Selective justice: Europe’s double standards on the ICC undermine international law
Hungary’s withdrawal from the ICC amid Netanyahu’s visit erodes the trust on ICC’s legitimacy and shows that justice is not applied universally but selectively, along political and racialised lines
Hungary's recent decision to withdraw from the International Criminal Court (ICC) during Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's visit to Budapest is more than a symbolic gesture—it marks a turning point in how international justice is selectively interpreted. Coming as Netanyahu faces ICC arrest warrants for alleged war crimes in Gaza, Hungary's withdrawal sends a clear message: political alignment can override legal obligation.
The ICC, created to hold perpetrators of genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity accountable, relies on the commitment of its member states to enforce justice without fear or favour. Hungary, a founding EU member, has now joined the ranks of states discrediting this mission—just as the Court attempts to assert its authority in one of the most politically sensitive cases in recent history.
The inconsistency does not stop with Hungary. France allowed Netanyahu's plane to pass through its airspace, while Belgium's Prime Minister has openly said the country would likely not arrest him if he visited. These decisions contrast starkly with the rhetoric Europe usually champions: that international law must be respected regardless of politics.
Keep updated, follow The Business Standard's Google news channel
Even more revealing is the legal rationale offered by the French government. In a statement defending its inaction, the French Foreign Ministry claimed Netanyahu has immunity because Israel is not a party to the ICC. Yet this justification contradicts France's own position in past cases. In 2009, when the ICC issued an arrest warrant for Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir—whose country was also not a party to the Rome Statute—France and other EU states publicly supported enforcement of the warrant, even against a sitting head of state.
Similarly, the 2011 ICC arrest warrants for Libyan officials, including Muammar Gaddafi, were enabled through a UN Security Council referral. Libya, too, was not a state party to the ICC. Nevertheless, Western powers including France and the UK strongly endorsed those warrants, arguing that justice should not be constrained by jurisdictional technicalities.
So why is Israel different?
The answer may lie not in legal principle but in geopolitical interest. And this is where TWAIL—Third World Approaches to International Law—offers a crucial lens. TWAIL scholars have long argued that international law is not neutral. Rather, it has been shaped historically to serve the interests of powerful states while policing the conduct of weaker ones. Despite its language of universality, enforcement has always been selective.
The ICC's early focus on African leaders—and its delay in pursuing investigations into the actions of Western powers—reinforced the perception that the Court serves the powerful more than it restrains them. The current handling of the Netanyahu warrant strengthens this critique. Where leaders from Sudan or Libya were pursued aggressively by Western-aligned states, the same states now retreat behind diplomatic immunity.
TWAIL critiques remind us that legal systems—especially international ones—do not exist in a vacuum. They operate within deeply unequal global power structures. And when European states apply international law inconsistently, they don't just erode the ICC's legitimacy—they prove the very critique TWAIL scholars have made for decades: that justice is not applied universally but selectively, along political and racialised lines.
Even Netanyahu's travel route, avoiding airspace over states that might cooperate with the ICC, suggests how deeply political manoeuvring is embedded in legal evasion. According to Flightradar24 data, the flight passed over Greece, Italy, and France—none of which made any public commitment to act on the ICC warrant.
This pattern has dangerous implications. If powerful countries can disregard ICC warrants when it's politically inconvenient, then why should weaker nations be expected to comply? What message does that send to victims of war crimes in Gaza or elsewhere who look to international law as a last resort for justice?
This is more than a legal inconsistency—it is a crisis of legitimacy. If international law is to mean anything, it must be applied evenly, even when politically uncomfortable. Otherwise, the ICC becomes what its harshest critics already claim it is: a court for the weak, not the strong.
To restore credibility, Europe must confront its double standards. The time for selective justice must end—before there is no justice left to defend.
Maisha Zaman is a recent LLM graduate in International Human Rights Law and Practice from the University of York. My academic and professional work has focused on legal reform, social justice, and the rights of marginalised communities.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.
