Does international law still matter?
6 February 2026By Stephen Wilkinson, Director of the IHL Centre
Events across 2025—from Ukraine and Gaza to Sudan and the DRC—had already reignited a familiar and uncomfortable debate: does international law still matter? In the opening days of 2026, that question has returned sharply to the headlines following U.S. actions in Venezuela and the notably muted response from many European states.
Critics increasingly view international law as obsolete—little more than politics dressed up as legality. Powerful states violate it when convenient, invoke it selectively, and dismiss it outright when it constrains their interests, only to rediscover its sanctity when an adversary breaches the rules. Given what we are witnessing today, this scepticism is understandable. We are living through a period of highly visible and persistent violations of international law.
Part of this scepticism stems from how domestic law—something far more people encounter directly and experience as shaping their daily lives—operates. Domestic legal systems typically offer clarity of process: identify the rule, establish the breach, impose the remedy. International law rarely functions in this way. The question, then, is not whether it mirrors domestic law, but whether it still serves a meaningful purpose.
Is all international law equal?
International law is not beyond criticism, but any framework that seeks to limit violence remains a fundamentally legitimate endeavour. At its core, international law attempts to articulate shared values, most notably when looking at the resort to violence, by imposing clear constraints on that use of force. It does so in two distinct ways: first, by limiting when and whether a state may lawfully resort to force against another; and second, by regulating how violence is conducted once conflict occurs, irrespective of whether that use of force is itself lawful. The later commonly known as the laws of war, or international humanitarian law.
While recent media attention may focus on threats to international humanitarian law, it is undoubtedly true that international law is under strain more broadly. Violations of the UN Charter, alongside the erosion of norms around sovereignty and the international order, are deeply concerning developments. They absolutely matter, and should be condemned wherever and whenever they occur. Yet there is also a hierarchy of concern, and an element of pragmatism, in how breaches of international law in relation to armed conflict are addressed. For example, some have argued that the unlawful use of force against Venezuela, could be potentially justified by the prospect of a more democratic and prosperous outcome. A society no longer living under a harsh dictatorship, however that change came about, could arguably be considered more as a positive result and therefore legitimate. Whether one accepts this reasoning or not (or even if the positive result truly manifests itself), it points to a degree of moral contestation that is less present when considering the body of law that governs the conduct of war itself.
The regulation of violence once war begins stands on a different moral and legal footing altogether. There is no equivalent space, or if it emerges it should be slammed shut, for moral debate when it comes to war crimes. Efforts to justify such acts—often framed in terms of necessity, inevitability, or civilisational superiority—are not only legally invalid but morally corrosive. Accepting them would hollow out international humanitarian law at its core.
An imperfect but essential legal framework
Even if international humanitarian law is unevenly enforced, shaped by double standards, or frequently violated, a deeper question remains: does imperfection render it illegitimate? Is a rule meaningless because it fails to save everyone, or an effort to limit violence futile because it cannot prevent all violence?
It may be true that international humanitarian law may need to evolve to address modern warfare and emerging technologies, as it has regularly. evolved since it was first developed. But its core protections, especially for civilians and civilian infrastructure, must remain foundational. Retreating from these principles would only open the door for more brutality. We cannot reward rule-breakers by abandoning the very rules meant to restrain them.
Why abandoning the law or creating new ‘standards’ would be dangerous
We should firmly and strongly reject any movement towards the development of a new set of rules supposedly better suited to today’s geopolitical realities. Even well-intentioned support for this assumes that any such replacement would be written in good faith. In reality, the states most eager to abandon existing constraints are often those violating them, and any new framework would likely reflect the lowest standards they are willing to accept—entrenching and legitimising weaker protections. That would not be adaptation. It would be capitulation—and civilians, who already bear the overwhelming burden of harm during war, would suffer most.
Faced with the erosion of international law, some conclude that the framework itself has failed—so selectively applied, structurally unequal, and routinely violated that it has become irrelevant.
So, yes, we must accept the limitations and gaps. We should acknowledge international law’s structural flaws—its Western origins, uneven application, and vulnerability to power politics—but none of these negate its value, especially in the most extreme of human interactions- that of war. We cannot also ask something of the law that is can never be expected to deliver: namely one, full justice, full dignity and full eradication of violence. It is undeniable that if we take international humanitarian law, it has saved lives, preserved dignity, and drawn lines where none would otherwise exist. Sometimes a single, imperfectly applied legal norm saves a life—or many. That alone is reason enough to defend the framework we have.