Lara Kajs
Thinking Out Loud
Between March 2024 and July 2025, United Nations Special Rapporteur Francesca Albanese published a series of reports examining the war in Gaza through the frameworks of international humanitarian law, international human rights law, international criminal law, and the law of occupation. Together, these reports trace an evolving legal analysis that moves beyond documenting civilian harm to examining state responsibility, corporate complicity, and the obligations of the international community. This white paper considers the reports collectively, exploring the legal questions they raise and what they reveal about the strengths—and limits—of the contemporary international legal order.
For nearly two years, the international debate over Gaza has been dominated by military developments, humanitarian statistics, diplomatic negotiations, and political rhetoric. Daily casualty figures, ceasefire proposals, and statements from world leaders have filled headlines, as the legal questions have often been reduced to sound bites or dismissed as matters for courts to resolve years from now.
Yet beneath the daily news cycle, another body of work has steadily developed—one that seeks to document events not simply as acts of war, but as potential violations of international law. Among the most widely discussed contributions are the reports of Francesca Albanese, the United Nations Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in the Palestinian territories occupied since 1967.
Her reports have generated intense political controversy. Governments and commentators have praised them, condemned them, ignored them, or challenged both their conclusions and Albanese’s impartiality. Others argue that the reports reflect a careful application of international legal principles to an unfolding humanitarian catastrophe.
Regardless of where one stands in that debate, dismissing the reports outright misses their broader significance.
They represent one of the most comprehensive attempts by a United Nations independent expert to assess the Gaza conflict through the frameworks of international humanitarian law, international human rights law, and international criminal law. More importantly, they build upon one another. Read sequentially, they tell an evolving legal story—one that moves beyond documenting civilian suffering to asking increasingly difficult questions about accountability, state responsibility, and the future of the international legal order itself.
Too often, discussion of these reports focuses on whether one agrees with their conclusions. I believe that is the wrong place to begin. A more useful approach is to ask what legal issues the reports seek to address—and why those issues matter.
Ultimately, these reports invite a broader conversation—not only about Gaza, but about how international law is interpreted, applied, and enforced when allegations of mass atrocity arise.
This is not merely a conversation about one conflict. It is a conversation about whether international law functions as a universal system of rules or as a framework applied selectively depending upon politics, alliances, and power.
Anatomy of a Genocide: Applying the Genocide Convention to Gaza
When Francesca Albanese presented Anatomy of a Genocide to the United Nations Human Rights Council in March 2024, she did not issue a judicial determination. As UN Special Rapporteur, her mandate was not to prosecute individuals or decide legal liability, but to assess whether the available evidence provided reasonable grounds to conclude that acts prohibited under the Genocide Convention might be occurring. Questions of criminal responsibility remain for competent judicial bodies such as the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Court, where jurisdiction exists.
The Genocide Convention prohibits specific acts committed with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a protected national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. Demonstrating that intent has historically been among the greatest evidentiary challenges in international criminal law because prosecutors must establish not only what occurred, but why it occurred.
One of the report’s most notable contributions was its emphasis on cumulative analysis. International criminal investigations rarely rely only upon a single event to establish intent. Instead, investigators often examine the totality of circumstances, asking whether repeated actions, viewed together, reveal a consistent pattern incompatible with lawful military objectives alone.
This methodology reflects approaches used in previous international criminal proceedings. Tribunals addressing atrocities in Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia frequently inferred intent from patterns of conduct, systematic targeting, the scale of destruction, repeated attacks against protected populations, and statements by political or military leaders. Direct evidence of genocidal intent is uncommon: courts therefore consider both words and actions when assessing whether the legal threshold has been met.
Applying this methodology, Albanese argued that Gaza presented circumstances warranting this type of cumulative legal assessment precisely. Rather than examining individual incidents in isolation, the report considered the combined effect of widespread destruction of residential neighborhoods, repeated displacement orders, attacks affecting hospitals, schools, universities, and places of worship, the collapse of essential civilian infrastructure, severe restrictions on food, water, electricity, medical supplies, and humanitarian access, together with public statements by senior Israeli political and military officials. Viewed collectively, the report argued, these elements could inform an assessment of intent under the Genocide Convention.
The report also challenged a common misconception surrounding genocide allegations—that acknowledging a state’s legitimate security concerns somehow precludes legal scrutiny of its military conduct. International law does not require choosing between recognizing the atrocities committed by Hamas on 7 October 2023 and examining Israel’s obligations under humanitarian and criminal law. Both can, and indeed must, be assessed independently. The legality of one actor’s conduct does not depend upon the illegality of another’s.
Perhaps the report’s most significant contribution was reframing the debate. Rather than asking only whether military operations complied with the laws of armed conflict, Albanese argued that the cumulative evidence warranted examination under the Genocide Convention. That shift carries profound legal consequences. Once credible allegations of genocide arise, states party to the Convention assume obligations not only to punish genocide after it occurs but also to prevent it where there is a serious risk that it may be unfolding. In that sense, Anatomy of a Genocide did more than document events in Gaza—it challenged governments, legal institutions, and civil society to consider whether the international community’s legal responsibilities had already been engaged.
Beyond the Battlefield: Expanding the Legal Lens
If Anatomy of a Genocide examined whether events in Gaza could satisfy the legal elements of genocide under the Genocide Convention, Francesca Albanese’s subsequent report, Genocide as Colonial Erasure, posed a different question: Can the law fully understand what is happening in Gaza if it examines only the events that began on 7 October 2023?
Her answer was no.
One of the defining characteristics of Albanese’s body of work is that it resists treating Gaza as an isolated military campaign detached from its historical and legal context. Instead, she argues that the events following the Hamas attacks must be understood within the broader framework of Israel’s occupation of the Palestinian territories, decades of displacement, settlement expansion, restrictions on movement, and recurring cycles of armed conflict.
Whether one agrees with that broader framing is ultimately a matter of legal interpretation and historical analysis. Yet it represents an important shift in the conversation. Rather than viewing the conflict exclusively through the law governing the conduct of hostilities, Albanese increasingly situates it within multiple branches of international law operating simultaneously: international humanitarian law, international human rights law, the law of occupation, the prohibition against racial discrimination, and the Genocide Convention itself.
This multidisciplinary approach reflects an important reality of modern international law. Armed conflicts rarely engage only a single legal regime. Military operations are governed by international humanitarian law, while occupations, civilian rights, and allegations of atrocity crimes simultaneously engage international human rights law, the law of occupation, and international criminal law.
Viewed through this broader legal framework, Gaza is not examined solely as a battlefield but also as occupied territory, bringing into play the legal obligations imposed by the Fourth Geneva Convention. Occupying powers are responsible not only for avoiding unlawful attacks but also, to the greatest extent possible, for maintaining public order, facilitating humanitarian assistance, protecting civilian life, and administering occupied territory in accordance with international law.
Albanese therefore encourages readers to consider whether the cumulative conditions experienced by Palestinians should be analyzed not only as the consequences of armed conflict but also as part of a much longer legal relationship governed by the law of occupation.
This broader perspective also changes how one evaluates accountability.
If October 2023 is treated as the beginning of the legal inquiry, the analysis naturally focuses on battlefield decisions, military necessity, proportionality, and the conduct of hostilities. If, however, the inquiry encompasses decades of occupation and displacement, different legal questions emerge concerning state responsibility, prolonged denial of rights, settlement policies, demographic change, and structural discrimination.
These are not new debates within international law. International courts, United Nations bodies, and human rights organizations have examined many of these issues for years. Albanese’s contribution lies in bringing these strands together into a single analytical framework, arguing that they should not be examined in isolation from one another.
Following the Money: From Occupation to Economy of Genocide
If Anatomy of a Genocide examined the conduct of military operations, and Genocide as Colonial Erasure broadened the historical and legal framework through which those operations should be understood, From Economy of Occupation to Economy of Genocide shifts the focus once again. This time, the question is not simply what states are doing, but who else may be contributing to the continuation of unlawful conduct. It is also her most ambitious report.
The report challenges a deeply rooted assumption in international law: that accountability is principally the responsibility of states and individuals directly engaged in armed conflict. Albanese argues that in an increasingly interconnected global economy, the infrastructure supporting modern warfare often extends far beyond the battlefield. Military operations rely upon supply chains, surveillance technologies, communications systems, transportation networks, financial services, and international commerce. Understanding conflict therefore requires understanding the economic relationships that make prolonged military operations possible.
The idea is not unprecedented. The Nuremberg Trials prosecuted not only political and military leaders but also industrialists whose companies materially supported the Nazi war effort. More recent legal scholarship has similarly examined the responsibilities of corporations operating in conflict zones where commercial activity may contribute to serious human rights abuses.
Albanese builds upon this body of law by asking whether commercial relationships should receive greater scrutiny when credible allegations of atrocity crimes exist. She examines industries ranging from weapons production and military technology to construction, infrastructure, finance, and digital services, arguing that economic participation cannot always be viewed as politically neutral where there is knowledge—or a substantial risk—that products or services may facilitate internationally unlawful conduct.
Importantly, the report does not suggest that every commercial relationship automatically gives rise to legal liability. International law draws important distinctions between lawful trade, indirect economic activity, and conduct that knowingly contributes to international crimes. Establishing legal responsibility requires careful analysis of facts, intent, knowledge, and the degree of contribution made by particular actors.
Nevertheless, Albanese argues that the international community has often been reluctant to examine these questions with the same rigor applied to state conduct. Public debate typically focuses on battlefield decisions, ceasefire negotiations, and diplomatic initiatives, while the economic structures that sustain prolonged conflicts receive far less scrutiny. Yet over the past two decades, international human rights law has increasingly recognized corporate responsibility through frameworks such as the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights. Although not legally binding, the Principles establish the widely accepted expectation that businesses conduct human rights due diligence, assess the impact of their operations, and avoid contributing to serious human rights abuses.
Viewed through this lens, Albanese argues that businesses operating in situations involving alleged international crimes may have responsibilities extending beyond compliance with domestic law. Where credible evidence suggests that commercial activity contributes to unlawful conduct, companies, investors, financial institutions, and governments may be expected to undertake heightened human rights due diligence and reassess their continued involvement.
These are difficult questions because they challenge long-standing assumptions about the separation between economics and armed conflict. Yet history repeatedly demonstrates that wars are sustained not only by military force but also by financial systems, industrial production, technological innovation, and international commerce.
For me, this is one of the most thought-provoking aspects of Albanese’s work. Rather than limiting accountability to criminal prosecutions after atrocities occur, she asks readers to consider the responsibilities of every actor whose decisions may influence whether unlawful conduct continues. In an interconnected global economy, questions of accountability no longer stop at governments and military commanders. They increasingly extend to corporations, investors, financial institutions, and those whose commercial decisions help sustain conflict long after the shooting begins.
“The true measure of the rule of law is not whether it governs those with little power. It is whether it governs those with the greatest power.”
A Collective Crime: When Silence Becomes Part of the Story
Francesca Albanese’s most recent report, Gaza Genocide: A Collective Crime, represents the culmination of the legal trajectory established in her earlier work. If Anatomy of a Genocide examined whether the legal threshold for genocide may have been reached, and From Economy to Occupation to Economy of Genocide explained the responsibilities of private actors, this report asks a broader and more unsettling question: What obligations do other states have once credible evidence of atrocity crimes has been placed before them?
The focus shifts away from Israel alone and toward the international community itself.
This is a significant legal evolution. Much public discussion surrounding Gaza has centered on whether Israeli military actions comply with international law or whether Hamas has committed war crimes. Albanese does not abandon those questions, but she argues that they are no longer sufficient. Once allegations of genocide, crimes against humanity, or widespread war crimes are credibly raised, international law imposes responsibilities that extend well beyond the parties directly engaged in the conflict.
The Genocide Convention does not merely prohibit genocide; it obligates states to prevent and punish it. Similarly, the Geneva Conventions require states to “respect and ensure respect” for international humanitarian law. These provisions were drafted in the aftermath of the Second World War precisely because the international community concluded that neutrality in the face of mass atrocities could no longer be regarded as an acceptable response.
Albanese argues that these obligations require more than expressions of concern. They demand that states evaluate whether their own policies—including military assistance, intelligence cooperation, diplomatic support, arms transfers, and economic relationships—are consistent with their international legal obligations. In her analysis, the central question is no longer only whether violations are occurring, but whether third states are taking adequate steps to prevent them.
This moves the conversation into one of the most complex areas of international law: complicity.
Complicity is not a political slogan. It is a legal concept that has developed through decades of international jurisprudence. While precise standards vary depending upon the legal context, courts have long examined whether states or individuals knowingly aided, assisted, facilitated, or otherwise contributed to internationally wrongful acts committed by others. Establishing such responsibility requires careful factual and legal analysis, but the concept itself is well established.
Albanese’s report therefore asks governments to examine not only the conduct of others, but also their own decisions. If credible evidence indicates that serious violations of international law are occurring, what responsibilities arise for states that continue providing weapons, intelligence cooperation, diplomatic protection, or financial support? Similar questions increasingly extend to international organizations, multinational corporations, financial institutions, universities, and civil society. Preventing atrocities, the report argues, cannot be left solely to courts convening years after the violence has ended; it also requires institutions to assess their own conduct while violations are still unfolding.
For me, that is the question that gives this series of reports its enduring significance.
It is tempting to view these documents simply as legal analyses of one conflict. They are certainly that. But collectively they ask something much larger: whether international law functions as a genuine system of universal obligations or whether its application ultimately depends upon political alliances, strategic interests, and geopolitical influence.
That question extends far beyond Gaza.
The precedents established today will shape how the international community responds to future allegations of mass atrocities, whether in Ukraine, Sudan, Myanmar, Ethiopia, or crises yet to come. Every decision to investigate, prosecute, remain silent, or look away helps define the expectations that will govern the next conflict.
One need not agree with every conclusion Albanese reaches to recognize the importance of the questions she asks. Her reports challenge governments, institutions, and citizens alike to examine not only the evidence before them but also the principles upon which the international legal system claims to rest.
In the end, the true measure of the rule of law is not whether it restrains those with little power. It is whether it restrains those with the greatest power.
Published: 7 July 2026
Photo Credit
Peace Palace Hall by Petrus Sirsius. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0
About Thinking Out Loud
Thinking Out Loud is a commentary series by Lara Kajs examining international law, humanitarian crises, and the prevention of mass atrocities. Drawing on field experience in conflict and displacement settings, the column explores the legal and policy challenges that shape contemporary conflicts.
About the Author
Lara Kajs is the founder and executive director of The Genocide Report, a Washington, DC-based educational nonprofit focused on atrocity prevention and international law. She is the author of several field-based books on conflict, displacement, humanitarian crises, and international humanitarian law, drawing on extensive research and field experience in Yemen, Syria, and Afghanistan. Her writing and public speaking focus on atrocity crimes, forced displacement, the protection of civilians, and the legal frameworks governing armed conflict.