ANALYSIS: The Netherlands and Iceland Join the Legal Battle Against Israel at The Hague

A Nation at the Crossroads of Its Contradictions

The Dutch decision to join the case is all the more remarkable given that it comes amid an extremely tense domestic political climate. Since late 2023, the Netherlands has been governed by a coalition led by Geert Wilders’ far-right PVV party, a figure whose unconditional support for Israel is a central tenet of his political identity. Yet the coalition ultimately approved this intervention. This is either a sign of an internal rift within the government or—and perhaps more significantly—proof that even within Europe’s most pro-Israel governments, the pressure of international law and public opinion has become impossible to ignore entirely. Successive Dutch foreign ministers have been navigating increasingly turbulent waters since the start of the war in Gaza. The incident on November 7, 2024, in Amsterdam, where Israeli fans were attacked after a soccer match, had strained relations between The Hague and Tel Aviv. The decision to intervene at the ICJ adds a new layer to an increasingly complex bilateral relationship.

It is also worth noting that the Netherlands has a unique history with international justice. It was on Dutch soil that the trial of Slobodan Milosevic took place, where the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia operates, and where the International Criminal Court is headquartered. The Dutch legal tradition is not merely a backdrop: it is a national identity. By joining the proceedings against Israel, the Netherlands is, in a sense, being true to itself—even if this consistency is politically painful for part of its ruling class.

There is something deeply revealing about the fact that it is The Hague—the city of law—whose country ultimately bows to the relentless logic of the institutions it hosts. Ideas have a way of turning against those who gave birth to them when they seek to escape them.

Pressure from European institutions and civil society

The Dutch decision was not made in a vacuum. It is the result of pressure that has been building for months: pressure from nongovernmental organizations, academic legal scholars, opposition lawmakers, and European public opinion, which—according to numerous polls published in 2024 and 2025—is largely in favor of a ceasefire in Gaza and increasingly critical of Israeli policies. In Western Europe, the divide between governments—which have long been cautious out of loyalty to the Atlantic alliance and trade relations with Israel—and public opinion has continued to widen. The Dutch decision can also be seen as an attempt to partially bridge this divide, to signal to an increasingly impatient public that its leaders are not entirely insensitive to the demands of the law.

A Tradition of Moral Independence

Iceland is one of those countries whose power is inversely proportional to its size. With a population of fewer than 400,000, no army of its own, and an economy based on fishing, tourism, and geothermal energy, Iceland has no significant military or economic leverage on the international stage. And yet, small states sometimes possess a capacity for moral action that major powers refrain from exercising for strategic reasons. Iceland has a long tradition of taking independent stances: it was among the first countries to recognize the Baltic states upon their independence from the USSR in 1991; it has supported international causes that were often unpopular with its NATO allies; and it has a tradition of governance based on deliberation and the rule of law that dates back to the Althing, the world’s oldest parliament still in operation.

By joining the genocide proceedings against Israel, Iceland is sending a signal both domestically and internationally. Domestically, it is responding to Icelandic civil society, which, since October 2023, has mobilized extensively in support of the Palestinian cause. Internationally, it is asserting that small states are not condemned to follow the path laid out by the major powers when the fundamental principles of international law are at stake. This is a message directed at both Washington and Brussels: Atlantic solidarity cannot require the abandonment of fundamental legal convictions.

Iceland reminds us that a country’s size does not determine the strength of its convictions. In a world dominated by power dynamics and economic interests, this lesson deserves to be repeated until it is heard.

The Role of the Nordic Nations in Reshaping the Western Consensus

Iceland’s intervention is part of a broader movement by the Nordic and Scandinavian nations regarding the Palestinian issue. Norway, Spain, and Ireland recognized the State of Palestine in May 2024, sending shockwaves through the diplomatic community. Sweden had been a pioneer in recognizing Palestine as early as 2014. These nations, often seen as the laboratory of global democratic progressivism, have for several months been charting a course distinct from that of their usual Atlantic partners, such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Germany. This gradual reshaping of the Western consensus is perhaps one of the most lasting geopolitical consequences of the conflict in Gaza—a conflict that has profoundly redrawn the fault lines within liberal democracies themselves.

A Southern Front Expanding Northward

When South Africa filed its initial petition, Western commentators often portrayed this move as an expression of a “Global South” challenging the Western-dominated international order. This interpretation was partially correct, but it was also convenient: it allowed the proceedings to be relegated to a separate geopolitical category, treated as the act of countries that have “not yet” established the robust legal institutions of Western democracies. With the Netherlands and Iceland joining the proceedings, this convenient narrative is crumbling. It is no longer just Algeria, Bangladesh, Bolivia, the Maldives, Nicaragua, or Mexico that are intervening. These are two nations from Central and Northern Europe—two established democracies, two NATO members, two states whose legal and democratic credibility is unquestionable by the very standards the West has defined.

This development is fundamental. It means that the proceedings can no longer be discredited as the product of an anti-Western coalition. It means that scrutiny of Israel’s actions in Gaza now transcends the usual ideological and geographical boundaries. Above all, it means that the number of participating states will likely continue to grow—and that every new name added to the list will increase the pressure on the Court, on the parties, and on the international community as a whole.

It was said to be a case of the Global South versus the West. The Netherlands and Iceland have just rendered that interpretation obsolete. From now on, it is a case of the rule of law versus impunity—and that cause knows no geographical boundaries.

Absences That Speak as Loudly as Presences

The significance of a movement is understood as much by those who participate in it as by those who stand aside. The United States has not joined the proceedings—a fact that no one expected to be contradicted under the current administration. Neither has the United Kingdom, despite growing pressure from its civil society and part of its parliamentary opposition. Germany, for its part, chose to intervene in the proceedings… but on Israel’s side, filing a statement in March 2024 in support of Tel Aviv—a decision that drew fierce criticism from legal experts, NGOs, and several European partners. France remains ambiguously silent, oscillating between verbal statements on the need to respect humanitarian law and a refusal to take a legal stance. These absences and stances reveal the extent of the divisions within Western democracies themselves—a state of fragmentation that will have lasting consequences for global governance.

A State that challenges the jurisdiction and legitimacy of the proceedings

Israel’s position in this case is well-known and consistent: the State of Israel challenges both the ICJ’s jurisdiction over this case, the legal characterization of its military operations as genocide, and the political legitimacy of those who initiated and joined the proceedings. Israeli authorities have repeatedly stated that the military operations in Gaza are a legitimate response to the terrorist attacks of October 7, 2023, carried out by Hamas, and that they are conducted in accordance with international humanitarian law. They emphasize that the Genocide Convention requires proof of a specific intent to destroy a group as such—a high legal standard that, in their view, the facts fall far short of meeting.

These legal arguments are serious and will be examined by the Court’s judges. The proceedings are not a people’s tribunal. They are governed by strict rules, rigorous standards of proof, and lengthy, thorough deliberations. It will likely take several years before a final judgment is rendered. But what is at stake is not just the final verdict: every stage of the proceedings, every interim order, every public hearing constitutes an event in itself—a moment that brings the facts, arguments, and responsibilities to international attention.

Israel has the right to defend itself before the Court. This is precisely what international law permits—and requires. But no state, however powerful it may be, should be able to decide on its own that the rules do not apply to it. This is the very principle upon which the legal civilization that the West claims to embody is based.

The Question of Intent: The Crux of the Dispute

At the heart of the legal debate lies the concept of genocidal intent—what legal scholars call dolus specialis. For genocide to be recognized under the 1948 Convention, it is not enough to demonstrate that civilians were killed in large numbers. It must be proven that these acts were committed with the specific intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. This is an intentionally high legal standard—it was designed not to be applied lightly. In the case of Gaza, the parties will have to produce substantial evidence: statements by leaders, military orders, operational plans, documented effects on the civilian population, destruction of vital infrastructure, and obstructions to humanitarian aid. The ICJ will have to weigh all of this in a legal proceeding that will be one of the most complex and demanding in the Court’s history.

A proceeding that redefines the scope of state responsibility

Beyond the specific case of Israel and Gaza, this case raises fundamental questions for the future of international humanitarian law. If the ICJ recognizes—even partially—the existence of acts falling under the Genocide Convention in the context of a military operation conducted by a democratic state and ally of the West, the implications will be far-reaching. Every future conflict, every large-scale military operation, and every blockade of a civilian population could potentially be subject to similar proceedings. The bar for what is tolerable in times of war will be raised—or rather, the mechanism for review and sanctions will be made more effective. This represents a profound transformation of the international collective security system, the effects of which will be felt for decades to come.

This case also tests the ability of international institutions to function even when major powers oppose them. The United States has historically blocked numerous international proceedings involving itself or its allies. Its veto power in the UN Security Council allows it to block binding resolutions. But the ICJ is a different mechanism: its decisions do not depend on a Security Council vote. Its authority derives from the United Nations Charter and the Rome Statute. The proceedings move forward regardless of Washington’s position. This is perhaps one of the most important lessons of this entire case.

International law is often described as powerless in the face of major powers. But it has a remarkable quality: it accumulates. Every precedent, every proceeding, every judgment builds an architecture that gradually becomes harder to ignore. This is not weakness—it is geological patience.

The 1948 Convention in the Spotlight: A Founding Document Put to the Test

The Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, adopted by the UN General Assembly on December 9, 1948—the day before the Universal Declaration of Human Rights—arose directly from the experience of the Holocaust. It was designed to ensure that “never again” would not remain a mere wish. For decades, it was rarely invoked before an international court. The Cambodian genocide, the Rwandan genocide, and the Srebrenica genocide all gave rise to legal proceedings—but often after the fact, before specially created ad hoc tribunals. The case brought by South Africa is different: it is being brought before the permanent court provided for by the Convention itself, while the conflict is still ongoing. This is an unprecedented, bold, and historically significant application of the 1948 text.

When Images Shift the Political Balance

Behind the legal arguments, a parallel battle is being waged—one that is just as decisive: the battle for the global narrative. Since October 2023, images from Gaza have circulated at a speed and with an intensity unprecedented in the history of conflict. Destroyed hospitals. Bombed refugee camps. Children trapped under the rubble. Families fleeing to southern Gaza—which they had been told was safe—and then to the north, which they had been told was no longer safe. These images—verified, cross-checked, and documented by organizations such as Doctors Without Borders, UNRWA, Human Rights Watch, and Amnesty International—have brought about a dramatic shift in public opinion in Western democracies. Younger generations who had never formed a firm opinion on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict were deeply moved by these images. And that emotion turned into political pressure.

Governments do not operate in the abstract. They respond—albeit with delays, resistance, and political calculations—to pressure from their public opinion. The decision by the Netherlands and Iceland to join the ICJ proceedings is, in part, a response to this pressure. It is a sign that the battle over the narrative has produced real, measurable, and institutionalized political effects. This is not a victory that is easy to celebrate—it comes against a backdrop of massive destruction, immense death, and suffering. But it is a signal that the world is not entirely indifferent to what is happening.

The images from Gaza have achieved what years of diplomatic reports failed to do: bring the issue to the forefront in the halls where decisions are made. This is the raw power of visual truth—and no spin doctor, no government press secretary, can fully neutralize it.

The Role of Human Rights Organizations

Without the tireless work of human rights organizations, this report would not have the same depth of documentation. Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, B’Tselem—an Israeli human rights organization working in the occupied territories—and numerous other organizations have produced hundreds of reports, analyses, testimonies, and investigations since 2023 on Israeli military operations in Gaza. These documents constitute a factual basis that the parties to the ICJ proceedings can use, cite, and challenge. They also represent an essential counterbalance to official narratives, whether Israeli, Palestinian, or UN. The quality of international justice depends directly on the quality of the documentation that informs it—and this documentation exists; it is abundant; and it is rigorous.

A Divided Europe Facing Its Own History

The decision by the Netherlands and Iceland was not received the same way in all European capitals. Among governments that maintain strong support for Israel—Austria, Hungary, and the Czech Republic—the reaction was critical, if not silent. Among governments that have distanced themselves from Israeli policy—Spain, Ireland, and Belgium—the move was praised or met with sympathy. As for the major countries—France, Germany, and Italy—they are navigating their usual ambiguities, seeking to preserve economic, strategic, and historical ties with Israel while unable to ignore an increasingly impatient public. Europe is splitting not along the usual East/West lines, but according to a more complex logic that blends history, identity, strategic calculation, and the sensibilities of civil society.

This division reveals a Europe that has failed to build a common foreign policy on one of the most significant conflicts of our time. The European Union’s Common Foreign and Security Policy reveals its structural limitations here: when interests and historical legacies diverge, each member state regains its full sovereignty. This comes as no surprise—but it is a lesson in humility for those who believed that Europe had acquired the capacity to act as a unified bloc on the major moral and political issues of our time.

Europe presents itself as the guardian of human rights, the heir to the Enlightenment, the continent that has learned the lessons of the 20th century. But when it comes to Gaza, it stammers. It hesitates. It calculates. This dissonance between rhetoric and action is perhaps the deepest wound this conflict inflicts on European identity.

Reactions Within Israeli Society

It would be simplistic to portray Israeli society as a monolithic bloc in the face of these actions. Within Israel itself, prominent voices—lawyers, academics, civil rights activists, and families of the October 7 hostages—have expressed diverse and at times radically critical views regarding the conduct of the war. Organizations such as B’Tselem and Breaking the Silence have been documenting violations of international law in the occupied territories for years. Israeli lawyers have signed petitions against certain military practices. Israeli civil society is not absent from this debate—it is an essential component, often overlooked by outside observers who tend to view positions within a country at war as homogeneous. This internal complexity is an important element of any honest analysis of the situation.

The Next Steps in the Proceedings Before the ICJ

Proceedings before the International Court of Justice are inherently lengthy. The phases involving the hearing of arguments on the Court’s jurisdiction, the admissibility of the application, and then the merits of the case can span several years. In the meantime, the provisional orders remain in effect—notably the one from January 2024 ordering Israel to take measures to prevent acts that could constitute genocide. The new interveners, the Netherlands and Iceland, will be required to submit their statements within the deadlines set by the Court. These statements will be made public and will fuel international legal, academic, and political debate.

In the shorter term, the next major step is the hearing on the preliminary objections raised by Israel, which challenges the Court’s jurisdiction over this case. If the ICJ rejects these preliminary objections—as many international legal experts anticipate—the proceedings will enter their main phase: the substantive examination of the allegations of genocide. It is at this stage that the case will be adjudicated in all its factual and legal complexity. It is here that the documentation work carried out by NGOs, the media, and the intervening nations will take on its full significance.

The slowness of international justice is often criticized. But this slowness is not indifference—it is rigor. In a world where judgments are rendered in 280 characters, the methodical patience of an international court of justice is perhaps the most valuable form of resistance that remains.

The Precedent of the Srebrenica Genocide and Historical Lessons

The ICJ has previously ruled on cases involving genocide. In 2007, in the case of Bosnia and Herzegovina v. Serbia and Montenegro, it recognized that the 1995 Srebrenica massacre constituted genocide—a historic decision that upheld the findings of the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia. However, it found that Serbia had not directly committed this genocide, but had violated its obligation to prevent it and to punish the perpetrators. This precedent is crucial: it shows that the ICJ is capable of rendering nuanced judgments, distinct in their reasoning, that acknowledge certain facts while drawing precise legal distinctions regarding responsibility. It also demonstrates that the Court can act against the interests of major powers when the facts and the law so require.

The Crisis of Multilateralism and Its Possible Reconfigurations

The case brought by South Africa against Israel, and the gradual participation of new nations in the proceedings, are part of a broader context of a crisis in multilateralism. The liberal international order established after 1945—based on the United Nations Charter, international human rights and humanitarian law conventions, and multilateral institutions—is under pressure from all sides. The rise of nationalism, the questioning of international institutions by major powers, and trade and geopolitical tensions between blocs—all of this creates a context in which shared rules are being eroded. And yet, paradoxically, it is precisely in this context of fragility that states choose to turn to these institutions—to activate them, to use them, and to test them to their limits.

This is not a contradiction: it may be proof that multilateral institutions—even if imperfect, even if slow, even if sometimes ineffective—retain a legitimacy that nothing else can replace. When nations such as the Netherlands and Iceland join proceedings before the ICJ rather than settling for diplomatic statements, they are choosing law over force, procedure over pressure. This choice has value in and of itself, regardless of its final outcome.

We are told that the international order is in crisis, that institutions are no longer of any use, that force now takes precedence over law. Yet then countries come knocking on the door of the world’s highest court and ask: “Judge.” This simple act of faith in institutions is itself a form of resistance to barbarism.

The ICJ’s Role in Rebuilding International Legitimacy

With this case, the International Court of Justice has a historic opportunity to demonstrate that international institutions are not reserved for powerful states and their allies. If the Court handles this case with the same rigor and independence it has demonstrated in other proceedings—and nothing in its recent history suggests otherwise—it will help rebuild international legitimacy, which has been seriously eroded. This legitimacy is not measured solely by the final verdict. It is built into the process itself: the transparency of the hearings, the quality of the deliberations, the independence of the judges in the face of pressure from member states, and the rigor of the factual and legal examination. It is this process that, over time, builds the trust of peoples and states in the institutions that claim to embody universal justice.

When the legal process itself becomes an act of resistance

One may disagree on the legal characterizations. One may debate intent, standards of proof, and applicable precedents. One may hold differing views on the conduct of the war, on Hamas’s responsibility, and on the strategic alternatives available to Israel. These debates are legitimate, necessary, and must be conducted with rigor and honesty. But beyond all these debates, one fact remains: states choose to bring their case before a court of law rather than settle it by force or ignore it in diplomatic silence. This choice—however imperfect, slow, or uncertain in its outcomes it may be—is the hallmark of a civilization that has not yet abandoned the idea that rules apply to everyone, that no one is above the law, and that justice, even if delayed, remains preferable to impunity.

The Netherlands’ and Iceland’s joining the genocide proceedings against Israel will not resolve the conflict in Gaza. It will not silence the guns. It will not bring back the dead. But it adds another link to a legal chain that, little by little, is establishing a precedent, a body of case law, and an institutional memory. And these precedents—unlike political statements—have a lifespan that outlasts terms of office, elections, and diplomatic shifts. They endure. They accumulate. And one day—perhaps not tomorrow, perhaps not in this generation’s lifetime—they will carry weight.

Two small countries, one great court, one question that can no longer be sidestepped. This is not the end of something. It may be the beginning of a world where the rules eventually take hold—no matter how long it takes, no matter how painful the journey may be.

The Question That Remains Open

What will happen if, in a few years, the ICJ recognizes that certain acts committed in Gaza fall under the Genocide Convention? What enforcement mechanism exists? How will the international community ensure compliance with such a ruling? There are no simple answers to these questions—and therein lies the real limitation of international law as it stands today. But asking these questions also defines the task for the next generation: the task of building international institutions equipped with more robust enforcement mechanisms, capable of turning rulings into reality. This is the long-term task of the global legal community. It is imperfect. It is frustrating. It is essential. And countries like the Netherlands and Iceland have just reminded us that it is possible to move this work forward—one step at a time, one proceeding at a time, one intervention at a time.

Signed, Jacques Pj Provost