By Pawan Kumar
One of the most consequential legal revolutions of the twentieth century was the recognition that individuals—not merely sovereign states—could be held personally accountable for the gravest crimes known to humanity.
Before the Nuremberg and Tokyo Tribunals were established in the aftermath of the Second World War, international law functioned largely as a framework governing relations between states. Individuals accused of atrocities could often shield themselves behind the doctrine of state sovereignty, arguing that they had merely acted under official authority. Nuremberg shattered that defence forever, establishing an enduring principle that crimes of such magnitude against humanity and the international order are too grave to be excused by the authority of any state.
That revolutionary idea fundamentally altered the landscape of international justice.
The ad hoc tribunals established for the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda later demonstrated that international criminal justice was not merely an aspiration, but an operational reality. Yet, they also exposed a significant weakness: institutions created only after atrocities occur are inherently reactive. Justice delayed by political negotiations often arrives too late for victims.
The answer came with the adoption of the Rome Statute on July 17, 1998, after negotiations involving delegates from 160 nations. Four years later, on July 1, 2002, the International Criminal Court (ICC) formally opened its doors, becoming the world’s first permanent judicial institution empowered to prosecute genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes. The world recently celebrated international justice day on July 17 to commemorate the signing of the Rome Statute.
Unlike earlier tribunals, the ICC was never intended to replace national courts. It was designed as a court of last resort. Under the principle of complementarity enshrined in Article 17 of the Rome Statute, the Court intervenes only when national judicial systems are unwilling or genuinely unable to investigate or prosecute those responsible. The primary responsibility for justice, therefore, remains with sovereign states.
What distinguished the ICC even more profoundly, however, was its treatment of victims. For the first time in the history of international criminal law, survivors were placed at the centre of judicial proceedings. Articles 68 and 75 of the Rome Statute, together with the Trust Fund for Victims established under Article 79, recognised victims not merely as witnesses, but as participants with enforceable rights. They were guaranteed opportunities to present their views during proceedings and became eligible for restitution, compensation and rehabilitation irrespective of a convicted person’s financial capacity.
This marked a profound shift in international jurisprudence—from a system concerned solely with punishing offenders to one equally committed to restoring dignity to survivors.
More than two decades later, the Court has accumulated an impressive, if uneven, record. As of mid-2026, it has issued several of its most consequential arrest warrants, concluded landmark reparations proceedings benefiting thousands of victims, and continued functioning despite unprecedented political pressure, including sanctions imposed by the United States against senior ICC officials. Yet, the institution continues to face formidable obstacles. Thirty-four suspects remain at large, several member-states have withdrawn from the Rome Statute, and political hostility towards the Court has intensified. Nowhere have these tensions become more visible than in the Israel-Palestine conflict.
On November 21, 2024, the ICC’s Pre-Trial Chamber unanimously issued arrest warrants against Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Defence Minister Yoav Gallant, finding reasonable grounds to believe they bore criminal responsibility for war crimes and crimes against humanity committed during military operations in Gaza following the Hamas attacks of October 7, 2023. Simultaneously, the Court issued a warrant against Hamas military commander Mohammed Deif on charges including murder, extermination, hostage-taking, torture and sexual violence.
The decisions underscored the Court’s central principle: international criminal law applies equally to all individuals, irrespective of political office, nationality or affiliation.
ICC Prosecutor Karim Khan emphasised that he had met victims from both Israeli and Palestinian communities and reiterated that justice cannot distinguish between competing narratives of suffering. For many Palestinian civil society organisations, the warrants represented a historic step in the struggle against impunity. More broadly, they reaffirmed the Rome Statute’s foundational promise—that justice belongs to victims, not governments.
The ICC’s victim-centred framework remains one of its greatest innovations, but also one of its greatest challenges.
Participation in proceedings is meaningful in principle, but extraordinarily demanding in practice. Victims often navigate a complex legal system operating thousands of kilometres away, in unfamiliar languages, with limited institutional assistance.
When thousands of survivors are represented collectively through common legal representatives, deeply personal experiences inevitably become compressed into broad legal narratives.
Reparations present an equally difficult challenge. The Lubanga case concerned crimes committed in 2002 and 2003, yet reparations were not concluded until 2021. In the Ongwen case, atrocities committed between 2002 and 2005 resulted in a reparations order confirmed only in April 2025. For survivors who have spent two decades rebuilding shattered lives, justice delivered after 20 years carries a very different meaning from justice delivered within a reasonable time.
Much of this delay stems not from institutional indifference, but from the architecture of the Rome Statute itself, which requires a conviction before reparations may be ordered.
The financial challenge is equally daunting. The Trust Fund for Victims relies heavily on voluntary contributions from states and private donors. The gap between reparations awarded and resources available has forced implementation to proceed gradually over many years. The €52.4 million reparations order in the Ongwen case alone may require more than a decade to fulfil, leaving tens of thousands of recognised victims waiting for relief already acknowledged in law.
Yet, these shortcomings should not obscure the Court’s genuine achievements. Through landmark decisions in the Lubanga, Katanga, Al Mahdi, Ntaganda and Ongwen cases, the ICC has developed an increasingly sophisticated jurisprudence of reparative justice. Compensation today extends beyond financial awards to include medical treatment, psychological rehabilitation, education, livelihood support and community memorialisation—remedies intended not merely to compensate loss, but to restore human dignity.
The Court has also expanded international criminal law into areas long neglected. The 2025 conviction for gender-based persecution in the Abd-Al-Rahman case, together with arrest warrants issued against Taliban leaders for the persecution of women and LGBTQ+ persons in Afghanistan, reflects a growing recognition that systematic gender oppression itself constitutes an international crime deserving the full attention of global justice.
Ultimately, the significance of the ICC extends far beyond the cases it hears. As a permanent institution, it performs a powerful normative function. It defines the limits of lawful conduct during armed conflict, articulates universal standards of accountability, and reminds political leaders that authority cannot erase criminal responsibility.
Arrest warrants issued against Sudan’s Omar al-Bashir, Russia’s Vladimir Putin and Israel’s Benjamin Netanyahu may not always result in immediate arrests, but they fundamentally alter international legitimacy. They restrict diplomatic mobility, complicate international engagement and preserve an enduring legal record affirming victims’ claims to justice.
The Court’s credibility, however, depends upon its commitment to universality. For years, African governments argued that the ICC disproportionately targeted African leaders while powerful states elsewhere escaped scrutiny. That criticism contributed significantly to political resistance and withdrawals from the Rome Statute. Recent proceedings involving Israeli officials and the Philippines signal an effort to demonstrate that international justice applies consistently, regardless of geography or political influence. Whether this perception changes will depend less on judicial pronouncements than on the willingness of states parties to honour their legal obligations even when compliance proves politically uncomfortable.
More than two decades after its establishment, the ICC remains an imperfect institution confronting immense political and financial pressures. Yet, its greatest contribution cannot be measured merely by convictions or arrest warrants. It lies in establishing an irreversible moral proposition: that justice for atrocity crimes is not a favour bestowed by powerful states, but a universal right owed to every victim.
After more than two decades, the ICC still continues to face criticism, political backlash and non-cooperation from some of the world’s most influential governments. Even so, it has remained remarkably faithful to its founding purpose—to ensure that the gravest crimes known to humanity do not disappear into the shelter of political power or sovereign immunity.
The Court’s future will ultimately depend not only on judges and prosecutors, but on whether the international community continues to believe that justice, however imperfect, is stronger than impunity.
—The writer teaches at Amity Law School, Amity University, Noida
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