The thunder of Israeli warplanes no longer stops at Gaza or Lebanon’s borders. In recent weeks, the Israeli military has struck far beyond, crossing into Syria, Iraq, Yemen, and even Doha, Qatar. Each incursion further undermines the principle of sovereignty, which is a cornerstone of international order. What was once unthinkable, the violation of a sovereign state without its consent or UN authorization, is fast becoming disturbingly routine. And each time the world responds with little more than diplomatic protests, international law takes another step toward irrelevance.
The situation aggravated as US President Donald Trump said he had given a go-ahead to the Israeli attacks. This raises a serious question over the leadership qualities and responsibilities of the US President as a global leader. It looks like the law of the jungle prevails and nobody cares for international law.
Such an incident is not simply a question of politics or of who supports or opposes Israel in the Middle East. It concerns the rules meant to govern all states equally, regardless of size or power. Emerging from the ashes of the Second World War, the United Nations Charter aimed to ensure that border violations could not occur casually.
Article 2(4) of the Charter is explicit: the use of force is prohibited against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state, except in cases of self-defence or with Security Council approval. This principle has allowed smaller and weaker nations to survive in a world where raw power is unequally distributed. But what happens when a powerful state repeatedly tears through this rule with little or no consequence? What happens when the global community shrugs?
Israel and its defenders often invoke Article 51, the right of self-defence, as justification. They argue that armed groups like Hamas or Hezbollah, operating from neighbouring states, leave Israel with no choice but to act across borders. However, the interpretation of self-defence has become so ambiguous that it threatens to break completely.
International law traditionally required an “imminent” threat— something about to occur, leaving no alternative but defensive force. Now, strikes are being launched not in the heat of repelling an immediate attack but in the name of preventing potential future ones. That is not law; that is preemption by power. If this type of behaviour becomes the accepted norm, then any nation may soon feel free to claim its neighbour harbours threats and send missiles across borders. The world would quickly resemble a lawless chessboard, with sovereignty little more than a rhetorical shield.
For smaller states, this erosion is not a theoretical debate— it is an existential fear. Qatar, a Gulf nation more often associated with mediation and diplomacy than war, suddenly found itself bombed in its capital. An attack on Doha raised eyebrows across the region: if a state that has hosted peace talks and invested in international cooperation can be hit so brazenly, then no one is safe.
Years of conflict have already devastated Yemen, and now another strike has claimed dozens of lives. Each attack reinforces the grim reality that sovereignty is being hollowed out before the eyes of the world. International law, once designed to accord weaker nations a degree of security against stronger ones, is being stripped of its meaning.
The situation calls for an immediate solution. Chinese President Xi Jinping has recently floated an idea of Global Governance Initiative (GGI) which calls for an alternative platform for conflict resolution. If the US fails to enforce international law, Xi’s idea of GGI can attract weaker nations towards an alternative platform.
The larger danger is the precedent this sets. If sovereignty is no longer respected in the Middle East, why would it be elsewhere? If Israel can justify its actions as defence against non-state actors abroad, then other powers— from Washington to Moscow, from Ankara to New Delhi— may adopt the same logic. Already, global norms against the use of force are weakened by years of interventions, drone wars, and cross-border strikes carried out in the name of security. Israel’s actions could hasten this deterioration, fostering a world where exceptionalism becomes the norm.
The institutions tasked with protecting international law are showing their limits. The UN Security Council, paralyzed by veto politics, rarely produces more than statements of concern. The International Court of Justice issues rulings, but compliance depends on states’ willingness. The International Criminal Court pursues accountability, but its reach is patchy and uneven. Meanwhile, the region’s civilians, living under the shadow of warplanes, face nothing but fear. While international humanitarian law mandates the protection of civilians, the distinction between military necessity and collective punishment becomes blurred when strikes take place in crowded neighbourhoods or capitals where ordinary people reside and work. The law may remain on paper, but its power is undermined when practice tells a different story.
Law relies heavily on consistency, and this is potentially the most significant threat. Double standards are exposed by violations tolerated when carried out by allies but condemned when committed by adversaries. This selective application is deadly to legitimacy. It convinces people across the Middle East that international law is not a universal shield but a political tool, invoked when convenient and ignored when awkward. That perception alone is corrosive. The moment ordinary people stop believing that law has meaning, the moment governments conclude that force will face no real consequence, is the moment the system collapses.
Yet international law is not doomed by default. History shows it can survive even in dark moments, but only if states collectively insist on its relevance. Diplomatic condemnation must be matched with action— through sanctions, legal proceedings, or coordinated pressure that makes clear sovereignty is not optional. Smaller states cannot do the job alone; larger powers must decide whether the rules that protect them in some situations are worth upholding in all. Civil society, too, has a role in demanding consistency from governments and pressing international institutions to respond not only with words but with mechanisms of accountability.
The future of international law in the Middle East is currently in jeopardy. Treating Israeli strikes as aberrations, condemning them, and correcting them can still salvage the principle of sovereignty. Should these strikes quietly become part of state practice, history will recall them as the times when the world abandoned the principles of restraint. Already, powerful nations elsewhere are watching, calculating how far they too might go without repercussions. What is at stake is not just the Middle East but the future of the entire international order.
Israel’s repeated incursions are more than military operations. These incursions serve as rigorous assessments of the global legal system. Fail this test, and the fragile architecture built after 1945 may fracture beyond repair. If we successfully navigate this test, we can maintain optimism that the 21st century won’t be characterized by the triumph of power over justice. The challenge for today’s leaders is stark but simple: to act as though international law is more than words on paper. If we fail to uphold the principle of sovereignty, the repercussions will extend beyond the Middle East, affecting every nation that previously depended on law to control the powerful and safeguard the vulnerable.
The situation calls for an immediate solution. Chinese President Xi Jinping has recently floated an idea of Global Governance Initiative (GGI) which calls for an alternative platform for conflict resolution. If the US fails to enforce international law, Xi’s idea of GGI can attract weaker nations towards an alternative platform.
