A Court’s Call, a People’s Urgency: Why the ICJ’s Message on Gaza Feels Both Legal and Moral
There is a rhythm to crisis—trucks arrive, gates open, then shut again; statements are issued, then argued over; families count days without water and then count again when a sack of flour appears at a checkpoint. Last week, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) added a new beat to that rhythm: a solemn, high-stakes advisory opinion that didn’t carry the force of an order but landed like a lighthouse beam over a stormy sea.
“Israel is under an obligation to agree to and facilitate relief schemes provided by the United Nations and its entities,” declared Court President Yuji Iwasawa. The words were measured, juridical. But for hundreds of thousands of Gazans who have been deprived of safe, steady access to food, water and medicine, the ruling read like a plea wrapped in legal gravitas: ensure the basic needs of the population, and do not block the flow of life-saving supplies.
Trucks, Tonnes, and a Frail Ceasefire
The timing matters. A fragile ceasefire that took hold earlier this month provided a narrow window for aid convoys. The World Food Programme’s Middle East spokeswoman, Abeer Etefa, offered hard numbers that give texture to the moment: 530 WFP trucks entered Gaza since the truce, delivering more than 6,700 tonnes of food—enough, she said, for “close to half a million people for two weeks.”
That sounds like relief, but the arithmetic is sobering. The WFP reported about 750 tonnes flowing daily—well short of the roughly 2,000 tonnes the agency says is needed each day to stabilize the humanitarian situation. In other words: the drip of aid, even when increased, barely scratches the surface of need.
“We’ve reopened one artery,” said an aid coordinator in Gaza City, who asked not to be named for security reasons. “But the heart still needs steady blood.”
What the ICJ Asked—and Why It Matters
The ICJ’s opinion is advisory, not a binding judgment. Yet the court insisted that advisory status does not strip its words of consequence. The judges affirmed two linked duties of an occupying power: a positive obligation to ensure the basic needs of the local population, and a negative duty not to impede the delivery of supplies indispensable for survival. The court also recalled the age-old taboo under international law: starvation may not be used as a method of warfare.
From The Hague, Iwasawa was categorical: the request presented to the court was not “an abuse or weaponisation of the international judicial process.” It is a legal clarification, he said, and one with moral weight.
What This Means in Plain Terms
- States or occupying powers should facilitate, not block, delivery of humanitarian relief;
- Agencies recognized for delivering aid—like UNRWA—cannot be dismissed overnight without a transition plan;
- International law forbids using the denial of food and essential supplies as a tactic of war.
These are not abstract tenets. They are operational demands: open crossings, inspect consignments quickly, agree on logistics, allow neutral agencies to function—or replace them with credible alternatives before banning the established ones.
The UNRWA Question: Practical Problems and Political Minefields
One of the thorniest threads in the hearings was the fate of UNRWA, the UN agency that for decades has delivered education, food, and shelter support to Palestinian refugees. Israel has accused some UNRWA staff of collaborating with Hamas around the 7 October attack and has suspended cooperation. The court, however, found that Israel had not substantiated those allegations to the extent that would justify an immediate ban.
“You can’t pull a trusted aid partner off the stage in the middle of the play without telling the audience how the story will continue,” one humanitarian lawyer told me. “The ICJ is saying: if you think UNRWA is compromised, show us the evidence—but also show us your plan so people don’t die in the meantime.”
At the hearings, a US official—Josh Simmons—warned against assuming UNRWA is indispensable, arguing other routes exist for aid delivery. The court was unconvinced a rapid substitution was realistic. Agencies cannot be replaced on short notice without a proper transition plan, judges concluded, and the logistics of Gaza—a densely populated, besieged coastal strip—are a brutal reality.
Voices from Gaza: Hunger, Hope, and Frustration
Walk through the makeshift markets in parts of Gaza and you’ll feel a country trying to respawn normal life beneath the shadow of rubble. The smell of freshly baked samoon mingles with the dust of collapsed buildings. A shopkeeper in Jabalia, wiping flour on his hands, told me: “People come with a list and leave with half. Not because the shop is closed—but because they can’t afford the rest.”
A young mother I met while aid workers distributed packaged meals held her toddler and said, “We’re grateful for what comes, but it’s temporary. How do we plan a life around temporary?” Her question hangs in the air: immediate relief matters, but so does predictable access over months—and years.
Legal Crosscurrents and Geopolitical Ripples
This advisory opinion arrives amid other legal shadows over Israel’s conduct. In July 2024, the ICJ issued an earlier, weighty opinion calling Israel’s occupation unlawful. Separately, the International Criminal Court in The Hague has moved forward with its own probes, issuing arrest warrants that have escalated diplomatic tensions. These parallel tracks—the ICJ’s normative clarifications and the ICC’s criminal investigations—create a tangle of international pressure, legal scrutiny, and political pushback.
Back in Washington and Jerusalem, officials are talking about strategy and long-term architecture. US visits to Israel by senior officials this week—intended to shore up a fragile truce and discuss post-conflict reconstruction—reiterate that the war’s endgame will be as much diplomatic and political as it is military or humanitarian.
Where Do We Go from Here?
The ICJ’s opinion does not magically open crossings or produce fuel and medicine. But it reframes obligations in a way that is both legal and moral. It asks actors to weigh the human cost of delay. It compels global audiences to consider uncomfortable questions: Do we accept that civilian populations bear collective punishment as a byproduct of war? Do we tolerate bureaucratic arguments when hunger is the immediate consequence?
Policy-makers will debate logistics, lawyers will parse precedent, and diplomats will shuttle across capitals. Meanwhile, in Gaza, people will continue to open their doors for the trucks that come, and to grieve for those who never arrived.
So let me ask you, reader: when international law speaks in tones of moral urgency, what do we expect from those it addresses? Is a ruling enough to shift the gears of a siege, or do we demand that states and institutions match legal language with immediate, tangible action? The ICJ has lit a beacon. The boats of aid must now sail toward it—fast, steady, and sustained.
