Withdrawal Symptoms: Hungary, Europe And The International Criminal Court

Europe seems to be suffering paroxysms of withdrawal, notably when it comes to international conventions. Many states on the continent seem to have decided that international law is a burden onerous and in need of lightening. Poland, Finland and the three Baltic states, for instance, have concluded that using landmines, despite their indiscriminately murderous quality, somehow fits their mould of self-defence against the Russian Bear. That spells the end of their obligations under the Anti-Personnel Landmines Convention. Lithuania’s government has thought it beneath it to continue abiding by the Convention on Cluster Munitions, withdrawing last month.

The International Criminal Court now promises to be one member short. Hungary, under the rule of its pugilistic premier, Viktor Orbán, timed the announcement to wounding perfection. Knowing full well that Israel’s Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, faces an ICC arrest warrant for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity in Gaza, and also knowing, full well, Hungary’s obligations as a member state to arrest him, Orbán preferred to do the opposite. That was an international institution both men could rubbish and bash with relish.

As far back as November, when the warrant was issued, the Hungarian leader had already promised that the order would not run in his country. An invitation to Netanyahu to visit was promptly issued. Spite was in the air. In February this year, Orbán ruminated on his country’s continued membership of the ICC. “It’s time for Hungary to review what we’re doing in an international organization that is under US sanctions!” he bellowed in a post on the X platform. “New winds are blowing in international politics. We call it the Trump-tornado.”

On the arrival of the Israeli leader for a four-day visit, there was a conspicuous absence of any law officer or police official willing to discharge the duties of the Rome Statute. The reception for Netanyahu featured a welcoming ceremony at the Lion Courtyard in Buda Castle.

Alongside Netanyahu at a press conference, Orbán trotted out the thesis that has long been used against any international court, or body, that behaves in a way contrary to the wishes of a government.

 “This very important court has been diminished to a political tool and Hungary wishes to play no role in it.” The abandonment of impartiality was evident by “it’s decisions on Israel.”

Netanyahu, who conveniently described the warrant for his arrest as “absurd and antisemitic”, brimmed with glee, calling the withdrawal “bold and principled” while directing his usual bile upon the organisation. (Judges, Israeli or international, are not esteemed in the Israeli PM’s universe.) “It’s important for all democracies,” he declared. “It’s important to stand up to this corrupt organisation.” Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Sa’ar concurred. “The so-called International Criminal Court lost its moral authority after trampling the fundamental principles of international law in its zest for harming Israel’s right to self-defence.” A right, seemingly, to be exercised with defiant impunity.

Orbán should at least be credited for a certain unvarnished, vulgar honesty. Open contempt is its own virtue. Other European member states of the ICC have been resolutely mealy mouthed in whether they would execute their obligations under the Rome Statute were Netanyahu to visit them. France, for instance, claims that Netanyahu has immunity from prosecution before the ICC, a rather self-defeating proposition if you are in the international justice business. Italy, for its part, expressed doubts on the legal situation.

Germany, with its obstinate pro-Israeli stance, is one member state deeming the whole idea of arresting an Israeli leader unappetising, raising questions on whether its own membership of the court is valid. 

“We have spoken about this several times,” stated the country’s outgoing Chancellor Olaf Scholz at a very recent press conference in Berlin, “and I cannot imagine that an arrest would occur in Germany.”

Scholz’s successor, Friedrich Merz, has confirmed this blithe attitude to ICC regulations, having promised Netanyahu “that we would find ways and means for him to be able to visit Germany and leave again without being arrested. I think it is a completely absurd idea that an Israeli prime minister cannot visit the Federal Republic of Germany”. As absurd, implicitly, as an international justice system moored in The Hague.

This made the hypocrisy of Germany’s own criticism of Hungary’s withdrawal from the Rome Statute sharp and tangy, with Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock lamenting the event as “a bad day for international criminal law”. Europe had “clear rules that apply to all EU member states, and that is the Rome Statute.” No mirror, it would seem, was on hand for Baerbock to reconsider the hollowness of such observations before the stance of her own government.

The response from the Presidency of the Assembly of States Parties to the Rome Statute, delivered in diplomatic if cool language, expressed “regret” at Hungary’s announcement. “When a State Party withdraws from the Rome Statute, it clouds our shared quest or justice and weakens our resolve to fight impunity.” The statement goes on to make the fundamental point: “The ICC is at the centre of the global commitment to accountability, and in order to maintain its strength, it is imperative that the international community support it without reservation.” Hungary’s exit, and European qualifications and niggling subversions of the Court, show that reservations are all the rage, and justice a nuisance when applied inconveniently.

Dr. Binoy Kampmark was a Commonwealth Scholar at Selwyn College, Cambridge. He currently lectures at RMIT University. Email: bkampmark@gmail.com

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