings of the 1997 Constitution, showing how a single text can sustain polarized visions of democracy. Professor Małgorzata Fuszara demonstrated that while consensus formed around universal human rights after 1989, women’s and minority rights remain embattled terrain, marked by regression in reproductive rights but tempered by incremental progress such as gender quotas and reforms to sexual violence law. In his own contribution, Professor Jacek Kurczewski reframed the judiciary as a representative institution of the nation, stressing that defending the rule of law requires broadening the democratic meaning of representation.

The discussants deepened the analysis: Dr. Magdalena Solska highlighted the fragility of Solidarity’s legacy and the paradoxes of electoral behavior; Professor Barry Sullivan drew US–Polish comparisons on constitutionalism and the politicization of civil society; and Professor Krzysztof Motyka reminded participants of the moral-philosophical dimensions of rights discourse, linking contemporary struggles to the witness of Father Jerzy Popiełuszko.

As Chair, Professor Mavis Maclean reminded the audience that while populism may reflect civic grievances, it can also corrode democratic institutions. The Polish experience, she argued, offers lessons for how democracies might transform discontent into renewal rather than demagoguery.

This session thus underscored a central theme of the workshop series: that the future of democracy hinges on reclaiming inclusive traditions, defending contested institutions, and embedding rights in both law and culture.

Dr. Mark Levene is a genocide scholar, peace activist, and Emeritus Fellow in History at the University of Southampton.

Dr. Levene: Dysfunctional International System Enables Israel’s Genocide in Gaza

A new United Nations commission of inquiry has concluded that Israel has committed genocide in Gaza, citing mass killings, forced displacement, the destruction of essential infrastructure, and even measures to prevent births as evidence of genocidal intent. While Israel has rejected the findings as “distorted and false,” the commission underscored that all states are legally obliged to prevent and punish genocide. Against this backdrop, the ECPS spoke with genocide scholar and peace activist Dr. Mark Levene. In the interview, he warns that genocide is not an aberration but “a dysfunction of the international state system,” arguing that Gaza exemplifies how structural failures and powerful alliances allow atrocities to continue unchecked.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

A United Nations commission of inquiry has concluded on Tuesday that Israel has committed genocide against Palestinians in Gaza, finding “reasonable grounds” that four of the five genocidal acts defined in the 1948 Genocide Convention have been carried out since the war began in October 2023. These include mass killings, inflicting serious bodily and mental harm, deliberately creating conditions to destroy the group, and preventing births. The report cites statements by Israeli leaders, such as Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s vow to bring “mighty vengeance,” as evidence of genocidal intent reinforced by systematic military actions. Israel has categorically rejected the findings, denouncing them as “distorted and false,” but the commission underscored that all states bear a legal duty under international law to prevent and punish genocide.

It is against this backdrop that the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS) spoke in depth with Dr. Mark Levene, genocide scholar, peace activist, and Emeritus Fellow in History at the University of Southampton. In this wide-ranging conversation, Dr. Levene situates Israel’s ongoing war on Gaza within a broader theoretical and historical framework of genocide studies. His intervention goes beyond the binaries of “self-defense” and “terrorism” to expose the systemic dysfunctions of the international state order that allow such atrocities to persist.

The urgency of Dr. Levene’s analysis is underscored by his activism. On September 6, 2025, he was arrested during a peaceful sit-down protest in London’s Parliament Square. Alongside nearly 900 others, he was detained under the Terrorism Act simply for holding a sign declaring, “I Oppose Genocide, I Support Palestine Action.” This lived commitment frames his reflections on Gaza and lends moral force to his scholarly perspective.

The title of this interview—“A Dysfunctional International System Enables Israel’s Genocide in Gaza”—captures its central thesis. For Dr. Levene, genocide is not an aberration but “a dysfunction of the international state system.” Contrary to the dominant framing of genocide as a violation of an otherwise rules-based order, he argues that “you cannot separate what is happening in one state from its relationships with others.” Modern genocides, whether in Myanmar, Rwanda, or China, must be understood within the interlocking political economy of nation-states. Gaza, in this reading, is not exceptional but symptomatic: a structural outcome in which powerful allies shield perpetrators from accountability.

What emerges in this interview is both a historical and moral diagnosis. Dr. Levene emphasizes the asymmetry of power between Hamas and the Israeli state, notes the persistence of genocide despite multiple international rulings, and insists that the key question is systemic: “Why has this been allowed to continue?” His reflections range from the rationalization of mass violence through developmentalist fantasies—such as the so-called “Trump-Riviera Plan”—to the moral responsibilities of genocide scholars. Speaking as both historian and activist, he affirms that “we do have to speak truth to power,” even when power refuses to listen.

Here is the transcript of our interview with Dr. Mark Levene, lightly edited for clarity and readability.

Genocide Is a Dysfunction of the International State System

UN Security Council meeting on the United Nations Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo, New York, August 25, 2016. Photo: Ognjen Stevanovic.

Dr. Mark Levene, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: In The Changing Face of Mass Murder” (2002), you argue that extreme violence cannot be understood solely through the acts of perpetrators but must be situated within broader political and societal conditions. How might this framework help us interpret Israel’s ongoing campaign in Gaza beyond the binaries of “self-defense” and “terrorism”?

Dr. Mark Levene: That’s a big question! Let me go back a little beyond that particular article, which was written quite a long time ago. I’ve always argued that genocide cannot be understood as something attributable to a single actor. There is always a dynamic at play between what we call perpetrators and victims, and I think that kind of categorization is not always helpful.

In the case of Gaza, we can identify two sets of perpetrators, but the asymmetry between them in terms of power and actions is very stark. Hamas can be seen as a perpetrator, if we use that term, but the Israeli state is also a perpetrator—albeit one with vastly greater lethal capacity. So, the dynamic is profoundly unequal.

In genocide—or at least in the mindset of those who commit it—there is always this dynamic with the other party. In law, this often translates into ordinary people being encompassed within broader categories. What is significant is that when there is a political-military struggle between two sides, entire populations become encompassed within that logic. They are punished simply because they are perceived as part of the “other side” of the conflict. And that is what is happening here.

But the point I want to make is that genocide, in the modern world, occurs essentially within the framework of nation-states—not all nation-states, not all the time, but often enough to form a recurring pattern. I see it as happening within an interconnected, interrelated political economy—in other words, within the international system of nation-states. You cannot separate what is happening in one state from its relationships with others. I cannot think of a single modern case of genocide—whether in Myanmar, Rwanda, or even China—that can be understood entirely in isolation, as if it were only about internal dynamics between a state and a population it deems so troublesome that it considers or actualize the destruction of that whole communal population.

Does that help as a starting point? It’s a tricky issue and difficult for us to fully grasp—not least because genocide is so often understood primarily through the prism of the UN Convention on Genocide, as if it were an aberration. It is framed as something that violates the norms of a rules-based, civilized international system of nation-states, in which genocide is presumed not to occur, and any such event is treated as a transgression. I don’t see it in those terms at all. I see genocide rather as a dysfunction of the international state system. In that sense, we have to view what is happening in Gaza, for instance, by asking: how is it that almost two years on from its beginning in October 2023, the genocide committed by Israel is still continuing? I actually warned on October 11, just four days after it began, that Israel was on the cusp of committing genocide.

And I do want to say something about the other side as well, because Hamas also has a role. As I said earlier about perpetrators and victims, the reality is always more complex. But the question we must ask, nearly two years on, is: why has this been allowed to continue? It’s a fundamental issue, because we’ve had so many statements, analyses, and commitments—culminating in the UN grouping, which just yesterday (September 16, 2025) declared this a case of genocide. The ICJ, ICC, and countless scholars weighed in much earlier, affirming the same. Yet it continues. That sense of helplessness felt by so many around the world, horrified by this abomination, stems from precisely this question: why is it still happening?

I think the answer lies in Israel’s relationships—not only what Israel itself is doing, which I see not as exceptional but symptomatic of the world system we inhabit. What is happening is clearly tied to Israel’s relationship with an extremely powerful actor on the international stage, namely the United States, but also with countries such as my own, the United Kingdom, where the response has been, to put it mildly, ambivalent. Why has the UK not been more proactive? On the one hand, the legal framework is very clear: this is genocide, and it has been clear from very early on. Yet on the other hand, we face the evident failures of the political system. This, I believe, reflects the deeper dysfunction of the global order itself.

States That Oppose Genocide Routinely Assist Those Who Commit It

Anti-Israel flyers displayed during a demonstration at Place du Châtelet, Paris, March 28, 2009. Photo: Olga Besnard.

Your essay Why Is the Twentieth Century the Century of Genocide?” (2000) links genocide to the structural dynamics of the modern international system. Do you see the current assault on Gaza as symptomatic of a systemic dysfunction within the nation-state order, especially when powerful states shield Israel from accountability?

Dr. Mark Levene: The simple answer is yes—I’ve just explained why. Yes, clearly that is the case. But, again, I should say that I have not spent the last two years, or indeed the last 30 or 40 years, just looking at Israel’s relationship with Palestine or Gaza. What is happening here reflects the way that states that commit acts of genocide are often shielded by other states. 

I wouldn’t say it’s normal, but the ambivalence of other states in relation to those committing such acts is rather standard. There is almost a routine process whereby a state might commit genocide, while the rhetoric of other states suggests opposition, yet their actions and policies—through omission or commission—may actively assist that state in what it is doing. And one can think of, indeed I could enumerate, examples in the recent past where this has been the case. 

So, in a way, I have a very gloomy prognosis here: I don’t think what is happening in the case of Israel, and what it is doing as a state in relation to Gaza, is somehow entirely exceptional. It is actually indicative of something broader—a deeper malaise, a wider dysfunction that exists within the international system of nation-states. These are the same states that, on the one hand, created the Genocide Convention, which in effect says, “thou shalt not do this.” That is how I see it, in almost religious terms—an extension of “thou shalt not do this.” But in practice, the system still allows it to happen.

Gaza Is Accelerated Genocide; the West Bank Is Creeping Genocide

In your study of the Chittagong Hill Tracts (1999), you coined the term “creeping genocide” to describe gradual elimination under a developmentalist state agenda. Could Israel’s long-term blockade, de-development of Gaza, and deliberate destruction of infrastructure be understood as a comparable case of creeping genocide?

Dr. Mark Levene: Well, yes and no. I’d say something rather different here. I think what is going on in relation to the entirety of Palestine, i.e. what we would now include as the West Bank, is creeping genocide, though it is accelerating. What I think is happening in Gaza is at the extreme end of accelerated genocide. I don’t think this is creeping, actually, even though it has taken two years to get Israel thus far. And I would emphasize this developmental—you mentioned development. The developmentalist aspect is something we should focus on a little bit. And the way I would approach it is by returning to what is, in my view, highly indicative of what is actually taking place here—and what, to ordinary eyes, might seem completely off the map—namely, the Trump-Riviera Plan. But this is going to be determined, this area is going to be turned into a sort of Riviera of the Middle East. That, to me, is not, in terms of how genocidal actors think things through, off the map. We ought to take it extremely seriously. Because genocide is always, in some ways, linked to the latent ideas, even in the back of one’s head, of states that are trying to envisage transcending the conditions under which they normally exist into something else, into something where they can truly develop themselves as they would like to in their heads. 

Does this make sense? What I’m trying to say here is that states in the modern world, the international system of nation-states—are developmentalist. They have to develop in order to survive within an international system which is, by definition, social Darwinian. It’s a sort of, almost a competitive race to the top, or race to the bottom. Normally, states cannot realize what is unrealizable. If we take the case of Israel, the thinking would be we would really love to have a state which was streamlined, which didn’t have any Palestinians in it, which we could turn into a corporate security entity, as we have it in our heads, which is going to be the Mecca of the Middle East, if I can be a little bit ironic. Before October 2023, Israel was maneuvering around that idea, but no concrete projection of a developmentalist arrangement granting them the totality of Palestine to use as they wished yet existed.

The crisis of October 7th—and it really was that—I mean, I’m sure you’ve spoken to Omar Bartov about the trauma Israel suffered on that day—it’s what I would call the perpetrator’s never-again syndrome. Namely, we have a situation where, in the past, the victim group has attacked us, posing a mortal threat to our existence. This came to pass in a very real way on October 7th with what Hamas did. One could argue that what Hamas was attempting was itself genocidal; it simply lacked the means and capacity to carry it through. This became a green light for the Israeli state to bring out its tucked-away, last-resort plans—to tear up what had been in place up to that point and strike out toward something completely different and new. In other words, even if what Israel was doing up to 2023 was grotesque and hideous in relation to the West Bank and Gaza, after that moment there was a genuine rupture. From then on, Israel was attempting to realize what had previously been unrealizable: sweeping away the population of Gaza and creating something entirely new.

Now, this is hideous, but it is part of the mindset of genocide. It’s a sort of drive toward transcendence. That Riviera plan sits at the extreme end of that developmentalist thinking. You might call it fantasy, but it is fantasy being put into practice. The way the Israeli defense forces are bulldozing Gaza into non-existence—turning it into rubble—is a precondition for that transformation. What is actually happening on the ground is the pulverization of a people, of an entire population, rendering them so destitute and degraded that they can be removed.

Now, again, I can make comparisons. I wouldn’t say this is a unique action of Israel. Israel’s ethnic cleansing of Gaza should be seen within a much broader framework of politically mandated ethnic cleansings in the modern era. But that doesn’t excuse it in any sense, because all those ethnic cleansings—though not listed as elements of genocide in the Genocide Convention—are, in practice, genocidal. I have no doubt of that, even if it puts me at variance with the Convention. 

What is happening in the West Bank, however, is creeping genocide. You could put it like this: Gaza is stage one; the rest—the Bezalel Smotrich plan for the West Bank, which also entails total ethnic cleansing and is unfolding piece by piece, olive grove by olive grove, village by village—is creeping genocide, but under the aegis of the international state system. And the fact that Israel has a powerful ally supporting it, doing nothing to stop this—namely, the United States—means this creeping genocide is accelerating very rapidly. These facts on the ground are intended to sabotage any aspiration of those states and people who advocate a two-state solution. This is precisely what Smotrich and those within the Israeli government are attempting to achieve. That’s the way I see it. It may sound horribly cynical, but then genocide is, by definition, cynical.

Framing Gaza as a ‘Problem Population’: The Logic of Genocide

Pro-Palestinian protesters hold signs. Photo: Oliver Perez.

You argue that genocide is often undertaken by states perceiving a “problem population” as a threat to their developmental or geopolitical survival. How does this resonate with Israel’s depiction of Gaza’s entire civilian population as complicit with terror organization Hamas?

Dr. Mark Levene: That’s a rather tricky question, isn’t it? I’m not sure that I am entirely—again, if we take other historical examples, one closer to home: the Armenian Genocide of 1915 in Turkey. There were groups who were defined as terrorists by the Ottoman state in 1915, and there is still a problem area I have written about: the degree to which insurrectionary groups, or groups challenging the integrity of the Ottoman state in wartime, were clearly—some of them at least—debating or actually practising terrorism against the state. That’s my position. There were other insurrectionary groups in Europe at that time; it was not only Armenian groups.

The difference here is that the Ottoman response—more specifically, the Committee of Union and Progress (CUP) response—was enacted by a regime that did not represent the Ottoman population as a whole. The Israeli government does not necessarily represent the Jewish population in Israel as a whole. But that CUP regime chose to encompass the entire Armenian population as insurrectionary—despite many complex cross-currents—and pursued a programme of their deportation or elimination. The stated aim was ethnic cleansing—to remove them to the desert regions to the south of the empire—but the result was genocidal.

Now, in the Palestinian population in Gaza, which I’ve never been to, so I can only speak second- or third hand, I’m sure there are a lot of crosscurrents of political, social, and cultural attitudes and feelings, as there are in all societies. Those would include people who were supporters of Hamas, and who—part of the thinking—would like to wipe Israel off the map. Does this, therefore, justify an attack on the whole population of that region: a population that is not just a “problem population,” but one that is co-responsible for what Hamas did? You can hear what I’m saying: I cannot justify what Hamas did. I think it was not only morally wrong but strategically an error. But can one justify treating the whole population as collectively responsible—and therefore punishable—which in effect legitimizes what Israel is now attempting, namely ethnic cleansing that, given there is nowhere else to go, results in creeping elimination day by day, hour by hour?

So again, this is what I’m saying: I hate what I’m saying, but I think there is a general genocidal thinking that goes on here. We almost have to get into the mindset of a perpetrator, and one can read it in, actually, all the various utterances of government ministers, but also social commentators and so on, who have been speaking in the last two years of wiping this “problem population” off the map, of making it disappear somewhere else. This is the mindset of genocide, unfortunately.

Holocaust Memorialization Risks Collapse in the Face of Gaza

In “The Holocaust Paradigm as Paradoxical Imperative” (2022), you warn against a sacralized, exceptionalist reading of the Holocaust that blocks solidarities with other victims of mass violence. How might this paradigm be shaping Western reluctance to acknowledge Gaza as genocidal?

Dr. Mark Levene: So again, it’s a very big question. The brief answer might be this: what I call the Holocaust paradigm refers to the way what happened to the Jewish populations of Europe under the Nazi aegis—not just under Nazi occupation, but, and this is a historical point I would want to develop more fully elsewhere, involving the co-responsibility not only of the Nazis but also of other European states in the destruction of the Jews. That is a major theme of mine.

Looking back retrospectively, the key moment was the 1990s, and I think that timing is significant because it came at the end of the Cold War. From then onward, the West, primarily, elevated this destruction of the Jews, of a key component of the European population, into something sacralized—turned into a kind of sacred act. It was not only made exceptional but also set up as the benchmark by which we ought to understand genocide.

Part of the reason lies in why this memorialization took shape. On one hand, it was tied to notions of tolerance and possibly of a multicultural society, which Europe by that time seemed more willing to embrace. The Holocaust became a peg upon which that notion could be hung. On the other hand, my argument is that this came after the collapse of the West’s number one enemy, the Soviet Union. With the Soviet Union gone, the West needed a figure of antithesis, and the Nazis filled that role—as the most awful, insidious, diabolical example imaginable.

At the same time, in the 1990s, genocides were occurring within Europe—most notably in Bosnia-Herzegovina after the collapse of the Soviet system in the East—which showed how close such horrors could be. And so there emerged an almost edifice of Holocaust memorialization that became very significant. It became, as you say, sacralized. One could not touch it. If you wanted to talk about other genocides, you had to do so by asking whether they fit within the frame of this sacralized genocide.

This shaped interesting directions of travel: one could point to Rwanda and say, yes, here is another genocide we should also recognize and memorialize. But Armenia in 1915, for instance, was always politically fraught, for reasons tied to structural relationships between states, and so it never fully entered the pantheon of what was considered “in” or “out.”

So, to return to your question, the simple answer is yes: Holocaust memorialization became central to a self-referential notion of the West as the “good guys.” The Holocaust carried a significant emotional weight within that way of thinking.

I think what’s striking about the present—and I say this as someone who is Jewish—is that I do not wish Holocaust memorialization ill; on the contrary, I wish it well. It offered us an opportunity, potentially, to recognize that the world has witnessed many genocides. But I believe it is now in danger of being smashed to smithereens by what is happening in Gaza.

There is another aspect here. We are very focused on Gaza, yet Holocaust memorialization in this country—in Britain, for example—still issues statements as if Gaza were not happening. It continues to speak only about what befell the Jews in the 1940s, which of course it should do, but it seems unable to draw any reference to what is unfolding today. That inability is deeply troubling. It creates an obstacle to connecting past genocide to contemporary atrocities.

What is revealing about Holocaust memorialization is that it deals with something fixed in the past. You can point to it and say: this was terrible. But what is terrible now is not being addressed. From a Jewish communal perspective, and from the broader framework of Holocaust memorialization, this represents another catastrophe—a consequence of the many consequences flowing from the genocide in Gaza.

We Have to Speak Truth to Power

Israelis walk next an Israeli election billboard of Likud Party showing US President Donald Trump shaking hands with Likud chairman and Israeli Prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu in Beth Shemesh, Israel on September 8, 2019. Photo: Gil Cohen Magen.

Finally, across your scholarship you stress the moral responsibility of genocide scholars not only to analyze but also to warn. In the face of Gaza, what role should genocide scholars play: cautious analysts, public intellectuals, or active witnesses?

Dr. Mark Levene: Again, that’s a very big question, because it involves a whole spectrum of human beings who are “genocide scholars.” And I can’t speak for them. Some see themselves as public intellectuals, while others see our role as being able to have an impact on situations like this through our analysis and what we say. I’d also note, of course, that within the genocide and Holocaust arenas of scholarship there is a lot of unease and fractiousness now about how we view what is happening in Gaza. Not everybody is on the same page, and I think one should acknowledge that there is a multiplicity of viewpoints.

I can only speak for myself here. My background is not only as a genocide scholar but also as a peace activist. I spent my formative years, my late 20s and early 30s, as a peace activist in a Europe which, as we saw it, was on the verge of nuclear annihilation. So, my own position, for what it’s worth, is about speaking truth to power. And the sadness of that, from a personal point of view, is that power is not very interested in listening.

In the end, one has to resort to action, as I did last week. I felt impelled to join Palestine Action, a group in Britain challenging the relationship of the British government to the genocide in Gaza—through what it allows to happen on its soil, or through its engagement in selling components for F-35 planes that have been used to bomb Gaza. Palestine Action has been challenging, non-violently, the British state’s role in this process, as well as companies on British soil, including one just down the road from where I live in the Welsh borders: Elbit Systems, a major Israeli defense manufacturer with an embedded role in the British defense industry.

I felt impelled to support Palestine Action, even though it has been proscribed as a terrorist organization. Ultimately, I can only do what other human beings can do: put my feet non-violently on the ground—and in this case, be arrested under Section 12 or 13 of the Terrorism Act in Britain—for saying no to genocide. I was arrested simply for sitting in Parliament Square in London with a poster saying, “I oppose genocide, I support Palestine Action.” And for that, I am now, apparently, a supporter of terrorism.

We have reached a point where what should be blindingly obvious—that my government, and all governments, should be doing something to stop this—seems to be beyond their capacity. So, I don’t exaggerate my role as a genocide scholar. Most of the time, we are not listened to in high political or elite circles. So, there is a limit. We have to be aware of those limitations. But we still have to speak truth to power.

Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan watching the August 30 Victory Day Parade in Ankara, Turkey on August 30, 2014. Photo by Mustafa Kirazli.

Professor Barkey: Turkey Has Become a Full-Blown Authoritarian System

In an interview with the ECPS, Professor Henri Barkey—born in Turkey and one of the leading US experts on Middle East politics—warns that Turkey has crossed a decisive threshold under President Erdogan. “Turkey has now become a full-blown authoritarian system,” he stated, arguing that Erdogan has removed the “competitive” element from competitive authoritarianism by subordinating the judiciary, jailing rivals, and even deciding opposition party leadership. While repression deepens, Professor Barkey sees a paradox: “The system is becoming more authoritarian, but society may be resisting much more than we realize.” He highlights youth-led mobilization, fears over arrested Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu’s popularity, and Europe’s limited leverage, concluding that Erdogan’s overreach may ultimately galvanize opposition forces.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In a wide-ranging interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Henri Barkey, a leading scholar of Middle East politics who was born in Turkey, delivered a stark assessment of the country’s current trajectory under President Recep Tayyip Erdogan. “Turkey has now become a full-blown authoritarian system,” Professor Barkey stated, emphasizing that the transition from “competitive authoritarianism” to outright authoritarian rule marks a dangerous turning point.

Professor Barkey—Adjunct Senior Fellow for Middle East Studies at the Council on Foreign Relations and holder of the Bernard L. and Bertha F. Cohen Chair in International Relations at Lehigh University—has long studied Turkey’s political development. He previously directed the Middle East Center at the Wilson Center and served on the US State Department Policy Planning Staff during the Clinton administration.

Professor Barkey situated Erdogan’s consolidation of power within a broader historical and political context. Turkey’s modern history, he observed, has been marked by cycles of democratic openings and authoritarian retrenchment. Yet, despite repeated interruptions—from military coups to autocratic turns—“the Turkish public, by and large, has adapted and adopted a sense of democratic culture.” The resilience of ordinary citizens, he noted, remains a crucial counterweight to authoritarian encroachment.

At the heart of Professor Barkey’s argument is Erdogan’s dismantling of institutional safeguards. “He is turning Turkey into a complete authoritarian system because he controls the judiciary, and judges and prosecutors essentially do whatever he wants them to do,” Professor Barkey explained. Recent episodes—politically motivated trials, the dismissal of opposition leaders, and the manipulation of party leadership contests—demonstrate, in his view, the collapse of even the minimal competition that previously characterized Turkey’s hybrid regime. “In other words, Erdogan is now deciding who will lead the main opposition party.”

This tightening grip, however, is not without risk. Professor Barkey underscored a paradox: “There’s a kind of dialectic here: the system is becoming more authoritarian, but society may be resisting much more than we realize.” Millions of citizens, particularly the younger generations who have never known a Turkey without Erdogan, have mobilized in protests, demanding change. Professor Barkey noted that such resistance is difficult to gauge because “people are afraid to speak out” and reporting is restricted, but he insisted that “at some point, this is going to break.”

Erdogan’s own fear of rivals, especially Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu, reflects this tension. Professor Barkey argued that the regime’s extraordinary measures to sideline Imamoglu—ranging from imprisonment to retroactive annulment of his university degree—offer “the clearest demonstration that he’s terrified.”

Professor Barkey also highlighted the role of external actors in shaping Erdogan’s room for maneuver. In his view, former US President Donald Trump “doesn’t believe in democracy” and effectively gave Erdogan “carte blanche” at home by refusing to criticize his repression. Europe, for its part, remains uneasy with Erdogan’s authoritarian aims and worried about migration pressures, but Professor Barkey noted that Erdogan feels confident he can “withstand European pressure” while focusing on demolishing the opposition. Ultimately, the combination of a permissive US stance under Trump and Europe’s limited leverage has reinforced Erdogan’s sense of impunity.

Ultimately, Professor Barkey’s analysis suggests both danger and opportunity: the danger of entrenched authoritarianism, but also the possibility that Erdogan’s overreach may galvanize opposition forces. As he concluded, “Authoritarian leaders always make mistakes… and I think Erdogan is already making them.”

Professor Henri Barkey is an Adjunct Senior Fellow for Middle East Studies at the Council on Foreign Relations and holder of the Bernard L. and Bertha F. Cohen Chair in International Relations at Lehigh University.

Here is the transcript of our interview with Professor Henri Barkey, lightly edited for clarity and readability.

Erdogan Realizes He’s Weak: People Are Fed Up and Want Change

Professor Henri Barkey, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: Turkish President Erdogan has long relied on a blend of populist narratives and authoritarian tactics to consolidate power. Given the backlash over Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu’s imprisonment, the use of lawfare through corruption investigations, the appointment of trustees to CHP-led administrations, and the wave of nationwide anti-government protests, do you believe this strategy is now undermining rather than sustaining his authority? Could this moment mark a potential inflection point for his populist-authoritarian model?

Professor Henri Barkey: It’s interesting you say that, because I actually had a piece published in Foreign Affairs Online where I basically argued very strongly that Erdogan had made a terrible mistake by imprisoning the mayor of Istanbul, and I thought this was the end of Erdogan. Imamoglu is still in jail, and Erdogan is still the president, and he has gone ahead and imprisoned a lot more people—journalists and other members of the opposition party—and he is also trying to get rid of the leadership of the opposition party. 

But to me, all of these are indicators that he realizes, after 23 years in power, that people don’t want him anymore. He has actually lost public support, and he has to resort to these incredible machinations to stay in power. In other words, he realizes that if there were elections any time now, he would not be re-elected, and his party would lose. In fact, in the last municipal elections in 2024, the main opposition party came in comfortably—comfortably for Turkey—as number one, and his party came in second.

What is going on today in Turkey is that Erdogan realizes he’s weak. He has support—it’s not that he doesn’t have support—but of course, he has the state machine, which he can always mobilize to get anything he wants done. However, for him, it must be very difficult to accept that he, who used to be genuinely popular in Turkey and who won elections genuinely, is now losing support. People are fed up. People want change. And it’s natural. 

Imagine if you are 25, or maybe even 30 years old. All your conscious years have passed under one leader. People want change. So, it’s partially psychological, but partially also, of course, due to his responsibility for what’s going on in Turkey. The economy is not doing well. Inflation is high. He made terrible mistakes. And naturally, people want change.

The System Is Becoming More Authoritarian, but Society May Be Resisting

In your writings, you describe Erdogan’s evolution from a reformist leader promising EU-style democratization to a populist-authoritarian consolidating near-total power. How has this transformation shaped Turkey’s political trajectory and institutional resilience over the past two decades?

Professor Henri Barkey: Turkey—if you look at its modern history from World War II onwards—has experienced many different variations over the past 80 years. There have been democratic governments, military coups, and repeated interruptions in its political system. But what strikes me is that the Turkish public, by and large, has adapted and adopted a sense of democratic culture. Not perfect, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it exists. The Turkish public has a stake in elections and in the freedom to say what they want and to act as they wish.

Of course, there have been authoritarian periods—Turkey is going through one now—but you still see a certain resilience. The fact that 15 million people, after Istanbul Mayor Imamoglu was arrested, signed a petition to have him declared the candidate of the main opposition party is an incredible demonstration of people’s stake in the democratic system.

So, what’s happening is very interesting. On the one hand, underneath, there is this democratic culture. Again, I don’t want to exaggerate—it’s not perfect. But whose democratic system is perfect these days? Everything exists on a scale. What has happened in Turkey, however, is that Erdogan has essentially transformed the country into a, quote-unquote, “competitive authoritarian” system. Elections still take place, outcomes are largely determined, but there remains some element of competition. Certain offices may be won by the opposition, and the opposition can still win seats in Parliament, and so on.

But now he’s actually taking the competitive part out of competitive authoritarianism and eliminating it altogether. He is turning Turkey into a complete authoritarian system because he controls the judiciary, and judges and prosecutors essentially do whatever he wants them to do. We have seen people sent to jail for no reason whatsoever—simply because he doesn’t like them. Authorities have claimed that the main opposition party engaged in questionable practices in its primaries or conventions, and suddenly the justice system decides that leaders who were elected a few years ago should no longer hold their positions, and someone else should replace them. In other words, Erdogan is now deciding who will lead the main opposition party.

This is partly because he is clearly afraid of the current leadership, and especially of the mayor of Istanbul, who is in jail. Turkey has now become a full-blown authoritarian system, and I don’t think this is going to end well. By that, I mean authoritarian leaders always make mistakes, because there is never anyone around them to say, “Mr. President, Mr. Prime Minister, you shouldn’t do this; there may be consequences.” People always agree with them. So of course, mistakes are inevitable.

And I think Erdogan is already making mistakes. He has galvanized the opposition in a way that, if truly free elections were held today, he would be seriously doubted—he would not win. People can see that what he is doing is deeply unjust.

So there’s a kind of dialectic here: the system is becoming more authoritarian, but society may be resisting much more than we realize. It’s hard to see this resistance all the time because of restrictions—even on reporting. People are afraid to speak out. But at some point, this is going to break.

Imamoglu’s Jail Proves Erdogan’s Fear

Ekrem Imamoglu
Istanbul Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu addresses supporters during a protest under the banner “The Nation Stands by Their Will” outside the Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality on December 15, 2022. Photo: Tolga Ildun

The mass protests following Imamoglu’s arrest have been driven largely by younger generations who have never known a Turkey without Erdogan. How significant is this demographic factor in shaping the country’s political future, and do you see parallels with youth-led anti-authoritarian movements elsewhere?

Professor Henri Barkey: As I alluded to earlier, if you are 30 years old, Erdogan became your Prime Minister when you were 7 or 8 years old. I’m picking age 30 as an example, but imagine: all your conscious years you’ve seen one leader. And the other thing, of course, is that in terms of the communication systems—television, radio, newspapers—they are completely dominated by Erdogan in Turkey. So, you wake up to Erdogan, you go to bed with Erdogan.

And I’m not saying there isn’t a youth that actually supports Erdogan—there is. But there is certainly a youth that says, “Look, we would like to see somebody else.” In 2023, during the national elections, the main opposition party presented as a presidential candidate Mr. Kemal Kilicdaroglu, who was unimaginative, did not appeal to the youth, and gave them no reason to galvanize. Now, for the first time in a long time, you have a leader on the opposition side. People criticize him, and that’s fine—he’s not perfect—but he has managed to capture the youth’s imagination. You see a great deal of mobilization, and that’s why they put him in jail.

Erdogan has many different court cases against him to keep him in jail. And in which country do you see a political leader arrested like this? He didn’t commit murder, he hasn’t done anything dangerous. But he has been in jail since March 19th. It’s been almost six months now, and he’ll be in jail for a very long time, because they don’t let you out—as if you were an axe murderer about to kill people. Journalists and others stay in jail for one or two years, and then suddenly maybe they decide to let you go, find you innocent, but you’ve already spent two years in jail.

We’ve seen this, of course, in the cases of the Kurdish political leader Selahattin Demirtas or the civil society leader Osman Kavala—they’ve been in jail for no reason whatsoever. And in the case of the mayor of Istanbul, they even annulled his university degree 30 years after he got it. Imagine if somebody decided to find some technicality and say, “Oh, my university degree is invalid, and therefore everything else I’ve done since then is invalid.” You can’t do that. But they come up with excuses to prevent an opponent from running against Erdogan.

The fact that Erdogan goes to such lengths to stop Imamoglu from running tells you how afraid he is of him. To me, that’s the best proof, the clearest demonstration, that he’s terrified.

Imamoglu’s Jail Time Only Raised His Standing

A photo from the mass CHP rally in Istanbul on March 29, 2025, protesting the unlawful detention of Ekrem Imamoglu, organized by party leader Ozgur Ozel. The event brought AKP and opposition supporters face to face. Photo: Elif Aytar.

Imamoglu’s repeated electoral victories and rising popularity have made him Erdogan’s most formidable rival. By imprisoning him and pursuing politically motivated trials, has Erdogan inadvertently elevated Imamoglu into a symbol of democratic resistance, similar to Erdogan’s own trajectory after his imprisonment in the late 1990s?

Professor Henri Barkey: He is smart enough to have realized that he owes his popularity, at least in part, to the fact that, as mayor of Istanbul, he was kicked out of his job and spent a short time in prison. That actually enhanced his standing. Moreover, if you remember, not in 2024 but in the previous municipal elections, Imamoglu won with a small majority. Then the Erdogan government came up with an excuse, claiming irregularities in the elections, and ordered that they be held again. People saw through it. What happened? Imamoglu won by a much larger margin against the same candidate. Why? Because people were angered by Ankara’s political interference in their choices. Even those who did not vote for Imamoglu the first time decided to vote for him the second, just to punish Erdogan.

Anyone should have learned that lesson. He hasn’t. The alternative, of course, is that he knows the lesson, and this time he intends to prevent Imamoglu from running. He will find him guilty and keep him in jail so that he can go into the next elections unopposed. He is also trying to destroy the opposition party, aiming for it to nominate, or to be led by, the candidate who ran against him in 2023, because he knows he can outmaneuver him and thinks this is the way to secure another term.

So, I think that’s his intention. I believe he’s made up his mind. He knows he can’t beat Imamoglu, but he can beat the new CHP leadership. And unfortunately, we will see a lot more people going to jail.

Erdogan Wants to Take the Competitive Part Out of Politics

Opposition party deputies, members and the members of civil society organisations had to guard the ballots for days to prevent stealing by the people organized by Erdogan regime in Turkey. The photo was shared by opposition deputy Mahmut Tanal’s Twitter account @MTanal during the Turkish local elections on March 31, 2019.

We’ve seen Erdogan’s government dismiss elected CHP mayors, replace them with trustees, and initiate corruption investigations against opposition-led municipalities. To what extent does this strategy reflect a deliberate effort to transform Turkey into a de facto one-party state, and could it ultimately backfire by strengthening opposition solidarity?

Professor Henri Barkey: I think my previous answers essentially say yes, of course. But you’ve noticed he’s now doing something else. He’s putting pressure on individual mayors of localities and forcing them to change parties and join his party. I saw today—though I forget where—that a deputy mayor was resigning from the main opposition party and joining Erdogan’s party. You can imagine the kind of pressure they must be exerting enourmous force her to do that, because it doesn’t make sense, when CHP is running high, to switch parties. But we’ve seen a number of cases like that.

So he’s not going to completely eliminate the main opposition party; he’s going to completely weaken it. He will make it what it was, let’s say, five years ago, before the opposition’s rejuvenation—when it won a few municipalities and a number of seats in Parliament, but had no influence and couldn’t do anything.

What’s very interesting is that all these corruption investigations have been initiated against opposition parties, opposition mayors, and sub-mayors. Not a single AKP mayor—or municipality—has been similarly treated. Can you really tell me there’s no corruption on the AKP side? No, but they’re all part of the system. That’s what I’m saying.

What Erdogan wants is to take the competitive part out of Turkey’s politics, because in his mind it should no longer be competitive. So it’s going to be only authoritarian. He’s turning Turkey into an authoritarian state.

Erdogan Cannot Control the Exiled Opposition Abroad

With the judiciary, media, and much of the bureaucracy subordinated to the presidency, are there any institutional safeguards left to counterbalance Erdogan’s authority? To what extent has the post-2016 purge of alleged Gulen-affiliated judges, prosecutors, academics, media, and civil servants accelerated Turkey’s democratic backsliding and hollowed out state capacity?

Professor Henri Barkey: Today the judiciary is completely under Erdogan’s control. If a judge rules in a way that Erdogan does not appreciate, he gets kicked out and sent somewhere else. The same applies to prosecutors. And there must be an internal state security apparatus that keeps tabs on all of these people, so that whenever pressure is needed, it can be applied.

So what’s left? What is the source of opposition today? I think, to a large extent, it’s the online environment—whether internet newspapers, journalists, or individuals with blogs and podcasts. Whenever Erdogan feels pressured, he tries to throttle the internet, slow it down, or impose bans on opposition networks by preventing them from broadcasting online. And they don’t have any other outlet, since they are not allowed to appear on mainstream television.

But that’s very hard to sustain all the time. It looks bad, and it can actually increase opposition if overused. When you slow down the internet, you slow it down for everyone—including people who simply want to buy things online. So it’s not clear to me that this is a viable long-term strategy. It’s more temporary and occasional. He did it this week with X, or Twitter.

So the online space remains, essentially, the main source of opposition. And you also have in Turkey a large number of journalists, academics, and public figures who are actively opposing him. This is what I meant earlier: there is still an element of democratic culture.

Now, you mentioned the Gulen movement. I know people who were professors at Gulen-owned universities. They were perfectly good academics, with international reputations, publishing internationally. They were not necessarily Gulenists. If you get a job at a university, you get it through established structures and processes. Yet all these people lost their jobs and became unemployable. That was a major blow to Turkish civil society and to the country’s intellectual world.

The Gulen movement was defeated, yes. But parts of it should not have been touched—for example, the universities. And by the way, I don’t know exactly what happened during the coup. To me, the coup remains an enigma. Maybe Gulenists were involved, but I think there were other factors as well. I suspect Erdogan knew ahead of time that a coup was coming, and when it happened, he took advantage of it. In the process, many people were smeared without due process.

This is something Turkish society will one day have to come to terms with. Gulenists who were guilty, yes—but not everyone was necessarily a Gulenist. And many suffered a great deal.

Another source of opposition, by the way, may be Turks who have emigrated to Europe. Yes, there is a large pro-Erdogan community abroad that tries to organize support. But there are also many dissenters now living in Europe, the United States, and elsewhere. They are a major source of opposition—and unlike in Turkey, Erdogan cannot control them, because he cannot throw them into jail.

You Can’t Have Democracy in Diyarbakir and Fascism in Istanbul

A Turkish man in Hyde Park, London, shows support for protesters in Istanbul following the eruption of nationwide demonstrations—Turkey’s largest anti-government unrest —challenging then-Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s authority in June 2013. Photo credit: Ufuk Uyanik.

The PKK’s recent renunciation of armed struggle and ongoing talks involving Abdullah Ocalan and the DEM party suggest potential openings for renewed negotiations. How do you interpret Erdogan’s ambivalence toward these developments? Could a genuine Kurdish peace process pave the way for democratization, or is it more likely to be instrumentalized for political survival?

Professor Henri Barkey: To me, this is a very interesting situation because, with your question about democratization, how can you have… as a Kurdish leader once said, very correctly: you can’t have democracy in Diyarbakir and fascism in Istanbul. That is to say, what does it mean to democratize? Turkey needs to democratize. Turkey needs to deal with the Kurdish question. Turkey has to recognize that there are people who are not Turks, who have a different language, who would like to live as Turkish citizens but would also like to be able to express themselves in their own language or in any other fashion, and not have to go to jail for that.

The fact that the PKK has decided to renounce armed struggle is a good thing. They should have done it a long time ago, because the armed struggle wasn’t going anywhere. They had been completely defeated. They were just up in the northeast of Iraq, in the Qandil Mountains, stuck there with 158 Turkish bases in northern Iraq that completely dominate the area. One or two attacks a year is not what’s going to make the PKK the PKK. So the PKK was defeated, and they finally came to this realization. It’s good that they abandoned it. But I don’t think there is going to be a peace process. I don’t think this is going to go anywhere.

Because, first of all, Erdogan himself doesn’t believe in democracy. I mean, what did the opposition, the DEM party, say they want? They didn’t ask for anything specific. They would like, of course, prisoners to be released. They want to deal with what to do with the fighters who are abroad, in Iraq, who would like to be able to integrate into society. But basically, what the leadership has said so far is that they want democracy. They want to be able to participate. But this is not something Erdogan wants. Everything Erdogan is doing is, as I said, taking the “competitive” out of competitive authoritarianism and establishing a completely authoritarian state. So this is not going to work.

Now, it turns out that on the Kurdish side, the main leader who’s in jail—Ocalan—doesn’t happen to be a democrat either. So it’s a big question mark. He’s 80 years old now. He must be thinking about his legacy, and that’s why he’s trying to… but he also can’t make a deal that is going to be rejected by the democrats in Turkey. So he’s also stuck. I’m sure Erdogan’s idea was probably to convince the DEM party to vote for either a constitutional change, or more likely for early elections, that Erdogan would make sure he would win. That’s probably still his plan.

Bahceli’s Gamble on Kurdish Talks Faces Dead End

The one interesting question mark here is that, to a large extent, this whole process started with an initiative from Erdogan’s main right-wing coalition partner, the MHP, led by Devlet Bahceli, who used to be the most anti-Kurdish figure in Turkey. He said Ocalan should not be released, but should come to the Turkish Parliament and address Parliament. That was really an amazing statement by him, and he pushed the process.

I wonder if Mr. Bahçeli, who’s at the end of his life and has run the party without much to show for his years in power or as a party leader—what has he done, what has he accomplished?—maybe that was his way of creating an inheritance, if you will, for his followers: that he would bring domestic peace to Turkey. Well, if that’s his incentive, that’s fine. It doesn’t matter how you get there, as long as you do it.

So the big problem Erdogan has is: to what extent is Mr. Bahceli committed to continuing the process? And Mr. Bahceli himself must realize that, the way things are going now, the DEM party is not going to be able to make a deal with Erdogan. There will be talks—we’re going to see a commission has been created, supposedly there will be conversations—but this is not going anywhere. And in the meantime, Erdogan is destroying CHP, and this puts the DEM party in a terrible situation.

Trump Gave Erdogan Carte Blanche

Nested dolls depicting authoritarian and populist leaders Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump, and Recep Tayyip Erdogan displayed among souvenirs in Moscow on July 7, 2018. Photo: Shutterstock.

And lastly, Professor Barkey, given Washington’s strategic interests—from NATO cohesion to cooperation with Syrian Kurdish forces—how should the US and EU respond to Erdogan’s escalating repression of the opposition? Would stronger political and economic pressure risk reinforcing his anti-Western populist narrative, or is greater confrontation inevitable?

Professor Henri Barkey: Let’s be honest here. What Erdogan has done since March would not have happened if you had a different president of the United States. Here you have Trump, who is upset about Bolsonaro getting tried, and he imposes sanctions even on the judge who is judging him. And then he has not said a word about what’s going on in Turkey. Trump doesn’t believe in democracy. Trump is only interested in himself and his own interests. So, he’s decided that he likes Erdogan, and he can do business with Erdogan, and therefore, Erdogan can do whatever he wants. And that’s what Erdogan is doing.

Let’s say Biden or Kamala Harris had been at the White House today. Erdogan would not have done any of these things, because the US government would have really pushed very hard. Whether it was investments or any other type of help that the Turks would need, they would not get.

The Turkish economy is in terrible shape. Inflation is much higher than the official figures indicate, and it’s still at 30% for a modern economy. The Turkish economy may be in better shape structurally, but I think it is still fairly dynamic. You go to Europe, you see Turkish exports everywhere—and I’m not just talking about tomatoes and agricultural products. I’m talking about sophisticated products, industrial products, electronic products. The Turkish economy has a number of advantages that probably would do a lot better with improved economic management from Ankara. But it has still managed to perform not poorly, given the circumstances.

Biden, or a Democratic president, or even a Republican president who cares about this—I mean, George Bush would have been up in arms about it. Trump has given Erdogan essentially carte blanche. And this is why we have not seen any major Turkish incursions into northern Syria.

Now, it’s not that Trump is attached to the Syrian Kurds. He couldn’t care less about them. But Trump would like to take American troops out of Syria, while also realizing that ISIS is on the mend, ISIS is getting stronger, and he doesn’t want a major ISIS insurrection again like what happened back in 2014. So he’s probably still thinking about it and has decided to reduce the number of troops, but not pull them out. As a result, Erdogan hasn’t gone into Syria.

But the truth is, the Syrian Kurds do not threaten Turkey. It’s just something in some Turks’ minds, and it’s a way of galvanizing the population behind you. The Kurdish problem in Turkey is a long-standing one, and there are many people who still don’t trust the Kurds. And Syrian Kurds are Syrians—people forget that. The Turks complain that Syrian Kurds control a large chunk of territory. Yes, they do. They happen to be Syrian Kurds, by the way. Turkey itself controls an enormous chunk of Syrian territory in the northwest—as big as Lebanon. But that’s okay, Turkey can do that. So you have these anomalies.

Erdogan is careful, because with Trump you don’t know from one day to the next how he might turn on you. So Trump is letting him do everything he wants to do in Turkey, but doesn’t want him to go into Syria and mess things up there. Fine—Erdogan can live with that. So Erdogan is quite happy.

Erdogan Thinks He Can Withstand European Pressure

The Europeans are very unhappy with what’s happening in Turkey, because they realize what Erdogan’s aims are. And you’ve had a huge exodus of Turks who’ve gone to Europe, escaping the Erdogan regime. The immigration problem from the rest of the world through Turkey to Europe has always been Erdogan’s carte majeure. But whatever Europeans do or threaten, Erdogan is going to ignore, because he essentially thinks he has maybe 6 to 12 months in which he has to focus on defanging or demolishing the opposition party. Once he is done with that, he won’t do anything else. So he thinks he can withstand European pressure for this long.

The interesting thing about Trump is that there’s a way in which people are also afraid of him because of his unpredictability and his very tough talk. It doesn’t always mean anything—the Chinese have seen it, and the Russians know exactly how to react—but they’re big powers. Everybody else is afraid. I’ll give you an example. It’s a minor one, but the day before yesterday, the Iraqi Shia militia released an American researcher, Elizabeth Tsurkov, whom they had been holding for two years. They kidnapped her. And I think the only reason they released her—and this is why Trump’s craziness pays off—is that he probably threatened the Iraqi government and said, “You don’t get this person out…” And the Iraqi government said, well, they are the Shia militias, we don’t have control over them. And he probably said, “I know you have control over them, I know you can do it, do it now.” Biden and the Kamala Harris government have not tried very hard to get her out.

So Trump’s unpredictability is why Erdogan has to be careful. As long as Trump gives him, as I said, carte blanche at home, Erdogan is very happy, and he can get away with it. What’s more important to him? Winning the election, staying in power for another term. That’s all he cares about.

So the answer to your question is that not much is going to happen. The Europeans are not going to be very successful. Now, if Turkey were to go through a major economic crisis again, with major demonstrations and instability, that could be different. But given how the whole region is at the moment, I don’t think that’s in the cards right now. The Europeans are going to continue doing some business, they’ll put some constraints on Turkish economic exchanges, but there’s only so much they can do. They can criticize the Turks, but the Turks don’t care. Or I should say, the Turkish government doesn’t care. Erdogan has essentially won.

Aryeh Neier is an iconic human rights defender, former Executive Director of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), founding Executive Director of Human Rights Watch (HRW), and former President of the Open Society Foundations.

Human Rights Icon Aryeh Neier: Anti-Israel Speech Is Not Antisemitism

In an exclusive interview with the ECPS, Aryeh Neier — founding Executive Director of Human Rights Watch and former President of the Open Society Foundations — delivers a powerful assessment of Gaza, free speech, and international accountability. Neier argues that criticism of Israeli policies must not be conflated with antisemitism, stressing that “even antisemitism constitutes protected speech.” He further asserts that “Israel is engaged in genocide,” citing systematic obstruction of humanitarian aid and disproportionate force in Gaza. While the ICC remains “the only viable path” for justice, he warns that political barriers persist. From US policy dynamics to global human rights challenges, Neier offers rare insights into one of today’s most divisive debates.

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), iconic human rights defender Aryeh Neier — former Executive Director of the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), founding Executive Director of Human Rights Watch (HRW), and former President of the Open Society Foundations — reflects on Israel’s war in Gaza, free speech controversies, and the challenges of international accountability. With a career spanning more than six decades and seven honorary degrees, Neier brings unmatched authority to one of today’s most polarizing debates.

At the heart of the conversation lies his assertion that criticism of Israeli policies must not be conflated with antisemitism. “Differentiating antisemitism from anti-Israel speech is something that the Trump administration has failed to do,” Neier argues, highlighting how US political discourse has blurred the lines between prejudice and legitimate dissent. He warns against undermining free expression on American campuses: “Even antisemitism constitutes protected speech,” he insists, while adding that universities must balance academic freedoms with preventing disruption to institutional activities.

Turning to Gaza, Neier presents a grave legal assessment: “Israel is engaged in genocide,” he says, grounding his conclusion in the 1948 Genocide Convention. He points to two central factors: Israel’s sustained obstruction of humanitarian aid and the use of disproportionate force. “Starvation, as a method of warfare, is forbidden under the First Protocol of the Geneva Conventions,” he stresses, adding that the denial of food, water, and medical supplies, combined with the use of 900-kilogram bombs in densely populated areas, “seems to me to amount to the crime of genocide.”

Aryeh Neier also emphasizes the limitations of international mechanisms. While the International Criminal Court (ICC) remains the most viable forum for prosecutions, enforcement will require political shifts. Drawing parallels to the former Yugoslavia, he notes, “Slobodan Milosevic never imagined he would face trial, yet years later he was sent to The Hague.”

On US policy, Neier identifies Evangelical Christian groups, not AIPAC, as a dominant influence shaping Washington’s stance toward Israel, complicating responses to international legal rulings. He also warns of growing generational divides within US politics, with younger voters increasingly critical of Israeli policies — a factor he believes may eventually reshape policy debates.

This interview offers a profound exploration of the intersection between human rights, international law, free speech, and accountability. From Gaza to US campuses, Neier challenges political distortions and underscores the urgency of protecting both humanitarian principles and civil liberties in an age of polarization.

Here is the transcript of our interview with human rights champion Aryeh Neier, lightly edited for clarity and readability.

Why Gaza Meets the Genocide Threshold

Destruction in Shejayia, Gaza City, Gaza Strip. Photo: Dreamstime.

Mr. Aryeh Neier, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: As one of the most influential human rights defenders in modern history, you have stated that you are persuaded Israel is “engaged in genocide” in Gaza. How do you define genocide in this context under international law, and how do Netanyahu’s increasingly populist and authoritarian coalition policies — particularly regarding humanitarian aid, military conduct, and civilian protections — factor into your conclusion that the legal threshold has been crossed?

Aryeh Neier: As far as the legal definition of genocide is concerned, it is the 1948 Genocide Convention that defines the crime under international law. The crime consists of destroying a national, racial, ethnic, or religious group, in whole or in part. This destruction can occur through direct killing or by creating conditions of life intended to bring about the death of such a group, in whole or in part. The attempt to commit genocide is also a crime under international law, just as the actual commission of genocide is. Regarding those who organize the effort, I’m less focused on the coalitions they may form. To me, the guilty parties are those who possess both the authority and the intent — and intent is the crucial factor under international law in defining the crime of genocide.

You have linked your conclusion primarily to Israel’s sustained obstruction of humanitarian aid. From a legal perspective, do you interpret starvation as a method of warfare here as evidence of specific genocidal intent to destroy a population, in whole or in part? To what extent does Netanyahu’s populist-nationalist rhetoric and reliance on far-right coalition partners signal deliberate policy intent rather than reckless disregard?

Aryeh Neier: Again, I’m not concerned with the coalition that may be supporting Netanyahu. The issue is whether they exercise the authority that makes them guilty participants in the crime of genocide. Starvation, as a method of warfare, is forbidden under the First Protocol of the Geneva Conventions. It is absolutely prohibited, and those who act with intent to cause starvation should be considered to have participated in the commission of genocide.

Although I focus heavily on the denial of humanitarian assistance — including food, water, and medical supplies — to the population of Gaza, I would also include, as part of the crime of genocide, the use of disproportionate force by the Israeli government. For example, the Israeli government used 900-kilogram bombs in its attacks on Gaza, particularly in the early months. Bombs of that size can kill people within 200 meters and are utterly inappropriate for use in a densely populated area like Gaza.

While such weapons might have legitimate uses in warfare — for example, destroying a naval base or a military factory producing large amounts of armor — their use in crowded urban areas inevitably means that a very large number of civilians will be killed, and that is what happened in Gaza. Therefore, the combination of the way these attacks were carried out and the denial of humanitarian assistance, including food, water, and medical supplies, seems to me to amount to the crime of genocide.

From Blockades to Bombing Patterns

Based on your experience at Human Rights Watch and the Open Society Foundations, which forms of evidence are most critical for establishing war crimes liability in Gaza — convoy interdictions, caloric deprivation, bombing patterns, or policy directives?

Aryeh Neier: All of the above are factors that can be considered as evidence. If there were to be a criminal trial in the International Criminal Court (ICC), there would need to be clear evidence showing what the defendants actually did. There would have to be witnesses who could testify to their actions, as well as an examination of any available documents, along with testimony from observers who were present. The Israeli government has done as much as it could to limit the possibility of such testimony by preventing international journalists and human rights groups from entering Gaza. Therefore, the witnesses would most likely have to be people from Gaza who experienced these crimes, along with some Israelis who are knowledgeable about the practices and could testify before the ICC.

Given the populist pressures within Netanyahu’s coalition, which levels of command responsibility appear most salient — cabinet-level policy decisions, directives from the defense establishment, or field-level operational orders? How should investigators document the causal link between strategic blockade policies, child malnutrition, and elevated civilian mortality?

Aryeh Neier: I don’t think one can specify in advance how a prosecution would proceed. It would be up to the prosecutors to determine what evidence they are able to obtain. If they can secure military directives, they would use those. But if they are not able to access such directives, testimony from individuals who were present when decisions were made would become important. If that is also unavailable, they would need to examine patterns of action by those who committed the crimes. They would look at actions taken, for example, to destroy farms and greenhouses in Gaza, which provided some of the food. They would examine those who obstructed trucks attempting to deliver assistance and review the orders that limited the number of trucks entering Gaza. All of these would be factors. It’s impossible to specify in advance what evidence the prosecutors would rely upon.

ICC Remains the Only Path for Gaza War Crimes Accountability

The flag in front of the International Criminal Court in The Hague, Netherlands on March 27, 2016. Photo: Dreamstime.

You once critiqued the UN Human Rights Council’s bloc politics and selective scrutiny. How should advocates leverage UN mechanisms on Gaza while mitigating the reputational drag of perceived selectivity and ensuring even-handed standards?

Aryeh Neier: The UN Human Rights Council is a political body. The various governments that serve on the Council at any given moment have their own political interests. They often form blocs, and, to some extent, those blocs protect the countries that are members of them. So, if one is dealing, for example, with crimes committed in Sudan, there may be African countries that have alliances with Sudan or obtain oil from it, and those countries may be protective of the Sudanese government. Similarly, when addressing Russia’s crimes in Ukraine, there may be countries from the former Soviet Union that still maintain alliances with Russia and would shield it from scrutiny. It is, therefore, impossible to rely on the UN Human Rights Council as a fully neutral body capable of making impartial decisions on crucial human rights matters. One tries, as much as possible, to mitigate that factor, but it cannot be entirely eliminated.

Having been a key advocate for the International Criminal Tribunals for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) and Rwanda (ICTR), how do you compare the feasibility of creating a similar ad hoc tribunal for Gaza versus relying on the International Criminal Court (ICC)? What lessons from Bosnia and Rwanda are relevant here, and which pitfalls should be avoided?

Aryeh Neier: The reason it was possible to create the tribunals for the former Yugoslavia and for Rwanda is that the five permanent members of the United Nations Security Council all accepted the establishment of those bodies. None of them exercised their veto power to block their creation. Unfortunately, if there were an attempt to create an ad hoc tribunal along the lines of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia or the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, the United States would almost certainly exercise its veto to prevent the formation of such a body. Therefore, I don’t think we can expect that there will ever be a special tribunal for Gaza. I believe the International Criminal Court, which is not subject to such veto power, remains the only possibility for criminal prosecution for the crimes committed in Gaza.

European Courts May Pursue Cases Against Israeli Officials

If Israel were to initiate domestic investigations into alleged violations, how should the ICC evaluate their credibility under complementarity rules? In the absence of genuine proceedings, should European states more aggressively invoke universal jurisdiction to pursue accountability?

Aryeh Neier: One could evaluate whether Israel is acting in good faith in prosecutions in the same way one evaluates any other situation in which there could be prosecutions. That is, is there a genuine investigative process, and does the investigative process actually lead to indictments? If Israel were to claim that it is engaged in an investigation and its performance does not inspire credibility, then I think the International Criminal Court should proceed on the basis that Israel is not doing what it should, and therefore only the International Criminal Court is capable of bringing such a prosecution.

I think it’s entirely possible that some European countries will, at some point, exercise universal jurisdiction with respect to crimes committed in Gaza. It is likely that Israelis will travel to various European countries. The countries that have condemned the crimes taking place in Gaza may become aware that someone who was a military figure is traveling within their borders, and in those circumstances, one could imagine that universal jurisdiction would take place.

There have been, for example, a number of prosecutions in European countries of Syrian officials who traveled in different European countries — in Switzerland, for example — and Switzerland used universal jurisdiction to bring such persons to trial. I don’t imagine this would involve the highest-level Israeli officials, the people who have the most significant responsibility for the crimes committed in Gaza. But I think it could well happen that there will be such cases, and we won’t know until it actually happens whether there will be such trials.

There are a couple of organizations. There’s an organization based in Switzerland, for example, called Trial, which specifically looks for such cases and tries to ensure prosecutions take place. I don’t know whether they’re looking at any cases right now; they might be, they might not be. I think most of the Israeli officials who have a high level of responsibility for the crimes in Gaza are avoiding travel to European countries.

Future Political Shifts Could Open Door to Prosecutions

Israelis protest at Tel Aviv against Netanyahu’s anti-democratic coup on April 1, 2023. Photo: Avivi Aharon.

You have noted that both the International Court of Justice (ICJ) and the ICC lack direct enforcement powers and rely on state cooperation. What realistic regional or transnational coalitions, in your view, could translate court rulings into tangible protection or material relief for civilians in Gaza?

Aryeh Neier: I’m not sure that an international coalition could achieve that. I think the critical step is to try to bring a case before the International Criminal Court. The ICC has jurisdiction over individuals, not countries. And if, at some stage, it was possible to bring top officials responsible for the crimes in Gaza before the ICC, that would be the way to secure some form of accountability.

When the wars in the former Yugoslavia took place, the officials responsible for major crimes never imagined they would face the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. Yet, eventually, Slobodan Milosevic was sent to the court by other officials in Serbia, and Radovan Karadzic and Ratko Mladic were ultimately captured and brought before the tribunal.

It took many years. It may also take many years in the case of Gaza. But it cannot be ruled out. It is possible that, over time, there could be political change in Israel and that future leaders might seek to ensure some form of accountability. One cannot predict how this will develop.

According to numerous expert assessments, the US administration may be violating both domestic and international law by supplying arms to Israel despite documented restrictions on humanitarian aid to Gaza. Based on your experience with US accountability mechanisms, do you believe American officials could face future legal challenges under the Arms Export Control Act or under aiding-and-abetting doctrines in international law?

Aryeh Neier: I think I would give the same answer to the question of whether Israeli officials might, at some stage, face accountability and eventually be held responsible. One cannot predict how matters will develop politically in the United States. It is unlikely that the Trump administration would pursue the prosecution of those who may be complicit in the genocide taking place in Gaza. However, one cannot know who the officials will be in the United States 10, 15, or 20 years from now, and it is possible that, at some stage in the future, there might be a willingness to prosecute American officials. I would not say it is likely, but it’s possible.

Evangelical Influence Shapes US Policy Toward Israel

A man clasps his hands in prayer during the opening ceremonies of President Donald Trump’s “Keep America Great” rally at the Wildwoods Convention Center in Wildwood, New Jersey, on January 28, 2020. Photo by Benjamin Clapp.

You have emphasized that Evangelical Christian groups, rather than AIPAC, exert disproportionate influence on US policy toward Israel. How does this ideological alignment affect Washington’s responses to ICJ and ICC proceedings?

Aryeh Neier: Certain evangelical groups in the United States have managed to incorporate Israel and its prospects into their theology. These groups are particularly strong in the southern states, creating a powerful political bloc that is immensely supportive of Israel. A prominent figure within that bloc is Mike Huckabee, a former governor of Arkansas, whom the Trump administration has designated as its ambassador to Israel. Placing someone like that in such a key diplomatic position highlights both the strength of this bloc within the United States and the political difficulty of overcoming its influence.

You had warned that President Biden risks losing young voters over his handling of Gaza. To what extent do you see US domestic politics colliding with international humanitarian law — and could electoral considerations meaningfully shift US policy?

Aryeh Neier: There has been a generational division in the United States. Among other things, older members of the Jewish community have tended to be very supportive of Israel, whereas many younger Jews, particularly those attending universities, are often highly critical of the Israeli government’s policies. I believe this divide extends beyond the Jewish population to the broader American public. The generational gap is quite wide, but how it will ultimately play out is uncertain. It may become a significant factor in shaping US policy in the years to come, or it may not.

Refusing to Buy Israeli Weapons May Pressure Policy Change

In your work on sanctions and human rights, you have argued that targeted measures can drive behavioral change. In Gaza, which tools — such as asset freezes, travel bans, or conditionality on arms transfers — would be most effective in influencing policy without exacerbating civilian suffering? Looking at past cases such as Myanmar and South Africa, sanctions’ effectiveness often depends on timing and international coordination. What benchmarks should be used to assess whether external pressure is genuinely shaping Israel’s policy on humanitarian access?

Aryeh Neier: It’s very difficult to answer that question. I would not have imagined, before the sanctions were placed on South Africa, what would be most effective. But I think that, in the case of South Africa, for example, the international sports ban had a significant effect. South Africans, like the people of many countries, were very supportive of their athletes and eager to see them succeed in international competitions. When South African athletes were excluded from such events, it had a considerable impact. Economic sanctions also had a significant effect.

My guess is that, in the Israeli situation, the most significant kinds of sanctions would be those that impose limits on military support for Israel. Israel is itself a significant manufacturer of arms, and much of its international revenue comes from arms sales to various countries. So, I think that if sanctions were imposed, there should be two kinds: one, a sanction on the delivery of weapons to Israel, and the other, a sanction on the purchase of Israeli weapons.

I once spoke to an Israeli official about limiting the sale of certain weapons to other countries that were engaged at that time in very serious human rights abuses. He explained that, for Israel’s arms manufacturing to produce the weapons Israel believes it needs, the country must achieve economies of scale by manufacturing far more weapons than it actually requires for its own purposes. Therefore, it has to sell those weapons to other countries. Selling weapons internationally, he said, was crucial for Israel’s own military needs.

My guess is that this is probably still the case. Therefore, if sanctions involved refusing to purchase Israeli weapons, that might be as effective as refusing to sell certain weapons to Israel.

Anti-Israel Speech Shouldn’t Be Confused with Antisemitism

Pro-Palestinian protesters hold signs. Photo: Oliver Perez.

As someone who defended free speech in the Skokie case, how do you distinguish between antisemitism and legitimate criticism of Israeli state policies — especially in today’s polarized academic, civic, and political environments?

Aryeh Neier: Differentiating antisemitism from anti-Israel speech is something that the Trump administration has failed to do. It has attacked many universities in the United States, accusing them of allowing antisemitism to flourish on their campuses. Very often, however, the protests that have taken place on American campuses are directed against Israeli practices rather than being antisemitic in character. From a free speech standpoint, my view is that even antisemitism constitutes protected speech.

It isn’t the case, however, that many universities in the United States are public institutions where the First Amendment’s free speech guarantees apply. Many of the universities accused of allowing antisemitism on their campuses are private universities, like Harvard University and Columbia University, and they are not required to adhere to First Amendment protections. Nevertheless, in general, they do try to protect freedom of speech.

I believe they can and should protect freedom of speech, even for antisemites, but they should not allow such individuals to disrupt university activities, such as classes, graduations, or other events. So, one needs to look at each of those situations and see whether the university has acted appropriately. But the Trump administration, by confusing antisemitism and anti-Israel positions, has made the whole situation a mess.

Truth Commissions Won’t Deliver Justice in Gaza

And lastly, looking ahead, what model of transitional justice would best address violations committed by all parties — a hybrid court, ICC-led prosecutions, or a regional truth and reconciliation commission with prosecutorial powers? How can victim-centered justice remain central in the face of deep political deadlock?

Aryeh Neier: I think the only possibility of accountability is prosecutions before the International Criminal Court. I don’t imagine that there would be a Truth and Reconciliation Commission that could function effectively because it would have to involve both the Israelis and the Palestinians, and it’s very difficult to imagine that they would collaborate on a Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

Moreover, a Truth and Reconciliation Commission would not itself have prosecutorial powers. In the case of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, there was legislation which provided that those who did not disclose their crimes and acknowledge their crimes still could be prosecuted. But the prosecution was separate from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission itself, and in practice, not that many persons who had committed crimes during the apartheid regime were actually prosecuted in South Africa, even when they refused to acknowledge and disclose the crimes that they committed.

So, I’m not at all inclined to think that a Truth and Reconciliation Commission could play a useful role in the situation of Gaza. I think, as difficult as it may be, one should try to see to it that the International Criminal Court is able to function with respect to the crimes committed in Gaza.

Professor Norman Finkelstein was born in New York City to Jewish Holocaust-survivor parents and, in 2020, named the fifth most influential political scientist in the world.

Prof. Finkelstein: Israel Will Mass Gazans at the Border, Bomb Relentlessly, and Force Egypt’s Hand

Professor Norman Finkelstein—NYC-born to Holocaust-survivor parents and, in 2020, ranked the world’s fifth most influential political scientist—tells ECPS that “Israel will mass Gazans at the border, bomb relentlessly, and force Egypt’s hand.” Professor Finkelstein forecasts pressure on Cairo amid “images broadcast worldwide,” frames today’s war as a qualitative break aimed at depopulation (“stay and starve or leave”) and argues that “an imposed famine…constitutes clear proof of genocide.” He argues that, while procedural workarounds to a US veto exist at the UN, they are politically improbable in practice; hence he looks to EU trade leverage instead—though that, too, is stalled by a ‘lack of political will.’ Downplaying doctrinal debates over Zionism, he casts Israel as a ‘Jewish supremacist state’ analogous to apartheid-era South Africa, and notes collapsing Democratic support alongside generational GOP splits.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

Giving an interview to the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor Norman Finkelstein—born in New York City to Jewish Holocaust-survivor parents and, in 2020, named the fifth most influential political scientist in the world—states the core claim that frames this conversation: “Israel will mass Gazans at the border, bomb relentlessly, [and] force Egypt’s hand.” 

The interview that follows situates Professor Finkelstein’s analysis within a stark forecast of prospective mass displacement. While he cautions that “I don’t think it’s easy to predict where this will lead,” he argues that Israel is “trying to amass the entire population of Gaza on the southern border,” after which “they will… begin bombing it relentlessly.” The intended effect, he suggests, is to compel Cairo under unbearable humanitarian pressure—“images broadcast worldwide… with desperate civilians screaming to be allowed into Egypt”—to open its frontier. Whether Egypt can resist that pressure, he adds, “I’m not sure.”

Professor Finkelstein frames the contemporary campaign as a qualitative break from earlier cycles of “mowings of the lawn.” The methods are not new, he says, but their magnitude is: destruction that once shocked humanitarian observers now approaches comprehensive urban pulverization. As to intent, he maintains that the objective is depopulation: “the people of Gaza will be given two choices—stay and starve or leave.” In his view, exterminatory violence functions as instrument as well as outcome—driven by “pure bloodlust,” by a desire to re-establish deterrence (“if the thought crosses your mind that there is a military option against us, just look at Gaza”), and by the aim to break both Gazan and international will.

On proof, Professor Finkelstein argues the evidentiary bar has already been met through rigorous humanitarian monitoring and legal dossiers. He points to a “voluminous documentary record,” including a South African memorial at the ICJ, and insists that “we’ve already reached the highest threshold of accuracy in documentation when it comes to Gaza.” For him, the decisive element is engineered deprivation: “an imposed famine—a human-made famine—constitutes clear proof of genocide.”

Institutionally, he sees impunity less in legal design than in political inertia. While acknowledging UN tools that can bypass a US Security Council veto, he judges them unlikely to be activated and locates leverage instead in Europe’s trade ties—frustrated, he says, by a “lack of political will.” In the domestic US arena, he notes collapsing Democratic grassroots support for Israel and a sharp generational split among Republicans, concluding that “it’s very difficult right now to defend Israel.”

Analytically, Professor Finkelstein downplays doctrinal debates about Zionism, preferring a structural diagnosis: Israel as a “Jewish supremacist state” enforcing regional dominance through periodic “mass death and destruction,” a pattern he analogizes to apartheid-era South Africa. Read against that backdrop, the title’s forecast is not a provocation but, in his account, a logical extension of means toward an end.

Here is the transcript of our interview with Professor Norman Finkelstein, edited lightly for readability.

Quantity Has Turned into Quality: Gaza’s Destruction Is Now a Different Phenomenon

Destruction in Shejayia, Gaza City, Gaza Strip. Photo: Dreamstime.

Professor Finkelstein, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: Drawing on “Gaza: An Inquest into Its Martyrdom,” how do you conceptualize Gaza today—blockade, occupation, siege, apartheid, genocide—and how do you explain Israel’s persistent impunity despite extensive documentation of International Humanitarian Law and International Human Rights Law (IHL/IHRL) violations?

Professor Norman Finkelstein: There’s an expression in English: there’s nothing new under the sun. For those who have studied the history of Gaza, in particular since 1967, it can’t be said that Israel has pioneered new methods since October 7th, 2023. What has changed—and changed very significantly—is the magnitude of the Israeli repression in Gaza. There is also another expression: at some point, quantity turns into quality. That is to say, if the magnitude of the Israeli death and destruction in Gaza has significantly increased, then qualitatively we’re talking about something new. So, even though the methods are not new, the quantity is of such an altogether different magnitude; then we’re talking about a qualitatively different phenomenon.

What does that mean in practice? Let’s take one simple comparison. During the last of Israel’s massive killing sprees in Gaza, Operation Protective Edge—that was in July–August 2014—it lasted approximately about 51 days. During Operation Protective Edge, about 18,000 homes were destroyed, and about 550 children were killed. The head of the International Committee of the Red Cross, Peter Moorer, when he toured Gaza after Operation Protective Edge, said that in his entire career he had not ever seen such a magnitude of destruction. Well, compare that with today. Then it was 18,000 homes; now the estimates are 200,000 homes destroyed. And the estimate is about 92 or more percent of all the housing in Gaza has been pulverized. Then it was 550 children; now the estimates are 20,000-plus children have been killed. So, it’s quantitatively at an altogether different magnitude, and so it’s qualitatively a different phenomenon. Now, what does that mean practically?

Practically, that means that Israel, in the past, has carried out what it calls “mowings of the lawn” in Gaza. That is to say, these are high-tech killing sprees, basically to remind the people in Gaza who is in charge. In this case, Israel. But after October 7th, the Israelis realized that they had not just a crisis, but they had an opportunity. The opportunity flowed from the crisis. The opportunity was to resolve the Gaza question once and for all. In effect, that meant implementing the final solution to the Gaza question. And the final solution to the Gaza question basically meant, one way or another, to empty out Gaza. It could be ethnic cleansing. It could be making Gaza uninhabitable, so the people of Gaza, by hook or by crook, would figure out a way to leave. Or it could also mean mass extermination. 

The Israeli policy over the past two years has been a combination of those 3 things. Ethnic cleansing—that was the goal at the very beginning, to empty out the population into the northern Sinai. That didn’t work for various reasons. Then, the massive destruction of Gaza, to make it uninhabitable. What they’re doing right now in the last habitable spot of Gaza, which is Gaza City. They will reduce it to what they have reduced the north of Gaza and Rafah to; now they will do it in Gaza City, and there will be nothing left. It will just be a wasteland of rubble. In order to break the backs of the people of Gaza, in order to soften the target so that they will leave once and for all, they’re engaging in a policy of mass famine and mass extermination.

The second part of your question was: why have they been able to get away with it with impunity, despite the massive documentation? Well, during all of Israel’s previous operations, there was massive documentation. After Operation Cast Lead in 2008–9, there was the voluminous Goldstone Report, which was authored by a South African Jew who also called himself a Zionist, and it was a devastating report on what Israel had done to Gaza—just collected dust. That report was commissioned by the Human Rights Council. There was another report after Operation Protective Edge, commissioned by the Human Rights Council. It was also devastating. It also just ended up collecting dust. So, however much documentation is accumulated, turning these commissions of inquiry, or human rights documentation, into an actual implementation of a law is, as is pretty obvious at this point, not easy.

Engineered Famine Is Proof of Genocide

Besieged Gaza’s decades-long socio-economic collapse has tipped into famine—under what critics call genocidal Israeli policies. Photo: Mohamed Zarandah.

On the genocide claim, which probative elements (specific intent, patterns of destructive acts, official statements, engineered humanitarian deprivation) do you judge strongest or weakest, and how should advocates avoid both over- and under-pleading?

Professor Norman Finkelstein: That’s a very good question. In my view, the goal is to empty out Gaza. That, to me, is the central objective. They don’t care much where the people of Gaza end up—Tahiti, Samoa, the Solomon Islands, Nauru, Tuvalu—it makes no difference, as long as the “Gaza question” is resolved. You should bear in mind that this was also Hitler’s view. Until the late 1930s, and perhaps even into the early 1940s, the plan was to transfer Europe’s Jews out of Europe, and there were all sorts of schemes underway in different parts of the world to relocate them. That goal, however, became unviable after World War II broke out, when the seas were no longer open for free travel. It was then that they shifted to the extermination plan.

Similarly, I believe Israel’s aim is to depopulate Gaza, and one way to achieve that is by making it unlivable. As Israeli officials have repeatedly stated: the people of Gaza will be given two choices—stay and starve or leave.

Secondly, the mass extermination is a component of the plan, because there are three aspects to the mass extermination. Aspect number one is pure bloodlust. The Israelis were outraged—and that’s really a euphemism. They were enraged by what happened on October 7th and were determined to exact blood: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Except, in the case of the Israelis, judging by what was recently said by a former senior Israeli official—I believe it was the former head of Israeli intelligence—the ratio was set far higher: for every Israeli killed, fifty Gazans must be killed. So, there was the bloodlust component. That, in significant part, explains not just the scale of the killing in Gaza but also the jubilation with which it is carried out, the fact that they broadcast it all over their social media, showing how they are wreaking death and destruction on Gaza. So, the extermination, in part, springs from bloodlust.

A second aspect of the extermination is what Israel calls restoring its deterrence capability after October 7th. The idea began circulating in parts of the Arab world: maybe there is a military option against Israel. If a ragtag guerrilla force assembled by Hamas could inflict so much damage, perhaps others could as well. Israel, therefore, felt compelled to send a message: if the thought crosses your mind that there is a military option against us, just look at Gaza. In this sense, the mass extermination was also intended to restore what Israel calls its deterrence capability—that is, the Arab world’s fear of Israel. That’s what they mean by deterrence capability.

The third aspect of the mass extermination is to break the will of the people of Gaza—and also that of the international community. While the international community speaks of ceasefires and rehabilitation, the goal of the mass extermination is to send a clear message: there will be no ceasefire, and there will be no rehabilitation. The people of Gaza must leave, and one way to convince them of that is to kill them en masse and deprive them of the basic necessities required to sustain life.

There is nothing left in Gaza now. I don’t know where people get these ideas about reconstruction. If you look at the official reports, they estimate it would take 50 years to rebuild Gaza. The place has been pulverized; there’s nothing left—it’s a vast wasteland.

So, I believe the extermination has been a means to the end of resolving the Gaza question. But even if it is a means to an end, it is still genocide. Using genocidal methods to achieve the goal of “resolving” the Gaza question does not make it any less so. The fact that extermination serves as a means, rather than an end in itself, does not negate its genocidal nature. They are employing genocidal means to achieve their objective.

The Record Is Voluminous; The Crime Is Clear

What standards of sourcing, chain-of-custody, and methodological transparency should scholars/NGOs adopt to pre-empt “disinformation” rebuttals while remaining legible to courts and broader publics?

Professor Norman Finkelstein: I don’t think, unlike others who seem to believe, that the key to gaining authoritative information about Gaza is admitting journalists. First of all, we have met much higher standards of proof than journalistic evidence. From the superfluity of human rights and humanitarian UN-affiliated organizations, they have been transmitting information on, literally, a daily basis, to prove that Gaza has crossed the threshold of famine.

There is this very subtle system of accounting by international humanitarian groups. There’s food deprivation, there’s starvation, and there’s famine — these are different degrees. In order to discern at which threshold you stand, it requires very precise information. When they came to the conclusion that about a million people in Gaza are now in famine conditions, they needed very precise accounting, because these are very rigorous, stringent organizations. They need very precise accounting to validate the claim of famine, or starvation, or extreme food deprivation.

There are so many organizations working in Gaza — Save the Children, the World Food Programme, UNICEF, UNESCO, Doctors Without Borders, UNCDA, the UN Commission on Trade and Development, the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund — all of them are on the ground. We have a voluminous documentary record.

Just to give you one example: the South African delegation to the International Court of Justice (ICJ) submitted what’s called a memorial, which is its main documentation of the genocide in Gaza. It hasn’t yet been released to the public, but you know how long it is? It’s 700 pages with 4,000 pages of documentation. There’s no dearth of documentation. Frankly, as against the organizations I’ve listed, journalistic reportage is the least reliable. These are just people who fly in and fly out. They have very little knowledge of the situation in Gaza. The journalists are highly partisan. They basically have to report what their editors want them to report when it comes to Israel and Palestine.

So, in my opinion, we’ve already reached the highest threshold of accuracy in documentation when it comes to Gaza. We don’t need any more. As you know, all the major human rights organizations have reached the same conclusion: Amnesty International has concluded that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza; Human Rights Watch has concluded that Israel is committing genocidal acts in Gaza; and the Israeli Information Center for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories, B’Tselem, has likewise concluded that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza.

The overwhelming majority of recognized experts on genocide agree as well. In a recent poll of an organization with about 500 scholars specializing in genocide studies, 28% responded, and of those, 86% stated that Israel is committing genocide in Gaza.

So, I don’t think the problem at this point is documentation. I believe that an imposed famine — a human-made famine — constitutes clear proof of genocide.

Mass at Rafah, Bomb Relentlessly, Force Egypt’s Hand

How do you assess the likelihood, modalities, and timelines of large-scale displacement from Gaza to Egypt (or beyond)? Which regional veto players (Egypt, Hezbollah, Gulf states) most credibly deter or enable such outcomes, and why?

Professor Norman Finkelstein: I don’t think it’s easy to predict where this will lead. Israel is trying to amass the entire population of Gaza on the southern border. At some point, President Trump has given them the green light, but he’s also signaled that they need to get this job done quickly, as pressure on the US is steadily increasing. My guess—and I must emphasize that I have no military knowledge whatsoever—is that they will gather as many people as possible at the southern border and then begin bombing it relentlessly.

The resulting pressure will inevitably fall on Egypt: you have to let them in. Because nobody is stopping Israel. How Egypt will respond to that remains an open question. There will be images broadcast worldwide of Israel relentlessly bombing two million people, with desperate civilians screaming to be allowed into Egypt. Whether Egypt will be able to resist that pressure, I’m not sure.

Not Law but Will Is the Chokepoint

United Nations Headquarters in New York, USA. Photo: Diego Grandi.

Which institutional pathways—US Security Council shielding, lawfare, diplomatic narrative management—most decisively sustain Israeli impunity, and where are the most realistic chokepoints for pressure?

Professor Norman Finkelstein: The US has been an obstacle, but it’s not entirely accurate to call it an insurmountable one. There are various UN mechanisms for bypassing the US veto in the Security Council, including what’s known as the “United for Peace” option in the General Assembly. I won’t go into the technical details, as they’re not particularly relevant, since it’s unlikely to happen.

Secondly, the Europeans can exert significant influence. Europe—not the US—is Israel’s main trading partner, through the EU. They have many potential avenues of leverage. The issue, however, is not institutional or bureaucratic obstructionism. The real problem is a lack of political will.

What could be done now? I don’t believe much can be done. I don’t like to be the bearer of bad news. On the other hand, I believe in treating adults like adults: if we’re at an impasse, we’re at an impasse. If people were willing to escalate their resistance, then I do believe there are options.

For example, there are possibilities to shut down the Israeli terminals at major airports if you can amass enough people willing to go there and be arrested. I think many people would be willing to get arrested. The problem, however, is organizational—I don’t want to use big words, but it really comes down to organizational vision.

There are potential avenues. For instance, there was an announcement by the dock workers in Genoa—they’re sending over a flotilla to Gaza. If the Israelis attack that flotilla, there will be a price to pay in terms of commerce on the seas. Whether that’s just talk or whether there’s an action plan behind it, I don’t know.

There are things that can be done, but they require both will and organization.

Corruption and Coercion Shape the Annex

The entrance sign of the International Criminal Court (ICC) at its headquarters in The Hague, Netherlands, on February 14, 2018. Photo: Robert Paul Van Beets.

You’ve criticized UN handling of conflict-related sexual violence. What does the Annex controversy (Israel/Hamas) reveal about the political economy of UN norm-setting, evidentiary thresholds, and great-power leverage?

Professor Norman Finkelstein: The UN, as anybody who works in it will tell you, is a profoundly corrupt organization. On the other hand, it does a lot of good things, and you have to balance both those factors. I think there’s a lot of corruption in the UN and affiliated bodies like the ICC.

I’ve just completed a new book called Gaza’s Gravediggers: An Inquiry into Corruption in High Places, which speaks to specific individuals and specific events where, in my opinion, individuals are either being bribed or blackmailed by Israel.

I mentioned earlier in this conversation the Goldstone Report. The Goldstone Report was a devastating indictment of Israel’s conduct during Operation Cast Lead. Within a few months of its issuance, Goldstone retracted the report, and in my opinion, he retracted it because he was blackmailed. If you read the record, as I have, there’s no other explanation.

The former chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Fatou Bensouda, was responsible for handling the case of the Mavi Marmara, a flotilla of ships that went to Gaza on May 31, 2010, which came under attack by Israel, resulting in 10 passengers killed. There is no question in my mind that she was blackmailed into giving Israel a pass.

The former president of the ICJ, Joan Donoghue, was an American. As you know, in January 2024, the ICJ, the main legal arm of the United Nations, found that Israel was plausibly committing genocide. In April 2024, Joan Donoghue appeared on a BBC program called HardTalk and blatantly lied, claiming that the ICJ did not find Israel was plausibly committing genocide. It was the most flagrant, outrageous lie.

The current vice president of the ICJ, Judge Julia Sebutinde, is clearly a fanatic—I believe she’s a Christian evangelical fanatic—but beyond that, it’s my opinion that she is either being bribed or blackmailed by Israel and has been delivering outrageous dissents in ICJ jurisprudence. In my forthcoming book, I have a 100-page chapter documenting her lies and dissents.

And then there’s the most recent case. Without going into detail, which can’t be done over a broadcast, there is no evidence—in the traditional sense of evidence: medical, forensic, or digital—that Hamas weaponized rape on October 7th. There is none. They admit it. There isn’t an issue there. There is no digital evidence of rape. There is no medical-legal evidence of rape. The only thing there is consists of so-called “witnesses.” That’s it.

Whereas on the other side, there is voluminous evidence that Israel is committing rape, threatening rape of men, threatening rape of women, and engaging in massive sexual violence.

In the face of that, every year the UN puts out a report on sexual violence in conflict situations called Conflict-Related Sexual Violence (CRSV). There was a lot of pressure put on Guterres, the Secretary-General, to list Hamas in the appendix to the report as a perpetrator of sexual violence and to exclude Israel. That’s what Guterres did: he listed Hamas and excluded Israel. That was another blackmail.

Israel Acts As a Jewish Supremacist State, Not a Zionist One

Billboard reading “The Looting Government,” part of a protest campaign against the conservative coalition’s policies in Ra’anana, Israel, May 2023. Photo: Rene Van Den Berg

Does contemporary Zionism now shape Israeli military doctrine in Gaza toward openly eliminationist aims, marking a shift from settler-colonial control to population destruction, ethnic cleansing, or permanent incapacitation?

Professor Norman Finkelstein: I don’t think that’s true. I don’t believe it has much to do with Zionism. I wrote my doctoral dissertation on Zionism, so I can claim a certain amount of expertise on the subject. This has little to do with Zionism. Israel is a Jewish supremacist state, and it is acting in a way not unlike apartheid-era South Africa.

Remember, South Africa, beyond its system of white supremacy, was engaged in a series of neighboring colonial wars with Mozambique and Angola. The South Africans killed around a million people during the 1970s and 1980s in the course of the anti-colonial wars along South Africa’s borders and, of course, in Namibia as well. They waged a colonial war against SWAPO, the Southwest African People’s Organization, and it resulted in a massive bloodletting. Literally, I believe it was more than a million people. You can check and correct me if I’m wrong.

That’s Israel. Israel is a Jewish supremacist state determined to maintain a Jewish supremacist state within its borders and to crush any resistance on its periphery. It’s similar to what South Africa did. But in South Africa, there was Mozambique, where FRELIMO, led by Samora Machel, was in power. Machel was probably assassinated by the South Africans; it’s not known for sure, but he was killed in a plane crash. Then there was FRELIMO in Mozambique and, in Angola, the MPLA—the Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola.

In the same way that South Africa fought to preserve its regional dominance, Israel faces Hezbollah, Iran, and Syria on its periphery and has periodically carried out mass death and destruction to maintain its regional hegemony. Like South Africa, Israel has committed similar kinds of massacres to uphold what I would describe as a system of Jewish supremacy and regional dominance.

This has something to do with Zionism, but not as much as some might think. Zionism’s goal was to create a Jewish state, just as South Africa’s white nationalists sought to create a white state. However, invoking ideologies like Zionism can confuse the reality of the current situation, especially for people who haven’t, like myself, spent several years studying every detail of Zionism to write a dissertation.

If you frame it more plainly—as a Jewish supremacist state determined to maintain a population that is more or less purely Jewish while preserving its hegemony and dominance in the region, much like apartheid-era South Africa—the picture becomes much clearer.

Democrats Support Israel in Single Digits; GOP Split by Age

And lastly, Professor Finkelstein, how do right-wing and liberal US populisms intersect to normalize Gaza’s suffering—e.g., via identity-based mobilization, security mythologies, and the bipartisan “fortress democracy” frame?

Professor Norman Finkelstein: The Democratic Party, at its base, is composed of people belonging to minorities and those who are generally liberal in their persuasions. These two constituencies are not going to support a genocide in Gaza. Right now, support for Israel within the Democratic Party may already be in the single digits—I believe it’s around 9%—and it has dropped drastically.

In the Republican Party, support for Israel has also declined significantly among younger Republicans, but among older Republicans, particularly supporters of Trump, it remains considerably high.

I think it’s very difficult right now to defend Israel. To do so, you’d have to come across as either a psychopath or a moron; otherwise, it’s impossible to defend.

Activists stage an anti-corruption demonstration in Solo, Central Java, Indonesia. Photo: Dreamstime.

People versus Elites, Populist Logics in Indonesia’s 2025 Unrest

Indonesia is witnessing its largest wave of protests since Reformasi, sparked by the death of Affan Kurniawan during Jakarta’s labor demonstrations. Demands range from fair wages and job security to dismantling elite privileges and revising the controversial Omnibus Law. Drawing on Ernesto Laclau’s theory of populist reason, the article analyzes how heterogeneous grievances converged into a collective identity of “the people” against “the elites,” fueled by widening inequality, institutional distrust, and elite arrogance. It further examines government securitization, social media narratives, and intra-elite rivalries, situating the unrest within Indonesia’s democratic backsliding. Hasnan Bachtiar argues this moment marks a potential turning point — either toward renewed progressive populism or deeper authoritarian entrenchment.

By Hasnan Bachtiar

Affan Kurniawan (21) was still wearing the green jacket from his app-based food-delivery job as he stepped out to earn a living. The family’s breadwinner, he was expected to bring home a small bag of rice for everyone to share when he returned from work. But in the middle of a labor protest in Jakarta, he was struck and crushed by a nearly five-ton police armored vehicle.

On the night of August 28, 2025, he died. But his death unleashed a larger, unstoppable wave of populist anger, like a boil about to burst. The protests that day were not limited to Jakarta, they also broke out in cities such as Surabaya, Bandung, Semarang, Yogyakarta, Medan, Banda Aceh, Batam, Palembang, Lampung, Banjarmasin, Pontianak, Samarinda, Makassar, Gorontalo, Ambon, Ternate, and Jayapura, among others, spreading across all 38 provinces of Indonesia.

The protests demanded an end to outsourcing and poverty wages, a halt to layoffs, a higher minimum wage, a higher non-taxable income threshold, the removal of taxes on holiday bonuses and severance pay, limits on contract employment and on foreign labor, and the repeal of the Omnibus Law in favor of a new labor code.

It turned out this wave of protests was the twelfth in a series, preceded by eleven demonstrations throughout 2025, including one organized under the hashtag #IndonesiaGelap. The following day, and continuing to the present, the protests have carried on with even more serious demands. For the record, several others died after Affan, they are Septinus Sesa (West Papua), Iko Juliant Junior (Semarang), Andika Luthfi Falah (Jakarta), Syaiful Akbar (Makassar), Muhammad Akbar Basri (Makassar), Sarinawati (Makassar), Rusmadiansyah (Makassar), and Reza Sendy Pratama (Yogyakarta).

Populis Logics

What is happening appears to align with Ernesto Laclau’s thinking in his work On Populist Reason (2005). He sees populism as a political logic that constructs a collective identity of “the people” in antagonism to the elite by using broad, flexible, and recognizable symbols and discourses to unite disparate demands.

Initially, a scatter of heterogeneous demands kept surfacing. Because the authorities failed to respond adequately, people came to feel they shared a common enemy. They then experienced a shared fate and burden as “marginalized subjects.” This spread, solidifying public sentiment and spurring the formation of “equivalential chains.” They arrived at a collective claim that “the people demand justice,” to be pursued through a movement of resistance as a hegemonic articulation. From a more ontological perspective of “the people,” as suggested by Yilmaz et al. (2025), if the elite prove incapable of governing the country, they should be replaced or even dismantled. 

On the surface, it began with reports circulating about pay and benefit increases for officials, especially members of parliament. This came at a time when the public was facing severe economic hardship. On one side, the executive branch was rolling out “efficiency” measures that led to layoffs, service cuts, and heavier tax burdens. On the other, the elite were enjoying higher salaries and perks, access to lucrative projects, and economic rents. For comparison, while officials were set to receive 100 million rupiah (USD 6,092) per month, about 3 million rupiah (USD 184) a day, 68 percent of the population was getting by on less than 50,000 rupiah (USD 3). With incomes roughly sixty times higher than most people’s, this was seen as elite indifference toward the public and the imposition of a harsh double standard.

Moreover, some of those officials even danced in the parliament building when they heard about the pay raise. Others, like Uya Kuya (National Mandate Party/PAN), said that three million a day was a small amount compared to his salary. When the public flooded social media with criticism, lawmaker Eko Patrio (PAN) put out a DJ parody, blasting loud music, dancing, then covering his ears with headphones. This came across not only as a sign that they did not care about the criticism, but as an insult. They were dancing on the public’s suffering. When people grew furious and called for parliament (the DPR) to be dissolved, Ahmad Sahroni (National Democratic Party/NasDem) responded by calling them “the dumbest people in the world.”

The combination of economic hardship (crisis), a deficit of trust in the government, and widespread psychological pressure, especially a collective sense of humiliation, led the public to feel a shared grievance and to move together against a common enemy, the corrupt elite. All of this then manifested in collective protest movements filled with popular anger and even accompanied by violence that seemed inevitable.

Hijacking the Reformasi

Rather than engaging with the substance of public anger, the government responded with a hardline narrative with unproven claims of foreign infiltration. This seemed to be the point when the distance between the state and its citizens felt widest. The public demanded accountability, the state answered by criminalizing dissent. These dueling narratives hardened for a basic reason, that the people no longer believed that their representatives, whether in the executive or the legislature, would take their side, while the state treated criticism as a danger to be crushed. To confront the protesters, the government deployed not only the police but also military troops.

The public’s collective anger is clearly directed at the ruling regime. People see signs of recentralization as a replay of what happened for more than three decades under the military general Suharto. There is now symbolic militarization, increasingly entrenched political coalitions, and the concentration of state assets within a narrow circle, especially among those close to President Prabowo. All of this is viewed as the culmination of the post-1998 Reformasi trajectory. Reformasi, which was expected to open civic space, now seems instead to be in the process of being brutally dismantled.

More ironically, the rhetoric of fiscal efficiency is being wielded downward, squarely at ordinary people. Budgets for the regions have been cut, and the social safety net has shrunk, while luxury perks for parliament (the DPR) and defense spending have ballooned. For the record, the national defense budget rose from 139.27 trillion rupiah in 2024 to 247.5 trillion rupiah. At the start of 2025, the value-added tax (PPN) was raised to 12%, which many fears will significantly weaken purchasing power. Other issues seen as worsening the public’s socio-economic situation include the circulation of adulterated “premium” fuelshortages of LPG canisters on the market, the nickel case in Raja Ampatthe transfer of four islands from Aceh to North Sumatrathe freezing of 120 million bank accounts by Indonesia’s Financial Transaction Reports and Analysis Center (PPATK), and a rule under which idle land and houses would be seized by the state, among others.

So, for the public, “efficiency” has become a pretext for tightening their own belts, not for reining in elite appetites. Because budget “efficiency” is centralized, local governments that would normally receive transfers from the center have been left scrambling, with little choice but to raise local revenues. On August 13, 2025, residents protested in the city of Pati, Central Java, after the Pati regent, Sudewo (from Gerindra Party), raised the Land and Building Tax (PBB, essentially the property tax) by 250%. Other local governments that faced public backlash included Jombang (a 1,202% tax hike), Cirebon (1,000%), Semarang (441%), Bone (300%), and Lhokseumawe (248%).

In this context, the reform agenda appears to have been hijacked. An alliance of politicians, bureaucrats, and big business interests has deepened the private accumulation of public resources through seemingly democratic institutions. Meanwhile, political parties show almost no real ideological differentiation, they appear to speak with one voice in service of an oligarchic logic. At the same time, freedom of speech exists, and social media teems with criticism, but the distribution of economic and political power remains skewed. When the public pressed its case during the #IndonesiaGelap protests on February 17-20, 2025, the Chair of the National Economic Council and Special Presidential Advisor for Investment, Luhut Binsar Pandjaitan, replied: “Darkness lies in you, not Indonesia.”

The People’s Articulation

President-elect Prabowo Subianto with the 7th President of Indonesia, Joko Widodo, at the 79th Indonesian National Armed Forces Anniversary in Jakarta, Indonesia, on October 5, 2024. Photo: Donny Hery.

It cannot be doubted that the spread of protests was the result of many triggers converging at once. Tension in the streets created space for a populist mood to take hold, reinforced by narratives circulating on social media, kitchen-table anxieties, and political symbols that ignited collective emotion. The picture was further muddied by orchestrated messaging from anonymous “buzzers” (paid online amplifiers), making it hard for the public to see who was really behind the unrest.

On the ground, the crowd was heterogeneous (workers, students, online ride-hailing driver communities (ojek), and civil society organizations) pursuing overlapping aims that were not always identical, which often slowed coordination. Under that pressure, crowd psychology amplified emotions. Each new casualty triggered broader solidarity while also opening space for infiltration and provocation. At the same time, intra-elite conflicts (especially Prabowo-military vis-à-visJokowi-police) fueled the escalation. Factions within the ruling bloc competed, some ratcheted up tensions, while others capitalized on the moment for political gain.

The crowd’s anger in these protests was aimed at four main targets they saw as sources of injustice. First, the DPR (parliament) was perceived as a symbol of privilege and a legislature that often produces policies that betray the popular will. Then, the security forces (the police) because repeated violence and impunity have eroded the public’s sense of safety. Political parties were viewed as lacking real ideological differences and serving mainly to reinforce an oligarchic logic. The ruling faction (Prabowo) was criticized for pushing recentralization and was feared to be further narrowing the civic space that should belong to citizens.

From the streets, two tiers of demands rang out loud and clear. First came the urgent demands to be met by September 5, 2025, an independent investigation into cases of police violence against protest victims, an end to the involvement of the Indonesian National Armed Forces (TNI) in civilian affairs, the release of all detained protesters, accountability for security forces, a moratorium on increases to benefits for DPR members (parliament), full budget transparency, ethics sanctions for officials who displayed arrogance, an open public dialogue with the DPR, and comprehensive protections for workers.

Second, there were structural demands to clean up the parliament (DPR) of corruptions, to reform political parties and the system of executive oversight, to build a fairer tax system, to strengthen the Corruption Eradication Commission (KPK) through an asset-forfeiture law, to make the police professional, to ensure the military returns to the barracks without exception, to bolster the National Human Rights Commission (Komnas HAM) and other independent bodies, and to review economic and labor policies so they favor the public.

The demonstrations are not just seasonal “riots.” They are a serious sign that the state’s legitimacy is eroding. Indonesia learned in 1998 that when an economic crisis collides with a political crisis and injustice, the result is a multidimensional crisis. Those symptoms are back now, only with a new face, the public is more informed, more digitally connected, and more willing to test the state’s narrative against everyday experience. 

Democracy rarely collapses overnight. It usually erodes slowly under the pretext of maintaining order. That is why this moment can be understood as an inflection point, will Indonesia slip back into a new form of authoritarianism hiding behind procedural democracy, or use it as a chance to repair a fractured social contract?

This is where progressive populism becomes relevant. The popular movement, now articulated through anger and concrete demands, opens the door to building a new political bloc committed to economic and social justice, transparency, and accountability. Rather than merely mobilizing emotion, progressive populism can serve as a platform to knit scattered demands into a coherent, measurable collective agenda.

Affan’s death has come to symbolize how a single life from the poor can speak louder than a thousand official speeches. If the establishment chooses to turn a deaf ear, whatever legitimacy remains will only grow more fragile. But if it dares to listen and channel the people’s energy toward a fairer transformation, this tragedy could mark the beginning of renewal.

Falun Gong practitioners gather at Old Town Square in Prague, Czech Republic on July 20, 2019 to raise awareness about organ harvesting in China. Photo: Dreamstime.

Harvested in Silence: The Silent Surgery War on Migrant Bodies

While the global community often articulates refugee detention as a banner of humanitarian concern, escalating evidence from Libya and North African regions reveals a deeper systemic failure where stateless refugees and other displaced persons are being subjected to medical procedures and organ removal through coercion masked as border security and health screening. Across these detention zones, a shadow economy thrives thereby transforming stateless refugees into targets of extrajudicial biomedical intervention. This article uncovers the alarming rise of coerced organ extraction and exploitative medical practices presented as humanitarian care, introducing the concept biomedical sovereignty to expose the violent necropolitics at play. To build upon forensic data, survivor testimonies, and policy analysis, the following article calls for an urgent re-evaluation of international ethical obligations toward radically marginalized populations. 

By Umavi Pagoda*

A 19-year-old Eritrean refugee is relocated from a detention center near Tripoli for what officials call a routine medical check-up. His departure marked the start of an absence that would never find closure as he became another unreturned face in a system that forgets too quickly. The following day, his belongings are returned to the dormitory with no explanation. His name is erased from records. His body is never found.

This incident is a fragment of a broader systematic pattern, one propagated across detention zones with troubling consistency in North Africa, where refugees are processed not only as asylum-seekers but as medical targets. While corridors of power continue to argue over the ethics and logistics of migration quotas and border security, a quieter atrocity is unfolding where the systematic medical exploitation of stateless persons, often unfolding into coerced organ removal. Within the ward where law disguises violence as care, silence kills quieter than bullets, outruns justice, and erases crimes before they are named. In extraction zones, silence enforced policy by design, not by accident.

Militias, Traffickers, and Medical Collusion

Since the fall of Muammar Gaddafi in 2011, Libya represents a textbook case of post-revolutionary power vacuum, dominated by militia entrenchment, coercion by proxy, and smuggling networks. Moreover, in the absence of central governance, detention centers have evolved into profit-generating hubs for human trafficking, including a disturbing development: organ trade. 

Strategic assessments by the Inter-Agency Coordination Group against Trafficking in Persons (ICAT) outline that trafficking in persons for the purpose of organ removal is recognized under the UN Trafficking in Persons Protocol (Palermo Protocol) as a serious but hidden form of exploitation. Furthermore law-enforcement analysis by INTERPOL (2021) lays bare how criminal networks present in North and West Africa, which includes actors with medical links target vulnerable migrants and displaced populations for organ removal. Moreover, media investigation have further illustrated these risks, with platforms such as The Guardian (2024) bear witness to testimonies of migrants who were coerced into organ sales exposing the collusion between traffickers and medical staff.

Migrants and the displaced from sub-Saharan Africa, Syria, Bangladesh, and the Horn of Africa are frequently subjected to captivity under force along main transit routes through Agadez in Niger and eastern Sudan, with Libya positioned as Europe’s de facto checkpoint. In addition, these detention centers are often routinely run by militias and other non-state actors in alliance with traffickers and smugglers, under credible allegations of organ-trafficking risks and unease over possible complicity of medical personnel. Without independent oversight or any mechanism for accountability, these facilities—designed for secrecy—function as black boxes

From Rumor to Routine: Coerced Organ Removal Across Migration Routes

What was once a rumor is now routinized —measured in spreadsheets, hidden in budgets, and carved into bodies. In recent years, humanitarian workers and forensic specialists have uncovered disturbing patterns of disappearances and allegations of coerced medical procedures—making clear that the undocumented body, once erased by the state, is reintroduced into systems of value as currency, commodity, and collateral. Illicit transplant surgeries have been documented in multiple countries through police operations and court cases, even as UNODC’s Assessment Toolkit (2015) characterizes trafficking for organ removal as a hidden, under-reported crime whose true scale remains unknown.

From capitals to courtroom, global monitors have begun documenting the horror. The July 2024 IMO-UNHCR Mixed Migration Centre Report interviewed migrants, revealing patterns of detainees taken for blood testing and disappearing shortly afterward. Survivors report post-procedural states marked by disorientation, physical pain, and memory loss—reflecting a troubling loss of bodily agency under conditions where medical procedures are imposed rather than chosen. 

In July 2023, the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) warned of deepening shadows over Libya, where layers of entrenched crimes have become almost invisible to international oversight: human trafficking, arbitrary detention, enforced disappearances, and the systematic torture of migrants and refugees—many lacking recognized nationality and thus classified as stateless under international law (OHCHR, 2023). 

Statelessness strips individuals of legal protection, leaving them defenseless against exploitation, including illicit organ removal. This risk is echoed in multiple reports, including a study led by the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC), the International Organization for Migration (IOM), and the Mixed Migration Center (July 2024), which documents the experiences of refugees and migrants—many likely stateless—describing non-consensual organ removal along migration routes to the Mediterranean (Reuters, 2024). Witness journalism documents the experiences of 43 individuals from Sudan, South Sudan, and Eritrea—many of whom are absent from any civil registry—who sold a kidney under coercion, underscoring how displacement and the absence of state protection leave individuals acutely vulnerable to the most extreme forms of trafficking (The Guardian, 2024). 

Borders Beneath the Skin

In the shadows of ports, prisons, and refugee camps, the passport has been reduced to flesh, and the border is inscribed in blood. The trail starts in Tripoli, where the Mixed Migration Centre’s Everyone’s Prey briefing (July 2019) reports patterns of kidnapping and extortion of migrants in Libya’s detention industry. Moreover structural analysis such as the OSCE study on trafficking for organ removal coupled with the ICAT policy brief highlight how displacement and detention centers formulate systematic flaws that can be preyed upon by trafficking networks. 

Law-enforcement alarm remains unambiguous in  INTERPOL’s 2021 assessment which documents that organized crime groups based in North and West Africa prey on migrants and other displaced persons for coerced organ removal often shadowed by medical collusion. The UNODC Global Report on Trafficking in Persons (2022) observes that such trafficking persists in shadows, though it remains rare when in comparison to sexual or labor exploitations. Diesel generators hum into the darkness, fueling flickering lights over neglected wounds. The hum echoes east, into Xinjiang’s Dabancheng complex. Moreover, survivors bore witness before the Uyghur Tribunal revealing that they were subjected to blood draws, tissue typing, and ultrasound scans stripped of consent. In forensic retrospect, these procedures suggest a system where the border no longer ends at territory but continues beneath the skin.

This brutality is mirrored in the testimonies of countless individuals whose voices bleed through silence. On August 10, 2024, The Diplomat reported the public testimony of Cheng Pei Ming, described as the first known survivor of forced organ harvesting in China to speak openly. Cheng remains a crucial witness to an ongoing, state-directed system of coerced organ extraction — a campaign that the independent China Tribunal (2019) concluded was organized and carried out by the Chinese Communist Party, beyond reasonable doubt.

However, Beijing rejects any acknowledgement of state-directed coerced organ harvesting, particularly when involving prisoners of conscience. The official position maintains a stance of denial, asserting that the practice of using organs from executed prisoners was halted in 2015.

Bodies as Evidence: Testimonies of Coerced Organ Harvesting and the Global Shadow Trade

Policy is prose, while the body is evidence. Cheng’s testimony stands as a singular, rare first-person account. He recounts: “They said that I had to undergo an operation, but I firmly refused. They held me down and gave me an injection, and I quickly lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was still in the hospital and felt terrible pain in my side.” Refusal. Confinement. Injection. Blackout. Waking up shackled, with an IV taped to his foot, a drainage tube in his chest, oxygen tubes in his nose, and a thirty-five-centimeter incision. “There was a tube with bloody liquid coming from under the bandaging that was on my side,” he adds, as documented in the ETAC media release.

Additionally, The Diplomat reports that Xinjiang authorities plan to establish six new organ transplant centers despite the region’s strikingly low official voluntary donation rate — a figure widely disputed by human rights organizations.

While the East provides a witness, the South offers a case file. Described by authorities as Egypt’s largest organ-trafficking case to date, the December 2016 raids targeted 10 medical centers, resulting in 37 convictions in 2018. Among those arrested were several medical professionals, and authorities reported the recovery of millions in assets.

Victims, including Sudanese asylum seekers, recounted waking from anesthesia to find fresh surgical dressings, visible scars, and the absence of a kidney. Within North and West Africa, INTERPOL (2021) assessment states that organized crime groups frequently prey on migrants and refugees, often under the guise of “altruistic donations” and frequently shadowed by medical-sector complicity.

Additionally, some clinics are reported to perform both legal and illegal procedures simultaneously. However, weak reporting mechanisms and fragmented medical registries allow the illicit trade to thrive in the shadows.

Across borders, the UNODC Global Report on Trafficking in Persons (2022) records that trafficking for organ removal remains a statistical rarity in detected cases and is chronically under-reported. Furthermore, the only treaty directly addressing organ trafficking, the Council of Europe Convention against Trafficking in Human Organs (CETS No. 216), continues to struggle with limited ratification.

In a parallel theatre, in the Sinai, Eritrean captives have been kidnapped and tortured for ransom. In some cases, they were killed when payments failed; several testimonies also allege organ removal—a practice all too familiar—although rights reporting primarily emphasizes the ransom-torture economy. Yet the trail does not end in Sinai.

In April 2025, the trail led to Saudi Arabia’s Eastern Province, where the body of 19-year-old Beatrice Warguru Mwangi was returned to Kenya. What was returned was missing a stomach, eyes, and reproductive organs; her neck was almost severed. “How is this my daughter? Her body was empty. No stomach inside. Her breasts were cut …,” her mother testified to Migrants-Rights.org. The post-mortem examination in Nairobi further documented signs of strangulation, dehydration, and prolonged starvation. Despite petitions, the case remains unanswered—with no formal inquiry, no published findings, and no transparent remedial steps. One body speaking for many, her body stands as a summons to states to intervene.

Surgical Sovereignty and Stateless Bodies

This cross-national pattern highlights how, in detention and transit zones, where oversight falters and legal authority is often liminal, protection gaps open like unhealed wounds. The absence of identification papers renders human beings harder to see and easier to exploit. These are not isolated anomalies; rather, they expose a deeper implementation gap: the 1954 Convention and the Palermo Protocol—while widely ratified—remain unevenly enforced in practice, repeatedly failing at the stage of implementation. As a result, data remain under-reported, justice remains selective, and access to remedies often depends on documentation and financial means.

At the core of this atrocity lies a collapse of medical integrity—a reversal of the healer’s oath. Clinical spaces become theatres of harm, with ethics dissolved into silence. The obligation remains clear: voluntary, informed consent and the absence of financial gain are fundamental norms, and physicians must not participate in abuse, including in detention settings.

Yet, in documented cases, detainees have repeatedly been subjected to medical procedures without consent and denied proper care—from coercive interventions behind the closed gates of Libyan detention centers to intrusive medical testing in Xinjiang—while criminal networks exploit these systemic gaps. In such contexts, human bodies are treated as inventory rather than as patients.

This dynamic aligns with the concept of surgical sovereignty—the ability of non-state and state-adjacent actors to exert coercive control and extract biological value from stateless and displaced persons.

The concept of surgical sovereignty refers to the ability to use medical infrastructure by non-state actors to exert coercive control and exploit the biological value of stateless persons — those “not considered as nationals by any State under the operation of its law,” as defined in the 1954 Convention Art.1 (1). In these spaces, procedures continue to occur without voluntary, informed consent or credible oversight, reversing medicine’s role from care to control. The framework aligns with biopolitics but specifically isolates the role of medical systems. Moreover, the Palermo Protocol defines trafficking to include exploitation for the removal of organs, even as its implementation remains weak.

In February 2025, authorities in southeast Libya uncovered two migrant mass graves, freed 76 captives, and made three arrests linked to suspected trafficking sites. The following month, Sudanese refugees reported accounts of starvation, rape, slavery — and, in some testimonies, organ harvesting — along migration routes to the north. From a forensic perspective, such conditions cannot sustain lawful surgery: there is no anesthesia, no sterile field, and no consent, as required under the WHO Guiding Principles. Moreover under international law, such death and disappearances demand the recognition of right to life and a duty to reinvestigate as outlined in International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, Article 6 and the Human Rights Committee’s General Comment No. 36. An individual’s right to health requires consent, documentation and oversight under the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, Article 12 and CESR General Comment No.14. Failure to keep records or examine remains may be treated as violations.

Although abuses remain widespread and often under-investigated, the law frequently erodes into silence. This is compounded by the absence of an effective accountability mechanism to enforce WHO health standards in conflict settings and detention sites. Current mandates also struggle to reach non-state actors who control many of these camps. As of 2025, the international response has been both limited and late.

Cut in Silence: The Cost of Global Inaction

This silence echoes earlier failures and undermines the very foundations of the post-war settlement the world claims to uphold. The 1947 Nuremberg Code declared voluntary, informed consent to be non-negotiable — even in times of conflict. Yet in modern-day Libya, while the principle is acknowledged in theory, it remains absent in practice.

What fails in implementation locally is often underwritten by decisions made in Europe. Amnesty International’s Europe’s Gatekeeper (2015) reported that EU funding and equipment to Libya’s coastguard and detention systems have given cover to abuses against migrants: arbitrary detention, torture, extortion. Moreover, UN reporting and rights groups have revealed a grim pattern: people returned to Libya vanish into detention centers or unregistered sites. Many then become effectively untraceable. Furthermore, The Global Protection Cluster cautions that Libya’s legal ambiguity  between migrants, asylum seekers, refugees, and trafficking survivors becomes a structural barrier to protection and remedies. Médecins Sans Frontières has reported overcrowding and the lack of adequate care: conditions that are irreconcilable with the very principles of medical care and a blatant disregard for the laws of human dignity.

Yet beneath the reports and the evidence, a deeper question is left unanswered. What happens to the body unclaimed by nation, unnamed by law, unacknowledged by history? What happens to a life that holds no legal weight, does its loss echo anywhere? In these spaces, the lack of prosecution remains as the infrastructure of impunity.

Breaking the Silence on Hidden Atrocities

This article does not claim to resolve the failures of states. However, it demands that the silence surrounding medical atrocities be dismantled. As the world increasingly governs bodies before protecting them, a pressing question persists: how long until the promise of healing conceals the reality of extraction?

When the refugee body is no longer seen as a body in need but one that is policed, processed, and politicised, the surgeon’s scalpel — once an instrument of care — becomes a tool of control. These atrocities are not merely the actions of complicit individuals; they are the outcome of systemic structures that strip the stateless and the dispossessed of their humanity.

Once, the international community drew a line after gas seared lungs. Today, the responsibility falls on governments, international bodies, and all who claim moral authority to draw a new line — for those cut in silence — and to outlaw surgical violence against the voiceless. If we remember only the suffering but not the perpetrators, we bury the crime beside the victim.

Will those who once enforced accountability now hold states, militias, and complicit actors responsible for the scalpel used without consent — or will silence remain the price of statelessness? If the world outlawed gas, will it also outlaw surgical violence, or will the voiceless continue to pay the cost of inaction?


 

(*) Umavi Pagoda is a UK-based A-level student studying Politics, Chemistry, Biology, and Physics, with a focus on the intersection of medical ethics, human rights, and international law. Their work in international debate and policy stimulation has been recognized at multiple high-level Model United Nations conferences Worldwide. Email: pagodaumavi41@gmail.com

Coming from a family of Holocaust survivors, Professor William Schabas is one of the world’s foremost authorities on international criminal law and genocide studies, and a professor at Middlesex University.

Professor Schabas: US, Germany, and Others Could Be Held Liable as Accomplices to Genocide in Gaza

In an exclusive interview with ECPS, Professor William Schabas, one of the world’s foremost authorities on genocide and international criminal law, warns that the Gaza crisis represents a “litmus test” for the credibility of international justice. He argues that the case filed by South Africa against Israel at the ICJ is “arguably the strongest case of genocide ever brought before the Court,” citing Israeli military actions and statements by senior officials as evidence of genocidal intent. Professor Schabas also highlights Prime Minister Netanyahu’s populist rhetoric, framing Gaza’s population as an existential threat, which he links to patterns of incitement fueling atrocities. Crucially, he stresses that third-party states, including the US, Germany, and others risk legal liability as “accomplices to genocide.”

Interview by Selcuk Gultasli

In an extensive interview with the European Center for Populism Studies (ECPS), Professor William Schabas—one of the world’s foremost authorities on international criminal law and genocide studies, and a professor at Middlesex University—offers a detailed assessment of the unfolding crisis in Gaza through the lens of international law, populist politics, and global governance. Coming from a family of Holocaust survivors, Professor Schabas warns that Gaza represents a “litmus test” for the credibility of international justice and the authority of global legal institutions.

At the heart of his analysis is a stark conclusion: the case brought by South Africa v. Israel before the International Court of Justice (ICJ) is “arguably the strongest case of genocide that has ever come before the Court.” He argues that evidence of genocidal intent can be inferred not only from Israel’s military conduct but also from statements by senior Israeli officials, such as Defense Minister Yoav Gallant’s remarks about cutting off food, water, and electricity in Gaza. “We have more than just a pattern of conduct—we also have statements and clear indications of policy. All of these must be considered together when making a final judgment,” said Professor Schabas.

Professor Schabas also highlights how Prime Minister Netanyahu’s populist framing of Gaza’s population as an existential threat has intensified concerns about incitement and mass atrocity crimes. “Racist populist rhetoric has often been part of genocidal contexts, mobilizing mass support for atrocities. We see elements of that dynamic in Israel today,”he said. Drawing comparisons to Rwanda (1994) and the Namibia genocide (1904–1906), he underscores both the parallels and distinctions, warning against simplistic analogies while emphasizing recurring patterns where populist narratives fuel extreme violence.

Importantly, Professor Schabas stresses that third-party states—including the US, Germany, Canada, and others—risk being held legally accountable under Article III of the Genocide Convention for aiding and abetting Israel through military and political support. He warns: “To the extent that they are providing material assistance of a significant nature, they can be held responsible as accomplices to genocide.”

Finally, he frames Gaza as a defining moment for international justice mechanisms like the ICJ and ICC, warning that failure to apply consistent standards risks entrenching a “two-tier system of international law” and undermining human rights globally: “These institutions are absolutely vulnerable, and they are aware of it. Gaza is a test for their credibility and authority.”

This interview situates Gaza within broader debates about populism, authoritarianism, and international accountability, offering an urgent call to rethink legal, institutional, and political frameworks for preventing mass atrocities in an era of resurgent populist authoritarianism.

Here is the transcript of our interview with Professor William Schabas, edited lightly for readability.

Destruction in Shejayia, Gaza City, Gaza Strip. Photo: Dreamstime.

Gaza Is a Litmus Test for the Credibility of International Justice

Professor Schabas, thank you very much for joining our interview series. Let me start right away with the first question: As a leading genocide scholar and coming from a family of Holocaust survivors, before delving into the legal and political complexities, how would you characterize the current situation in Gaza from the perspective of international law? Considering the patterns of conduct, the scale of destruction, and official statements by Israeli leaders, do the unfolding events appear to meet the legal thresholds of genocide, crimes against humanity, or ethnic cleansing under Article II of the Genocide Convention, or are we still at a stage where these legal categories remain indeterminate?

Professor William Schabas: There’s always going to be debate about legal categories, and you’re asking me, as a scholar and specialist in the field, to make an assessment. Ultimately, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) will deliver its judgment, primarily in the case filed by South Africa against Israel. In my view, South Africa’s case is exceptionally strong—arguably the strongest case of genocide ever brought before the ICJ. Of course, I have not seen South Africa’s full submissions, as these remain confidential until the hearing begins, which is likely to take place in two or three years. However, based on the information and material currently available in the public domain, I believe their case rests on a very solid foundation.

Based on that, I think South Africa is likely to prevail in the case, and Israel will lose and be found to have violated the Genocide Convention. You mentioned some of the factors that will be part of that assessment—the notorious statements by Israeli politicians, declarations of various kinds that continue. These all contribute to identifying the policy of the State of Israel. But there are other factors as well, mainly the conduct of Israel, which indicates that its policy is directed towards the elimination of the presence of the Palestinian Arab people in Gaza. That leads to genocide. You also mentioned other terms, like “ethnic cleansing,” which, technically speaking, is not covered by an international treaty and is not, strictly speaking, a crime under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court (ICC). However, it is used to describe a type of conduct that borders on the crime of genocide—in other words, the expulsion of people from a territory so that another population can prevail there.

I think it’s often misunderstood that there is not a bright line between genocide and ethnic cleansing. The ICJ, in its important judgments on the Genocide Convention, has clearly stated that, while ethnic cleansing is not necessarily genocide, it can also amount to genocide. So, there’s a zone between the two concepts—it’s not a sharp division.

Another commonly misunderstood point concerns intent. One of the arguments we hear from those defending Israel is that “they could have killed more people, and they haven’t,” suggesting that this proves there is no intent to commit genocide. We have encountered similar claims in assessments of the Holocaust and other historical examples of genocide, where it was argued that the absence of even greater killings indicates a lack of intent. However, this reasoning has never been accepted by courts. So, briefly—though I could speak on this subject for much longer—that is my assessment.

US and European Devotion to Israel Has Undermined International Law

Election billboard showing Netanyahu shaking hands with Trump, with the slogan “Netanyahu. Another League,” in Jerusalem on September 16, 2019. Photo: Dreamstime.

In your work on preventive obligations, you highlight that early warning mechanisms are underutilized in atrocity prevention. In Gaza, where warnings have existed for years, what explains the persistent inaction by international bodies like the UN and the ICC?

Professor William Schabas: Well, a significant problem with the United Nations is that it is ultimately guided by the political views of its member states, particularly the most powerful ones—the permanent members of the Security Council. I am talking here mainly about the United States, but I would not overlook the United Kingdom and France either. Other wealthy and influential states, primarily in Europe or European settler states elsewhere, such as Canada and Australia, are also deeply devoted to Israel. They have been reluctant to take measures that would rein Israel in and, on the contrary, have often encouraged and emboldened it, frequently turning a blind eye when Israel has engaged in particularly troubling actions. As a result, they have significantly constrained the United Nations’ ability to address Israel’s violations of international law effectively.

I think we can trace that position back a century or more, even before the creation of Israel, to when the mandate was given to the British at the end of the First World War. The British had long coveted the territory of Palestine and had encouraged Zionism for decades before receiving the mandate. In effect, what they sought was a settler state in the Middle East that would allow them to influence and control the region as much as possible.

I don’t believe that underlying objective has changed. This explains the deep devotion to Israel not only by the United States but also by the major European powers, for whom the Middle East remains of immense economic and strategic importance. They need to maintain control over the region, and they cannot rely on other governments there in the same way they can rely on Israel—although some, like Saudi Arabia, are also closely aligned with and loyal to the European powers and the United States. But they cannot count on them in the same way they can with Israel.

Israel Cannot Invoke Self-Defense While Acting Unlawfully in Gaza

Drawing on your analysis of the ICJ’s evolving jurisprudence, how might the Court balance Israel’s claims of “self-defense” with its responsibilities as an occupying power under the Fourth Geneva Convention, especially after its 2024 advisory opinion reaffirming Gaza’s occupied status?

Professor William Schabas: Israel has invoked the notion of self-defense, and this is echoed in the defenses of Israel that we hear from countries like Germany, the United Kingdom, France, and the United States. I really don’t think—I’ve thought a lot about this—that Israel can legitimately invoke self-defense in relation to what it’s doing in Gaza. Regarding the attacks that took place in October 2023, there is an element of self-defense they could claim, as this was an incursion into their territory by various Palestinian forces. However, Israel’s response in Gaza is entirely disproportionate to what self-defense would require.

Moreover, the International Court of Justice has declared the occupation of Gaza to be unlawful. You cannot claim self-defense while engaging in unlawful actions. It’s like a bank robber who fires on the police because they’re firing on him—he can’t go to court and invoke self-defense, because he is, by definition, acting unlawfully. In the same way, I don’t think Israel can credibly rely on self-defense here. In my view, this is simply a bogus argument.

Evidence of Genocidal Intent in Gaza Goes Beyond Circumstantial Patterns

Morning bombing attack on Gaza near the Al-Saraya buildings. Photo: Ahmed Fraije.

Given your argument that genocidal intent can be inferred from patterns of conduct and policy, rather than explicit declarations, how do you assess Israel’s military strategy in Gaza in the light of Article II of the 1948 Genocide Convention? To what extent do statements by Israeli leaders, such as Yoav Gallant’s remarks about cutting off food, water, and electricity, strengthen claims of genocidal intent?

Professor William Schabas: The proof of genocidal intent is almost always at the core of legal debates about whether genocide is occurring. It has been central to the judgments of the International Court of Justice in cases from the former Yugoslavia, as well as to rulings of the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia in prosecutions of individuals for genocide. The case law is quite consistent: when evidence of genocidal intent relies exclusively on conduct—in other words, on what is known as circumstantial evidence—you must be able to rule out any other reasonable explanation for that conduct. If ambiguity remains, the claim of genocide must be rejected. This principle, derived from basic criminal law, is applied in most jurisdictions when dealing with crimes of this nature and cases based entirely on circumstantial evidence.

The point, however, is that we have more than just circumstantial evidence here. We have more than a mere pattern of conduct—we also have statements and other indications of policy. All of these elements must be considered together when making a final judgment. Ultimately, this assessment rests with judges or, in some contexts, juries, depending on the legal framework. They will need to determine whether the totality of this evidence amounts to genocide.

As I mentioned at the outset of the interview, my own conclusion is that it does. However, we will have to see how the judges respond. They may not be unanimous; there could be a majority either for or against. Time will tell how they weigh the evidence. In my view, there is already sufficient evidence in the case to reach a conclusion. We must also see what arguments Israel presents in its reply and what its defense entails. If their primary claim is that they are acting in self-defense, for the reasons I’ve already explained, I don’t think they’re going to fare very well.

The ICJ Is Becoming a Forum for Issues Once Left to Politics

You have noted that international law is moving toward a broader interpretation of genocide, as seen in the ICJ’s handling of the South Africa v. Israel case. Do you believe this shift represents a new phase in international jurisprudence? How might it redefine accountability for powerful states in future conflicts?

Professor William Schabas: Yes, I think there is something significant happening at the International Court of Justice (ICJ), particularly regarding the interpretation of genocide, which is likely to make proving genocidal intent somewhat easier. I base this view not only on the conduct of the Court in some of its recent decisions dealing with genocide cases—it currently has four such cases before it—but also on the attitude taken by governments.

One of the striking features of recent litigation before the ICJ, not just in the case brought by South Africa against Israel but also in The Gambia’s case against Myanmar and Ukraine’s case against Russia, is the unprecedented number of state interventions. In the entire 80-year history of the Court, there had only been a handful of interventions in any cases until 2022–2023. Now, we have around 50 states intervening in ongoing genocide-related cases. This level of engagement has never happened before—not even in the Yugoslavia cases.

I think this indicates that states now expect the Court to do more with the Genocide Convention than it has done in the past, which may involve a somewhat more liberal interpretation of genocidal intent. However, this does not mean there is pressure to expand the definition of genocide itself; states are not seeking to add political groups or new categories to the Convention. Rather, they are calling for the Court to be more receptive to evidence indicating genocidal intent, and if the Court responds to this expectation, it will likely be reflected in its final decisions.

Time will tell, of course, but ultimately, the ICJ is the states’ court—it is, in a way, their institution. By choosing to participate, states are signaling their trust in the Court and their expectation that it will deliver justice. What is also remarkable and relatively new is that states are increasingly turning to the Court on matters that were traditionally settled in political forums like the UN General Assembly, the Human Rights Council, or the Security Council.

Now, they are asking the ICJ to decide on issues beyond genocide, such as climate change, occupation of territory, decolonization, labor rights, and even the right to strike. Instead of negotiating these matters politically, states are effectively saying: “We will let these 15 judges decide, based on the law, what should be done.” That marks a significant shift compared to how things were handled 10, 15, or 20 years ago.

The entrance sign of the International Criminal Court (ICC) at its headquarters in The Hague, Netherlands, on February 14, 2018. Photo: Robert Paul Van Beets.

Western Inconsistencies Expose a Two-Tier System of International Justice

In one of your interviews, you highlighted the selective application of the genocide label, noting that “our enemies commit genocide, not our friends.” Considering Western reluctance to describe Israel’s actions in Gaza as genocide—while readily applying the term to cases like Russia in Ukraine or China with the Uyghurs—and reflecting on your 2013 article “The Banality of International Justice” where you discuss the ICC’s tendency to target weaker states while avoiding powerful ones, do you believe this dynamic risks reinforcing perceptions of a two-tier system of international justice and undermining the credibility of international law?

Professor William Schabas: Double standards have been a feature of international law forever, really. International law was created by European colonialist states and used, in large part, to govern the rest of the world that they controlled as a result of colonization. Over time, it has evolved and changed, largely because states—particularly those that were not initially considered “states” in the European sense—have insisted that the same standards be applied to wealthy, powerful states as to what we now call the Global South.

I could give a lengthy demonstration of these double standards, particularly in the conduct of the political bodies of the United Nations. For example, when we have a political body like the Security Council and a government like the United States says, “South Africa is committing genocide against the white population”—this was President Trump’s claim a few months ago—that’s an absurd suggestion and profoundly insulting to the people of South Africa, who endured apartheid for so long. At the same time, the US dismisses South Africa’s application to the International Court of Justice against Israel as “meritless,” to use Secretary Blinken’s term. When this happens in a political forum, people tend to shrug and say, “Well, that’s politics.” Terms like genocide are used politically to condemn enemies and dismissed when it comes to allies.

The International Court of Justice and the judicial route are not entirely immune to double standards, but they are less vulnerable than political bodies. For example, in The Gambia’s case against Myanmar at the ICJ, several Western states—Canada, Germany, France, the UK, Denmark, and the Netherlands—filed a joint intervention in late 2023, before South Africa filed its case against Israel. In that intervention, they called for a more liberal approach to genocide, suggesting that genocidal intent could be inferred from factors like forced displacement within a territory—something we see regularly in Gaza—or the victimization of children, which we also see very dramatically in Gaza.

Of course, these states didn’t have Gaza in mind when they submitted that intervention, and they would likely reject any argument applying their position there. But they are now, in a sense, stuck with their own words. For instance, Germany later intervened in the Ukraine v. Russia case and took a different stance. There, Germany did not call for a broader interpretation of genocide; instead, it leaned toward a stricter interpretation, because it suited their position defending Ukraine’s claim that Russia was misusing the term “genocide.”

This inconsistency will likely embarrass Germany and others before the ICJ when lawyers point out that they argue one thing in one case and the opposite in another. In a judicial environment, it is harder to sustain such contradictions than in a political environment, where people can simply dismiss it as “just politics.”

Populist Incitement Can Mobilize Mass Support for Atrocities

Benjamin Netanyahu, Prime Minister of Israel visits the Synagogue of Copacabana in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil on December 28, 2018.

Considering Prime Minister Netanyahu’s populist framing of Gaza’s population as an existential threat, how do you assess the relationship between populist political rhetoric, incitement, and the potential establishment of genocidal intent? Can parallels be drawn with earlier contexts—such as Rwanda in 1994—where inflammatory discourse played a decisive legal role, and to what extent do such political narratives influence judicial assessments at the ICJ?

Professor William Schabas: This is a complicated question to answer because you’re asking me to make parallels or equivalences between what happened in Rwanda in 1994 and what’s going on in Israel today. Parallels are always difficult to draw, and I see this increasingly in discussions about genocide. There is a tendency, when we talk about genocide, to treat the concept—and the Genocide Convention itself—as something premised mainly on the Holocaust, the Shoah of the Second World War.

People often say that the Genocide Convention resulted from the Holocaust, as a direct reaction to it. But that’s not entirely accurate. I’ve examined the drafting history of the Genocide Convention in great detail, and the convention itself explicitly points out that genocide has been committed at all times in human history. The same is true of the General Assembly resolution that preceded it. In 1946, 1947, and 1948, when the Genocide Convention was being adopted, there was a very clear desire to emphasize that genocide is not only about the Holocaust but also about other historical examples.

When we compare different genocides and attempt to draw parallels, we find significant differences among them, which makes it hard to generalize. You mentioned populism, and indeed, racist populist rhetoric has often been part of genocidal contexts. Mobilizing mass support for atrocities is common, and we do see elements of that in Israel. There is opposition, of course, but it is relatively subdued. Many within the Israeli population, without explicitly endorsing what Netanyahu and his government are doing, are primarily focused on rescuing captives—the hostages in Gaza—rather than on acknowledging the scale of crimes and abuses being perpetrated against Palestinians.

One analogy I’ve found striking comes from my recent reading for an article I’m writing on what is widely recognized as the first genocide of the 20th century: the genocide perpetrated by Germany in Namibia, then called Southwest Africa, between 1904 and 1906. That conflict began with a rebellion by the local indigenous people against German colonial rule, during which, according to German accounts, serious atrocities were committed by the rebels. The rebellion itself was not peaceful; it was quite brutal. Germany’s response, however, was genocidal. Today, Germany acknowledges this as genocide, though it classifies it as a “historic genocide” to distinguish it from genocides covered by international law and to limit its legal obligations.

But what I find striking are the parallels between the genocide that took place in Namibia in 1904 and what has happened in Gaza over the last two years. Not that Germany would want to draw this parallel, of course, but there are undeniable similarities. The German brutality was a response to a rebellion by the people of Namibia, yet Germany does not claim it was acting in self-defense. Instead, it has since apologized and officially acknowledged that it committed genocide between 1904 and 1906.

That said, there are also important differences between these cases. There are some similarities between the Rwandan genocide and what we see in Gaza, but Rwanda’s genocide was largely a mass atrocity carried out by irregular forces. In contrast, the situation in Gaza involves actions conducted by the Israeli army, using highly advanced and modern weaponry. Rwanda’s context was also quite different because it did not involve the colonial settler-state dynamics that are present in Gaza.

Each case of genocide has its own distinctions and unique historical circumstances. I think we must be very careful about expecting them all to follow a single pattern or model.

Article III Makes Enablers Responsible: US and Germany Face Legal Exposure

Given the ICJ’s clarification that states party to the Genocide Convention have obligations both to prevent genocide and to avoid complicity, how should countries like Germany and the United States—as major suppliers of military aid to Israel—be held accountable under international law? Moreover, how should international legal frameworks evolve to better define the responsibility of third-party enablers, particularly when geopolitical alliances influence states’ actions and responses?

Professor William Schabas: The Genocide Convention specifies explicitly in Article III that you violate the Convention by complicity—by being an accomplice to genocide—and what you’ve referred to as “enablers.” You’ve mentioned the United States and Germany, but there are other states as well that have been enabling Israel in different ways.

To the extent that they are providing material support of a significant nature—and there’s no doubt this applies to the United States, Germany, and others—they can be held responsible as accomplices to genocide. In fact, there is currently a case before the International Court of Justice (ICJ) where Germany is being charged with complicity in genocide, filed by Nicaragua.

There is another important facet you’ve raised regarding the prevention of genocide. The treaty is formally titled the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, yet its provisions largely concern punishment. However, in the landmark 2007 judgment in Bosnia v. Serbia, the ICJ developed a significant doctrine on prevention. The Court emphasized that the obligation to “prevent” genocide is meaningful and binding. States party to the Convention—including Germany, the United States, and more than 150 others—have a duty to use their influence on other states or entities perpetrating genocide.

In Bosnia v. Serbia, the Court clarified that states are not required to send troops but must take all lawful measures available to prevent genocide. For example, in 1994, when France stood by as the Rwandan government perpetrated genocide against the Tutsi population, there was arguably a legal obligation to act—even though no case has yet been brought before the ICJ on that matter.

Importantly, the Court also ruled that this duty arises not only when genocide is being committed but when there is a serious risk of genocide. That sets a lower threshold. In Gaza, there is, at the very least, a serious risk of genocide. This means that states like Germany and the United States have a legal obligation to use their influence on Israel to prevent it.

Furthermore, because the ICC has jurisdiction over the territory of Palestine, this opens the possibility that German and American leaders could be investigated and potentially prosecuted as individuals for failing to prevent genocide or for aiding and assisting Israel.

Finally, much of this has implications for domestic litigation as well. Activist lawyers in various countries are already pursuing cases, and the legal principles developed by the ICJ and ICC are increasingly being used to support these efforts.

European Hypocrisy on Gaza Undermines Decades of Human Rights Advocacy

You have suggested that Gaza represents a “litmus test” for the credibility of international justice mechanisms. If the ICJ and ICC fail to apply consistent standards to Israel as they have in other contexts, what are the long-term implications for global governance, human rights protection, and the authority of international law?

Professor William Schabas: Yes, it’s a test for the courts. There have been similar tests in the past, and I’ll give you an example of a historic one involving the International Court of Justice in the 1960s. The Court was confronted with a case filed by two African states, Ethiopia and Liberia, both of which had also been members of the League of Nations. They brought a case against South Africa concerning Namibia and the administration of the mandate—and later the trusteeship—over Namibia by the South African government, which had imposed apartheid there.

The case was ultimately thrown out by the International Court of Justice by a single vote. It was a very close decision, but it severely discredited the Court. Well, not everywhere. In South Africa, and probably in the United Kingdom, the United States, and some other European colonial powers like Belgium and perhaps France, there was a sigh of relief when that ruling came down. But in most parts of the world, countries and people were deeply shocked by the Court’s decision.

For the next 20 years, the ICJ had very little work. It went years without holding any trials because the world, in a sense, had voted its disapproval. It was terribly disappointing, and the Court had lost its credibility. Slowly, it has regained that credibility, and the judges today are well aware of this history.

I think at the International Criminal Court, the judges and the prosecutor are also aware that, for too long, the ICC has been seen as a court dealing primarily with situations in Central Africa and resisting opportunities to engage with cases involving major powers. Even as it has begun to shift away from that focus, it remains vulnerable to criticism—especially since it has concentrated so much of its efforts on Russia and Ukraine while devoting relatively few resources to Gaza.

It has now taken some steps with the issuance of two arrest warrants, and I believe there are probably two more—against Smotrich and Ben-Gvir—that have either been issued or are about to be issued, though it’s unlikely that will be made public. We won’t know for sure until, or unless, those individuals are apprehended, which could happen at some point in the future.

But yes, these institutions are absolutely vulnerable, and they are aware of it. I should also note that it’s not only the United States that is being discredited for its attitude towards Gaza—it’s also many European states. For the last 20 or 30 years, European countries have enjoyed a position of moral authority, lecturing others around the world about human rights violations, calling them to account, and supporting NGOs in these efforts—many of which I’ve supported myself.

But this reveals a profound hypocrisy, and it’s becoming increasingly transparent. This damages the credibility of their broader efforts to promote human rights globally. I won’t limit this critique to the so-called “Global South” either; even in the United States, there have been human rights violations, and European states have occasionally intervened—for example, in death penalty cases before the US Supreme Court.

Nonetheless, Europe’s sanctimonious attitude—this assumption of being the “most human rights-friendly” part of the planet—is now exposed as deeply inconsistent, particularly due to its unwillingness to apply the same standards to Gaza. That said, there are exceptions. A few European states, such as Ireland, Spain, Norway, and Slovenia, have taken more principled positions. But for many others, their stance has been quite shocking, and I believe they will ultimately pay a price for it.

Restoring Trust in International Justice Depends on Enforcing the Law

The flag in front of the International Criminal Court in The Hague, Netherlands on March 27, 2016. Photo: Dreamstime.

And lastly, Professor Schabas, looking forward, what mechanisms—legal, institutional, or political—do you believe are necessary to restore trust in international justice, ensure accountability for Gaza, and prevent future atrocities where powerful states are involved?

Professor William Schabas: I think I’ve largely addressed that question in my previous responses. I certainly have high expectations for the International Criminal Court (ICC) and the International Court of Justice (ICJ), but, based on their historical performance, I am also prepared for disappointment. What I’m ultimately hoping for are meaningful and positive contributions from these institutions, which would—this is really the key test—demonstrate their continued relevance and authority.

People often lament that judgments are ignored. I think that’s somewhat overstated when we look, for example, at the ICJ’s orders in the South African case. While they’ve been largely disregarded by Israel, they have nonetheless had significant political impact elsewhere. The same can be said of the work of the ICC.

However, all of this underscores an important reality: the ICJ—and, to a large extent, the ICC as well—remain fundamentally dependent on states and international organizations for the enforcement of their decisions.

In both cases, the ICC can only arrest people if states assist them in doing so. And in the case of the arrest warrants against Netanyahu and Gallant, we’ve had some ambiguous statements from certain governments about whether or not they would actually arrest them if given the opportunity. Hungary openly defied the order of the Court by inviting Netanyahu—Hungary is a special case, of course, because of its government and its head of state—but there were also ambiguous statements from other governments.

That’s really the test. And it’s the same for the International Court of Justice. There is already more room for enforcement, for example, of the advisory opinion of the International Court of Justice of July 2024, which confirmed the illegality of the occupation—not just of Gaza, but also of the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem. That needs to be addressed, and states could do a lot more in terms of implementing the conclusions of that advisory opinion.