In April, just a month after it was filed, a case brought by Sudan’s government against the United Arab Emirates (UAE) collapsed in a Hague courtroom. By a decisive 14 to two vote, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) rejected Sudan’s case alleging that the UAE was violating the 1948 Genocide Convention by funding and arming Rapid Support Forces (RSF) militias, currently engaged in ethnic cleansing and systematic sexual violence as part of Sudan’s civil war.

Despite compelling evidence from United Nations (UN) experts documenting the UAE’s support for the RSF, the Court ruled it lacked jurisdiction. The UAE, while a signatory to the Genocide Convention, had opted out of a clause allowing states to be sued at the ICJ. This legal technicality effectively shielded it from accountability for its role in what has become the world’s biggest humanitarian catastrophe.

The Sudan government had made an innovative attempt to target not one of the parties in a conflict but a powerful sponsor, highlighting a glaring gap in international law: the ability of wealthy states to fuel devastating conflicts through proxies while maintaining plausible deniability.

The Court voted to remove the case entirely from its General List, effectively closing the case, by a narrow nine to seven margin. This was a victory for the UAE, but even so, the case achieved something: it threw the international spotlight onto a forgotten crisis that has caused over 150,000 deaths since April 2023.

States are turning to the ICJ when all other international channels fail, and often they secure moral victories but no practical remedies. Within an increasingly challenged global governance system, the world’s highest court is becoming a last hope for justice – but also a stark reminder of the limitations of international law.

A collapsing rules-based order

In a world where authoritarian leaders increasingly operate with impunity and powerful states routinely violate international laws, the institutions designed to maintain global order face an existential crisis. The ICJ, conceived after the Second World War as the world’s highest legal authority, stands at the epicentre of this crisis, its docket swelling with cases that established diplomatic channels have failed to resolve.

Created as the UN’s principal judicial organ, the ICJ embodies a fundamental aspiration: that disputes between states should be settled through legal reasoning rather than military force. Yet it was designed with a critical limitation: while empowered to issue binding judgments on the most serious violations of international law, it lacks any mechanism to enforce its decisions.

This fundamental limitation was no accident: unwilling to concede sovereignty, states deliberately created a court that, unlike the UN Security Council, could advise but not compel. This results in a troubling pattern: aggrieved states secure legal victories that perpetrators ignore. It should then fall to the Security Council to enforce ICJ decisions, but the Council contains its own deep and deliberate flaw: its five powerful permanent members have veto powers they use to protect their interests and those of their allies.

Despite these constraints, states are increasingly turning to the ICJ when all other avenues fail, transforming it from its original role of resolving territorial and treaty disputes into something far more politically charged: a forum for states seeking recognition of grave injustices. Recent high-profile cases involving Israel, Myanmar, Sudan and small island states all highlight both the Court’s significance and the fundamental challenges of global governance in a world where impunity has become normalised. The ICJ’s rising caseload signals its rising institutional prestige but also the failure of other structures.

A legal pathway: the Genocide Convention

Sudan’s case is the latest example of the ICJ being asked to consider alleged breaches of the Genocide Convention. A shift towards states bringing cases on this basis began when The Gambia filed a case against Myanmar in 2019. This established that any state that had ratified the Convention could initiate proceedings without being directly affected by the alleged violations.

The Gambia’s case addressed Myanmar’s brutal persecution of its Rohingya minority, which forced over 750,000 people to flee a government crackdown of extraordinary violence. The ICJ swiftly imposed provisional measures, ordering Myanmar to prevent genocidal acts against the remaining Rohingya population. This ruling continues to shape international pressure on the state, even after it came under military control in 2021 and descended into civil war.

This precedent opened the door for Sudan’s case against the UAE and another very prominent current case: South Africa’s action against Israel over its assault on Gaza.

Gaza: justice meets geopolitical reality

South Africa’s case against Israel thrust the ICJ into an unprecedented global spotlight. Filed in December 2023 as Israel’s military campaign in Gaza intensified, it alleged violations of the Genocide Convention and requested urgent measures to protect civilians.

The Court’s January 2024 provisional ruling ordered Israel to prevent genocidal acts, facilitate humanitarian access and halt public incitement to genocide. Despite these clear directives, Israel’s government continued its brutal military campaign largely unaltered.

In July 2024, when the death toll stood at 40,000, the Court intensified the international pressure by issuing a groundbreaking advisory opinion in a separate case, declaring Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territories illegal under international law. The near-unanimous decision ordered an end to settlements and payment of reparations. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu dismissively called it ‘a decision of lies’, while his far-right coalition partners demanded formal annexation of the West Bank, in direct defiance of the Court.

Currently the Court is deliberating on Israel’s responsibilities to allow humanitarian access to Gaza. Israel has repeatedly choked humanitarian aid, to the point that Gaza is now facing a starvation crisis. The UN General Assembly referred the issue to the Court in December 2024, and recent hearings saw a broad consensus from states that Israel must allow humanitarian access and mustn’t block the efforts of UN agencies.

But when the ruling comes on this latest case, it’s a near certainty Israel will ignore it. It has continued the killing, and the death toll now stands at over 53,000, with the casualties overwhelmingly civilian, including many children. Israel’s open rejection of ICJ judgments illustrates the Court’s central weakness. Without enforcement mechanisms, even the most authoritative legal rulings remain symbolic if powerful states choose to ignore them.

The case also exposed prevailing double standards in international responses, as several global north states that had strongly supported The Gambia’s case against Myanmar criticised or stayed silent about South Africa’s against Israel.

Climate justice on trial

The ICJ’s growing profile has extended to humanity’s greatest existential challenge: climate change. In December 2024, the Court heard over 100 oral arguments in a groundbreaking case brought by Vanuatu, one of the Pacific Island states on the frontlines of climate impacts. The origins of the case lie in civil society: in 2019, student groups in eight countries formed the Pacific Islands Students Fighting Climate Change network to urge leaders to take the issue to the court. Now supported by 132 states, the case is seeking an advisory opinion on states’ legal obligations regarding climate protection.

The proceedings created an unprecedented platform for climate-vulnerable states to confront major greenhouse gas emitters with the moral and legal implications of their actions. Facing existential threats despite having contributed the least emissions, small island nations delivered powerful testimony. Tuvalu’s representatives declared their low-lying country would be the first to disappear entirely due to rising seas – and defiantly stated they wouldn’t go quietly.

The case exposed stark international divisions. Dozens of vulnerable countries framed climate inaction as a deep injustice that demands legal remedy. Major emitters, including China, Russia, Saudi Arabia, the UK and the USA, sought to limit their potential liability, arguing that existing UN climate frameworks suffice. This claim was undermined by the disappointing outcomes of the recent COP29 climate summit, where wealthy countries failed to make any new commitments on cutting emissions and fell far short of pledging the level of funding needed to help global south countries respond and adapt to climate change.

The Court’s advisory opinion, expected later this year, could reshape climate litigation worldwide, potentially influencing how domestic courts assess government obligations and corporate liability for climate harms.

A crossroads for international justice

With states increasingly turning to the ICJ to seek justice – and civil society pressuring them to do so – the pattern of powerful states ignoring rulings exposes a paradox: a system of judgments without enforcement can create the appearance of accountability while perpetuating impunity. This justice gap is one of the biggest challenges the international order faces.

The Court offers legal recognition of the suffering of victims worldwide, from Gaza, Myanmar and Sudan to climate-threatened island nations. But without enforcement mechanisms, compliance depends primarily on diplomatic pressure and states’ voluntary adherence to international norms, with inaction and impunity frequently the result.

For vulnerable populations worldwide, the future depends not just on legal victories in The Hague, but on whether they translate into meaningful protection on the ground. As the Court’s business continues to expand with cases challenging powerful states, the international community must face the decision of whether to strengthen enforcement mechanisms – starting with a review of the Security Council veto powers that paralyse collective action and prevent accountability – or let the gap between legal authority and real-world impact widen to the point of destroying any remaining faith in international law.

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