By Azeezah Kanji

International law is currently facing a profound crisis, exhibiting many of the historical markers associated with “savagery” and “barbarism,” as identified by past generations of legal scholars. The legacy of international legal frameworks, largely developed by European powers and enforced through colonial conquests, continues to sidestep accountability for their violent pasts.

One notable example is Germany’s refusal to pay reparations for its genocidal actions against the Herero and Nama peoples in Southwest Africa (now Namibia) between 1904 and 1908. This atrocity, which served as a precursor to the methodologies employed in the Nazi Holocaust, remains unaddressed by the German government, which claims no legal responsibility based on the international laws of the time. These laws, crafted by Europeans, intentionally excluded colonized peoples from legal protections, reflecting a broader narrative that equated civilization with Western practices while casting non-European societies as “uncivilized.”

Rather than pursue reparations, Germany has opted to offer “development aid” to Namibia, perpetuating a dynamic where affluent states of the Global North position themselves as benefactors while continuing to extract significantly more from the Global South than they contribute. This approach echoes the responses to calls for reparations regarding the trans-Atlantic slave trade, which are often dismissed on the basis of legality under international law at the time of enslavement. Interestingly, the same authorities that condemned slavery practiced by non-Europeans justified the enslavement of Africans, portraying it as a means of elevating “inferior races.”

Historian Richard Drayton notes that the total debt from colonial exploitation is “incalculable.” This debt includes staggering figures: $165 trillion from silver taken from the Americas, $97 trillion from enslaved labor in the U.S., $45 trillion from British exploitation of India, and billions more from France’s colonial actions in Algeria and Haiti. Paradoxically, those who resisted oppression were often made to pay for their defiance, while European slaveholders received compensation for the loss of their “property.”

The foundations of international law have consistently favored colonial powers. Historical agreements, like the Treaty of Tordesillas and the Berlin Conference, facilitated the division of the non-Christian world among European powers, while subsequent legal frameworks often excluded non-European voices. For example, during the International Court of Justice (ICJ) proceedings concerning the Rohingya genocide, the Rohingya people were denied direct representation and were effectively erased from the legal narrative that aimed to address their suffering.

This exclusion also extends to the Palestinian situation, where the denial of their self-determination is leveraged to prevent them from seeking justice. The U.S. has sought to disqualify Palestine’s case against Israel by arguing that Palestine lacks the sovereign status required to bring such complaints. In contrast, Israel’s statehood was recognized despite its violent foundation, highlighting a double standard within the international legal framework.

The legacy of the 1948 Genocide Convention, which deliberately omitted certain forms of violence to appease colonial powers, continues to resonate today. This restriction allows for ongoing cultural genocide under the guise of development, as seen in China’s policies towards the Uyghur population. The definition of genocide remains narrow, while ecocide—mass environmental destruction—lacks formal recognition in international law, underscoring a persistent hierarchy that permits violence against marginalized populations and the environment alike.

Critics argue that framing genocide as an aberration from a liberal order obscures the systemic violence at its core. Efforts to introduce an international crime of ecocide often still align with the established norms that prioritize profit over ecological or humanitarian concerns.

Despite these challenges, resources for imagining a just and equitable world persist. Indigenous nations are actively defending their lands and rights, and legal traditions are emerging that recognize the rights of non-human entities. The struggle for reparations and justice continues, fueled by those marginalized by colonial history. This movement towards decolonization does not require new military interventions or technological dominance; rather, it demands a commitment to listening to those who have long suffered under the weight of legal and political oppression. Only by heeding these voices can we hope to address the profound injustices embedded within the current international legal order.