“Illegal” has become one of the most used words in the Middle East’s expanding wars.
In Gaza, Israel's conduct has been repeatedly recognised as genocide , collective punishment and violations of international humanitarian law.
Israel's continued occupation of Palestinian territories has been declared unlawful by the International Court of Justice, while annexationist plans for Gaza and the West Bank continue.
US attacks on Iran were denounced by Tehran and others as acts of aggression and violations of the UN Charter.
Iranian attacks against GCC states are condemned as violations of sovereignty and international law.
Israel’s military operations in Lebanon are considered an unlawful invasion, destruction and occupation.
Yet Gaza is still being destroyed, Lebanon remains under attack, Iran and the United States have only just stopped exchanging fire, and GCC states remain exposed to missiles and drones if the fragile US-Iran deal collapses after the 60-day deadline expires.
The law is speaking constantly. The problem is that it is not stopping anything. The crisis is saturated with legal language.
The International Court of Justice has issued provisional measures in the Gaza genocide case and stated that Israel's continued presence in the occupied Palestinian territory is unlawful. The International Criminal Court has issued arrest warrants against Israeli leaders. The Security Council has adopted resolutions on ceasefires, sovereignty and international humanitarian law. Regional organisations, states and human rights bodies have all used legality to describe the crisis.
But there is a growing distance between legal designation and political consequence. The word “illegal” still has legal meaning. It creates a record, frames responsibility and may shape future accountability.
But in the immediate conduct of war, it appears unable to restrain those with the military capacity, political protection or strategic justification to continue. This is not the silence of international law, but the exhaustion of legal condemnation.
The Middle East is suffering from legal inflation . Like a currency printed without sufficient reserves, the term “illegal” circulates everywhere, but it is backed by too little. Each statement adds to the legal archive, but not necessarily to the capacity to prevent the next strike, invasion, or annexation plan. This does not mean that legal opinions are irrelevant. International law matters because it defines obligations, exposes violations and limits states’ ability to claim innocence.
The problem is different: law is invoked, but not enforced; cited, but not operationalised; repeated, but not converted into consequences. Gaza as a case study In Gaza, this contradiction has been visible for more than two years. The destruction of the territory has unfolded under the shadow of the ICJ case, repeated UN warnings, resolutions and international condemnation. The legal architecture has not been absent. Yet what law has said has not been enough to alter the calculations of those conducting or enabling the war.
The same logic applies to Lebanon . Ceasefires are announced, violations are denounced, and yet military operations continue. A ceasefire that does not cease fire becomes another example of legal and diplomatic vocabulary detached from reality. The region now has agreements that coexist with daily attacks, resolutions with escalation, and condemnations with territorial expansion.
The war involving the United States, Israel and Iran has widened this gap further. Washington and Tel Aviv frame their actions in terms of deterrence, self-defence, and prevention. Tehran frames its retaliation as a response to aggression and violations of sovereignty. GCC states condemn Iranian missile and drone attacks as violations of their sovereignty, international law and the UN Charter. Each actor reaches for legal language, but rarely for self-restraint. More often, law is used to indict the adversary, legitimise one’s conduct and mobilise diplomatic support.
This is one of the most dangerous transformations in the current crisis. International law is no longer functioning primarily as a shared restraint, but as a language of accusation.
A shared restraint forces actors to ask what they are not allowed to do, even in war. A language of accusation asks how to describe the other side’s actions legally while preserving maximum freedom of action. In the first case, law limits violence. In the second, law accompanies violence.
This is why the overuse of “illegal” can paradoxically empty it of immediate political strength. When every actor condemns illegality but continues supporting, conducting or justifying military action elsewhere, the term becomes part of the choreography of conflict. It appears in statements, press conferences and emergency meetings. It produces diplomatic positioning and perhaps moral clarity. But it does not automatically produce restraint. Western double standards The problem is not only Western double standards. The United States and several European states defend the rules-based international order while shielding Israel from meaningful consequences. They condemn violations of sovereignty when Iran claims their right to control the Hormuz Strait, but are totally silent in imposing real costs on Israel for Gaza, occupation, annexationist policies or escalation in Lebanon.
This selective enforcement damages both their credibility and the legal principles they claim to defend. Yet selectivity is also regional. States across the Middle East often invoke international law more strongly when they are victims than when partners or allies are responsible. Sovereignty becomes sacred in one context and negotiable in another. Civilian protection becomes urgent in one war and secondary in another.
This does not make all actors equal. The scale and nature of violence are not the same in Gaza, Lebanon, Iran or the Gulf. But the political pattern is similar, legality is invoked to strengthen one’s position, not necessarily to accept limits on one’s own power.
The result is a region where legal condemnation accumulates faster than enforcement.
The ICJ can indicate provisional measures, but it cannot implement them by itself. The ICC can issue arrest warrants , but it depends on states to execute them. The Security Council can adopt resolutions, but its authority is filtered through veto politics, strategic alliances and selective urgency. Regional organizations can condemn violations, but often lack instruments to impose compliance. Individual states can denounce illegality while maintaining cooperation that sustains the conflicts they criticize.
This is how “illegal” becomes both true and insufficient.
For the Gulf, this is a serious lesson. GCC states have long depended on sovereignty, international law, US security guarantees, regional diplomacy and global energy interdependence to protect their security. Iranian attacks against Gulf territories expose the fragility of that arrangement. But Gulf security cannot be separated from the wider regional collapse of restraint.
A system that fails to protect civilians in Gaza, restrain escalation in Lebanon, or prevent direct attacks between the US, Israel and Iran is not a system that can reliably protect the Gulf either. This is why the issue is not merely semantic. To rescue the word “illegal,” states must stop treating it as a press-release formula. Legal condemnation must be connected to consequences: arms restrictions, sanctions, investigations, reparations, diplomatic costs, enforceable ceasefire mechanisms, and serious limits on military support for actors that violate international law. Otherwise, illegality will remain something states denounce after the fact, not something they fear before acting.
International law is not dead. But it is being forced to operate in a political environment that rewards impunity, absorbs condemnation and normalizes exceptional violence. The word “illegal” still matters. The problem is that it increasingly matters more in the historical record than on the battlefield.
The Middle East does not need more declarations that wars are unlawful while those same wars continue. It needs a political order in which declaring something illegal changes the cost of doing it. Until then, the region will remain trapped in its most dangerous contradiction: wars condemned by almost everyone, and stopped by almost no one. Dr. Luciano Zaccara is Principal Researcher at New Ground Research, Qatar. Also, a Visiting Associate Professor at the Georgetown University in Qatar, and Director of the Observatory on Politics and Elections in the Arab and Muslim World, Spain. Follow Luciano on X: @LucianoZaccara Have questions or comments? Email us at: editorial-english@newarab.com
Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff.